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lucius

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  1. The Dread Inquiry ([Artifact] Hunt/Into the Dark)

    Having been beckoned by the lawyer, he moves to Brecht’s side, eyeing the woman up and down sparsely. Only now does he catch a whiff of the chemical scent emitting from her. And in conjunction with the sickeningly rich fermented grapes as his glass is heartily refilled, the reminiscence of blood, the faintly unpleasant body odor of a nearby dwarf, and the amalgam of other fragrances currently bombarding the poor lads senses, he can all but hide a slight grimace. The mixture is dizzying, though unintentionally so. It is a way of life he’s yet to become fully accustomed to. In spite of this, he returns Darah’s greeting with a sharp toothed grin and few welcoming words. “Please. Mister Fenrir is my father. Call me Fen. A pleasure.” Fen has never once laid eyes upon his father let alone is he aware of the moniker taken upon by said stranger. His humor is almost as dry as his mouth after taking a sip of the bubbling elixir. He smacks his lips a bit in an effort to cleanse his palate as he watches Darah partake in the toast. With his lips still attached to the glass, his eyes dart around the room thereafter, awaiting to see if anyone else would join in as well. But of course they wouldn’t. Bushy and misshapen brows perk up at Darah’s declaration. No one will know of our passing. The look of impress is evident on his face before she addresses him yet again. “Who, Mutt? Ah, he’s only as rash as you want him to be. He merely gets antsy in good company,” Fen says in a suggestive tone towards the two before snapping his fingers. The creature’s posture immediately changes to an upright position, almost as if unwillingly. Mutt doesn’t make another peep, much less motion of any kind. To the average onlooker, he would now appear as a black and fuzzily immaculate statue. Fen then gestures to Brecht with a tip of his glass. “A clinically fearless associate in a supposedly fear mongering land. Good choice.” Sipping again, he obediently waits for the boss’ orders as Darah presents the tome. All knowledge is worth having, as they say.
  2. Is that your art on that profile? If so, I like the style

    1. lucius

      lucius

      Yes it is! Thank you so very much. ^^ I'll probably put up a thread dedicated to my sketches at some point or another. 

  3. Fen

    "We live among beasts and cattle with sharpened teeth." Fundamentals Name: Fenrir Pechman Race: Human(?) Gender: Male Age: 23 Birthplace: Unknown Sexuality: Whatever Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Profession: Employment with Brecht & Undercroft Physical Height: 6’3” Weight: 170 lbs Hair: Dark Red, Wavy Eyes: Sterling Gray Skin: Tan, Sun-flushed Build: Lanky Voice: Husky, Guttural Notable Traits: - Abnormally sharp canines and lateral incisors. - Distinct under eye bags. Anima Demeanor: Loyal. Impatient. Vengeful. Short-Tempered. Prideful. Quick-Witted. Stoic. Hardworking. MBTI: INFP Likes: Smell of blood. Fulfilling tasks. Dislikes: Animals. Skills + Abilities Heightened Sense of Smell - Due to unforeseen circumstances, Fen has been blessed with an impeccable sense of smell. He never forgets a scent and it's associated contents. [Classified] Animal Affinity - Despite his intense hatred of animals in all forms, he finds that they are distinctly drawn to him by an unfortunate twist of fate. Mutt - An abstract creature that could be considered Fen's pet, or perhaps servant. It has a vast array of capabilities far beyond it's appearance. Including but not limited to - [Redacted]. Weaknesses Animals - Fen has a deep loathing that subtly intertwines with fear for most creatures. This can often hinder his rational train of thought in one way or another. Mutt - Both his strongest asset and biggest liability, this beast has the capacity to [Redacted] causing Fen much anguish. History [Classified]
  4. The Dread Inquiry ([Artifact] Hunt/Into the Dark)

    Amidst the blistering silence within the establishment, Purgatory - true to its name - was currently filled with anguish brought about by man’s leading vessel to vice. Boredom. On escapades such as these it was always the groundwork and preparations that tended to be the most tedious, and this was no different. The man first totters in his chair in a far corner of the neglected tavern, eyeing the many less than mindful stooges as they dream in ignorance assumed to be of the blissful variety. Neither attention nor patience has ever been his strong suit, although what he lacks in impatience he makes up for in stoicism. The beast at his side however, despite being fairly dormant, continues to fidget in unsettlement. With a body even blacker than the employed mounts, the thrumming of clawed paws and soft guttural sounds emit the anticipation that Fen himself easily conceals. Upon the entrance of Darah the beast’s unquiet merely heightens. Soft grunts turn into whines and shivers of anxious delight. Pattering paws turn into the scraping of the wood beneath them. Fen starts to correct the issue with a swift kick to the animal, but begrudgingly stops himself with mere inches between the tip of his newly polished Oxfords and the creature’s body. Oh right. Can't do that. Instead, he merely clicks his tongue with a few harsh words thereafter. “Quiet, Mutt.” The perceptively potent scent of iron and slight decay wafting off the woman invades Fen’s nostrils, causing him to sniffle and dab at his nose with a handkerchief so delightfully provided as a perk of employment with the firm. His nose is ever so sensitive, but at the very least it was fully understandable as to why the mongrel was so excited. It’s a pleasant smell. A very well-known, perhaps even intimate one. Regardless, alongside the benefit of the unconventional perfume, the scent also signifies the end of preparations. Finally. He partakes in the toast as well, still reveling in the sweet metallic fragrance. “To nights we’ll either never forget, or never remember,” he says, then mockingly beckoning with a nod of his head toward the thralls referenced in the latter of the statement. He lifts his glass, then pouring the brash liquid onto the floor in a neat trickling pool - reminiscent in precision of the blood spilled during the paladin’s demise. It is quickly lapped up in mounds.
  5. The Dread Inquiry OOC

    Thanks so much for the warm welcome you both! I think establishing how to actually get in to Yh'mi would definitely be the best course of action right now, so @jaistlyn I'd say that's all you. ^^ I'll go after as a follow up, and it'd also be a good way for me to get my bearings. I'm also just really looking forward to seeing what you have planned. ;3c
  6. Welcome aboard! I like your avatar

    1. lucius

      lucius

      Thank you very much! It's from one of my favorite artists, dappermouth. I highly recommend their work. ^^ 

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