- Pronoun
- they or she
Bounty hunting for most Wayfarers so far had mostly consisted of tagging along with established professionals as spare hands and spare eyes. There was only so much a 'mon could do in a fresh body, after all. Now, though, the offworlders had grown into themselves, and had enough strength to bring to bear against wanted 'mon in a real fight. And since just about anyone could collect on a bounty if they had the approval of loca authorities, some Wayfarers were starting to supplement or replace their incomes with hard-won payouts for taking in outlaws...
Outlaws like Hawthorne's Fiends.
The Fiends were a huge gang of Impidimp, numbering well into the dozens. Their modus operandi was to stroll into a small town, push the locals around and demand whatever caught their eye, then get lost by the time a law 'mon could show up, or a local agitator organise a vengeful posse. Most stories of them were of mundane, low-grade thuggishness and bullying, but their wanted posters accused them of murder. Whether by ill-thought-out prank or outright homicide, odds were good the gang had given some poor bastard an untimely death.
Their base – or bases – were clearly somewhere in the badlands, and common sense said that the best places for bases were in or around the 'shallows' or 'mouths' of local rifts. A mystery dungeon was the only place anyone could reliably get food in a place like this, after all, and they were favourite hiding places for anyone not looking to be found, anyway.
The plan, such as it was, was to use Betel's affinity for such rifts to narrow down the search for the Fiends in a way that native Forlasan bounty hunters could hardly hope to. That'd give the Wayfarers an edge, and allow them to catch the outlaws unaware, on their own turf, where they'd not expect to find trouble.
That didn't mean the fight wouldn't be troublesome, of course...
Outlaws like Hawthorne's Fiends.
The Fiends were a huge gang of Impidimp, numbering well into the dozens. Their modus operandi was to stroll into a small town, push the locals around and demand whatever caught their eye, then get lost by the time a law 'mon could show up, or a local agitator organise a vengeful posse. Most stories of them were of mundane, low-grade thuggishness and bullying, but their wanted posters accused them of murder. Whether by ill-thought-out prank or outright homicide, odds were good the gang had given some poor bastard an untimely death.
Their base – or bases – were clearly somewhere in the badlands, and common sense said that the best places for bases were in or around the 'shallows' or 'mouths' of local rifts. A mystery dungeon was the only place anyone could reliably get food in a place like this, after all, and they were favourite hiding places for anyone not looking to be found, anyway.
The plan, such as it was, was to use Betel's affinity for such rifts to narrow down the search for the Fiends in a way that native Forlasan bounty hunters could hardly hope to. That'd give the Wayfarers an edge, and allow them to catch the outlaws unaware, on their own turf, where they'd not expect to find trouble.
That didn't mean the fight wouldn't be troublesome, of course...