Time Stamp: 20th of Fall, 506 AV
After traveling for several days, Al'jaroth had finally reached his destination. He was within site of Zeltiva, and was making his way down to the city gates. He had brought with him only the basic items needed for travel. His pack, his staff, and himself. His staff and pack were slung across his back, to make quick travel easier. Glancing around, the Jamoura frowned slightly. He smelled rotting meat. So, turning from his chosen path, he began to make his way slowly towards the source of the smell, his eyes darting all around.
When he finally found the smell, he stopped and blanched. It was a dead fox, skinned, and left lying next to what remained of a campfire. It got worse, as the Jamoura looked around. There were several other fur- and flesh-less creatures, each left to rot next to the campfire. And the campfire wasn't even put out properly. There were still red coals, and a large pile of wood about to fall onto the coals, which could cause a fire. With a growl, Al'jaroth stamped out the coals and turned his nose to finding the ones who had defiled Nature.
The smell of the trappers, for that was surely what they were, led towards Zeltiva, through the surrounding trees, and down towards the valley leading into the city. Pulling his pack, and staff, straps tighter, he leapt up into the trees and after his new targets. When he reached the valley, he dropped from the trees and took off after them on foot, always smelling to see if they had changed direction. He was within sight of the city gates when he saw the trappers. Picking up speed, the Jamoura charged towards them, reaching back behind him to grab his staff.