One accidental snowball is all it takes for a supposed demon to get adopted unintentionally. However, is it actually smart to shelter the origin of so many cruel legends...? Who IS the white-eyed legend, and has he really tortured innocents and take...
Chuckling a bit, Ephrim set his pipe aside, reaching into a fold in his tunic to produce a torn bit of yellowed paper. Ah...old folklore and wild tales could do wonders to simple people's minds...driving them even to make up their own bounties.
Unrolling the parchment, Ephrim scanned the words on it again...as he had done several times over the past few days. Harsh black ink and crude grammar dictated a warrant, a price on the 'demon's' head...along with a rough drawing of a man's face...with fangs and short hair...and soulless eyes.
Wanted, dead or alive.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The listed bounty would be more than enough for his debts...and hopefully, enough to tempt the supposed hunters to go after this man...creature. From the way travelers and legends described, he seemed to be on the small side. This would be easy money...if he could persuade enough men to follow him...
Rolling up the ragged bit of paper, Ephrim tucked his arms behind his head again, allowing himself to drift off. He'd need to wait until the next morning to hope to contact anyone of use...it was far too late in the night to try and poke around in the dark underbelly of the city...the realm of hunters and cutthroats and greedy men.
One last smile crossed Ephrim's face before he finally slept.
How long would it take...to fell a demon...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Thank ye kindly for yer business, Ephrim."
With a grunt, Ephrim merely flicked a gold coin at the owner, "You never saw me here."
grin flashed his way as the coin vanished into a pocket, and Ephrim turned on his heel, confident his presence would not be reported to those he owed here in the city...
Mounting his horse, Ephrim tugged his hood lower, urging her into a trot. The streets were mostly empty at this early hour, though people still scurried along through the streets. It was not quite dawn, there was the barest hint of pink, cold light in the east. Lanterns still bathed the streets in warm light, swinging from chains in the nipping breeze. Rain still drizzled down, more of a mist than anything else, and it made the streets eerier than Ephrim would have liked. However, he pushed through it, wrapping his cloak tighter, heading for a certain little place he'd visited once before...tucked away among townhouses and cheap taverns...where the poor resided.
"Attagirl Fara..." His voice was low as he guided the mare along rain-slicked streets, weaving around people and horses...and even a small herd of sheep at one point. Merely snorting, the horse shook her mane, pricked ears pinning back against the soft drizzle.
