All the Pretty People (Mezo)

[John When]

Timestamp: 20th Autumn, 510

Ahnatep was just far too fucking pretty for John's liking. It didn't even smell, which was just unnatural for a city of its size. It was as if people didn't shit in Ahnatep and if you didn't shit, you died horribly. Unless they were already dead and just painted themselves to cover the pasty flesh. Snooty as well.

Gods did John hate Ahnatep.

But he'd needed water and people he could work with, so he'd landed at the crappiest bar he could find and put out tendrils that indicated he was looking for a tracker. He'd ignored all the beautiful, multi-armed ladies because all the possibilities they presented no longer interested him. They were just far too persnickety about washing.

Unnatural. The entire place. The people. Everything. It grated against his very being, which was a being that preferred sleeping on hard ground because it was good for the constitution.

He sipped his beer, which was too sweet, and waited. Ugly sat at his feet loving everyone, which he ignored.

[Mezo]

Mezo hadn't been in Ahnatep long enough for the sheen to fade, and it showed in his sometimes suspicious, sometimes awed expression. And the arms! Already he was forming fantasies of travelling alone with an Eypharian; arms were among his favourite meats.

Cautiously he'd been testing the local brews and wondering if he could ever get used to life in such an odd place. The food was most definitely not agreeing with him; too much bread, not enough red. Or perhaps it was the beer everyone was drinking through a straw, he was not exactly sure, but his stomach had been rumbling for the three days he'd been in the city and showed no signs of stopping.
Mezo needed a hunt.

As if responding to the thought, a black dog materialised and nudged Mezo's leg, looking expectant. Apparently in monarchistic Ahnatep, the hunt finds you.

Mezo looked up to perhaps find an owner for the dog and spotted a sour looking old man alternately sipping and scowling.

"Excuse me, is this yours?"

[John When]

"Try to eat my dog and you will find yourself at the bottom of a well, Myrian." John replied, not bothering to look up from his underwhelming beer.

Though he did click his fingers, to draw Ugly back in close where she'd be safe. Ugly wuffed and loped back over to him, tail wagging furiously. She rested her head on his leg, looking up at him with large, expectant eyes. He gave her a pat.

"I love that dog."

Much more than practically anyone he'd ever met. He sometimes wondered if he'd be a better person if someone had given him a puppy as a child but chances were he'd have just trained it to pit fight and ended up more of a bastard than he already was. Swings and pivot turns.

He gave the Myrian a side look, after a long pause.

"You wouldn't happen to know tracking, would you? You're a long way from home." Unrelated sentences but he'd been thinking both.

He didn't actually hate Myrians. At least they were honest about their maneating. Pain in the ass to kill as well, which was how things should be. John was worried that he could throw a rock in Ahnatep and send someone falling down dead. It just...

Well, it fitted in with his earlier assessment of the place.

[Mezo]

Mezo's stomach rumbled again as the dog skipped off, making it more difficult for him to seem like he had no desire to eat the thing.

"If it can hunt it's much more useful alive."

Mezo set down his odd straw and tugged on his bone necklace, revealing incisors of various size and shape. Several were clearly human, others were far larger.

"Tracking is my second favourite thing to do."

Mezo considered the distance to Taloba. Was it enough? Surely Myri knew of his betrayal by now. With a vengeance of godly levels, was any physical distance far enough to be out of reach?

"Do you have need of a tracker? I was just thinking about going on a hunt myself."

[John When]

It seemed the Gods that hated him enough to keep him alive were now smirking at him. They were never kind enough to smile benevolently. This would do. John was desperate for a distraction, though he wasn't about to tell that to Mezo.

"I am." He replied, allowing himself to make pleased hum at Mezo's necklace.

It was better than a formal recommendation. The man had taken down some pretty big game in his time. He'd have beed surprised about the human teeth but then, he knew Myrians. Mezo had probably put people who annoyed him on the string.

"You have a name, Myrian?" He asked, feeling heartily annoyed when Ugly left her post to stick her nose in Mezo's crotch. "Ugly, for fuck's sake."

He sighed. He couldn't train her not to be affectionate, mainly because he liked the affection. It was just embarrassing.

[Mezo]

Mezo was caugh off guard by the dog and almost spilled the remaining half pint in alarm. He dropped the necklace and the straw, a chattering exclamation that drew a few irritated glances.

Once he'd created a barrier between teeth and tender parts, Mezo scratched the dog behind its ear and chanced to lift the lip and inspect the incisors, then gently shoved her back towards her owner.

"Yours is a good animal, and well cared for. My name is Mezo, of the Slitted Throats."

Mezo adjusted his position to make it more difficult for the dog to sniff around.

"You are not a stranger to death either, I think. What is your name?"

[John When]

John's eyes narrowed and he whistled sharply as Mezo checked her gums. She came trotting back to him, somewhat satiated in her desire to meet new people. He sighed at her. Mezo could hear another muttered 'fucks'ake'.

John order them both another round, in apology. It saved him actually apologising.

"John." He said. "John When."

He'd lost the knack for small talk over the years. It was much harder to keep it up now that he didn't want to impress people, sleep with them or even particularly like people anymore. He just didn't seem to have much in common with the living. In fact, one of the things he liked most about his dog was that she didn't talk, didn't get into fights and didn't die.

The Myrian probably wouldn't die either but he was a Myrian and they tended to facilitate the deaths of others quite effectively. So it was a bit of a win/lose situation if you bothered to get fond of one.

"So, what do they hunt out here?" He said frankly. "I want to kill something I can sell."

He thought about for a beat.

"Not the dog though. Stop looking at the dog."

Ugly wuffed again and looked up at Mezo, tongue lolling.

[Mezo]

Mezo nodded pleasantly in appreciation of John's generosity.

"It depends, from what I gather there are some options. Plenty of grazing animals, all meat and leather, poor hunting.
If it's selling you want, there is a low beast, named Tsana, I think it was."

Mezo made a simple gesture to the effect of a long snapping snout.

"Long faces, lined with sharp teeth. Quite dangerous, but more valuable than a cow, I think."

Mezo thought for a moment about the logistics of the hunt. It was generally open desert, not the cover-rich environment he was accustomed to. Still, a hunter that could not adapt did not get to remain the hunter. He was suddenly struck with a related thought.

"And the nights in the desert are not safe. A nocturnal terror dwells there, though I know little more than that. Have you heard of this thing?"

[John When]

"Baral." John said shortly. "You don't want to be going after that. No one knows what it looks like because it kills everything that sees it. Need a bigger team to try."

Mezo would not have mistaken the look in John's eyes for anything but interest. It was clear he was already considering what it might be like to hunt something so incredibly horrible. He discounted it immediately but that did not quell his interest.

It would be an incredible way to go.

"Tsana would be a pain in the arse too, live in packs from what I can tell." He thought on it. "Of course, if we caught one alone or scattered them somehow."

He smiled. It was not a nice smile.

"No one said we had to fight fair with lizards."

He was already considering using explosives. It might damage the skin but it would be highly amusing. For himself.

[Mezo]

John's response amused Mezo greatly. He'd not been suggesting for a moment that they hunt the baral, he'd merely pointed it out as a potential source of risk that should be considered while they were out. But it wasn't a misunderstanding on John's part, of that he was sure.
His look was one of thoughtful calculation, a little mischief too. Perhaps John had, above mere financial conquest, some of the Myrian passion of the hunt. Mezo offered what wisdom he could to an old man.

"The odd thing is, in many ways, top predators are very easy to track. They're overconfident, not used to being followed, only fled. They make no attempt to hide their tracks, and their eyes are set always facing forwards, making their flanks vulnerable. For the same reasons, we too should be cautious."

"Tell me, Mr. When, what is the largest creature you have hunted?"