Hunters Anonymous (OPEN)

[righteously]

WHO: Dean & Open - Mingle it up!
WHEN: late May
WHERE: the Horizon - Roadhouse Edition
WHAT: Starting a Hunters Anonymous Support Group
WARNINGS: drinking and murder, mostly.

( It starts out with just a couple of people. Dean, obviously, because it's his bar. Eventually Geralt, followed by one of Geralt's other hunting buddies — and then another, and then before you know it there's a handful of hunters all swapping stories about the crap they've seen out in the wilds.

It's about the time Dean makes to take out a notebook and honest to god start writing some of this crap down that two things hit him — First, this is actually really freakin' useful. Second, it feels right. The Roadhouse here may be fake, but this is what the real one would've been like. This is what it was meant for. This is the most real this place has been since he got here.

So he runs it by Geralt, and puts out an APB.

Harvelle's Roadhouse is officially open for business — and not just of the drinking variety.

Mind the jukebox. )

NOTES: This is an open mingle, so feel free to top-level below! The idea here is to open up the Roadhouse for hunter-types to use as a central meeting place or base of operations for anyone who desires to, so feel free to use it as a backdrop for any threads whenever. Obviously non-hunter people are welcome to see the message and wander in whenever they want, too! Info on the Roadhouse can be found here. Hit me up at paingravy for anything you need any time.

Comments

[gynvael]

Oh, naturally. Manners do appear to be your priority.

[ It's said casually, without heat. He obviously can't give a shit about niceties.

He mulls over the remark. For something. It would seem so, for all of the territories, but Solvunn has always been the most curious to him. Thorne wants the Singularity, the Cities want bodies for the war they see on the horizon. What does Solvunn want? Fodder for their gods? Feed for the goats?

His gaze drifts down to where the myriapod has effectively started eating the other creature alive. He tips an empty glass over top of them, just to. Contain any blood splatters. ]

Always the sleepy quiet villages you need to be careful of. [ He glances over. ] If any tree gods invade, let me know.

[ofthesword]

What? You think I can't be nice? Come on, you barely know me!

[But it's obvious Nero's amused by the whole thing. Why not? Geralt's got a very familiar deadpan sorta humor -- the perfect kind for poking at. Nero's got a whole lifetime of getting under the skin of a guy like that and only getting a sharp word in return.

Now he thinks about it, Geralt knows him pretty well already. Or. Feels that way, huh? No one's ever gonna be Nero's brother again. There's no replacing Credo. Never will be. But he can appreciate a guy who brings those memories back.

The myriapod's got the empusa queen's head entirely off, ripped off with all of those little human hands. This is simultaneously one of the weirdest fuckin' things he's ever done, but also the coolest.

No need to keep them that small, right?

Nero snorts, dripping in derision.] Tell me about it. [He stretches, lifting his arms over his head, then to the sides. The myriapod's won, huh.] Yeah, yeah, you'll be first on the list. What're you gonna do, fly over and help? Come on. [He'll have it handled, thanks. He's got great experience with trees.] I wanna fight one of these things later. Gotta keep the practice up, you know. You wanna watch?

[Yeah, he's really been bored lately.]

[gynvael]

No. So I can put some coin on it. [ Geralt glances sidelong at Nero, before acknowledging, ] I have people in Solvunn.

[ Mostly only Himeka, now. Wanda, too. He's more than aware Himeka can take care of herself, but nonetheless. The distance means he never quite knows what can happen when, where. All he can do is at least have someone keep an eye out for him.

He looks down at the captured beasts, then back up at Nero. Takes a drink before he shakes his head. ]

Another time. Had my fill of monsters. [ Unlike Nero, he runs into them on a regular basis in the real world. He's in the Horizon to have a drink and not kill something for once. ]

wrap up here?

[ofthesword]

[People, huh. Weird way to say it, but he's caught on that Geralt isn't exactly kissin' his friends on the cheek whenever they meet.] Yeah, then you'll know they're in good hands. I got my own people to protect, too.

[And yeah, the townspeople are fucking weird and sketchy, but he's not letting anything happen to them, either. He owes them for the wine and cheeses, the little gifts of soap and the butterfly necklace (still with its place hanging from a wall in his loft.)

Nero huffs, but with a shrug of his shoulder, he puts it on the table. Later. Honestly, the company's good enough. Himeka and Wanda are already precious to him, but they're... well. Not hunters. Not the way he is. They got more purpose in life than just going around shooting shit.]

Suit yourself. But I'm pickin' up this rain check when you got time.