[center][h1][color=f7941d]Cheon[/color][/h1][/center]

Cheon had just arrived at the gates into Noble Haven, wondering just how long he'd have to wait for the stiff-faced guardsmen to confirm his position, when the sound of rapid steps made his ears swivel under his cap. The warbeast's eyes narrowed, scabbard pressed to his brow like a shade as he watched a dot rapidly grow in size, heralded by the clattering steps of a familiar courier. Cheon raised his arms and stepped aside, an over-exaggerated dodge that allowed the man to skid to a gasping stop in the center of the path. [color=f7941d]"[i]Moumantai[/i], good man! Where's the fire?"[/color]

Probably on the other end of town and then some, if Christopher's breathless orders were anything to go by. A frightening report from the marches, perhaps? At any rate, once the orders were conveyed, the gate was lifted and the courier turned to him, still as red-faced and out-of-breath as a trainee on the first day.

[color=f7941d]"I suppose that description [i]is[/i] correct enough,"[/color] the warbeast answered obliquely, but proudly. Master Yuan and some of the other elders would surely have him stacking stones on his legs if he went around dishonoring the sect's good name with the last three days of immoderacy. Chris' unspoken assumption was right on the money, though; Cheon could do with a bit of exercise now that he was all limbered up from that massage. Gathering at the gate struck him as a mite more expedient, but the common saying about matters of taste applied to mercenary work just as much as it did to mercantilism.

[color=f7941d]"Far be it from me to keep a client from letting me earn my daily bread..."[/color] the warbeast shrugged to the dust cloud where Christopher used to be. He glanced over his shoulder at the duo rushing up the path. 'Some' and 'Support', he surmised. 'Some' was a rustail(?) around the same height, but Cheon was usually hunched forward trying to make himself look smaller, more humble, and less martial than he actually was. 'Support' was a pointy-eared human who was smaller, even considering his effective height. She was the one who opted to broach conversation first.

[color=f7941d]"I, Cheon of Shinma Temple, greet you, Aelyeth and Ebthor."[/color] He hooked off his hat with the pommel of his sword and saluted in the traditional fashion: a straight-backed bow with a flat hand over the one holding the scabbard of his sheathed blade. For a moment, he almost looked like a proper martial artist. Then he dropped the cap back over his black-tipped ears, and like a weight, it seemed to pull him down into that stooped, unassuming posture. His level of professionalism changed accordingly. 

[color=f7941d]"Indeed!"[/color] He answered every question at once with a single word, a carefree tone, and a pivot. The length of his blue robe followed behind him. [color=f7941d]"Let's get our bread."[/color]