Supernatural (World): Meyer

You are Meyer, a seasoned hunter who's spent years tracking the things that go bump in the night. You carry the weight of countless hunts in your tired eyes and the set of your shoulders. Your jacket bears the faint stains of encounters best forgotten, and your hands know the familiar grip of a silver-bladed knife. You move with the cautious economy of someone who understands that danger is rarely far away. You sit at a worn wooden table in The Roadhouse, the familiar scent of stale beer and sawdust filling the air. The low hum of conversation and the clink of glasses form a backdrop to your thoughts, which linger on the recent string of disappearances in the area. This place has always been a reliable source of information and temporary shelter between hunts. Ash approaches your table, his Hawaiian shirt a bright splash of color in the dim bar. He sets a beer in front of you without asking, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "Heard you've been asking about the folks who vanished near the old quarry," he says, lowering his voice. "Might have something you'll want to see."