It's late, the sun has set on what has been a dreary day, constant rain and drizzle pounding down on the pavements and soaking the mud-track streets, create thick, sludgy puddles about Bree-Land.
Furley, a newly-promoted Watchman of Bree-Land, is overseeing the change of the guard for the night shifts when a disturbance is reported at Adso's Camp; reports of a bear sighting that is damaging property, stealing supplies and creating a nuisance. Frowning, already in a bad temper and tired from his first full week, this is the last thing he wants to deal with in the wet, cold night, but lack of staff means he'll have to oversee it personally.
Taking his temporary second-in-command, Deorla, he heads off. Not that he's had a thousand things to deal with already... lack of respect from the guardsmen, a power-battle with Second Watcher Heathstraw, and not to mention that thing from the North that destroyed Archet...
Arriving at Adso's, he sees nothing out of place, except for one thing. A stranger. An outsider to Bree. A great hulk of a man, tall, broad shoulders, a build like a wild bear and with a thick, shaggy, unkempt beard and hair. Strangers is the last thing he needs right now.
"Oi!" he shouts, still not having learned how to speak to people properly in this job. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing here!?"
When the man stands up, Furley's hand goes straight to the hilt of his sword... bad mistake. The man bears his teeth; strange vice-like jaws growling at him. Standing tall, he doesn't back down, and Furley knows he cannot win this.
"What is the problem?" the man replies, to which an altercation starts. He explains how he's in town investigating a "sickness" in the Old Forest; one that's plagued the wolves and bears and he has been charged with finding a cure. Greybrand's his name. His intentions are only good.
The man talks forcefully, and Furley gives in. His inexperience has shown yet again, and the man still growls at him, though looking a little rather more relaxed and amused than he did, but there's a feral twitch in his eye.
Furley's second-in-command, Deorla, explains to the towering man that she's been assigned to assist Furley in Bree to help keep the borders safe. It pays well, and they're looking for soldiers or mercenaries who would assist. There's a Uruk camp in the North, and they need reports on its threat and size.
Before Deorla can finish telling the details, the man has shot off with lightning pace, and before they've even finished their conversation he has already returned. For a moment, Furley could've sworn he saw the man on all fours. He stands tall, snorting, blood dripping from his mouth down his tunic, but it's as if he hasn't noticed.
Furley asks for the details, but the man merely casually picks something out of his teeth; a large chunk of undigested, raw, sinewy meat that the man quickly ravages, swallowing it in one scoop of his jaws. Blood seeps between his teeth and stains them red, and when he smiles at Furley, he learns a very quick lesson.
Not everything is as it seems in this world. There are some things that he never needs or wants to understand. And if he doesn't learn fast, start talking respectfully instead of trying to throw his weight round, he could be that chunk of meat rather quickly. Some outsiders are strange folk...
