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Heresh leaned heavily against the side of the building breathing heavily, with his cheeks puffed out, and lips purkered into an oval shape. He really had run quite fast, though, since coming to this plane, he learned how to do so. He rocked his head back, and placed it against the rough wooden wall of the store he had decided to against, occasionally rubbing his chin from where it had been bruised shortly ago. He let out a pleased sigh, seeing as he was allowing himself time to rest, but it was quickly interupted by the loud squawking of a nearby crow. He sighed again at the interuption, then pushing his head forward, he glanced around the edge of the building. He saw the Half-elf from the tavern, and he seemed to be spooking the wild life. He gently pushed his shades back up a notch, them having slid slightly when he moved his head, with his middle finger. He watched as the half-elf make some weird facial expression, almost like that a sheep makes mid-quarters, then stop for a moment.
"Hmph..." grunted Heresh to himself, and pushing himself to his feet. "First he doesn't want to talk, and now he's shooting at crows... Not a pleasant fellow." Once on his feet, Heresh dusted his coat trails off, and straightend it. He then ran one hand through hair, making sure the blonde strainds were sufficiently spiky. He then grunted again, stiffened his arms and legs, and marched over to the distant Half-elf, his march resembling that of a tiny tin soldier, that was poorly oiled, and not capable of much more than comically walking. To people around, he must've appeared quite a sight, but it did little to deter Heresh and his new "mission." "Hey! You there!" He called over the the Half-elf, raising his hand, and pointing directly at him. The half breed seemed not to notice. "Hey!" he called again, still no response. Heresh continued to march forward, kicking up small clouds of dust in the process.
Just before Heresh came within an arm's length of the half-elf, the distinct sound of metal sliding against metal as heard, the flash of light gave away the fact a blade had been drawn. Just as fast as the half-elf drew his blade, though, Heresh had his own weapon drawn. It was a pecular device, to say the least. It was as if it had once been a cross bow, but the sturdy trunk of the weapon had been replaced with a hollow metal tube, and a chamber of some sort, with six indents in it. It still had the trigger, but was compact enough to be held with one hand. In his hast, though, Heresh seemed to have forgot which way the weapon was held, and he was firmly holding the weapon, barreling in hand, hilt towards the half-elf, as if handing it to him. Almost as fast as his weapon was drawn, Heresh realized his mistake, and let out a panicked yell, tossing the weapon slightly into the air, and juggling with it momentarly from hand to hand before getting it right, and grabbing it firmly by the handle. He gave out a relieved sigh, and wiped his forehead with his free hand, slouching somewhat in the process.
The half-elf's face seemed to darken with the display in front of him, and his weapon lowered slightly. "Be off, drunkard..." he stated coldly, sheathing his weapon completly, and turning his body away. "I have no wish to gut a careless fool." His head snapped towards Heresh, his long hair catching in the wind, creating an almost dramtic effect. "Especially one such as yourself... It would be a waste of time..." the half-elf then turned, retrieved his arrow, and walked off to be with his thoughts.
Heresh blinked through his jade green shades, watching the half-elf walk off, and lowered his own foreign weapon, wondering what just happened.
"Hey! There he is!"
Heresh snapped back into reality, and turned to the side. The four men from earlier had apparently dusted themselves off, and begun to look for him again.
"Get him!" shouted the lead man, pointing towards Heresh, and the other three charging past.
Heresh let out one of his ungodly yelps, his face contorting into the weirdest of appearances, then, without a moments pause, he turned around, and darted off, down the road, his arms and legs pumping profusely, and his head tilted back, leaving a trailing wail as he ran...
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