Hubert
_It's a rainy day today,_

**Walking these slums, one would be able to find meek and weary faces as the bounty hunter walked. Mud clung to their boots, the pitter-patter of water striking one's head and shoulders as they moved. This was a dangerous place, with many dangerous people just around the corner, waiting for their chance to commit something heinous. Passing by the rundown buildings, the Frogleg Tavern wasn't too far from view, and beside it, an even more rundown house. The roof had collapsed in, the door hardly hung to its hinges, and the windows barely kept any sort of integrity as one could simply worm their hand through the broken glass to open the window.**

**Standing before the door of the house, it was hard to believe anybody even lived here. There was something wrong about this place. A sense of abandon washing over our bounty hunter as they stood in front of the door— a creaking and moaning whispering into the wind as the door gently swayed back and forth with the wind.**

**How long ago was this bounty hung up? Days— no, the paper was too warn and the crayon was fading. It has had to been weeks, maybe a month at most. It was disregarded, largely left ignored for such a long time, this bounty hunter was the first person to even entertain the idea a child could hand over ten thousand 'coin'. It hadn't even specified what sort of coin was in question, simply that there was an abundance.**

**The rain continues to downpour, and the weather was becoming rougher. The bounty hunter has the option to press onwards and question the child, or investigate the local area— the Frogleg Tavern was next door, after all.**

**Eyes are staring. Across the muddy road of the slums, a street urchin watches with dim eyes, all sense of purpose within their life deprived. Yet, they were staring, intently. Why?**

_What do you do?_
Audrey
*Pitter Patter Pitter Patter Pitter Patter...*

Droplets of rain rhythmically pelted Deyanira's hooded frame in steady beats, which was enough to simmer any underlying tension within her tenacious spirit. And for a bounty as delicate as this one, the Elf woman would require all alleviation to her rather thin amount of patience. Deyanira Caizerios was notably *Not* A fan of children, however, a notably *Huge* Fan of cats. From a mere glance at the bounty posted, it was simple and safe to assume it was posted by a child; written in crayon, shitty spelling, and an offer for an amount of coins that they likely did not possess. However, in an astonishing turn of events, Deyanira had not accepted the bounty for any grand amount of money. While the Warlock was evidently broke and in desperate need of gold as of late, a certain empathic love for cats had turned her soft. Therefore, the woman set aside her desire for a heap of gold and her distaste for tiny people in favor of sympathy—Sympathy for a fellow cat owner, for a fellow cat *Lover.* Deyanira's stern gaze flickered to behind her and within the intensity of her dark orbs, a glimpse of softness flashed at the sight of her own precious cat; Bandit. The firecat displayed a clear displeasure for the dreary weather, however, he was dutiful and loyal to his owner; therefore despite the dull dance of flames that cascaded off the feline, he continued to trot forward without hindrance. When Bandit caught the attention of Deyanira, he offered low "Maow..." Out and for a rare instance, the woman smiled in return. Though the moment of grace was fleeting, and soon enough, her sullen façade had returned in place of that smile. As adorable and precious as Bandit was to Deyanira, the firecat served a great purpose in life and particularly for situations such as this; where his enhanced sense of smell could possibly be the key to track down the missing cat. 

Deyanira grimaced at the sight of Frogleg Tavern ahead. Her recent memory of the place had been rather unpleasant... *That weird fucking Waiter...* Although with her cruel treatment and barrage of swears, she doubted that Seymour remained employed at the tavern for long; she likely had the foolish boy on the run to the next town in hopes to avoid such an unruly customer again. Not that Deya cared. There was a long, growing list of individuals the woman had burned in her fiery explosions of verbal abuse, and Seymour was no different. Regardless, she pressed forward to Frogleg Tavern without another thought of what was ahead. While the abandoned and decayed home next door had caught her attention, it was only briefly. The sight of poverty was nothing new to somebody like Deyanira; raised in the jungle and then thrown to the streets of Khisfire, she was numbly accepting of impoverishment. Another "Maow..." From behind Deya urged the thought that being indoors was much more agreeable than remaining in the turbulent downpour, which appeared to increase in intensity by the second. She had no reason to inspect the surroundings of Frogleg Tavern without further information and additionally, as far as she was aware, this bounty was nothing extremely serious; no dangerous criminal on the loose, no unhinged wizard lurking about, and no *Danger.* As paranoid as Deya was, she could reasonably accept when risk was not present. Though... Abruptly, the woman's brazen gaze *Snapped* To the set of eyes that seemed to dig deep into her soaked figure. *Damn urchin...* She thought upon greeting the stare of the child across the street. A bitter frown was given to the street urchin before she swirled her attention around to the Frogleg Tavern. The woman knew better than to waste her time with another child when she had other priorities in mind...

**Deyanira entered Frogleg Tavern.**
Hubert
_You enter the Frogleg Tavern,_

**The inside was... Well, to be expected. Rundown tavern, bums with coin spending it on watered down ale and peanuts. There was a bard in the corner playing music for a quick penny— his music wasn't that great, one of the lute strings snapped, the fingering of the lute awfully sluggish, probably due to inebriation. When Deyanira stepped into the tavern, she immediately caught a few eyes— and she could tell what these men were thinking. _Woman._ They largely kept to themselves, no mustering courage to engage her— it seems she had this air about her that she wasn't willing to deal with none sense right now.**

**Back in another far corner a group of 4 men— Beastwalkers of some variety, sporting different animal features, looked at Deyanira with suspicion. It was awfully queer for someone so equipped to be making their sweeps through these slums. The largest in the group, this Ox Beastwalker, took his tankard and brought it to his face, taking a long sip of his ale.**

**The barkeep would visible clean out a cup as Deyanira would approach. He was a Genasi, his head very literally on fire. He'd sport some nice clothing, gentleman's wear. White dress shirt, black overalls, and a bow tie. He had this aura of indifference about him— he seemed to command a level of authority in the Frogleg Tavern. Yes, he probably wasn't _only_ the barkeep, but the muscle as well.**

**Speaking with a Southern drawl, he would acknowledge Deyanira.** "Howdy. 'ow can I help ya today, missy?" **The fire Genasi had asked, already preparing a tankard of that watered down ale everyone has been drinking here.** "I know you ain't 'ere for booze, so, lets hear it." **The barkeep would add, sliding the tankard to Deyanira. He didn't even ask if she wanted this, just _gave_ it. Seems he wanted to keep this customer happy, sensing she was trouble.**

**Patrons mostly kept to themselves presently, that bard in the background still stringing away some sad quality tunes. Though, the eyes of the four beastwalkers were ever prying.**

_A tankard of ale sits in front of you._
Audrey
The interior of the Frogleg Tavern was a stark contrast to the rampant downpour outdoors; quiet, warm, and imbued with an odd amount of stillness despite the decent amount of patrons. A scowling grimace filled Deyanira's features upon the attention she appeared to capture from the men within the room. Her immediate thought was *What?*— A question poised with sass and venom, and she made that no nonsense attitude apparent with a brazen sweep of her gaze upon the male onlookers. Her next immediate thought after tearing her dark eyes away from the creeps was *Why?*— Deya didn't consider herself attractive in the slightest but, she supposed any woman was subjected to this treatment regardless of beautiful looks. While the Warlock made way to the bar, her gaze only briefly caught the stares of suspicion from the group of Shapeshifters in the far corner. Rather than create another tense eye contact competition, she continued on her path to the barkeep yet noted the unsaid tension that began to spill into the room. Deya had plenty of enemies, she knew that. Perhaps these Shapeshifters were those but she had a priority to handle firstly. Though if a problem would arise, she wouldn't miss it even with her back turned around; both a benefit and crutch, Deyanira's paranoia always kept her on edge. A brief clench of her fists signaled her growing tolerance for such a greeting to her entry, after all, she usually never caught the attention of so many... 

Deyanira caught the mug of piss-poor ale in her hand as the barkeep slid it across the counter. Without a word nor greeting, she lifted the mug to her lips and sipped on the liquid; it might've been watered down ale but at the very least, it would help simmer her nerves. As she peeled the mug away from her lips, her gaze took in the sight of the Genasi man with... Admiration? Though, mostly for the blaze locks of hair he possessed. Deya had always thought if she could be a different Race, it would *Have* To be a Fire Genasi. It just seemed to click in her brain perfectly. However, that look would likely be the only softness she'd spare for the evening because after a fleeting moment, a solemn expression rejoined her face. Deyanira, on her trend of surprises today, paused before she answered his question. After all, she realized that blurting out *"Have you seen a kid around?"* Likely would garner her a reputation she did *Not* Desire. Paranoia continued to poke the back corners of her mind as well, reminding the woman to remain on her toes while the group of Shapeshifters' stares seemed to burn into her frame. She couldn't let onto her priorities of being here, at least not aloud while an audience lurked onwards. While normally the mighty huntress, she was beginning to feel like *Prey* And she *Despised* That. Therefore, she twisted her mindset to that of a tactful predator; she had no shade from the Kandagulu canopies to disguise herself in the tavern, but she did have her words that worked just as well as for subtlety...

➳

"I'm looking for my cousin," Deyanira replied while she fished out the bounty from her side pocket and slid it across the counter for the barkeep to examine, "Have you seen them?" She silently prayed that the barkeep would assist in her charade, assuming the Genasi man did not desire for any potential ruckus from erupting on this rainy, mellow day. She couldn't be certain *Why* Those Shapeshifters had become so suspicious of her appearance in Frogleg Tavern, however, something told her to play her cards delicately here or she may regret it... With that thought of paranoia flooding her mind again, Deyanira lifted the mug of ale for another drink; this time a greedy, long drink. It may be her last after she receives her information and hopefully, sending her out of this odd atmosphere within the tavern. Her eyes traveled carefully to behind her, locking gazes with the largest man of the Shapeshifters without a shiver of fear... *C'mon asshole. What's your deal?* She thought before tearing away her eyes and returning her attention back to the barkeep.
Michael
**The Fire Genasi would lean over the counter a bit to read over the bounty— he'd eyeball it for a moment, trying to read the poorly written Common, drawn in half-faded crayon before finally being able to fully understand what he has read. The man with the burning locks shook his head, before leaving a hefty sigh.**

"Cut the shenanigans— I know that ain't your cousin, darlin'." **He would tell Deyanira— he seemed to know the girl based off their voice. The way they spoke, though it had a sense of familiarity to it, however an air of sadness followed with it.** "...Neighbour's place has been empty for a few weeks now— Came by a few times to check up, but, nobody is slummin' around there. Knocked on the door a few times, no answer. Door hardly is even on its hinges— peeked inside and nobody is around there. Just... _Up and left._" **The bartender let out a big ol' sigh.**

**He would pause in his cleaning, holding the empty tankard he was shining with a rag.** "Sorry, Bounty Hunteress. I think it's best you leave." **He would then tell her.** "People go missing all the time here— It's best to stay your lane and move on. You won't get your coin. You'll probably find something that'll upset you instead." **He would warn her.**

**Deyanira would be able to audibly hear patrons getting up. If she were to be observant, it wouldn't be hard to see the group of Beastwalkers having now moved from their table and began walking out. That Ox Beastwalker would briefly make eye contact with Deyanira— she could recognize that gaze. It wasn't that of lust— not the look she initially anticipated, but rather a look of predatory awareness. There was hate behind those eyes. The largest of the four being the last to step out.**

**Now that the beastwalkers had left, the tavern became considerably less tense.**

**The Bartender had continued to shine his tankard, before making a comment.** ". . . Those Beastwalkers are never up to anything good." **He would simply add, before letting out yet another hefty sigh.** 

"Anyways— Drink is on the house. You heard what I had to offer. I'm sure you're capable, but, you should take my advice. _Please._" **He'd speak with a tone that implied more than he would let on. It's as though _something_ is going on, but the Bartender refused to speak more on it.**

_Your tankard is half full— or is it half empty?_
Audrey
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 𝘿𝙚𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙧𝙖 𝘾𝙖𝙞𝙯𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙨
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**"Cut the shenanigans— I know that ain't your cousin, darlin'."**

A hefty sigh would be returned to the Fire Genasi. *Obviously,* It was not her cousin. The one time Deyanira attempted to be subtle in the presence of looming threats, of course it would be the *Other* Person who failed to catch on. Regardless, she would have to roll with these types of punches on a peculiar bounty like this. Her brazen gaze sat heavy on the barkeep while he detailed out what little information he had collected and, unfortunately, it appeared that perhaps this bounty had *Expired.* Whoever had written it had evidently fled town and the Elf woman could confirm as much, noting the state of the demolished home that she passed on the way into the tavern. While a disgruntled puff fell from her nostrils in reaction to the disappointing news, she reached for the mug of alcohol, swiftly bringing the drink to her lips in hopes the bitter taste of watered down ale might settle her frustration. As the ale burned down her throat, she kept her eyes on the Fire Genasi's frame which reeked of *Fear.* It was an odd thing to say— *'I think it's best you leave'*, *'-best to stay in your lane and move on,'* And *'You'll probably find something that'll upset you instead'*. Deyanira certainly wasn't the best decipher when it came to emotions, however, his words were enough to stir suspicion into her mind for nobody said such things without a motive. It was almost as if... Something had happened. That perhaps this bounty was more than a simple lost kitty but a tragedy of sorts. The barkeep's sentences dripped in apprehension and dejection so, *It must be personal...* She thought. 

"Well-" Deyanira nearly injected the Fire Genasi with her persistence to follow the bounty till *She* Felt it was complete, although an audible shift of the room caused her to snap her attention elsewhere. It was those *Beastwalkers.* The entire atmosphere of the tavern appeared to alter from the movement alone; as if a ripple trepidation had roused every individual to alert. Unable to help herself and as fearless as they come, Deyanira pivoted herself to face the dramatized exit scene with a stern glare in return. While many other patrons wouldn't dare to do the same, the audacious Elf did so with such casual effort; even going as far as leaning against the back of the bar and to watch the group of men as they made their way to the front door. The largest of the Beastwalkers had set off an internal alarm within Deyanira, and her paranoia warned her that it would not be the last time she saw him. Her gaze narrowed, scrutinizing the Beastwalker in such a manner that she could remember every square inch of his *Stupid* Face, as she would've placed it. His eyes were unmistakably predatory, as threatening as her own. At last, the Ox Beastwalker hauled himself through the entry and the doors swished shut behind him.

➳

"Hmmph!" Deyanira huffed out in protest. She couldn't place the Ox Beastwalker's face but, it was almost as if something personal had occurred between the two. She certainly had a long, *Long* List of individuals she had pissed off in the past and most, unfortunately, were rather easy to forget when new ones continued to be added. So as for this Ox Beastwalker? He could've been one of those forgettable faces, though her paranoia told her she'd find out soon...

"Yeah, no good at all... Likewhatthefuckwasthatmanlookingatmefor...!" She muttered out the last part in a string of frustration, likely to go unheard and untranslated by the barkeep. With a swift turn back to the bar, her hand shot for the mug of ale and chugged the last portion of it before slamming it down. Deya knew she'd need the ale to function for whatever was to come outside of those doors. 

*Not half empty. Not half full. In Deyanira's world, it was completely empty.* 

"Thanks for the ale, and the info. But, I can handle myself. C'mon Bandit." With that, Deyanira dismissed whatever the Fire Genasi might say with the wave of her hand. A soft 'Maow...' sounded from below the counter, where the firecat remained idle as he soaked in the warmth of the tavern. His flaming eyes flickered nervously at the door, anxious to return to the rain but with his undying loyalty to his owner, he would follow her anywhere. In true Deyanira fashion, the woman sent the door open with a kick and proceeded out, Bandit scurrying right alongside her. The downpour immediately met her frame once more, pounding on the hood of her top and cascading down her shoulders. Her gaze snapped to the home in shambles, for it would be her next destination for investigation.

*This bounty ain't over until I say it is...* She thought. 

Deyanira approached the demolished, old home.
Michael
_You approach the old home, rundown and devoid of life._

**Having left the bar, our Bounty Huntress stopped before the door of the neighbouring house— supposedly long since abandoned. The hinges hardly kept the door upheld. When she approached, the very air had caused the door to creek open, the wood groaning as Deyanira now got a glimpse of the interior.**

**Thrashed. Furniture was thrown about, the legs of a table smashed as the top laid at an angle. The furnishing of a nearby coach torn apart, as though something clawed at the cushions. The dust collected here— the fireplace had been left untouched for some time now, only charcoal remained inside. Time did not treat this home kindly, neither did most things in this slum really. However while Deyanira stood at the doorway, she heard something deeper inside the house.**

_Meow._

**She heard a soft, pained cry from a feline— a cat other than Bandit was somewhere in this house. But, wait, the bounty was to _find_ a cat. This seemed awfully backwards, as Deyanira may have seemed to have found the cat, somewhere in here, but the beckons the question of _where is the girl?_ Perhaps somewhere else in the house?**

**If Deyanira were to step deeper into the house, further beyond the room where the entrance was— presumably this was a living room —was a kitchen towards the back. Yet, her hunter's instinct could tell something was off. The traces of dried blood stuck to the floor.**

**The bartender warned her that she wouldn't like what she'd find, and, it appears that what he said was true— did he know something about this? Questions would continue to pile on, as the atmosphere almost felt like it went through a shift. It was oppressive in here— the stains of pain permeated in this household. The four corners of this home was tainted by a sadness Deyanira will soon become better acquainted with— a sad story will soon be unfolded, as she continued to delve deeper into this place.**

_What happened here?_