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★_★【Mason The Lycanthrope "Noble"】★_★

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Mason followed the scent for just a bit longer, though realizing the path she had been trailing was routing back to his original transformation spot. The sword upon his vambrace had began to glow, signaling the only thing he cared about. His time was ending. The lycan looked up, and saw the bright white orb in the dark sky close to being shrouded by the smoky clouds. And by the looks of things, he would be safe for the rest of the evening. It was then did the man's memory strike him, the beast now bolting for the streets and continued for the back alleys. The flashes of red and yellow dawned upon his vision, the human voice now blaring within his ears. He had to return, as to not draw any suspicion to where he had been, or what he was doing. The people he brought attention to, would surely keep busy attempting to track the lycan, and now his rage was sated. The moon glided towards the darkening air, though just in time for Mason to reach near his spot where he left his belongings. After having shed his clothes, the lycan was glad to see that no one had taken it upon themselves to ransack his things. However, his sight blurred deeply, and the pain of his body reverting crushed through him. He yelped and growled in agony, though it quickly faded and his human legs returned. The anger no longer fueled him, and all that remained was the sheer clarity.

Mason collided with the wall, his body shrinking down to its normal stature, though a little bigger due to the elongation to his form. Fortunate that his clothes were a size bigger, or else it would have been embarrassing to have to get home in his underclothes. His breathes of relief only stuttered as the sound of his sword hit the pavement next to him. It had stopped glowing, and now the one thing he needed to do was to get back to his house. Yeah. The man stood up, and made his way over to his clothes, and put them on as securely as possible. The sheathe for his cane was still intact, a marvel to admire since he always had to replace one. He brought the weapon in its rightful place, and slammed the golden end onto the ground with confidence. "Ah, alright. Time to get home, dear thing..." He whispered to himself, after having tossed the can upwards and swiping it from its height. The lycan walked from the dark alley way, though not without noticing a small group of individuals along the path. One was fairly familiar, within he blood rage having the man within memory. However, his true goal was still within his mind, the scent of the woman the beast had been chasing, now permanently branded into his senses. He would know where to find her were she to be out, and possibly compensate her for the wild hour that he had been bestial. To be honest, having to be forced to change was odd, though when he allowed it, he was always in complete control.

Mason's thoughts soon returned, and realized that the man who had attacked him was also within the path he usually took to get home. It was something he'd have to go through with, the noble now walking on the opposite side of the street. He would avoid eye contact, and pretend to be in his own world, red eyes brightly glowing within the dimly lit streets of Caldwell.


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oni kori ryu's Partner

Questionable Loiterer

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Katarina Rhyum


Kat sat in complete silence, watching curiously as the werewolf seemed to take on an aura more of concern than destruction. It seemed particularly interested in the night sky, and she presumed that it must be looking at the moon, if the tales she'd heard truly were coming to life as it appeared. After a few moments of uncertainty, the beast turned and left, heading off on some other errand.

Her breath came out hard, for she had been holding it for some time now without even realizing it. She knew the beast could not be far and therefor the danger had not altogether passed, but for now it had lost interest in her. She pulled off the dirty old hood and threw it on the ground, no longer in need of it. Standing up slowly, her knees and ankles cracked from the strain of squatting for so long. Though she hated to do so, she put the dagger back in its place at her hip, it wasn't good for a thief to be spotted with her weapon drawn in this city.

She looked about anxiously, wondering when and from where the next assault might come, but she could neither see nor hear anything. Stepping slowly back out into the street, she could see now that the people were beginning to come back out of their homes and this gave her a stronger sense of security. Walking at a normal pace now, she followed her feet where they would take her as her mind wandered through the dark stories she had been told. When she looked up again she was near the alley where it had begun, her curiosity once again bringing her back into danger.
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"There is a man that I know. For seventeen years he never spoke. Guess he had nothing to say.
He opened his mouth on Judgement Day."


Solace very nearly lost his temper. A rare occurrence for the laid back man. Looking into the eyes of an angel, forced long repressed feelings of resentment pointing in all directions, at his father, the church and himself. He'd never struck a woman beyond interrogation tactics, but now he was seriously considering it. This "Serran" was rank with naivete and it was going to get them all killed. He was on the verge of shouting until he saw Shareas wince out of the corner of his eye and he immediately picked up on the fact that something was very, very wrong. Whatever had come over her, must've been unbearable for an assassin to show even a moment's weakness or pain.

"Alright then." He said to Serran as calmly as possible. "Take them. Lock them up. See if being locked up in a cage is any way for a person to live. See if they forgive you for making them prisoners in their own bodies all for the sake of the mythical second chance. Who knows? You might just get lucky." He lit another cigarette. "If they don't, I'll make sure those beautiful wings of yours go to good use." He turned on his heel and made to leave before Raziel threw down the sack of coins. He picked them both up and handed the one to Shareas.

"C'mon Big Spender. Let's talk business elsewhere." He said all but grabbing Shareas and leading her away. He could tell she needed to get out here but he didn't know why nor did he want to find out.
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She could feel it sliding down her throat. The sweet fire that causes life to run through one's veins. Shareas snapped out of the dominating thoughts as her hand was suddenly grabbed. She looked up at Solace with wide eyes, scared and shocked that he was touching her when she was having this internal battle. She could feel his pulse beating, his blood singing a dangerous melody to her ears only. She growled lustfully with want. No! A small voice called in the back of her mind. She shook her head, "I-I am sorry." She needed Solace to hear that she was sorry for the desperate want to taste his blood. Her eyes were dark, more black than grey. She would never taste his blood without this man's permission. She would never want to intrude his life flow with her teeth when that meant that he would be giving up some of his most personal thoughts by doing so. No, not without permission. She continued to follow his lead, deciding to just focus on not giving in to the desire of sinking teeth into him. She faintly heard him speak to the swordsman, Like it was a far away world. Were we still going to hunt the werewolves for hire? she thought, muddled.

((Love you signature by the way. It makes me giggle a little every time.))

Unforgiving Soldier

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His brow would raise before he would look towards the male assassin as he started to leave in the same direction as Raziel although he was abit curious on why they needed to speak somewhere else. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, he quickly closed it as he had seen the slightly glazed look in his partner's eyes. Closing his eyes and slowly nodding, he would crack his neck as soon as he would rest a hand upon the hilt of his blade as he would slowly start to make his way towards a old abandoned building, perfect for the fact if you needed to talk to someone in private. Letting his lips curve into a cold smirk as he would let his eyes once more land upon the pair, he would give her a smirk before nodding.

Indeed, but I have a better way to make sure that they do not suffer for long. If she does find some of them. I will pay ten pounds extra if you kill them there. I hate to do it that way but I see that they have no longer got a choice if they are 'captured' by her. Do you see what I mean? He would chuckle abit although he knew that it was indeed taking advantage of her. He didn't care. He just wanted to make sure that these lycans were delt with and removed from the population. When he would have another chance, he wouldn't slash the throat of the original lycan that did this to everyone to make sure that it wouldn't happen again.

Before they could say another word, he would chuckle darkly once more as the darkness within the room would seem to increase so that even a full blooded vampire would be blind before going back to what would be normal lighting, once that would happen, Raziel would be gone once more, traveling through his own world he called the shadow realm to see if he could find the red headed woman.
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Mood:: Unconscious
Music:: Snuff
With:: My attacker
OOC:: ((My character was robbed and stabbed, but I don't want her to die now. So I was thinking that someone, if they wanted, could be the mugger, and another could be the person who saves her. If not I will just make it up; I just thought it might be interesting.))


        The light of the moon barely touched her pale face while she knelt in the abandoned alleyway. Her face and hair was washed from all color. She no longer felt the cold biting at her toes and was becoming numb. Chances were she might have caught a cold. A low howl from a few blocks away brought her out of the mindless state. Standing to her full height, the pointed ear demon threw the hood of her cloak over her pink ears once again.

        Approaching a party of people, possible with weapons, Noëlle cautiously diverted down a narrow backstreet. She had not done anything incriminating in the city, yet, but it was better to be safe than sorry. At least she anticipated her safety taking the back way. How did she become so vulnerable? Before senses the presence of another, the peddler felt a sharp pain in her chest. Reaching for the dagger at her waits, her running escape lasted all of five steps. It ended with her plunging to the snow covered grown; its pure color stained red. Without catching a single glimpse of her mugger, the desert warrior's vision went blurry, only able to make out a toothed grin. The thief made off only with her small leather bag and left the forsaken woman comatose.


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“ It requires more courage to suffer than to die. ”

Greasemonkey

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User ImageAmani Djanah____
Nighthawk / Soltueur



Amani had listened quietly to the exchange between the fighter and the woman in white - one Miss Mary Weather - but something about the entire situation had seemed strange to her. It only took her a moment of surveying the woman in detail to identify what it was; the way she had walked in, the way she stood, the way and words she'd spoken. That she had money was obvious - you didn't need Chaos to tell you that - but money didn't necessarily mean anything. Anyone could scrape their savings together to buy a beautiful dress, there were people in the lower quarter that could attest to that, but the attitude of a high-born carried a different mark entirely. She'd met enough of them in her line of work, and a good number had ended up on the wrong end of her knife, but most of that had happened in the upscale neighborhoods far from where they were now. Nobles rarely ventured far from home without a heavily armed escort. This Mary had come down into what some might call the gritty end of the city, looking for something she should have had long before she even left home. Amani couldn't help but wonder why.

As the fighter left with his kitten in tow, Amani moved up toward the bar to replace him, coming to stand near Miss Weather. She stopped just within knife-fight range, not too far away, but not uncomfortably close. Some of the other patrons had evidently come to the same conclusion that she had, and some of them were coming closer than she liked. A noblewoman of wealth and status would be worth her weight in ransom to the right people, and by right people, she meant 'worst kind of people possible,' of which there was certainly no dearth. And while it may have been mostly out of habit, Amani assumed a threatening stance, swept a ninety-degree perimeter behind the noble's line-of-sight, and made it clear that anyone expressing the wrong kind of interest would be getting no quarter if they pursued it. It seemed to be an effective deterrent.

Amani half-turned to address the other woman, keeping her voice low, and her peripheral vision on the rest of the pub. "I find myself having to ask, únréó, why come here looking to hire a guard? It seems that you've gone pretty far out of your way to find something you should already have. That could be pretty limiting on your options."

She waited for a moment, and when she was satisfied that attentions had moved elsewhere, turned fully to brush her hand against the frost on the bar counter. It was a casual gesture to most observers, but a measured one to her. The ice had an unnatural, magical bite to it, but it didn't feel cold - her environmental immunities at work. It melted at her touch just the same though, and as she went to wipe the water away on her sleeve, she filed that information away for future reference. You never could quite know when you would need to fight an elemental, and it always paid to be prepared.
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"There is a man that I know. For seventeen years he never spoke. Guess he had nothing to say.
He opened his mouth on Judgement Day."


Oddly enough Solace wasn't unnerved by the encroaching darkness. He could cope with shadow. Contrary to popular belief, the church was full of darkness and shadows of men and women bound by religious duty and their own selfish ends. Sure there are many good and honest people in the clergy. People with integrity, love and stewardship in their hearts. But those are not the people who commissioned him. He didn't flinch when the building grew darker, before the man left, he said,

"Come by the church. Ask for Father St. Clair's son. They'll give you a body count and take care of any other transactions." He said before the man vanished along with the darkness he brought. When it was just Shareas and him left alone, he sighed. "Did he seriously bring us out all this way just to vanish mysteriously?" He asked looking around incredulously. He ended up looking back at his fellow assassin. She was peaky, glazed over and restraining herself from something.

"What do you need?" He asked quietly. He could let her go gallivanting off and causing trouble or getting ill in the middle of the street it wouldn't be a good reflection on the guild. "Miss Shareas? Can you still hear me?"


((Thank you <3 ))
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Shareas nodded softly. The darkness comforted her, feeling more concealed. She knew that Solace could still see her now that it wasn't as dark as when the swordsman was here. Assassins were well trained to see in the shadows. "What do you need?" She looked at him with conflicting eyes. Her curse rarely put her in a position like this. And she had never had to confine in anyone about it before. "You" she whispered. That one word, admitting her weakness for his blood, stirred the dark Blood Lust within her. She laughed darkly, partially delirious from the weakness, "Sad how one's blood can end up having so much control over me." She wasn't supposed to admit weakness. And most assassin's weren't known for ever admitting them to each other especially. Partially due to the trust it required and secondly because relationships were usually avoided. It was just something that happened, not written down in a book of rules. She grabbed his hand gently and put her fingertips to his pulse. "Your blood is awakening my Blood Lust." she explained as gently and quietly as she could. She had never uttered those words aloud. She let go of his wrist and slunk down the wall to sit, putting her head in her hands. She didn't want to meet his eyes, scared he would react horribly. She didn't want to betray him or make him think she was a monster.

Rebel Lionheart

xxxxxxxxxxIvan Snegopady
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After a long while of walking her reached what he considered home. He lived on the outside of town where few people ever decided to venture. The house was pretty much a one and a half room shack and once again the windows were smashed out of it. His eye twitched for a moment before he got an idea. He shifted the kitten over to one arm and flicked his free wrist a couple of times. By the time he was done there were slopes of snow on both side of his home, not just the side in which the wind blew. Ivan unlocked the front door, knowing they wouldn't bother with it because windows were simply so fragile, and walked in side.

As he had predicted in was full of snow but that wasn't really a problem for him, the kitten was another story though. He set the hat containing the feline down on an undamaged chair before standing in front of the snow on the floor. He pushed the air and the snow moved back. After some time it as packed in the two windows that had been broken and turned into a three inch thick layer of ice connected to the snow outside and the frames. Unless they were an elemental there was no way in hell they would bother digging though that. Once that was taken care of he walked over to the small stove and lit a fire in it, the warm glow danced on the dark walls. He moved the chair in front of the fire, afterward he took off his coat and scarf ans set them on the table which was rarely ever used for anything else.

There was a soft nudge to his leg and he looked own to see the kitten staring up at him. He sighed and went to the cabinet, opened it, and pulled out small jar of food he made for the cats he took care of. He dumped it into f of the last few unbroken bowls he had and set it on the floor, to which the feline wandered over and started to eat. Ivan smiled and moved to the chair and sat, watching the flames and making them twist and tell a story, his story. Four figures in the flames moved along, sometimes meeting new figure and other times there was just a large house the would crowd around, eventually that house just became a flame and the two tallest figures were eaten by it. After that the fire turned black, Ivan was upset. He always did this in order to come to terms with what happened but every time he did it just made him feel like crap. After a minute he calmed down and the flames returned back to normal. 'Sometimes I wonder how the place hasn't burnt to the ground yet...' He sighed and leaned back in the chair, Ivan turned his gaze to the ceiling, looking at all the spots that would have to be fixed eventually.

Shirtless Smoker

Roarin of Caldwell

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The snow was falling in heavy wet sheets. Blanketing the region in white. If one was not used to this kind of landscape. They would not be able to survive. Trying to smell anything here was near impossible for those without animal like senses. The cold was harsh to all, discriminating against all who passed into it's lands.
It was in this frozen landscape that a young hired blade was hunting for it's prey. Brownish tan fur barley seen against the blinding snow. The hunter was a humanoid cat. About sixteen years of age. Tall for his age as he was. He was still able to shrink his body down to hide behind a small bush. His sapphire orbs scanning the landscape ahead. He had spotted the bandit in which he had been hired to kill. The target had disappeared behind a small hill. Deciding the coast was clear. Roarin leaped from behind the bush. Flipping in the air to come down at an angle. Sliding down the hill he was on quickly. His foot came in contact with a stray root from a tree. Catapulting him high into the air. He did not actually mean for this to happen.
However he was prepared for anything to go wrong. Using his tail as extra weight. The feline curled into a ball and spun through the air. Landing on the top of the opposite hill top. Snow sprayed in several directions at once. His ears twitch as someone yelled a curse into the cold air. his target had seen him. Damn his recklessness to the seven hells.
Not wasting anymore time. Roarin sprang up and to the side, just in time to dodge a volley of crossbow darts. At the end of his roll. His hands flicked out faster than they could reload. Two of the three men were now laying on the ground with daggers in vital parts of their bodies. Crimson staining into the beautiful pure white snow.
Shifting his tail to the left while his right foot shited in the opposite direction. He kicked off the ground hard with his left foot. Sprinting the last few feet to the edge of the hill. From there he began jumping down the hill in zig zags. Once he was close enough. The cat launched himself at the man. Swing a long knife under handed. The blade bit in deep the the man's throat. Spraying blood everywhere. This is usually the part where the warrior sheaths his blade. Some how causing the body to finally fall over. Though Roarin was not one for theatrics. In stead he spun back around. Using the same blade in a roundhouse maneuver, cutting the man's head clean off. Loking down at himself the cat cursed. " Fisking morons always bleeding on everything." HIs voice was deeper than it should have been for his age. His lean toned fur covered form flexed and relaxed as he moved. " Well let's see. One, Two andthree." Counts on his fingers. " five hundred a head . That makes it fifteen-hundred. " His lips spread in a feral smile. " I'll turn these in before going after any others for now." He had been out in the wilderness for about a week. Bagging at least ten bandits. Which mean his total was five thousand gold pieces.


Roarin stepped out the double doors of city hall. A large bag of gold in his hands. Now it was time to go to the bank. To his dismay it was a good distance away. Well for those without his talents. Smirking devilishly as he made sure the leather bag was tied tight enough. He slipped his arms through the loops. Then to the complaints of a few civilians. He took off across the street. Leaping into the air to kick off the wall. Grabbing a stone ledge with both hands. Without a moments hesitation he launched himself up further. Repeating this cycle until he was at the roof. Rolling to his feet on it's surface. Not stopping for a breather. Roarin raced over the rooftop. Jumping from roof to roof.
Reaching the street he was looking for. The cat jumped down without fear. Grabbing a pole with his hands. Pulling himself to the pole so that his feet were placed against it as well. His long white tipped tail wrapping around the pole. He slide a good distance down before jumping off and landing with a flip.
Raising an eyebrow at several people who gave him odd looks. " What never seen an acrobatic cat before?" He asked in a sarcastic tone. Receiving no response to his question. The young bounty hunter made his way into the bank. depositing all but thirty gold pieces. Having taken care of this business. He decided it was time to go to a tavern. A stiff drink and warm food would be wonderful about now.

Timid Lover

What a shame we all became,
xxxxxxxxsuch fragile broken things,
A memory remains,
xxxJust a tiny spark,
xxxxxxxI give it all my oxygen,
XXXXXXXXXto let the flames begin,
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXOh glory...

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~+~Beatrix~+~

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Beatrix continued her way through the streets of Caldwell, searching for a warm place to take refuge in. For once, she didn't have to worry about where she was going to stay for the night. She knew she had more than enough to buy a decent room from the money she had stolen from the room. In the morning she would deal with the stolen goods in the silky pillow case that hung over her shoulder. She finally made it to one of the main streets where she passed several figures on her way down it. She did glance up for a few moments at the some of them that she had passed. They didn't seem too out of the ordinary except one man. His eyes seemed to glow crimson in the dim lighting of the night. There was something very off about him and she had to shift her gaze away from him as she passed by. His presence made her very nervous.

She mostly ignored anyone she walked past, hoping not to attract any attention to herself and the loot that she carried on with her. She glanced ahead an noticed a sign up head that hung from a building. She squinted slightly and made out the word 'tavern' she let out a sigh of relief as she quickened her pace. Her gaze was now fixed upon the sign as she approached the building. She quickly entered the warmth and spoke to the first person she could find about a room for the night. Beatrix paid the woman with the stolen money and the woman explained to her that the room would take a couple minutes.

The fox felt her stomach growling then decided to order a meal and a mug of ale. She took a seat at a table in the back of the tavern as she waited for her room and meal. She grabbed the hood of her new cloak off of her head and placed the makeshift under the table by her feet to keep it safe. It wasn't long before a older woman brought out a bowl of soup, some fresh bread,her ale, and her keys to her room to her table. She clasp her hands together and thanked the woman then eagerly went to work on her food. As she ate her eyes started to wander the tavern looking at all of the different characters that entered and left through the door. The patrons around her reeked of alcohol which would have normally made her feel sick but, she hadn't eaten a decent meal in days. She wasn't going to let anything ruin this.
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Somewhere weakness is our strength,
And I'll die searching for it,
I can't let myself regret, such selfishness,
My pain I know the trouble caused, no matter how long,
I believe that there's hope,

buried beneath it all..

Shirtless Smoker

Roarin of Caldwell

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The moon was already high in the night sky. Bathing the city in it's silver light. Roarin was walking through the back allies of the city. Hopping to find a little fun along his way to his favorite tavern. To his extreme disappointment. Nothing nor no one made their selves known to him. Oh well he had just killed three men earlier that day. Images of the people he had killed over the years flashed in front of his eyes. He was honestly not at all effected by the images. At least not in the way that most people are. He was a born predator, a bred killer.
The last of these thoughts left his mind. Just as he came around a corner. He was now in the space between the tavern and the Stables beside it. Jumping up to catch the roofing of the stables. The young cat slung himself up and through a window. Landing with a very faint thud on the main floor. Looking around at the many faces within the dinning area. The bar keep shouted at him about never using the front door. " If i did that you'd be disappointed Jax." The man laughed and waved him towards a table in the back. Informing Roarin that his food would be brought out shortly. He had always ordered the same thing depending on moods. Which meant if he had just gotten back from a job. He wanted a large steak. Cooked a little under medium rare. Along with a large mug of their finest ale.
The table he sat at was in the far back of the tavern. This was so that he could have his back against the wall. While still maintaining the advantage of seeing everyone within the building. It was not long after he had reached his seat. That an odd looking female walked into the tavern. She as well took a seat similar to his own. His Sapphire eyes looked her over for a few second out of curiosity. With a sigh he with drew his long knives and daggers. Sharpening and oiling each blade in turn. A warrior was his blade. If he did not car for them. He would be no more than a bag of flesh. This was the only lesson his mother had passed to him from his father. The white tip of his tail twitched to and fro while he worked on his weaponry.

Timid Lover

What a shame we all became,
xxxxxxxxsuch fragile broken things,
A memory remains,
xxxJust a tiny spark,
xxxxxxxI give it all my oxygen,
XXXXXXXXXto let the flames begin,
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXOh glory...

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~+~Beatrix~+~

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It didn't take long for the fox to finish her meal. She rested in her chair and drank her ale as she watched the crowd around her. There were many people in the tavern that she would expect to see. Males of different races drinking and conversing. There were a few females here and there through out the tavern as well. Some seemed to be here to flirt and possibly win a male over as a husband others were probably just there for drink much like her. Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary. There were even some people here that she had seen out on the streets or even from her own guild. The place was quite loud with all of the people talking or shouting at once. She couldn't understand the conversations around her. Everything seemed to be one big mesh of noise and it was started to annoy the fox. She didn't mind resting in a tavern but, the noises and smells at times get to her.

After glancing around the large room for a while, she looked over and found an odd looking male sitting in the back, much like herself. He was sharpening and oiling his his blades. who sharpens their blades out in pubic like that? She thought with a slight frown. Is he trying to intemidate someone or something? A soft sigh escaped her lips and she slouched in her chair with her mug. Trix's ears lowered on her head as she stared at him, watching his movements. Her eyes scanned over his unusual features of his face and body. She noted that his body was covered in fur and darker markings appeared on his cheek. At the top of his head, a set of cat like ears perched up on top of his head. She then could see the slight movement of a tail under the table which caused her to raise a brow. Beatrix had a set of ears and tail of her own but, his whole body had animal like features. She had not seen something like this in Caldwell before and wondered what he was. He smell of a cat and looked like one as well. Her head titled her the side as her deep green eyes continued to study him. She then started to wonder if he purred like a cat or if he curled in the sun light like a house cat would. Does he meow? Would he accept someone one pet or three? She brought the mug to her lips and finished off the rest of her drink. She set the bug on the table and started to feel warmth of the alcohol running through her body. "I suppose I should head up to my room now before I order another....The last thing I need is to get drunk here.." she said to herself as she stood up from her seat. She then grabbed the bag of stolen goods at her feet and started to head for the stairs that lead up to the rooms.
.
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Somewhere weakness is our strength,
And I'll die searching for it,
I can't let myself regret, such selfishness,
My pain I know the trouble caused, no matter how long,
I believe that there's hope,

buried beneath it all..

Shirtless Smoker

Roarin of Caldwell

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The cat had finished sharpening and oiling his blades. Roarin was not trying to intimidate anyone. He simply got bored so decided to take care of his weapons since he had the time. Looking up when the Inn keep brought his food and drink. Handing over ten gold to the man with a smile. The man complained that it was too much. Roarin seemed to not hear him. Lifting the mug to his lips to drain it. Slamming the mug down with a loud burp. His hand covered his mouth. " Excuse me. For one i want another. Two i need you to sell me a pipe." The man chuckled, but other than that he took the mug and walked away.
A feeling of being watched washed over him. His tail stopped dead in it's tracks. Turning his blue gem like orbs in the direction he felt the eyes. It was the woman he had noticed earlier. She was staring at him for a good amount of time. He figured she was thinking about something along the lines of. " I wonder if he would purr if i were to scratch behind his ears." The funny thing was that he actually would. So looking her way he winked with a feral smirk. This was just to let her know he had noticed her studying of him. after that he turned back to his food. Cutting into the meat with a knife.
A short while later. The Inn keep returned with a nice wooden pipe and a second mug of ale. The bounty hunter finished his meal and about half of his mug. Leaning back as he stuffed a dried up green lump in the pipe. The pipe was made of cherry oak. A gram sized bowl and long skinny stem. Like that of the ones you see old wizards with. The second he took the mouth piece into his mouth, and took a pull from it. An orange glow flared up in the bowl. He had not used any noticeable fire. What he had done was create it in the bowl it's self when he hit it. Roarin inhaled the white smoke of his catnip. Blowing out a series of smoke rings.

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