[hider=Buor'Kut]
[center]
[b][sub][h2][color=#edefee]B[/color] [color=#dbdfdd]ᴜ[/color] [color=#c9cfcc]ᴏ[/color] [color=#b7bfbb]ʀ[/color] [color=#a6aea9]'[/color] [color=#949e98]K[/color] [color=#828e87]ᴜ[/color] [color=#707e76]ᴛ[/color]   [color=5E6E65]"ᘜᖇᗴᗴȠᔕ"[/color]   [color=#657268]O[/color] [color=#6b766c]'[/color] [color=#72796f]D[/color] [color=#797d73]ᴏ[/color] [color=#7f8176]ɴ[/color] [color=#86857a]ɴ[/color] [color=#8d887d]ᴇ[/color] [color=#938c81]ʟ[/color] [color=#9a9084]ʟ[/color][/h2][/sub][/b]
[img]http://i.imgur.com/gqaAXfr.png[/img]


[img]http://i.imgur.com/DZiUk7e.jpg[/img]


[img]http://i.imgur.com/wRZipvS.png[/img]

[color=#a6aea9][sup]A  tree  is  known  by its fruit;
a   man   by   his    d e e d s.
An acted deed is  never lost;
and he who sows shall reap.[/sup][/color]
[sub][sub][h2][color=#9a9084]A ᴘ ᴘ ᴇ ᴀ ʀ ᴀ ɴ ᴄ ᴇ[/color][/h2][/sub][/sub][color=5E6E65]________________________________________________________________________[/color]
[color=#a6aea9][sup]He’s unsure of his age, but appears somewhere near  50  and tends to respond to the
question of such in kind. The first thing people usually notice  about him is his size and
the immense degree to which it fills a room. At 7 feet it’s hardly a surprise. To  continue
the exaggeration of a man his arms stem from his torso like trunks of a weathered yew
tree and reach a length a bit awkward for average, flaring out into fists reminiscent of a
sledge hammer  head. What’s more, there is a certain  grace  about  the  giant,  a slow
and  gentle  step  that’s  intentions are mirrored in considerate and concerned eyes the
shade of maple bark. His hair was once a darker shade, but has grown peppered in the
recent  years;  though  his  facial  hair  and  incessant  stubble betrays a color kin to his
eyes. Another oddity in the behemoth's  possession  would be the judgemental monkey
that makes Buor’Kut its perpetual perch, tail about his neck.                                           [color=333333].[/color]

There is, of course, another Buor’Kut. The mask isn’t a complete denial of his traits, but
his true visage is a well guarded one of bark and leaves, crisping with the calling of time.
The bark tends to be more prominent in the points where his joints meet and the leaves,
shades  of  saddle brown to eucalyptus, scatter  wherever  one might expect to find hair.
His  nails  are  dense,  made  for  churning  into the earth. His eyes, while retaining their
color, are tinged with an  inconsolable  sadness  that  almost breeches on a loss: be it of
self,  sanity  or solace… it would be hard to say. His nose and lips become slightly lost in
his true appearance, there, yet diminished in importance and projection.                        [color=333333].[/color][/sup][/color]

[sub][sub][h2][color=#9a9084]O ᴄ ᴄ ᴜ ᴘ ᴀ ᴛ ɪ ᴏ ɴ[/color][/h2][/sub][/sub][color=5E6E65]________________________________________________________________________[/color]
[color=#a6aea9][sup]The Owl In The Tree : Tea Shop & Apothecary[/sup][/color]

[sub][sub][h2][color=#9a9084]P ᴇ ʀ s ᴏ ɴ ᴀ ʟ ɪ ᴛ ʏ[/color][/h2][/sub][/sub][color=5E6E65]________________________________________________________________________[/color]
[sup][color=#a6aea9]While at first he may  appear  and act as a simple extension of his petite companion [he
lets her do most of the talking], he is not  without  his  own  shaded  and mortally flawed
past  and  endeavors.  His is a calm  and steady personality,  one  not  from  nature  but
rather intense nurturing. A life of many wrong  turns  grasping at a chance to finish clear
of blistering debts that slash across his soul and surely mark him for damned. This lends
itself to his  almost  inability  to refuse a request for help. He is a sucker for a good story,
especially if it is coupled with a beer and a pleasant ending.                                            [color=333333].[/color]

But  then,  no one  finds redemption easily. There are times, deep into a bottle, when he
begins  to wonder  if all this pinning for absolution is even worth a damn and it is Joselyn
who usually steers him back to the path.  Sometimes  on  her part this is a simple touch,
other  times it is  a  week  of  hiking  around in the badlands to find the oddly possessed
brute. There lies within great potential, though for what it will be Jobs burden to unearth.

He  had  always  found  happiness within the earth. There was something about digging
your fingers into something  as old as time, touched by galaxies and stroked by Gods of
long  forgotten  civilizations.  And  this  had  become  a piece of his niche in Arcadia. His
keeper  had  formed  him with the strength  of  elementals, a  passive  gardener  with  a
heart capable of destructive natural chaos. A mountain containing a dormant volcano.  [color=333333].[/color] [/color][/sup]

[sub][sub][h2][color=#9a9084]H ɪ s ᴛ ᴏ ʀ ʏ[/color][/h2][/sub][/sub][color=5E6E65]________________________________________________________________________[/color]
[sup][color=#a6aea9]His life before  Arcadia  was  inconsequential  and  recalling  life  within is pretty heavily
laced with ramblings and  roads  better  not  traveled. Best to just say he wasn’t heavily
burdened by issues of morality or familial ties. His past actions sit on his bulky shoulders
like a burden of cement blocks, but it is upon his shoulders alone and  rarely discussed,
even  with  his closest companion. He returned to this plane, already a capable adult by
any  culture’s  view. Of course, he hadn’t been sent here to remain. Rather he was sent
to collect something for his keeper, a death, and not for the first time. Arguably, a death
is  a  death,  and  one  was  offered, though  it  was  not the youthful budding power but
rather  her  mother  that  was  sacrificed  by   his   crushing   palms.  There   had   been
something,  a spark there, a recognition that rippled like flames over his fae dulled mind
and recalled  something, home. This was his home and as mother wept for daughter as
no one had ever wept for him he did something he had dared not for decades, he made
a pledge  to  the woman in exchange for a spark of hope in those tear laden pools. This
was not a petty mortals promise, this was a binding vow with fate that wove into the core
of his being and offered him enough sustenance to withdraw from the Hedge, a hope of
permanent release,  a  hope of something better. When Joselyn found him, sap pouring
from deep  regret  that  he  felt  stronger  than  any  emotion had ever touched him as a
human, it  sealed  his  path. She  had  become  his:  his burden, his family, his purpose,
when only days ago he had had none.                                                                            [color=333333].[/color]

To stay  with the young girl was a double edged sword. His keeper would surely search
for him,  even  if it was just to rip apart his soul to amuse herself after his treachery. But
if he were to leave  her  there were many evils in the world that would tear apart such a
young girl.  He  decided to stay, partly due to the calming and healing effect the girl had
on his  forever  altered  mind.  He  had fervently  explained to Joselyn  the troubles with
Fae and detailed reasons for her to stay detached from them. They were unpredictable
and cruel,  and he hoped that would be enough to keep her from them. He knew better.
But he trusted her, even if he was usually quite over protective. There were times when
he would  venture  out on errands, searching for something that Joselyn seemed either
oblivious  of,  or  knew  better than to ask and it was on one such journey that a thought
struck him-jutting  into  his  chest  with  such  a  ferocious swiftness that it was moments
before he could breath. He immediately returned  to Joselyn’s side and prepared her to
leave.                                                                                                                               [color=333333].[/color]

He  had  been  sharing  a  drink  with  a  companion  from the Court of Summer, having
found  kinship  amongst  their ranks when  he  worried  he  may  not be enough to keep
himself  and  Joselyn safe. They were discussing their old Keepers and their dislike and
then it dawned on him: his Fae keeper had never  allowed escape,  had  never  faltered
in her  cunning  and  intelligence.  She  had seemed like a God, ever present to catch a
misdeed- eating before being allowed, speaking in hushed whispers with other captives.
Did  his  keeper  know  exactly  what  would  happen?  Did she purposefully allow him to
"escape"  with  Joselyn?  Is she watching them now? And it was for that reason he knew
they must  leave.  And  it  was,  with  a  healthy  paranoia,  they  came  to America. They
traveled  about  for  a bit before it was finally Buor’Kut who stated, in no uncertain terms,
he had found a place for them to call home, a place to set up roots: Job, Nevada.          [color=333333].[/color]
[/color][/sup]

[sub][sub][h2][color=#9a9084]T ʜ ᴇ  H ᴀ ɴ ᴅ  D ᴇ ᴀ ʟ ᴛ[/color][/h2][/sub][/sub][color=5E6E65]________________________________________________________________________[/color]
[color=#a6aea9][b]Personal cards:[/b] 1 [tentative]                                                             
[b]Hand:[/b] currently none                                                                         
[b]Mysteries:[/b] The Case of the Bovine Butcher; Main Mystery [current][/color][/center][/hider]