Roxanne Fletcher
Committed
Roleplay posts: 76
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 22:33:09 GMT -5
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Post by Roxanne Fletcher on Apr 18, 2022 21:40:06 GMT -5
Roxanne raised an eyebrow at Lugruk, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips at the mention of his prior encounters. Casting a glance over at the hook-handed man, she shook her head, wondering what sort of fate could have possibly befallen him. Nothing suspicious, certainly. Only above-board endeavors for these fine people, she was sure. Her gaze slid back to Lugruk, lingering on his muscular forearms for a moment before flicking back up to meet his eye.
"Disappointed them when you left, I'm sure," she said, giving him a wink as she sipped at her drink. "And ambrosia is right, Lugruk. Flavor of the gods indeed...my cousin told me a story once about some family that could make honey like that. One taste and you're hopelessly addicted, everything else tastes of ash and dirt...but that was all just a rumor, I'm sure. I can't imagine that anyone would make anything like that."
Glancing down at the cat, she shook her head disapprovingly as it clamped onto Lugruk's hand. Cats were trouble, especially ones that people dressed up in clothes. Well-dressed cats were always the most spoiled, she'd found. She'd considered getting a cat for a little bit of companionship and to chase away bugs and mice, but catching one seemed troublesome. Perhaps she'd get around to that next time she had some free time on her hands.
"Debating theology is for scholars and priests," she said, rolling her eyes. "They can puzzle over souls and morality all they please, it doesn't help the rest of us very much. I set out my offerings for the sun and I figure that should be enough for me. Ambrosia may be the food of the gods, but this drink is close enough for me. As for you, though...you must have spent a long time at sea, if you've only just arrived. Was there anything that you missed? Any comforts of the land that you've been deprived of these long months?"
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Lugruk
Established
Roleplay posts: 25
Age: 46
Appearance: A burly orcish man with jade green skin and yellow eyes. His dark hair is tinged with streaks of gray, and he sports an impeccably groomed beard that tied off into thick ropes on either side.
Equipment: A chain shirt, various knives, a tin full of beard oil, and a morningstar kept behind the bar for emergencies.
Skills and Abilities: Lugruk commands incredible strength, though in he is extremely out of practice in terms of combat. His martial prowess has been supplanted by a talent for drink, be it serving to an inn or brewing his own.
Registered: Feb 15, 2022 15:38:45 GMT -5
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Post by Lugruk on Apr 19, 2022 20:44:00 GMT -5
"Honey, huh? Would make for some interesting mead, I guess. Wonder if the drunk bee knows anything about tha-YEOW!" Lugruk wrenched his hand back with a start, trying in vain to pull his arm free from the cat's villainous clutches. He shook the cat in the air for a moment before the beast finally relented, detaching and springing from Lugruk's arm. Whiskers landed harmlessly on the bar, feet-first. The orc narrowed his eyes at the cat, betrayed, making a motion with two fingers to indicate that he would be watching it from then on.
Lugruk rubbed the sore spot on his hand where the cat had nicked him, returning his attention once again to Roxanne. "Never did pay too much attention to the sun god, come to think of it. Guy's kinda fallen out of favor 'round my neck of the woods. Did my offerings to Ravja, sure, but that was mostly just to keep the crew happy. Sailors are superstitious folk."
Once again missing Roxanne's meaning wholeheartedly, Lugruk leaned into the bar and stared off in thought. "Ah, there's plenty I miss. The stars are different here. Sunsets too. I lost friends, some closer than others. I can't even count how many brews got left behind that I'll never be able to taste again. But this - all this?" The old orc motioned around him, sighing with contentment at the sight of it all. These weary, wayward souls, ripped from their homes and their lives, and still finding reasons to celebrate life.
"There's something to it, yaknow? Most of these folk ain't got a lick in common, save the flood that carried them here. But look at 'em - laughing, drinking, making damn fools of themselves." Lugruk chuckled softly, shrugging off the misty feeling creeping into his eyes. "What other comforts could a guy like me ask for?"
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Whiskers
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: A grey and white cat with piercing blue eyes. He sports a pirate outfit fit for the finest of crews. A large black captain's hat with crossbones, a caution to others. Is he a captain? No one really knows. Whiskers wears a black shirt as soft as cotton. The black sleeves embroidered with gold accents give way to white ruffled sleeve ends. The shirt has a cute white collar that Whiskers prefers to wear up. Did Whiskers dress himself, or has someone put him in it? No one truly knows.
Equipment: Whiskers takes with him a small pouch used to carry fish, papers, and other oddities.
Skills and Abilities: He does cat things since he is indeed a cat. In addition, he does occasionally deliver letters, but he himself is a true and through pirate.
Biography: meow meow meow meow meow. Meow meow! meow? MEOW!? Meow meow mrrrrr Meow.
Allegiances: anyone with a can of tuna
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 17:01:56 GMT -5
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Post by Whiskers on May 1, 2022 14:51:27 GMT -5
The trap has been set and poor Lugruk fell victim to the feline. After a few good shakes Whiskers reluctantly releases his arm and land back on the table. The cat looks cutely up at the orc. Those big round eyes were reminiscent of saucers full of milk. Who could stay mad at such a cute and squishable face. The face that knows no evil. The fluffy cat lays down and begins to lick their paws. A low rumble of purrs can be heard as the cat cleans itself. Such is bliss to be a cat. This cat seems to have no stress, their head empty of thoughts only meow meow time for this cuddly creature.
Whiskers has chased many bugs during their 3 years of living. He has chased and eaten bugs and even caught a fly in between his fuzzy paws. Whiskers is somewhat of a master when it came to hunting tiny creepy crawlers. He enjoys the crunch when eating a bug.
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Indica
Established
Roleplay posts: 15
Age: matured Pchelinaya
Appearance: Indica is a race of bee people called Pchelinaya and exhibits physical characteristics similar to the bees her people take care of. Her features are mostly human with the only exception being the insect wings that grow from her back. She has blonde hair that is usually braided. Like most Pchelinaya, she is quite small and stands at 6 inches tall.
Equipment: She carries around a whip with a stinger attached to the end. She was once a noble fighter in her hive but when the time came for her to decide whether to continue life in the hive, she chose to live life outside of the buzz of her community.
Registered: Feb 14, 2022 16:09:06 GMT -5
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Post by Indica on May 1, 2022 14:59:29 GMT -5
Indica the bee mentioned by Lugruk, has taken quite the restful slumber but was startled to see a cat in her presence. Cats are one of the worst enemies of her kind. Cats do not care if you can speak or not, you look like a bug so you are a bug to those furry devils. Indica slowly backs away from the feline as he distracts himself cleaning his paws. She can feel herself sweating as she evaluates her escape plans. It might be time for her to make haste and fly out of here before the cat makes her his lunchtime snack.
"It has been fun, you sure know how to serve up a good drink," she says to the bartender. "If you're in need of honey there's a colony of my kind southwest of here that may be willing to barter but they are not the keenest on outsiders so fair warning there. I must be taking my leave as I am deathly afraid of this furry devil with claws."
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Lugruk
Established
Roleplay posts: 25
Age: 46
Appearance: A burly orcish man with jade green skin and yellow eyes. His dark hair is tinged with streaks of gray, and he sports an impeccably groomed beard that tied off into thick ropes on either side.
Equipment: A chain shirt, various knives, a tin full of beard oil, and a morningstar kept behind the bar for emergencies.
Skills and Abilities: Lugruk commands incredible strength, though in he is extremely out of practice in terms of combat. His martial prowess has been supplanted by a talent for drink, be it serving to an inn or brewing his own.
Registered: Feb 15, 2022 15:38:45 GMT -5
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Post by Lugruk on May 28, 2022 16:41:21 GMT -5
Still nursing his wounds, Lugruk noticed the tiny fluttering of wings in the corner of his eye as the bee lady began to awaken from her nap. "Furry devil is right, little lady. That thing is nothing but trouble." The old orc turned to sneer pointedly at the cat, before the first half of what Indica said finally registered.
"Wait - honey, you said?" The old orc's eyes lit up with excitement, already scheming at the possibilities of brewing his own mead mead. He bet nobody back home had got the chance to brew with the honey of sentient bees before, had they? "I'm sure I could rustle up something that would pique their interest - maybe you could introduce me? Last thing I'd wanna do is spook 'em. 'Specially if they're used to folk of your stature."
Watching Indica sweat in the inarguably sinister presence of the cat, he waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, but we can talk about it later. I won't keep you - but don't be a stranger now, hear? Be seein' you, Miss Indica."
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Roxanne Fletcher
Committed
Roleplay posts: 76
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 22:33:09 GMT -5
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Post by Roxanne Fletcher on May 29, 2022 13:23:11 GMT -5
Cats, Roxanne decided, were little more than troublesome goblins with fur. She couldn't recall the last time she'd met a cat (whether it walked on two legs or four) that had caused her anything but grief and consternation. Who had ever decided that they made good pets, she wondered? Dogs or ferrets could catch mice just as well, and wouldn't bite and scratch for attention. At least the four-legged variety caught vermin, though. What had ever possessed people to accept a two-legged cat as a leader? Cats were awful at organization and were constantly distracted. At least Naoki didn't bite...although now that Roxanne thought about it, she realized that Naoki almost certainly did. Hadn't she read just that previous night about how chieftain Kuruk's bite left an obvious reminder of their midnight encounter on Priestess Iliana's chest? Glancing back up at Lugruk, she found herself admiring his tusks and wondering if they'd leave a similar mark on her skin.
As her gaze lingered, Roxanne saw the orc's lips moving and realized that he was, in fact, speaking. Shaking her head, she tried to figure out what he'd said and wondered when she'd gotten so spacey. She hadn't always been like this. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep. Yes, that had to have been it. Her cousin Robert hadn't ever gotten enough sleep and he'd been the same way, especially when Roxanne's friends had been about.
Deciphering what Lugruk had said, however, left her more than a little confused. Was he playing with her, or had he somehow missed her point entirely? If it was the latter, the man had to be denser than her attempts at making her grandmother's sweet roll recipe. Priestess Iliana had had some choice comments on orcs being thick, but Roxanne was pretty sure she hadn't meant mentally.
"What comforts indeed," she grumbled, downing the rest of her glass in a single gulp. "Seeing people laugh, drink, and act like fools. That's it, Lugruk. You've got it. Those are all the pleasures of the world. There's nothing else that people enjoy, certainly not in the comforts of their quarters with a single partner. I'll have another of the same, please."
She tapped the side of the glass and sighed, glancing around. The liquor was nice, but would run out soon, just like everything else. Besides, what of the things that couldn't be found washed up in crates? She missed milk and butter and chocolate and was quite certain that she'd never see any of them again. Some distance away, an infant squalled and she cringed, gripping her glass until her knuckles turned white. Why would anyone bear a child on this accursed isle? Didn't they see that they were already short on food as it was? The awful sound brought a similarly terrible thought into her mind, and she realized that cows and goats weren't the only sources of milk...but no, that thought was too horrible to entertain. She'd sooner drink kelp beer. Sighing, she looked up at Lugruk once more and wondered how he could possibly be so cheerful.
"Have you ever wondered if we're really the lucky ones?" she asked, voice low enough that others wouldn't overhear. "The ones to have survived the flood, I mean. This island isn't very large. Do you really think we'll rebuild here before we starve to death or all die of some terrible plague? Especially if our fearless leader continues to throw thoughtless parties like this. There's only so many large animals in the woods, surely. What happens when they run out? People will begin fighting, eating each other. Who will be eaten first?"
Images of a recent nightmare flashed through Roxanne's mind, bringing a shudder to her shoulders. Crow-faced people tearing her apart, slicing at every piece of soft flesh with cruel, curved blades and devouring her raw...it had all seemed far too real, far too possible. The light of day helped to remind her that it had just been a dream, but not nearly as much as she'd have hoped. She'd thought that perhaps the warm embrace of a strong pair of arms would help her relax and sleep better, but it seemed that Lugruk's mind and hands were filled with nothing but bottles. To say that she was disappointed would have been a bitter understatement.
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Indica
Established
Roleplay posts: 15
Age: matured Pchelinaya
Appearance: Indica is a race of bee people called Pchelinaya and exhibits physical characteristics similar to the bees her people take care of. Her features are mostly human with the only exception being the insect wings that grow from her back. She has blonde hair that is usually braided. Like most Pchelinaya, she is quite small and stands at 6 inches tall.
Equipment: She carries around a whip with a stinger attached to the end. She was once a noble fighter in her hive but when the time came for her to decide whether to continue life in the hive, she chose to live life outside of the buzz of her community.
Registered: Feb 14, 2022 16:09:06 GMT -5
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Post by Indica on May 31, 2022 16:37:56 GMT -5
Indica pulls out a normal-sized pen, to anyone else the pen is the size of a sesame seed. She quickly grabs a napkin and squalls down her address. The address to a dollhouse in Port Argentium. A wooden dollhouse colored pink sits in a small alleyway away from foot traffic and hidden from anyone wanting to take it home or toss it in the trash. When the time is right the orc can find her there.
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Lugruk
Established
Roleplay posts: 25
Age: 46
Appearance: A burly orcish man with jade green skin and yellow eyes. His dark hair is tinged with streaks of gray, and he sports an impeccably groomed beard that tied off into thick ropes on either side.
Equipment: A chain shirt, various knives, a tin full of beard oil, and a morningstar kept behind the bar for emergencies.
Skills and Abilities: Lugruk commands incredible strength, though in he is extremely out of practice in terms of combat. His martial prowess has been supplanted by a talent for drink, be it serving to an inn or brewing his own.
Registered: Feb 15, 2022 15:38:45 GMT -5
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Post by Lugruk on Jun 2, 2022 23:59:01 GMT -5
Hoo, boy.
Lugruk opened his mouth to respond to Roxanne, but found the words he had readied deflate into a sigh. 'In the comforts of their quarters with a single partner'? Even he wasn't clueless enough to lose the meaning behind that. To be fair, only part of the oblivion was an act. The reality was, simply put, that the old orc greatly disliked disappointing people. At this rate, however, it seemed that disappointment was fated to be the outcome of this exchange, regardless of the next words that left his mouth. Better to rip the band aid off all at once. He took the napkin from Indica, silently nodding his thanks to her before turning his attention to the distressed woman sitting opposite himself.
"Anyone ever told you that you worry too much?" He managed a smile at Roxanne's brooding, pouring her another drink as requested. "As far as cannibalism is concerned, I'd wager you to be safer than most. Not a lot of meat on those bones, if you don't mind me saying so."
He absently glanced over Roxanne's wiry frame, the dark circles under her eyes. She wasn't taking care of herself, even by the island's standards. Sure, food was far from plentiful, but the huntress's reputation proceeded her. Naoki had spoken highly of the woman who had taken down the boar, and she was far from the only one to say as much. Was Roxanne starving herself, just so the people of the settlement could whet their appetite on the fruit of her labors? Lugruk shifted, feeling a sudden urge to hug the poor woman. She certainly looked like she needed one.
"And yeah." He smiled sadly, meeting Roxanne's eyes and matching her diminished tone. "I think about that a lot, actually. Its an easy out, right? All those folk decorating the bottom of the ocean. Ain't got to worry about where the next meal is coming from. About getting sick. Paying taxes." Lugruk shrugged. "Lots of stuff. But I reckon there's plenty more of what's good they're missing out on than what's bad. No matter if takes a few days for ol' Death to put an arrow in you, or the rest of your days - every extra second counts for somethin', right? Even if that means I'm the next poor bastard on the spit roast." He added with a soft chuckle.
Lugruk paused, reflecting on the path that had carried here, upon those left behind. Truth be told, there were comforts he had longed for, for quite some time now. Long before even the mists saw fit to swallow the world. The rest of it, anyway.
"Its... just like my old boyfriend used to say," Lugruk said, accenting the word in question with a meaningful raise of his brow. "A clock keeps better time when you don't stare it in the face."
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Katiana Graves
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 109
Appearance: When you want to hide a tree, you hide it in a forest. Similarly, if you wanted to hide Katiana, you would put her in a crowd of humans. Brown hair, brown eyes, thin features, and an unremarkable height may not set her apart, but the way she manipulates her expressions and gallivants around certainly do. Those who know her are familiar with a particularly mischievous left-sided smirk, above which forms a dimple. Those who have yet to meet her will immediately know her for the way she bounces from one place to the next, holding her skirts in her hands.
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Equipment: A recurve bow made of elm, a small wood-cutting ax, and a skinning knife complete Katiana's non-exhaustive equipment. Being an adventurer who often loses herself in the wilderness, she also favors flint and tinder, rope, medicines, a waterskin, sewing supplies, and food rations.
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Skills and Abilities: Though not particularly concerned in the art of warfare, Katiana has been a hunter for as long as she could hold a bow, and over the years, she became proficient with it. One could assume that if she needed to point her arrow at a charging warrior rather than a boar, she would have the same chances of hitting it. Years of adventuring have also taught her skills in survival.
Though she has no skills in magic, nothing is stopping her from learning. Katiana's family has a history of mages, though none have been particularly gifted.
Registered: Mar 17, 2021 16:34:46 GMT -5
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Post by Katiana Graves on Jul 24, 2022 2:34:55 GMT -5
Lady Naoki, fresh off her successful limbo, meanders into the vicinity of the tiki bar. The pages have been good about keeping her supplied with tasty drinks, but she senses trouble to get into around here, and so winds her way among the crowd, casting her eyes and ears this way and that. Most of the faces are familiar, but there’s one she’s not seen in some time. “ Katiana?” As she approaches, Naoki seems disinclined to believe her eyes, and blinks several times. But it is no trick of the light, that’s Katiana Graves, returned at last from her lengthy journey with Coatl! “Katiana — you’ve returned! And at such an auspicious time! Welcome to the festivities, to the Lūʻau!” Pronouncing the word exactly as she first heard it and bumping her hips to one side to set the grass of her skirt swaying, Naoki gestures broadly around them, seemingly quite pleased with how things are going. “Someone told me about this wonderful festival traditionally held on the beach, and it seemed a fit for Port Argentium. And by my reckoning, things are going quite well thus far!” “But…” Trailing off, Naoki looks Katiana up and down. “You’re overdressed.” Shaking her head, Naoki tsk, tsk, tsks. “This is a strictly informal event, Ms. Graves, and I expect everyone to be dressed appropriately!” Waving one finger, it’s difficult to tell if Naoki is sincere in her chastisement. “If you’ve only just arrived… I suppose it is excusable, but here…” Beckoning over a page boy, Naoki takes a grass skirt from his box. She then waves away the page boy guarding the door to the hut and ushers Katiana through the hanging grasses to the interior. It’s a storage hut for alcohol. Crates are stacked up against the walls, filled with all manner of bottles of spirits. There’s space enough for them both to stand inside, but not much more than that. Holding the grass skirt in one hand, Naoki waves dismissively toward Katiana’s clothes with the other. “Take all that off,” Naoki bids her. Occupying the doorway such as she is, it doesn’t seem as though Naoki is going to look away. Upon hearing her name, the huntress whipped around with a bright smile. “It is I! The journey with Coatl took us away for quite some time, but we’re back in one piece!” Barely. The horrors they’d encountered still lingered somewhere in the back of her mind… among other things. She still felt her head spinning. Even so, she kept her spirits high for the festivities, and it was wonderful to see so many familiar faces again. Well, that was until Naoki began to eye her up and down. Katiana felt the hair rise up on the back of her neck. “Well, I can take off my boots, see? And let my hair out! Though it’s a little warm—” She began to protest, but try as she might, the former empress’ prodding wore away at her. With a drop of sweat down her temple, she grabbed the edge of her shirt and pulled it off. The woman was, understandably, rippling with muscle, all of which were focused around her shoulders and back. Decorating them were a host of scars- faded and fresh bug bites, scratches from running through the forest and getting whipped by twigs, and more serious things that must have been the slash of claws or the bite of a blade. There were little divots and bumps here and there, each with a story. The skin beneath the shirt was quite a bit lighter than her hands, face, and chest, and understandably so, with how hesitant she was. “... must all of it go?” she stuttered, peering out to look at Coatl. It was then that a certain little spirit snuck up behind spouting quite the racket. Katiana yelped. “No, I have not seen him! I’m busy trying not to make a fool of myself!”
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Coatl of the Imilla
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 143
Appearance: Skin just a skosh darker than an old clay pot. The shade of his hat occludes black, sun-beaten eyes, wavy, matted hair, and just enough beard to protect his chin. His hands are coarse and leathery, with wiry tendons. His height isn't quite imposing, it's but enough to lend credence to a purposeful stride and posture.
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Equipment: An old duster, scarf, and cotton shirt and slacks. A thin brigandine with copper plates and a military-grade pitchfork.
A single candle, a reagent of now forbidden degrees of power.
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Skills and Abilities: On his home turf, Coatl could manifest formidable elemental magic. Here the magic is suppressed down to more subtle manipulations. However, the spirit of Cuaté, the "Witch", is still with him.
Coatl is, at his core, a simple farmhand. His experience working on ranches and plantations has earned him a strong physique and a way with animals. When he was a teenager, he also spent some time as a city guard and militiaman, giving him basic competence with a variety of weapons.
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Biography: The Imilla Clan were migrant farmers and laborers, selling themselves to wealthier kingdoms. They were a people bound by working shanties, and stories of an Eden from whence their ancestors came. As a youth, Coatl felt they were naive. They possessed the most basic of martial skills and required the aid of capricious spirits with weak magic to protect them.
His suspicions were half true, for when they encountered a malevolent kingdom, they were very nearly enslaved. However, his parent's commitment to peace earned him, and him in particular, the loyalty of an ancestral spirit that was far more dependable.
Using the power of this spirit, Coatl and a few other "chosen ones" helped bring prosperity and safety to their clan, ensuring that no one else would try to enslave them. The golden years of their people came to an abrupt end, however, when the flood waters came...
Registered: Mar 20, 2021 23:42:08 GMT -5
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Post by Coatl of the Imilla on Jul 31, 2022 17:28:32 GMT -5
Coatl imperceptibly rolled his eyes as he approached the two ladies, realizing he was going to need to commit a most unusual act of chivalry. The deep forest info dump to his people could wait a bit.
With a smooth, almost theatrical motion, Coatl removed his coat. A well-timed breeze caused it to flutter in the air like a victory banner. In a second motion, he tossed his hat up into the air. And in a third swing of his arm, his shirt came off, just in time for a free hand to snatch the descending head cover out of the air just as it drifted by his side.
Coatl had a lumberjack's build before going on his sojourn, as he never liked to stop working or fighting hand-to-hand regardless of the power Cuate granted him. But after living off of wild game, bugs, and tree sap while battling monsters and the elements, well, his body fat percentage had dropped into the single digits. Sinewy striations ran down the length of his arms. While Katiana had deltoids that would make Artemis herself blush, Coatl had been more of a generalist, his axe and pitchfork filling in whatever gaps his partner's arrows had left.
He could have used a razor during their travels though, though he honestly had little interest in what Lady Naoki thought of body hair. The idea was of course, to show some solidarity for Katiana.
"I'd wear a grass skirt along with yah but I'm afraid I don't quite have the hips for it."
Cuate's voice hummed audibly between the three of them. I'd wear one too but I technically don't have hips.
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