12th of Spring, 515 A.V.
Forearm throbbing with incessant pain, Rhov grimaced as he shoved open the in door with his uninjured hand. The cage fight he had engaged in last night at The Spinning Coin had turned out more brutal than he initially imagined, and his body now showed the signs of wear. Ring-like bruises encircled the whole of Rhov's neck, a discolored purple blaring bright against bronzed skin. His back faring no better, the worn and tired muscled screamed in agony with every step he took. Worse of all was the curved, inches deep cut he had received from his opponent. An opponent wielding his own blade, no less. Rhov had a greater appreciation for the criminals he hunted who shrugged off his Angle-Knife's lacerating slashes with ease, for his own wound flared with a new wave of pain each time the last had receded. Undoubtedly, cage matches were not good for the young bounty hunter's health, and he would endeavor to avoid ever entering one again.
As of now, his injury was roughly bound in some spare linen that the innkeeper had been kind enough to gift to Rhov. A searing flash of annoyance split through Rhov's already fractured focus, his natural Chaktawean senses overloaded from the constant crowd in Syliras. It seemed Rhov had expended all of his luck in last night's fight, as Eywaat was appeared determined to punish one of his chosen people for not listening to the sage advice of his Guardian.
Oh, right. On top of the constant pain, Eria is still pissed at me. Day just keeps getting better.
Thankfully, Rhov's had encountered a bit of luck before his excursion deeper into the city . The innkeeper proved generous enough to provide him with the name of a talented and, most importantly, cheap healer within the city. Deviana Blackwood, if his memory served correctly. He was warned about her rather unique beside manner, or lack thereof, but Rhov didn't worry about it. If he could best a 6'3" baral-of-a-man in a caged death match, he thought he could handle at least one caustic doctor.
People going about their day-to-day swarmed pass the slightly bewildered Rhov, the sights and smells of the city still a surprise to the foreign-born desert dweller. It amazed him that so many people could live within the confines of the city with no trouble, none of them longing for the vast wilderness which lay only a stone's throw from their homes. Rhov knew that if he had a choice, he would trade the stone monoliths of Stormhold Castle for the towering trees of the Bronze Woods in a heartbeat. The sweet spring breeze, the tell-tale twitter of birdsong in the air, even the constant underscore of danger which ebbed from the darkest part of the forest. Yes, Rhov irrefutably preferred the wilderness to the so-called 'urban jungle', with its constant influx of people, all chattering noisily about some-such nonsense or other.
They think their way of life best, all too intent on forgetting the simple beauty of the forest. Sylirians.
The constant irritation of people's movement dissipated slightly as Rhov weaved his way into the labyrinthine hallways of the Maiden District. Even though it was one of the most populated districts, Rhov found relief in maneuvering into less crowded halls. Now his pain only a faint buzzing in his fingers, he set out to find the reputed doctor which resided here. After a few chimes of frustrated attempts of gleaning directions from the populace, Rhov finally arrived at Deviana's doorstep.
Knocking, more akin to pounding in actuality, on the door, Rhov spoke with a brusk tone. "Doctor, I need assistance."
