The atmosphere of the place was smoky, dark and quiet. The patrons of the bar all ignored me as I sat in my corner, slowly ‘sipping’ at my ale. I had of course chosen a dark corner, shadows wrapped around me as I tucked myself away. It was nice and quiet - and I had an easy time of listening to the conversation around me. In truth - the night was frustrating. For myself, at least.

It was calm, it was peaceful, the air was sedate, and most of the citizens around me were calmly drinking. Most individuals who somehow peeked into my thoughts at this moment would wonder, if things were so calm, why then, was I irritated? For you foul little mind readers, I have only one answer.

I am the Huntsman, and as of this moment, I had nothing to hunt. It was a uniquely frustrating situation to me, because I was well aware that most of the citizens around me would never care that there were no beasts to slay, but for myself it was absolutely the worst. I craved it, sought to slay the monsters that dared threaten civilization. But there were none, they all stayed hidden away in their holes, safe from my blade. I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Something would happen.

There were always beasts to hunt. I just had to be patient. I ran my finger along the rim of my mug, silver eyes peering out from behind my glasses. I had let the circular glasses slide down my nose so that I could see around this place - the smoke hung thick in the air and made it at least slightly difficult to see. I pulled my hat down low over my face and sat back.

There was something in the air. A tension. But where had it come from? I closed my eyes, focusing on my ears instead.

“Did you hear? ‘Nother ship's been sighted in Port.” Hm, what was this? It had been a while since a ship came into Port here. In fact, the last one had been the one I came in on.

“Aye. It's one of them pirate ships. Marshal wanted to keep it out but they weren't havin’ none of it.” The speaking man snorted. “Right. Marshall is whipped by them women though. Just rolled right over when the Cap'n batted her eyelashes at him.”

Of course he did. Men were ever tied to their natural urges. I was lucky in that my urges, my proclivities, were oriented to the Hunt. A family trait, I supposed - in the course of time I would have stronger urges for intrapersonal relationships, but as of now, they were a distraction. One I indulged, but not sought after. No, this new ship with its apparently female captain, this would not be any interest to me.

“But didja heer why?” Sweet Hunt, you two are worse than gossiping women. Truly, who cares? You only caught my ear because you're the first to talk about something other than let in half an hour.

“Nuh, why?” Because they need supplies, you simpleton. It's why ships docked. The man who seemed to be in the know laughed.
“Cuz the Cap'n with the big tits? She’s lookin’ fer summin’.” Great. Now the simpletons are identifying them by their secondary sexual characteristics. When would their absolutely stunning display of intelligence and foresight cease? I sighed and shook my head, sitting back. Unless this captain decided to hire me to hunt this person they were searching for, this was not something I would care about.