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Demon Memory 8

Standing motionlessly atop a stone cliff under the cover of vegetation, a lone hooded figure silently observed an uncommon pair of travellers a far distant away under the hot sun. Lying below to his knees, two large wolves with mismatching eyes followed his line of sight.

Even now, the appearance of a large humanoid demon traveling peacefully with a human huntress is impossible to fathom. The tall demon, Ryner, was covered from horn-to-claw in mismatching rags stitched together to cover any aspects that might give himself away as a demon instead of a demi-human freak. He was bickering endlessly with Frey as she was saddled atop a Ngheflei while he had to travel to their destination on foot.

After observing a few moments longer, the hooded figure then turned away and slipped into the cliffs, with the wolves immediately following suit. With each step, his drab cloak swiftly blends into the surrounding vegetation, becoming unseen. Half a day’s journey ahead of Ryner and Frey’s location was a small but lively settlement, centred on its largest building, the local saloon. Within its wooden walls was a rowdy atmosphere as the crowd talked, drank, shout, sang, gambled and fought amongst themselves.

However, the liveliness abruptly died as the screech of the broken door turned. It wasn’t the familiar sound that had caught everyone’s attention, it was the one that opened it.

A hooded figure, covered completely in drab tattered robes, his arms wrapped every inch in bandages yellow from time and face covered by a discoloured scarf. Judging from the wear-and-tear of his garb and boots heavily caked with soil, one could only assume him for a wandering nomad. Nevertheless, that knowledge failed to sate the suspicion as to why his appearance was still concealed. Although the establishment tolerated those of his ilk to a certain degree, others might not. As such, tension and unease steadily brew and filled the air as many eyes trailed the stranger, measuring him.

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The stranger, almost nonchalant, completely ignored the scrutiny and hostile gazes directed towards him as he walked boldly to the eye-patched bartender. As the stranger stood face-to-face towards him, the calm steward merely paused his cleaning and raised his good eye, arching his brow in a questioning manner.

In a husky voice, the stranger bartered for a refill of alcohol and water in exchange for several demon hide and trinkets as he placed two empty bottles upon the counter. Faced with such a mundane sight, the atmosphere slowly subsided and most of the crowd lost interest. But one group seated just across the right side of the counter continued to eye the stranger. One of them had caught a brief glimpse of a cylindrical object with the shine that hinted of precious metal beneath the stranger’s robe.

Just as he reached out to reclaim his refilled containers from the bartender, the stranger’s hand suddenly paused in mid-air as he overheard members of the crowd discussing recent local rumours spreading among the neighbouring settlements regarding an odd pair of travellers, namely the red-haired high-ranking huntress with her huge companion the “Dark Wanderer”. Shrugging off his hesitation, the stranger firmly clasps his bottles and exited the saloon with hasty steps.

On cue, the ill-intent gang immediately followed suit and exited the saloon to tail him, but the hooded figure was nowhere to be found, as though he vanished into the wind.

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