Re: Work For Those Who Can Get It (Dated)

[Sten Softclaw]

Sten bristled at the voice. It sounded quite honestly and unashamedly evil, and quite frankly didn't care what you thought.

"We're the ones asking questions," he said, through the door. He turned to Zwei. "Is he really going to tell us whether he's going to kill us or not? Really think about that."

Asking nicely, after all, only has so many applications in a security setting.

[Kestrel]

As the Doorkeeper spoke up the Hunter listened with rapt attention. A quick analysis the voice he was hearing. Combined with the few glimpses he saw of the griffon when he rose to speak the Hunter was able to put together a rough amalgamation of a mental image of just who was over there. Hmm...he needed more information to fill it out; the image was far to blurred to be of much use.

In regards to the words the Doorkeeper had spoken, the Hunter could not help but understand. Safety was rare in these troubled times, it payed to be wary. Luckily for the Doorkeeper the Hunter was not here to hunt however. Were he here for blood, he would have already drawn it.

"I seek shelter, Doorkeeper, not blood." the Hunter assured, his eerie tone carrying with it a solemn honesty. As if to agree the raven fluttered its feathers and again knocked upon the door.

[Johan Tercel]

Zweihander thought about the hunter's words for a few moments. He apparently sook asylum in these sewers, and had tracked Zweihander down (again). It was not his decision to let the sinister griffon in, however... it was the decision of the two other inhabitants of this place.

Looking to Sten and Grace, he gave them a look that very clearly said, "What do you think."

[Sten Softclaw]

Sten shrugged. The bastard sounded genuine, although that'd surely be the no. 1 requisite for being a good liar. Mind you, even if he did get through, they'd have the drop on him. Zwei was a devil in a fight, and Sten was fairly sure he could muster some good old-fashioned rat-in-a-corner viciousness.

Of course, Gracie still had to cast her vote, little trouble she was.

[Graceful Whisper]

Grace said nothing from the shadows. Remaining quiet until she was sure who and what it was and what intentions it had. Until then she would remain in the realm of darkness, waiting and watching, observing.

[Johan Tercel]

Zweihander looked back and forth between Grace and Sten, the quiet gears in his head turning as he decided what to do. Sten had shrugged, expressing apathy; Grace was sticking to hiding. Looked like it was up to him. Moving towards the door, he began the process of opening the iron portal. With a quiet creak of oiled hinges, the old vault door opened inwards to allow the hunter access.

Zweihander hoped that his decision was the right one.

[Kestrel]

It was the Raven that entered first after the door swung open. The large black feathered creature releasing a happy bark before taking flight and soaring into the room scanning it for a place to roost and rest. It found a perch near the warmth of the cooking fire, and happily settled down.

A moment later the Hunter revealed himself, though his approach was one that drew far more attention. The shadows rolled off of him like a silken sheet, piling back into the gloom of the sewer proper as he came into view. He did not walk so much as pour forth into the dim light, his powerful muscles flexing and propelling him silently forward with a practiced, fluid precision; a fact that was rather unsettling seeing as how he was larger than both Sten and Zwei.

One could not help but wonder just how something that big had been able to move that quietly. Or remain hidden for as long as he had.

The griffons form was mostly hidden beneath the flowing folds of a well worn cloak; various bones had been carefully stitched into its fabric, secured in such a way that the small trophies would not make noise as the griffon moved.

Beneath the hood of this cloak, the Hunter's face, hidden as it was behind that strange mask of his, portrayed nothing more than the same sort of dissonant serenity that his voice had earlier carried; only the Hunters eyes giving any sort of life.

The two golden orbs seemed to almost glow in the dim light that was filtering forward. Filled with a supernatural smoke fill his otherwise piercing gaze. For a long few seconds the Hunter just stood there silently. Those eerie eyes of his watching and judging the both of them. It was as if he were looking for something specific within each before he finally offered a polite bow before walking past them both into the room beyond.

Their kindness would not be forgotten or unreturned.

[Johan Tercel]

Zweihander observed the familiar form of the hunter slither in, not so much a griffon as a shadow of one, black as night. With a careful eye he noticed that the bird of his had flown in and already made itself comfortable by the fire. Birds... too smart for their own good sometimes.

Looking to Sten and Grace with a shrug, he padded behind Kestrel to escort him to his destination in the vault.

[Sten Softclaw]

The word "Arsehole" emblazoned itself across Sten's frontal lobe as the aforementioned swaggered in. He hung behind Hunter as it went on into the vault. For his own amusement, Sten eyeballed the back of its head and hopefully, it could tell.

He gave Zwei a grimace and nodded towards Hunter, hoping it was sign language for 'who's your mate?'.

[Graceful Whisper]

Grace watched silently from the darkness as the Griffon entered. He was big, possibly even the largest of Griffon's Grace had ever seen. She remained still as he passed into the next room, only slinking out from the dark as he headed into another room. She looked at the bird, then at Sten with a questioning expression.

[Kestrel]

Soundlessly the Hunter moved across the floor towards the cooking fire. His gaze flickering about as he studied the inside of the Vault for the first time. He was quick in his assessment, his eerie gaze quickly delving into the shadows in search of anything he had not seen at the door and committing the details of the room to memory.

He could not help but feel the eyes of the Dookeeper boring into the back of his head the entire time he did so. It was a minor sensation, one that was easily ignored, but it almost earned a chuckle anyway. Almost.

As his gaze washed over where the hippogriff was hidden it paused. He could not see any true details, merely an outline, but he could tell someone was there. Wings, a head, a pony shaped body. Pegasus perhaps? Taking a slow breath he could not say he smelt one, the scent was...off. The stranger smelled of both pegasi and griffon. Perhaps it was because of the other scents lingering in the air. Zwei and the Dookeeper were rather close and could be affecting the quality of the scent after all. If he truly wished to know he would need to be closer to find out, and at the moment that was not an option.

Keeping his observation to himself the Hunter altered his path a bit and moved toward the fire pit. Growing closer he could now smell the scent of burning coals and food. Had he interrupted their meal; he wondered. Upon arrival he took a seat not far from the fire, remaining still and silent.

The Raven, on the other talon spoke up. Specifically it barked a greeting at the one who was staring at it; a greeting that sounded eerily like 'hello'. The hunters hooded face turned ever so slightly to the side, and he offered a silent nod to whoever had caused the bird to call out. A moment later and he was again staring at the fire, waiting on the others to arrive.

No doubt they had questions.

[Johan Tercel]

Zweihander fidgeted with his talons, giving Sten a quick sign saying, "He's safe.". Walking close behind the black-cloaked griffon, he looked to the cooking fire that held the remnants of the morning's breakfast, very much burnt. Giving a sigh, he tied a thick rag on his claw and took the pot off the fire and placed it to the side.

He would sit there, as his mute self was often want to do, until he managed to figure out the "why" of the hunter's return.

[Sten Softclaw]

Sten sat next to Hunter. If it came to it, hopefully the big guy would be slow close up. Zwei could vouch for him all he liked, but any seven foot bloke with a voice like two grindstones called 'The Hunter' (complete with capital letters) deserved every micron of suspicious levied against him.

"Well then, why are you down here, if not to murder us all in our beds?" said Sten, eyebrows raised.

[Graceful Whisper]

Grace decided to take up a spot on her given bed, eating the meal provided as she kept an ear focused on the conversation between Sten and the new Griffon, she wanted to find out as much as she could before she'd even consider talking with him.

[Kestrel]

The Hunter studied the pot as it was pulled from the flames. He could see and smell the singe of burnt food, it looked dried however. An earlier meal. Breakfast perhaps? Wordlessly the gryphon turned to the one who'd spoken to him. For a moment he said nothing, merely watching, his eyes again looking for something unknown. A weakness? A angle of attack? It was impossible to tell. Eventually however he did answer him.

Despite Sten's personal thoughts on the matter, the gryphons voice did not in fact sound as two stones being ground against one another. Emboldened by the gravel of age and experience, the sound of the Gryphon's voice was far more akin to the waters of a great river. Serene and cool to the ear at its surface soothing even. The words bubbling up from deep within his chest, hiding unknown secrets beneath the surfaces impenetrable flow.

"I came seeking shelter Doorkeeper." The gryphon started. "The Commander and his forces are currently displeased with my actions, as I was unimpressed with theirs. As such I sought out the shadows, and found Zwei once again." Turning back to stare at the fire the griffon gave a moment for the words to sink in before he spoke up yet again. "Allow me to stay, and my hand is yours to wield; until the time that I can find a home of my own. Turn me away and I shall leave without question. The choice is yours."

[Johan Tercel]

Zweihander closed his eyes pensively. The griffon's offer was more than tempting, it was a certainty. The black-cloaked hunter was definitely a force to be reckoned with, if memory served correct. And another pair of eyes down here could make the difference between life and death. However, it seemed his offer had the possibility of being a temporary arrangement. As he said, "until the time that I can find a home of my own."

He had to be secure that this griffon wouldn't bring his location of this place to an enterprising informant. He didn't seem like he wanted to kill the four beings in this vault though... and that was a start.

Opening his eyes, he looked the hunter straight in his own. Could he trust this sinister, serene stranger? Time would only tell. But Zweihander felt like he should give this griffon a chance. He slowly nodded in acceptance of the hunter's terms.

[Sten Softclaw]

Sten grimaced and sighed. Well, if Zwei said to let him in, they let him in. It wasn't like he was the first deserter Zwei'd taken in. Second, really. Of course, lots of folks had been in the same circumstances as Sten, and that didn't stop them being arseholes. He shrugged and gave Hunter half a smile.

"Well. Welcome to the team then," he said, "for the time being, anyway."

[Kestrel]

Bowing his head low in respect and thanks the Hunter relaxed one of his heavy hands reaching up to work the clasp of his his cloak, and carefully removing it; revealing for the first time the griffons shrouded appearance. 

His powerful body was wrapped tightly in a suit of beautifully crafted armor. A mix of cloth and leather, the three part suit was crafted tailored; fitting him almost like a glove. He still had his bone decorated hood, apparently it being a part of his armor, allowing him to hide most of his actual appearance. What could be seen of that was shown by his wings, which were tucked in tightly against his sides. Scarred from battles unknown the heavy appendages were dyed in three-layer pattern. The top layer of feathers was a rich raven black, the secondary layer a darker grey, with a final, lighter grey forming the gryphons primaries.

Unlike his natural coloring his armor was a mix of other, more subtle grays and the rich brown of leather. The first layer of this armor was comprised of a warm layer of under-armor clothing; which served as insulation from the elements. The cloth was left somewhat loose so as to allow for a full range of motion, its heavy body decorated with a strange swirling pattern. On his sides, two patches of a strange soft blue silk-like material connected the armor of his back and front; giving a more 'regal' appearance to his otherwise shadowy look.

The second part was comprised of carefully measured layers of medium weight leather. Which stacked upon itself to form a almost scale-like patterning around his torso. A leather gauntlet on his left foreleg also providing some additional protection. This set up of cloth and leather was nowhere near as strong as while allowing him to flex and twist in any number of ways. Every buckle was padded, and any loose straps cut to length, everything was tight, trim, and taught. He afforded nothing to reveal his position or give away his motions. To leave such things behind would have been the mark of a rookie.

Overtop the blue-silk the gryphon had a large belt secured around his middle, a series of cloth pouches sewn into its length. Perhaps it was from one of these pouches that he'd originally taken the healing poultice he'd provided for Zweihander when first they'd met? Behind these, on the gryphon's sides and back, was a small pack and saddlebags. They seemed empty for the most part, but a keen eye could see that they were hiding the handles of some strange blades; positioned so as to be within easy reach, and so that the draw would have the blades moving towards the enemy in an instant.

On his right side secured firmly in a shaped leather holster, secured over the saddlebag there by strong leather straps, was some form of ranged weapon; most of which was hidden in the heavy leather holster that protected it from the elements and other possible wear while not in use. The most obvious and identifying feature the weapon had was what looked to be like some form of pressure tank built into the carefully shaped wooden stock; aside from that its form was hidden. T'was the weapon he'd no doubt used to take down some of the guards holding Zwei hostage.

What stood out most of all however was not the gryphon's armor, or unique ranged weapon; it was the gleaming silver gauntlet that sheathed the griffons right front leg. Spanning from the tips of his wicked talons to the top of his powerful shoulder where it terminated in with a grim, bird shaped pauldron, a Raven to be specific, the item was eaisly the most protective item he had on him. 

The beautiful construct accentuated the muscles and joints of his limb perfectly. The silver was at points broken up by an intricate fluid flow of off-white bone inlay; which every so often, would merge into streams and then coalesce to form of a large lake of bone. Around these lakes an rivers, inlaid with painstaking detail, were long lines of of ancient gryphonic runes. To those that knew the language they would translate into prayers and wards, most relating to the Northr death deity known as The Collector. 

Truly whoever had crafted this item was a smith of unparalleled skill. The attention to detail, the fitting, and the style...it was as if the weapon were a living, breathing part of the griffon himself. 

Yet, despite this fact, one could not help but feel that there was just something off about the weapon. Something strange about the way it looked. Something supernatural in the fluid way it moved as Kestrel began to move. The longer one stared, the worse the effect became. It's only cure being to look away and back up at the Hunter himself, or the room at large.

Looking over at Zwei again, then to the Doorkeeper the gryphon offered the same strange salute he'd given the gryphon before when last they'd met. His head bowed, the Hunter lifted his gauntlet-shrouded hand. Balling it into a fist and bringing it across his armored chest and pressing firmly against his shoulder. "You've my thanks, and my Hand." he started, holding the pose for a moment before returning to his semi-relaxed state again. His gaze focusing on the coals before him.

[Johan Tercel]

Zweihander gave the black griffon a grin, watching him salute after he made himself comfortable by the cooking fire.

I think this calls for a bit of luxury... the mute griffon thought with that same smile upon his face. Standing up, he went to the "stockpile" that comprised the norther section of the Vault. Here was where the possibly valuable items were stored, on scavenged tables and hastily cobbled together cabinets. He was looking for something in particular though... a gramophone, brought here by a musician that never came back for it.

Grazing his eyes over the many bits of detritus, he saw the familiar horn-like shape of the gramophone. Padding over to it, Zweihander didn't even notice that his sword knocked over an old vase until it was midway to the ground. With a silent yelp, he tried to perform a skilled feat of dexterity with his tail, attempting to catch it with a single deft movement.

He failed.

With a loud crash, the vase fell to the ground, smashing into several pieces. Face red, he quickly picked up the gramophone and rushed to the rest of the beings by the cooking fire. Hopefully it didn't wake Arnholt up-

Sighing as he heard the young griffon wake, he glanced over to see the young tercel getting out of his bedroll clumsily. Oh what fun.

[Sten Softclaw]

Sten winced and clacked his beak.

"That, Zwei, is your problem," he said. He turned to the others. "I don't know why he keeps it around. I tell him to shift it on to the state, but he never does."

He checked the record in the gramaphone, which was from some pony band from before the war, by the look of it. That, he could get on board with. Griffon music had too many drums and too much major key for Sten's taste.

[Kestrel]

The Hunter watched silently as Zwei tripped and stumbled to get out the gramaphone, loosing the vase in the process. Shame. It had looked nice. As Arnholt stirred the Hunter's gaze shifted again. A young one? It had been a long while since he'd seen such. So very long indeed.

Upon its roost the Raven barked another greeting to the little one as he woke. While the Hunter merely nodded silently and went back to watching Zweihander. A moment more and he was answering the Doorkeepers comment with one of his own. "Kindness is a gift." he said, tone never once shifting. "One our State is not always fond of granting."

The music started then. Strings, a horn, a flute. Chipper, if simple. In all honesty the Hunter much preferred the music of his village compared to this. It was however, music, and thus something he'd not heard in quite some time. As such it was welcomed and savored.

[Johan Tercel]

Zweihander sat down by Sten, his ears trained on the sound of the Equestrian music. Light and melodic, it helped offset the oppressive atmosphere of the vault, which was directly cause by the fact that they were oh-so-many metres of ground from the clean, fresh air of the surface. Well, figuratively clean.

Taken away from reality by the music, to Zwei it felt like weeks passed in his mind. He was prone to these "flights of fancy" as his stern father called them. Daydreams were common to Zweihander in less-stressful situations, and this definitely counted as a relatively calm moment in Manehatten. This griffon had escaped bloodthirsty cockroaches, homicidal griffons, and his own psyche to get to this place, this...sanctuary. He would not lightly let this home go.

Shifted from his musings by the sound of conversation, he gave a small smile as he produced several other albums for the gramophone. A couple more Equestrian records were inside this collection; even one from a legendary... was it a cello, or a bass player? He always couldn't decide. Shrugging internally, he passed them to Sten and waited for his reply.

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