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Old March 5, 2013, 06:23 PM   #3 (permalink)
Redwulf's Avatar
Join Date: Mar 2013
Location: London
Posts: 8
Redwulf is unknown and forgotten
With a stoop of his shoulders, Redwulf eased himself out of the tavern’s door, his bulk passing from the room’s ember glow and into a black, cold night. Using one hand to turn the edge of a heavy cloak against the wind, he used the other to shut the heavy wooden door behind him with an idle gesture that mocked the door’s heft. He straightened, head rising above the door way. The light from a lantern beside the tavern’s door caught Redwulf in profile, casting a monstrous shadow on the wall opposite. As he looked towards the sky, the inky shadow became as a giant black wolf ready to tear down the whole building in terrible jaws. Adjusting to the silence after the rowdy tavern, Redwulf drank a lungful of cold air through open canine jaws, and then let his breath hang for a moment in the lantern-light before he heaved out of its glow and into the deep shadow of the street.

Still fairly new in the city, Redwulf had heard the Jasmine District was where the rich lived. One of the districts he’d need to know, and know well. For a cunning Dorin with Redwulf’s ambitions, this district would be home to just the kind of political favours and purses of money he’d need. So he’d decided to stalk it, drink it’s smell, listen to its people. He wanted to taste this city’s fabric, find its soft throat, and when ready, to tear it open. Salivating slightly at the carnal image, Redwulf had earlier that afternoon taken his hulking form for a walk around. Tiring of daylight hours and the stares, he’d waited for nightfall in a hospitable tavern, waiting for a time more to his liking. Now was the night, when human eyes were dimmed, people slept, and his sense of smell came into its own.

The fur on his jaws ruffling in the breeze, Redwulf sniffed his way down the darkest routes and the quietest avenues as he moved. He was hulking, strong, but quiet. A childhood of scrapping had torn at his long, wolf-like face, given him a chewed-up shagginess and a mean snarl. But his eyes were keen, golden yellow, and sensitive. These eyes kept close watch now on all the houses he passed, noting doorways and guards and places that weren’t illuminated by their torches and lanterns. His smell told him a lot more – how busy the road was, which houses liked to cook (and could afford) rare spices and fine meats, and how many guards sat watch by dark gates.

At one point, sliding unwatched through a narrow alley between two buildings, he stopped. Ahead of him, two of the city’s guard passed. From habit, Redwulf froze against one wall and tried to stay only a dark shadow that drew no attention. His ears pricked, straining to hear their conversation. He picked up only loose words.

“...another tonight.... or maybe.... no reward,” said one. “But what.... fires... rumours,” replied the other. “Rumours? Don’t.... or we’ll both...”

Redwulf had not yet decided how much he needed to fear the local constabulary. Now might be a good time to find out. Choosing his route carefully, he crouched low and decided to follow these two. For sport, if nothing else. After all, if would be good to know what the local law enforcement standards were like before he really needed to find out...

OOC: First post, just jumping right in here!
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