The Black Raptor

Aven was later in coming in than usual. He rubbed at his eyes as he pushed through the heavy door, the familiar squeak of the hinges signaling his entrance. Without bothering to signal anyone down, he stuck his hands in his front pockets and eyed the corners. Typically there was at least one quiet corner open in the evenings, but it looked like the place was incredibly full today. Aven's usual perch was occupied.

He tucked some of his long, gangly, hair behind one ear and turned towards the bar instead. Even with the busy atmosphere, there was always a stool open somewhere. Aven really wanted a beer after his long day fruitlessly searching for tracks in the hot dust, and hell or high water wasn't going to stop him. Even if it meant elbowing some jackass in the ribs to get there.

Luckily, a trio of empty stools stood unoccupied, groups of hunters bent in other directions conversing on the sides. Aven made for the middle one and fell heavily into it, making sure he caught the eye of the bartender. The bartender scurried around fulfilling drink orders before him, so Aven slumped appropriately to wait. He absent-mindedly picked at the worn and dirty leather wrapping his knees, thoughts straying in random odd directions. It was going to be a slow night, but Aven was in for the long haul. The heat and the sun really seemed to beat down on him today, and despite the shower he took, he could still smell dust in his clothes. A fresh beer sounded fantastic, even if it was whatever mediocre crap was on tap that evening.

It had been a rough week for Colden, and he was glad to have a few solitary moments to sit down. As one of the few gold-tiered hunters, we was expected to assist the lower tiered hunters whenever it was possible for him to do so. That meant a lot of hunts and with all the commissions the Organization had received this week and it had taken it's toll. Between dealing with the fledglings who had no idea what was going on and the constant assault of Trigger's antics, he was beyond physically exhausted. Even the walk here had been quite arduous, as he didn't even dare bring his psychotic raptor into town unless he absolutely had no choice. He was quite convinced of the fact that if he tied Trigger outside with the others he'd come back out to a lot of bodies and a few burning buildings. The thought alone was terrifying.

Audibly, he groaned, and reached over to take a sip of his drink. It was a wonderfully chilled pale ale, one of this favorites, adorned with a small orange slice. Spread before him was a series of breeder's papers scrawled black with his notes. A napkin beside him was also covered black with somehow comprehensible script. He was a hunter, not a novelist; as a result his handwriting wasn't exactly the greatest. Regardless, it was clearly apparent he was doing some grueling research and wasn't quite enjoying himself. His writing apparatus lie flat on the table current, strewn across one of the local breeder's fliers.

Painfully, he surveyed the mess he had created, mumbling something before downing a good-sized sip of his drink.

Aven leaned to the right to squirm a finger into his boot to scratch an itch. The bartender was still attending to a talkative gaggle to his left, so he figured it would be a while until he got his beer. It seemed there were four craft beers and a seasonal ale on tap, according the messily-scrawled board behind the barkeep. Aven figured the dark, hearty porter was in his future, at some point. Hopefully.

As he scratched relief into his ankle, it took him a painfully long while to realize that he had planted an elbow into a scrap of paper. Aven sputtered a mumbled apology as he jolted off the paper, and he recognized the gold hunter to his right as he did so.

It wasn't too long ago that Aven gratefully accepted help from his higher-ups in training his wiry little microraptor, and he currently stalked the woods for breeding and territory signs under Colden's orders. His dark cheeks flushed subtly in embarrassment and he wished he had a beer in his empty hands to pay attention to.

"So uhh..." Aven's grin was only a teensy bit strained. "Breeders, huh?"

He set his drink back down and begin looking over the papers again. They were various local sports breeders and it was obvious he was possibly searching for another hunting companion. The series of notes was long and extensive, each one containing a massive number of bulleted items. Various diagrams had been roughly drawn along with a lot of crossed out categories. A flier for hunting Utahs had been covered black and nearly discarded entirely. One for Ceratos had a bit more promise, although it had it's fair share of cross-hatching, etchings, and peculiar writings.

Sighing once more, he took a small sip and rearranged his orange when a tiny voice took him by surprise. Tentatively he shifted his focus to the figure standing beside him, the same one that had just issued a greeting. Due to his exhaustion, it took him a minute to recognize the voice.

"Ohhh," he declared suddenly with recollection, "Aven... was it? Forgive me I'm deplorable with names and I'm tired right now."

In his own initial frustration, he had forgotten that Aven had asked about breeders, so he was forced to add it as an afterthought.

"Ah, hmm? Breeders, yeah.... they're a bit problematic for me at the moment."

(Kunjal's not a hunter, so here's Zephyr.)

In a high-backed chair at a table in the corner, Zephyr slouched, his black trench coat pulled tightly around him, despite the warm weather, his arms and ankles crossed in a bored, but tense fashion. His eyelids drooped slightly in mild exhaustion; he’d gone out on three hunts in the past two weeks and the lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll. The hunts had been exciting, yes, but tiring. The corners of Zephyr’s mouth curled slightly in a lopsided smile as he remembered the groan of pain from the hadrosaur as his spear entered its flank, staining the shaft and ground with crimson. His fingers twitched with the echo of the thrill. But, the adrenaline had kept him up all night with the anticipation of the kill, so he hadn’t slept much.

A slight screech of frustration sounded from outside the Raptor and Zephyr tilted his head in amusement. Mistral hated being tied up. The microraptor was likely straining against her tether in a vain attempt to break free for a few moments to stretch her wings. Kuyasa was probably asleep.

Glancing up from his sandwich for a moment, Zephyr surveyed his surroundings. A familiar shock of dirty blond hair stood out to him at the bar. Its owner was tall young man, a hunter with a gold permit who had assisted Zephyr and the others on many of his hunts. For the life of him, though, he couldn’t remember his name. Polishing off his sandwich, Zephyr stood and quietly approached the bar, intent on getting a drink.

"Yeah, I'm Aven. Aven Sazariel. You got it just fine."

Slouching over into the wood of the bar, Aven couldn't help but glance down at the now-slightly-wrinkled flier his elbow previously occupied. Curiosity encroached on his previous embarrassment, and it looked like the bartender was still occupied.

"Problematic..." Aven began tentatively, sensing the boss's frustration. "Does that mean they're being weirdos as per usual or something else?" His inquiry wasn't entirely out of place. As low-ranked as Aven was, breeder supply had a big effect on how many egg scouting runs he would be doing in the coming days. Sneaking carefully through the woods was dangerous, but Aven much preferred that to the more tedious work of filing reports.

-Senna and Blaine-

The winds were quite chilled now as the every rising sun was now finally starting to drift downwards, its light rays casting huge shadows around town to signify the days end. She had just returned from a glorious hunt of cat and mouse, chasing her pray all the way into the beginnings of Incandescent Desert. Blaine was hot on its trail as he zoomed over rock and grass before pouncing the final blow, Senna was truly proud of her mount today. Along with the bonding moments she had with him.
It was a rather long and tiring day none the less, and the Black Raptor sounded like the best place to relax. Not really... but where else would she go for mediocre ale and loud shouting all night?

She had rode Blaine all the way to the city entrance, long pillars that ascended into the skys, and no protection what so ever. Though the Dinosaurs around the area would be more then enough for that. Blaine slowly chirped his discomfort as gray eyes looked to his rider, the feathers on his head pricked up in an attitude as the usual black muzzle latched to his face and locked behind his head.
"Im sorry. But rules are rules buddy"

With a gentle pet to flatten his ruffled feathers she quickly led him into the hunting district, were people bustled around non stop. Dinosaurs of every species crossed her path as she and Blaine made there way to the back part of the town, crossing under an archway that signified the hunting district was indeed right in front of them. Signs, gotta love them.
Senna took a deep inhale before finally closing the distance of the bar, tethering her friend to the pen outside before making her way inside the bar.

Blaine gave a half hearted but loud growl as she left, obviously angered by her leaving presence as she dispersed behind the wooden doors that squeaked as they moved. Inside was notably louder as people from all over were crowded in the medium sized building, everyone shouting, whispering and murmuring as it all collided together to make a dim hum of conversation. Being the anti social girl that Senna was she quickly took the first opportunity to b-line for a corner seat, looking around with bright green eyes before seating herself on the dark wooden bench. She recognized a lot of faces in the building, flagging down the bar tenders waiter who quickly rushed over to give her her usual, a nice cup of cold ale with a lemon wedge and a small shot of water for dilution. She was not for hard liquor at all.

With that she sipped her cup and idly looked around the room at all the moving figures, though she noticed two familiar faces at the bar. Aven and Colden were having a slight conversation, quite rare she saw Colden with anyone in this place though she could not help but smile a bit. Looking away she could only enjoy her drink while it lasted and relax.

Zephyr's eyes locked on the seat at the edge of the bar as a girl with bright red hair slid into it. He growled slightly under his breath--he had been heading for that place. Zephyr stopped in his tracks and his gaze flicked across the bar, looking for an empty seat out of the way of the other people. Finding none, he turned back to the girl in front of him. She faced the opposite direction sipping from a glass with a lemon wedge on the rim. What the cup was filled with, he couldn’t say.

Zephyr tilted his head as she studied her; he enjoyed observing the small details of others. Normally the things of most interest to him were their idiosyncrasies and slight mannerisms that set them apart. This girl was certainly fascinating in those respects, but what captivated Zephyr the most was her hair. It stood out like a beacon to him, bright red in the dim light of the pub. The deep contrast in light and hue held him rapt for a few moments until his parched throat reminded him of his thirst. Coughing lightly, he inched a bit closer to the bar.

Colden chuckled at Aven, shaking his head at the proposition. He took a casual sip of his beer and readjusted the orange in it to his liking. The bar had gotten a bit more crowded, and he recognized a flurry of a few familiar faces. Not all of them were known to him by name, but he had seen a few out running the tracks and on the course. Alire had probably bitched out a few of them at some point or another. Despite noticing them, he made no attempt to invite them over out of fear of being rude to Aven. To be honest, he was more focused at something on hand.

"Yeah," he mused, doodling something on his sheets of paper, "they are a different sort aren't they? I suppose dealing with all those animals all day tends to drive you a bit crazy. Nah, that's not my issue. As you know," he sighed, "my raptor is a bit psychotic and while I love her to death, it's hard to get around some places without a mount. I was looking at getting perhaps another one just for transportation purposes, but honestly it's a prospect that's not going all too well."

He emphasized this by glancing down at his sheets, some of them near scribbled black with a large series of notes, diagrams, and other obscure etchings that probably only made sense to him. The sheer scale of it overwhelmed him briefly and he hung his head while solemnly taking another sip of his pint.

The bartender finally pushed a cold porter into Aven's eager hands, distracting him briefly as Colden scrawled on his notes. Despite the hearty flavor of the dark beer, Aven figured it to be oddly refreshing and took a cheerful gulp. It seemed to wash some of that hot dust flavor that he always seemed to taste after a long day outside.

"I'm surprised you can concentrate at all through this noise." Aven noted as he turned around to lean back against the bar, offering a grin to Colden. He recognized a few others wandering through the place, and made a mental note to greet them at some point. "I'd offer help, but I'm honestly useless when it comes to breeders. It was a friend who hooked me up with Northel's egg when I got my license, and I've spent pretty much all my time in the wilds since."

Some of his hair was escaping his loose ponytail, and he pushed it out of his face as he glanced around. His grin turned slightly apologetic. "I can leave you alone, though, no worries."