1 Neophyte Grimoire
1 Wand desguised as a tattoo on right wrist.
1 Draft/Quarter mix horse
1 Disguise Item that changes his appearance to a beautiful woman.
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Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.
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Lycanthrope
60 Yrs
Middle Class
Single
Woodsman/Aspiring Author
Pointy Things
80 Bolts
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Aztec
Oct 18, 2018 16:35:30 GMT -5
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Jul 25, 2018 19:17:15 GMT -5
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Post by Raleigh Cooper on Jul 26, 2018 16:23:34 GMT -5
The market district was a wondrous place. It was an organized chaos that appealed to the eccentric character that had set up his humble stall. More like a cloth held up by a rickety wooden frame. It was enough to supply shade and mark his place on the street. Various dried meats, herbs, and the like hung from the ceiling of the little stall. It was a wonder the thing didn’t collapse under the weight of it all. Upon some rough old blankets lay bones carved into various things. Flutes, animals, jewelry, etc. All from the creatures that had supplied the meat and furs he had on display.
He didn’t have the skills to turn the leather into anything. But he could make some fine leather and he had some good furs today. He sat on a small stool he had managed to bring along. Using the wooden frame and cloth to transport his wares behind his horse (perhaps that was why it looked so ragged and weak). His intelligent eyes watched the crowd, occasionally calling out like the other merchants to attract attention to his stall. Behind him stood his horse, Lock. A great draft mix that waited placidly for the event to be over as he munched on some hay his owner had bought him.
The morning was still young, yet the market was busy. “S’gonna be a busy day, that is it.” He chattered to the horse, who merely flicked an ear in his direction. “We’ll sells lotsa stuffs todays and I’ll buy ye a bed in a nice stall tonite, yes I will.” Raleigh patted the horse’s shoulder fondly. Lock lifted his head and peered back at the man. He reached over and snorted softly into his face, causing the Lycan to giggle as he patted his nose. “I know, I knows. A promise is a promise. And I’s sticks to me promises, that I do.” Raleigh looked over his items, ensuring everything was in its place. He had meticulously arranged everything to best display each item. If one were to pay attention they’d notice everything was spaced perfectly from each other. Everything had its place. Sure the stall was old and his display cloths a little ragged, but everything was clean. Such a neat little stall for a rather disheveled looking woodsman.
395 words
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Lycanthrope
16 Yrs
Impoverished
Single
Thief
Blunt knife
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Abby
Jul 27, 2018 0:47:51 GMT -5
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Jul 26, 2018 14:36:56 GMT -5
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Post by Florence Everleigh on Jul 26, 2018 19:20:02 GMT -5
Just in the hour that she had been picking today, Florence had collected 8 bolts out of the pockets of unsuspecting passerbys. She’d given them no notice as she passed, slipped her skinny fingers into their pockets, scooped out what she could, and limped away as quickly as possible without gaining any suspicious notice. One clean-shaven man had had a whole 5 bolts in one! Florence was decent at thieving; most of the time she could pass undetected, but the occasional victim with unusually sensitive buttocks would notice the shift in weight and try to chase the young girl down. Every time this had happened so far, Florence had managed to escape; though she had less fuel to run on, she had more drive. There was something different between running for a few small coins and sprinting for your life, and that edge made all the difference. Her growing collection of coins clinked in her ill-fitting boot as she walked, though the sounds of the bustling market masked it easily. Aggressively chewing on her cuticle, she passed by jewelry shops, timber houses, oat bins and various other supplies, but none of them interested her- she was hurting for money and food was her top priority. And Lycans needed meat. During her most recent Lycanthropic phase, she had received what looked like a knife wound to the calf. Furthermore, she’d woken up, shivering and naked as always, in a dank alley in the Laborer’s District, blood dripping down her leg and her head spinning. Of course, she had no recollection of these happenings, but she could still assume- her animal self had escaped her dilapidated hideout and attacked an innocent. If her luck was against her, she could’ve even killed them, but she dismissed the thought. Dwelling on events that were out of her control was no use, and would only serve a distraction from her work. After she’d regained enough consciousness to walk, she’d stumbled back to her measly tent as quickly as possible, collapsing into terror-filled sleep as soon as she’d bandaged herself up. She was unable to walk for two days. Now, her nose was on the prowl. Just a moment before, she’d picked up an appealing scent- meat, slowly decaying in the early morning heat. Rabbit. It was decently fresh still too; she could always tell by the intensity of the metallic smell of blood. As she moved between the stalls, she turned her head and opened her mouth slightly. Left. Without hesitation, her legs turned and continued limping to the left. She weaved between the crowded shops, but she didn’t slow for any passerby. As she walked, her eyes fluttered shut, too overcome by her yearning to continue. She hadn’t eaten for several days, and now that the scent was near, her stomach ached in waves as if it was trying to claw its way out of her own body. It was just ahead. Opening her eyes once more, she spotted it. The rugged stall-keep was turned, gently murmuring to his horse. It was a majestic creature, but she didn’t have time to dwell- after shifting her gray head scarf to cover her bright locks, she quickly sprinted to grab as much meat as possible and run off before she could be noticed. But as her hands grasped the paper-wrapped parcel, her golden eyes drifted to something else- bones. Beautiful bones, carved into beautiful creations. She loved to gnaw on them. First pausing to grab a handful of those as well, she tumbled off, rabbit meat and bones in hand. [ Raleigh Cooper ] |
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1 Neophyte Grimoire
1 Wand desguised as a tattoo on right wrist.
1 Draft/Quarter mix horse
1 Disguise Item that changes his appearance to a beautiful woman.
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Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.
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Lycanthrope
60 Yrs
Middle Class
Single
Woodsman/Aspiring Author
Pointy Things
80 Bolts
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Aztec
Oct 18, 2018 16:35:30 GMT -5
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Jul 25, 2018 19:17:15 GMT -5
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Post by Raleigh Cooper on Jul 26, 2018 22:04:30 GMT -5
Oh he may not have been looking ,but he sure was listening. He heard her come, smelled her. That at Lock had turned his ears towards the woman as she came closer. She came in quick, snatching at meat that caused his stall to rock precariously. He was on his feet, as fast as a striking snake. Her mistake was when she turned back for the bones. He shot forward. Nimble, fast. He also had the jump on her. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. "Now, now, yung miss." he said. "Stealing ain't polite, that is isn't." He'd pull her closer, back towards his stall. he wasn't about to leave his things for another thief. "If ye was hungry littal pup, ye couldsa said so, yes you could. Trad'n is as welcomed as bolts, that it is." You'd think that he'd be far more upset at being stolen from. But Raleigh sounded more amused than anything else. Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn't actually spoken to another of his kind in a while. Or maybe it was because she was easy on the eyes. He couldn't deny the itch in his teeth at the scent of her dried blood. The scent of the wound. Oh that was darn tantalizing. He'd so love to open that wound up further. To play with her. But he was able to keep himself in check. Keep civil. The light of laughter in his eyes danced almost dangerously. "You wanta makes a deal, little pup?" [ Florence Everleigh ] 253 words |
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Lycanthrope
16 Yrs
Impoverished
Single
Thief
Blunt knife
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Abby
Jul 27, 2018 0:47:51 GMT -5
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Jul 26, 2018 14:36:56 GMT -5
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Post by Florence Everleigh on Jul 26, 2018 23:57:27 GMT -5
Shit. For a moment, this was the only word Florence's mind could register. She yanked violently at her wrist, but she knew that the bulkier man was stronger; it was no use. As he pulled her closer towards the shadowy stall, she clutched the meat behind her back with her free hand, keeping it out of reach in case she somehow made a getaway. She had dropped the bones as soon as he had grabbed her, and now they made a light tinkling noise as they rolled across the mottled cobblestones at her feet. As he scolded her, the man's wrinkled eyes met hers- and they shone gold. Hastily, she shifted her gaze to her feet, where the bolts still lay hidden in her boots . He was a Lycan as well. Lycans could be dangerous, she of all people knew, but perhaps he would soften his blows slightly for one of his own kind. She could hope, at least. And surprisingly, her fellow night-shifter seemed to be amused at something, his throaty chuckle accenting the rest of his speech. Shaking her head almost imperceptibly, Florence breathed, "I had nothing to trade, sir. I have nothing. I can't make you a deal." Shaking, she twisted her wrist incrementally in his fist so that he could see the word "MAGIC" clearly stamped across the sinewy inside of it. Staring pointedly at the ink, she whispered, "I- I never used it. But my mother did and so therefore, I have it." At this the frail girl lifted her eyes to meet his once more. She saw the disgusting way he looked at her, the way his hungry eyes traveled down her body like she was his final meal before death. It was hard to decipher whether the hunger was coming from the adult man part of him or the rabid Lycan part, but it was there. Squirming uncomfortably, she thanked her wit for putting on the scarf to cover her hair, at least. [ Raleigh Cooper ]
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1 Neophyte Grimoire
1 Wand desguised as a tattoo on right wrist.
1 Draft/Quarter mix horse
1 Disguise Item that changes his appearance to a beautiful woman.
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Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.
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Lycanthrope
60 Yrs
Middle Class
Single
Woodsman/Aspiring Author
Pointy Things
80 Bolts
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Aztec
Oct 18, 2018 16:35:30 GMT -5
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Jul 25, 2018 19:17:15 GMT -5
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Post by Raleigh Cooper on Jul 27, 2018 0:14:34 GMT -5
He cocked his head as she spoke and showed him her identifying tattoo. "Ah, a marked one." He said, studying the ink. Not at all fazed by the mark. It was interesting how humans liked to brand things they thought they owned, or feared. As he remained within the scent of blood and fear he found himself gaining more control. That was good. Couldn't make a scene here. His gaze flicked back to her. He made no attempt to try and grab the meat. "Goods was not whats I hads in mind, that it isn't." He went on. He'd try to guide her towards the stall. His grip though firm becoming less hostile. "Locksie here 'as traveled a longs way, that he has." He nodded to his horse, who lifted his head at the mention of his name. Seeing no reason to acknowledge them any further he went back to eating. "I's been so busy today tha' he hasn't had a good brush'n." No. His friend was looking extremely disheveled, like his rider. But Raleigh took far better care of his horse than himself. It was unacceptable to see him in such a state. "Do a nice job ans I let you keeps the food and nice bones, though I wants to hold onto thems first, that I do." He still didn't let go of her wrist as he held out a hand for her to give him the food she had taken. "Mind you, he don't likes other people rid'n 'im, that he don't." If she took the offer he'd lead her over to Lock, after putting the meat on the stool. He offered her hand to Lock to sniff. "Tha's a good boy." He crooned when the horse didn't shy away, using his free hand to pat his head. He'd lead her to his side and grab his brush he'd tell her what to do then release her hand. If she refused well, the man wasn't sure what he'd do. But they'd cross that bridge if they got there. [ Florence Everleigh ] 340 words |
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