The dock house was empty as he strode into it, setting the bundle aside. The windows were few and high up, intended to deter would-be criminals from trying to sneak in. But they provided enough light for his needs. He paced around the interior of the building to get a feel for its size.
"Will this be suited for you Sir Fandruzsch?" The small repulsive rodent who owned the structure queried. It was a run down little warehouse, but it would do.
"Yes, I suppose it shall. I will require privacy during this time, I do not want someone looking in or happening by while I work on this project. Is that understood?" Fandruzsch was losing his patience quickly, valuable time was being wasted. He pulled a small pouch of coins from his pocket and tossed it to the rat.
The rodent nodded and caught the pouch in his grubby little paws. Immediately after counting the coins held within, he scurried out, letting the door drop closed behind him.
Setting the bar across the door was the first thing Fandruzsch saw to before stripping off his cloak. His boots, belt and tunic soon followed, leaving him garbed in only his trousers. Wings of impressive span stretched out as he reached the center of the room and began to stretch out his muscles. He would need to be ready for anything, there was no telling how many of them there had been.
Martial warm up followed the stretching, and he fought his unseen opponents with a ferocity that many had never seen from him. Once he had been sure he had stretched out and abused each of his muscles, he went to the bundle and drew from it the small box of herbs. Carefully he removed a bit of each and took the time to refresh his memory of what it was named, what it's effect on a furry body could be, and what the best dosage was.
He took his time appraising and familiarizing himself with the poisons of his old trade, but the knowledge was all locked away within his mind, and soon enough he was ready to being packaging them. Taking up the bracers, he drew each of the three throwing knives contained in either bracer, they were not in the best shape, but a quick flick of his wrist lodged one into a wooden support beam. They would do well enough for his purposes. Next he opened the compartments concealed on the bracers, and finding them empty, began to roll the dried herbs in a thin rice paper. These packets were placed gingerly into the compartments and closed in.
After putting the bracers back with the bundled goods, he returned to the small herb box, from a false bottom he took out two small tins. In one, was weapon-black, an oily substance useful for taking the metallic gleam off of blades. This he smeared through the silver patches in his fur, until they matched the ebon hue of his pelt. The bright colors of his feathers were also oiled down. The second tin, contained a second oil, this one he used to dye his hair back to the brown shade it once held in his youth.
As the oils set into his fur and hair, he sat in silence, mentally reviewing what tasks were left before him. Once ready, the folded garments came out, the black and crimson uniform he once wore proudly. It fit well over his chiseled form, though it was wearing thin with age.
The blades were then belted on and drawn, tested for balance. They were awkward in comparison to the larger styles he'd grown accustomed to, but he was sure they would be just as lethal as they'd always been in his able paws.
His clothing from the day was left in the warehouse as he fastened the kit of tools to his back. And a lock was removed to seal up the warehouse from the outside, it would do no good for someone to discover only his clothing contained within.
Pulling back the bar from the door, he opened it to the darkened town. Night had seemed to fall quickly, his lengthy preparations always gave him that impression. This night he would hunt, this night he would shed blood in vengeance for she who was taken from him.