Of Cabbages and Kings

Hunter and Scout for the outpost of Ostiarium.
If he were a younger, more naïve man, Tarmen would have jumped for joy and ran into the wilds immediately. For now, he would relish the relative freedom granted by his position and hope that there was some comparison to the wilds of home.
In the days after, he had become well acquainted with the local butchers and impressed a few with his skills in cleaning a carcass.
Tarmen had also been sure to use his meager pay to his benefit. He didn't know what supplies, if any, would be provided to him, but he knew what he needed. Bit by bit, he purchased, worked, or bartered for rope, dried meats, and materials he would need for maps or repairs. He was even able to find a fletcher that he helped, in return for supplies of course. He kept his thievery under a mostly tight lid, nabbing minor patches of leather that wouldn't be missed or an 'oddly misplaced' piece of meat or even vegetables from the vendors. Well aware and cautious of being caught, he kept much of his pilfered goods in small nooks he would find, always in places he either had to squeeze or climb to in order to deter all but the most determined.
Slowly gathering this stockpile was another reminder of the distance, however. Back home, he had innumerable safe houses and caches spread throughout his old routes. Money, supplies, food, and other illegal (depending on what border it lay within) substances all in a few days reach, minimum.
If he hadn't been able to bring his machete with him, he might have reconsidered leaving at all. Feeling its calming cold metal was enough to steel his resolve, since this was the exact reason he had left. He had no fall back plan here, no where else to run.
While it didn't fully silence the longing, what did help was the excitement growing around the Fall Festival. This was a time of year he loved like no other. While his people rarely held any true form of comradery, it was during the festivities that many could sleep a good nights sleep without worry. Not to mention the food and booze that helped rock them into that slumber.
Tarmen had a surprisingly deeper reason for loving the season, for a Kru'll man. While many would look down on mercenaries like him, it was during the Festival that those same people could be found amongst his people, reveling as if they had been siblings or in some cases of the repressed nobility, lovers. It was an honesty that he preferred, letting all of the pomp and 'civility' go and embracing a careless freedom. To enjoy the presence of others and be allowed one night without the judgement of the rest of the world.
It also made it very easy to rob many lesser nobles, though he did not plan to try his luck here. Yet.
Regardless he hoped for a night of chaotic revelry, a celebration of the seeming madness that compelled these people to travel to the fringes of the world. Realizing the pure romance of this expectation, he settled for hoping that the booze was strong enough and that the citizens would allow his own celebratory traditions.
Returning from one such cache, he happened to spot a fellow hunter, conveniently named Hunter if his memory served. In a rather good mood, Tarmen walked up to him in the hopes of learning more about his potential partner, especially since he had proven very aloof.
"Hunter, was it? I remember you were also assigned as a scout as well. Figured we would need to be acquainted at some point, eh?"
Tarmen offered a hand to shake.