one of the drunks

With a bundle of herbs clenched in his jaws, the titan made for the strongest wolf stink he could find. This area seemed to have been inhabited for a while, and the borders were relatively strong. From what he could tell of the area, there had to be something useful he could trade for. Though he was a strong enough fighter that joining a group for a raid would be just as easy, he preferred to avoid conflict where he could. At least.. when he was tired. And tired he was, when it came to social interaction. Moving around between new lands was a new experience, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Sooner or later he was going to set up shop somewhere, in some random hole, and they wouldn't be able to pry him out unless they killed him.

A concoction of hallucinogens and intoxicants were carefully wrapped in broad, waxy leaves from a variety of jungle-based shrub. The handy thing about those immense tusks of his was that he never had to worry about such a bundle slipping from his grip and into his mouth. It couldn't really get that far, held broadside as it was. He'd brought cannabis, a classic narcotic, as well as a single fly agaric mushroom and a single psilocybin mushroom. The latter two were rather rare finds, and perfect for those who were fond of trances and hallucinating. Anyone he'd be interested in having future deals with would be interested in what meagre offerings he brought. They served as a taste of what he could bring to the table.

As the scent of borders grew strong, so too did the urge to simply wander over them and take something. He had not been instilled with the best of manners, nor the most strict rules. If no one was around to see you do something, did it really even happen? Instead, he carefully placed his bundle of narcotics on the ground between his impossibly broad forepaws. Then, he tipped back his head, and let out a sonorous call for the leader of this pack. If he was left waiting long, he'd simply pack up and head out to the next one. No skin off his nose.