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Level 72, reception area

Zach was left wide eyed and mouth ajar within the femme squirrel's embrace. Mind unwilling, soul remained.
Quickly gritting his teeth and narrowing his eyebrows impetuously, his synaptic impulses told him to reach out and snap the squirrel’s neck in half; like a withered twig.
Before he was able to pursue his animal instinct- he almost tumbled over as the squirrel spun and slipped away with excitement.
As he flailed ridiculously, he reached out for something to steady himself!
The nearest entity he was able to grasp was the fire extinguisher. Strongly secured by bracing on the wall.

With that action, his knees barely buckled before he was able to hoist himself back up again. Flicking his head back to get the long silver hair out of his eyes. He continued to steady himself upon the halon containing steel canister. Feeling the cold steel beneath his finger tips as the rage burnt from within.

She was a problem. Too much free reign, non compliant, unrealistic, ditzy...
What was worse, Zach had smelt a rat since the worker girl stepped through with a dainty foot in this building. Almost like she was masquerading the joint like a ballroom dancer- but why exactly had she attended? This workplace was hardly meant for a dance, or fun for that matter! Furthermore, he was outright offended on so many levels.
Earning the title of a pet name was a punishment that deserved open fire on the spot, Maynard thought with a growl. Surely, she was having a laugh? The incredulity of the incident was outrageous. Did she not grasp the serious nature of being beckoned to the Director’s office in any of its entirety at all?

“Childish Mink,” he breathed out, exasperated. Naturally he could chase her down. Wipe that pathetic smile off her face.
For he was well equipped with pharmaceuticals far more powerful than what he possessed in pill form. He drummed his fingers upon a loaded cartridge secured within his belt. Gritting his teeth as he tried to process his next action.
Or, there was another way. He was waiting for that moment. Waiting for an excuse. To initiate that process.
He was shaking. Grasping onto the canister that began to make it rattle somewhat. The former background piano music continued to prove itself relinquished.
He turned a cold shoulder to the entrance of the office, and directed his fraught face towards his desk. Eyes set on his computer, where he could ‘initiate the process’.

“Zacharias Maynard.” A cold voice called out from behind “not yet.”


Level 72, Office

Camera on

Xell blinked morbidly at the events that unravelled before him. It was certainly out of the ordinary compared to what one would anticipate as a typical workforce day. The usual regime of a dreary commute, a cocktail of pill swallowing and coal face typing for 9 hours straight became replaced by some form of life. Namely, his bashful colleague requesting if he could use his computer to render high resolution artwork. The arrival of the smutty fennec who he had recognised from an X-rated photo, and now Crispin. Who he had spoken to once or twice in the past at best. He may have had more opportunities had he been a regular at the Office but somehow, Xell didn’t think that that was quite the case. For some reason.

"Whew! Gottem all. Oh! Sorry guys. Don't uh, don't mind me. Lizzy here just bein' an asshole n' scaring me. Pretend you didn't see me."

“Gottem?” Xell queried. The dragon shoved his hands in his pockets whilst he looked to the floors and desks. He had to be talking about some belongings he dropped on the floor right? Maybe a pen, pencil… wallet? And why did he make such a snide remark about the Lizard?

“Oh right, well whatever you retrieved, glad you found it…” Xell grinned sheepishly. A bead of sweat running down his face as he remembered his own careless grasp less than a few minutes ago. He was banking on Rey carrying out his task post haste. Then he could retrieve his pills and stash them away. But then that femme showed up, who Rey was yet to acknowledge. And Crispin.
Was he a chef? A cat chef?
Xell winced as he found it extremely difficult to keep his thoughts on a consistent tangent.
Suffering from concentration problems and anxiety, he needed his dexamphetamines. More so to overcome the garbage he had been dispensed by Zach earlier. What where they? Tranquilisers? Anti depressants? Benzodiazepenes? After all, blue normally means a come down or suppressant. A means to coax a patient into a situation they would question or wouldn't normally accept.
Red or orange one may associated with a stimulant? Seize the day, live life to the maximum. Determination to press on or unravel the truth... right?
Xell was strictly told to take what he was given. Never to mix his poisons.

“Hey sweets… do you wanna pull that pose again? Sure tickled my fancy!” a random voice hollered. Causing an entire row to erupt in laughter. Daring glances with a snigger directed towards Athena, whilst gossip travelled like wildfire.

“Pays the bills,” Athena held her own. Paying no mind to the obnoxious crown as she waved a dismissive hand.

“Excuse me… I really… really need to find something…” Xell was getting anxious. He looked around frantically, before pacing up and down the cubicle. Athena sullen and bored by the whole display.

Before the grey dragon could utter another sentence, he couldn’t help but stare as he recognised a pill about to be swallowed by the Ocelot who swung by earlier.
One of HIS pills. Orange looking paracetomol like pill with a pink grainy texture. His Adderall!

“Noooooooo….” Xell leapt in the air, hand wound backwards as he was going to attempt to smack the pill out of Crispin’s mouth.


Level 72, Reception

“Hmmm... I thought that may be you...” Zach was kneeled down on the ground in resentment. Having lost his cool as a phantom like presence presumably had witnessed all.

“Well, where else would I be?” The voice replied, a borderline suave but serious tone about it.

A plumage of silver hair draped Zach’s face, casting his eyes in shadow just above a gritted expression on his mussel.
“I don’t want to play this game anymore.” The dog rose swiftly. The urge to storm out of the building a rightful retribution in his mind.

Go, don’t stand in contemplation The thought passed Zach’s mind.

Maynard froze. Eyes amped with constricted pupils. An assembly of shadowy men immersed from the surroundings.
Goosebumps started to streak through his skin as his fur stood on edge.

The figures had cloaked, scarves up to the orbital floors of their faces which acted as a platform for their thick black shades. Human in appearance, xenomorphic in aura.

“...They’re not real,” the dog uttered with contempt.

“Oh AREN’T they?” The voice mocked. Tone beckoning the assembly to step forward. Menacing facades gradually closing in upon Zach and the entity behind him.

As they emerged, cracking could be heard from tasers they were holding up.
A sweat drop pooled off of Zach’s face and splashed onto the floor. His body hot but beginning to precipitate a cold sweat.

“Am I supposed to believe that just because you got knocked off your perch, that you’re going to dwell on the floor with the barrel of a gun in your face?” The figure sneered, immediately replaced by a grin. Performing a quick shot imitation with his middle and index finger that aimed in Zach’s direction.

“... that’s what they do to sterile chickens.”

Zach gave two very slow nods. A gesture of acknowledgement and disgust to conceal his defeat.

His knuckles tightened on either side of his body. A slight turn with the aid of peripheral vision revealed the reckoning standing behind him. A tall coral figure emanating a supernatural aura.
He had long perked vampiric like ears with a suave, dark cerulean parted hairstyle that framed his clean cut face. He doned a set of nature defying toxic green eyes. Irises echoing a sinister sense of arrogance and need to play cat and mouse. His demeanour and attire, clad in a leather jacket and jeans suggested his style to be very similar to the 1950s era.

Zach inadvertently shrunk as he forced himself to turn around to look at him. Like ripping a band aid off an unhealed wound.
The creature’s aura was oppressive.
Zach could not even hear the harmonious splashes of the waterfalls anymore. Instead, a monotoned drone that weighed down the atmosphere.


The creature snapped his right set of fingers. A flare igniting which he conveniently used to light up a cigarette. Taking a long drag, before exhaling fumes that rapidly started to smog the vicinity.

“I think you and I should watch the 'flagged ones' on camera. Don't you?" the devil asked "the Director would love to know their names."
Level 72, reception

Moments after the dragon made his abrupt acknowledgement with his back turned to the counter, the watchful eyes of Zacharias Maynard fell upon his body.

“You’re welcome!” Zach retorted with a tuneful jeer, waving a hand.

“Whack job.” He sneered under his breath. Bringing the paper back to his face whilst his eyes remained unmoved from Xell. Flicking another
page with a rustle.

What were the chances he’d get two pass by in a row this morning. First, there was that soft-featured and sensitive soul, Robin Westing. Or ‘Rey’, as he appeared to be better known by. His art was compelling. He was the perfect employer to fulfill anything the company required. Had an eye for colour, form, appeal and subjective evaluation. Zach considered it a pity that his mood appeared to reflect itself in his work at times.

“Speaking of which…” a glazed look fell about Zach’s face, pupils constricted in deep thought “someone didn’t take their…” he growled, about to pick up one of the baskets laid out in front of him, when suddenly an annoying and overly chirpy voice interjected his thoughts.

“Good morning!” a morning star tone called out belonging to a red squirrel of small stature with work clothes. Her smile and carefree nature sticking out to the dog like a sore thumb.

“Jessamine Halecourt…” he narrowed his eyes and looked on with calm malintent. Like a cat watching a mouse flirt with death.
How long had she been here now? He wondered. Seemed a reasonably long time. A little shorter than Xell Weaver and Robin Westing. Yet of all the employers having an utter disregard and disrespect for the rules, she was by far the worst one! Not that those observations had fallen by the wayside. Zacharias, being the attentive micro manager, kept a paper trail of all offences the young lady had committed. Forwarded every conversation, inappropriate behavior and over enthuasiasm to the Director of this company. Some fortunate news arose this morning in that Zacharias received some correspondence with regards to these concerns and the matter would be dealt with very soon.
Today, in fact- post haste.

“Hey… HEY!!!” Zach yelled across the room. The tranquility of the waterfalls being drowned out and the sudden piano background music coming to an abrupt stop.

He waved a beckoning hand for the squirrel to come forwards.

“Not so fast Ms Halecourt. You know the rules.” Zach disappeared behind the counter momentarily. Arising with an object in his hand that resembled that of a handheld scanner. He jumped onto the desk, and off onto the floor. Landing deftly before walking towards her.

“You know the rules,” he clicked the scanner a couple of times, dropping his voice to a calm hush “everyone, needs….”
He yanked her hand and turned it over so that her bare wrist was facing the ceiling. Like a vulnerable limb on an operating table.


“…to sign in.”

He smiled down at her with satisfaction. Hands on his hips whilst holding the scanner in his right hand. The silence lingered on for a few seconds. No music or much ambience resuming.

“Well… now that that’s out of the way,” he cleared his throat “yourself and some others have been flagged.”
“What does that mean you may ask?”
“The Director’s office.”
“Midday.” His eyes opened abnormally wide. A serious look hovering on his face, before it melted into a drawled expression of glee.


Level 72, the Office

Xell dropped the bottle of pills to the floor with a gasp. Orange paracetomol resembeling tablets with a grainy pink texture rolling underneath the open spaces of the drawers. Some scattered amongst his feet.

“Oh… don’t mind those…” he laughed nervously, kicking the visible meds under the drawers. ‘Damnit he wasn’t supposed to see those! Does anyone else know?’ the dragon grimaced.

“Thanks for sympathizing…. Man…” Xell shrugged his shoulders a few times, trying to force a smile but quickly gave up when his emotions couldn’t match the outside picture.

He observed Rey for a second. Had to admit that he really was a decent human being. The only colleague and at this point, friend he had. Always there to check up on him provided he wasn’t overly consumed with work. Xell was surprised he hadn’t been relocated for his socializing efforts.

Xell had to turn away for a few seconds. Leaning a cheek upon one of his hands with that elbow supported by the desk. The pain of acknowledging what it was like to have emotions before his own became severely suppressed was too much to endure right now. A lingering fear on trying to recall past memories causing his throat to knot up. Metaphorically shackled in pain whereby the present discomfort was just slightly more bareable than the agony of removing those shackles and opening up the wounds.
The fear of an impending sense of doom. Or breakdown which was becoming a slow fusing dynamite.

“You’re right… you’re right Rey, it will all be ok…” he nodded slowly. Drumming his fingers upon the desk, before turning to look up at him again. Albeit awkwardly.

“My computer! Yes by all means…” the dragon almost tripped over his chair but regained his balance. Gesturing for the human to take a seat.
“Being an artist… you’d think it’d make more sense that you got the better computer… am I right?” Xell commented. Unsure whether he was just badgering on now.

“Hey…. HEY!!!” a hand waved over cubicle wall. Pale beige in colour with slender hands that were tattood with black stars. Some block black and others outlined, like patterns you'd see in a child's bedroom.
The hand slipped back over the other side momentarily, before a tall female stood over the cublice. Staring playfully at her co-workers. Smelling of perfume from the night before and expired eyeshadow decaying under her eyes. The worker in question was Athena O’shea.

‘That girl from the picture,’ Xell’s face fell as he looked away awkwardly. His gesture creating a sense of unwelcome.

“Hey dreamy! How are you today?” she asked, staring at Rey “you going to draw me?” She continued, pushing her hair back and posing with her shoulder out. Leaning over the cubicle wall.
Hi! Could you elaborate more on what sort of RP that’s being considered? Setting, plot, type of people or animals etc
Thanks heaps 😊
Enjoy xD
Do you require a template? I'm happy just to have you have some liberty with that. I do intend to expand Xell's.
I'll be adding some others. Even OCs that have not been mentioned in the intro yet...
Hi! ^^ *waves frantically* :D

Promise I will add context very soon with the RP.
Just sorting putting everything together piece to piece. Will certainly post more character profiles soon too.
Can't wait to see what yourself and Gem have! ^^

Name: Xell Weaver

Species: Anthromorphic Dragon

DOB: ???

Occupation: Software security manager

Personality: Emotionally detached, solemn, often indifferent, sporadic displays of emotion

Xell has been working for Synthetic Eden Organisation since he can remember.
The years have passed by so drearily, he can't remember an exact date.
Former history includes having worked for the military where an unfortunate decision not only ruined his career and reputation, but his confidence and will to live.
And yet here he is. Working for a corporate company he knows next to nothing about. In an Orwellian Society.


Name: Zacharias Maynard

Species: Anthromorphic Dog

DOB: 19/09/3001

Occupation: Administration

Personality: Emotionally detached, unreadable, sinister, calculating, sarcastic, poker faced, self aware

Not much is known about Zach, apart from the notion that he is known as that 'annoying micro managing mongrel'.
Checking everyone in to their work place as required in his job role. Often adopting a bored and disconnected look, when in reality he's in fact always focused on the task at hand. Despite brushing people's incredulous questions, one may argue that he's one of the most self aware personalities that you'll ever meet. If it's even possible to ever meet that side of him.
For now, his commitments are to the Synthetic Eden Organisation. To keep a vigilant eye on the drones' performance and to alter their mood through 'vitamin pills' appears to be what he's most committed to at face value.


Name: Fleur Rié Thompson

Species: Anthromorphic Bunny

DOB: 19/09/3001

Age: 27

Occupation: Nurse practitioner

Demure, polite, politically correct, positive, determined, anxious (when things go wrong), naive (at face value), pensive, lost

Cool toned purple overall fur colour. Hair indigo blue. Light mussel pastel lilac. Tattooed stars on the right side of her mussel. Yellow eyes. Demure expression with smokey eyes.

Fleur (or Rié, as interchangeably known) has 2 sides to her. On the outside she comes across as a dutiful, diligent and upbeat nurse practitioner. There to help or hear the employees out in their time of need. Her line of work, after all, is a a hybrid of being a doctor and a nurse with prescribing rights.
Behind closed doors and away from her colleagues, her confidence is pale or a shadow of its former self.
Clinging to a photo every night of someone who once meant so much to her, she can’t help but mentally collapse at the thought that she may never see them again. After all, he showed her the way, taught her how to believe in herself, taught her everything she knew- insisting that she had done 99% of the work to become who she is today. Despite the turbulence and struggle she's had throughout her life.
As the memories start to dissipate thanks to evening recreational activities, the pain is dulled at best, but the ache continues to blemish her world like a dark pair of tinted glasses.
What could be troubling the, what many would perceive on the outside, as the ‘sweet and caring bunny girl?’


Name: Aleksei Winterfeld

Species: Diablosi

DOB: ???

Occupation: ???

Coral coloured with a tall and athletic build- if not muscular.
Long perked vampiric ears with a suave, dark cerulean parted hairstyle framing his clean cut face.
Eyes are of a set of nature defying HellGrün green irises that are so bright, they stand tall and proud amongst the darkness. Like a pair of neon flares. Irises echoing a sinister sense of arrogance.
Often seen smoking or posing against the wall if he makes the time to rendez-vous with any given person.

Personality: Confident, calculating, crafty, perpetually composed, plotting, vindictive

Not is known about Aleksei. His name has certainly been portrayed on CEO reports and business intaglios.
It's assumed his role in the company is very much behind closed curtains and most employers at the building of SEO are yet to see his face. Rumours have surfaced here and there that he is 'that 80s styled guy'. Donning the look of what many consider to resemble a fresh faced sophomore student that all the girls would've considered their highschool crush.
It seems anyone that may have ever encountered Aleksei have either choose not to discuss or don't live to tell the tale.
Who, or what exactly is this entity? And what is his role at SEO and more importantly, his motives?
Hi everyone. I already have a couple of players who are participating in this RP which has been discussed through discord and other outlets. If you’d like join or have any questions, please pm or dm.

Synthetic Eden Organisation

Have you ever felt that something wasn’t quite right? That the world you grew up has orchestrated your every thought and move? That the society has indoctrinated our thoughts whilst those that have resisted have been rendered docile through atonement?

The current world would not have you think like that. Going with the motions earned you mutual respect. Or what some might say, was a pat on the back.

The red pilled brigade were either punished for such thought crimes, or kept quiet in fear of being chastised.

The little people punished and bled dry of their finances, well-being and livelihood all for the bigger people in the game to stay above and beyond float in this gross imbalance.

This was the dystopian society humans, anthros, animals and androids found themselves in the world they were living in today.


New Ennisberg, CBD

’Tick, tock, tick, tock.’

The drone of’ end of day’ novelties chimed through Xell’s partially numb and partially heavy mind. A fleeting presence. A short burst of dopamine that quickly dissipated before it could be acknowledged. Let alone embraced. A token of hope to carry him through yet day.

His azure eyes that carried a reminiscent glimmer of former upbeat drawled across the corroded floor. Auto pilot dragging his gaze amongst a myriad of worn, moth eaten shoes of various leather and canvas material. Black and white checkered earning the prize of the most lively pair. Belonging to a being who was hard to decode underneath its oversized and shapeless hoody. Wiry fingers, with skin torn scabby cuticles scrolling through the phone feed. White screen outlining its form within this dark vicinity. A wasting part of limbs that looked as if it had picked up anything but food for the last few days.

The dragon lifted his head a bee’s whisker. One step further from his sub-conscious to the real world. The photons of light that resembled corroded metal dancing about the air through the window. Pulsating headlights dancing off the deadline assembly of ominous figures. The patterns about the walls and windows had faded and withered so chronically that the capacity could be easily mistaken for a methadone clinic.

Rope slings rattled off the ceiling as the enclosure rocked back and forth. Tired and weary metal wearing each other thing as they slid up against each other.

“Terminal stop.” A monotoned voice void of empathy announced. Twin pistons released which gave off gasping sound as the poorly fitted doors screeched open. The vehicle giving in to free fall, albeit for 0.2 seconds, as the ignition caved in to a complete stop.
It was still dark outside within the ante meridian hours. The rusty filter left in situ partly owing to the urban emissions having fabricated its own pollutant blanket upon the CBD.

Xell drearily lifted his head. Streaks of washed out pollutants sun an unwarm welcome to his current dilated eyes that had been mostly accustomed to the dark. Blinking wearily, he could process buildings. A plethora of cityscape encompassing one would crudely remark as a concrete jungle. Any signs of anything light, cleanliness and a good vibe falling by the wayside.
The dome like area of clouds hawking over the city resembled rusted metal and decaying fabric.
If he stared long enough, he could make out a twisted face staring down at him through the nuclear orange fenestrations amongst the clouds. As if to mock his existence.

Xell frowned. The first sign of any emotion in wake since he woke up this morning. He pulled out a cigarette from his work shirt pocket. A lighter from another make-shift or “repaired” pocket from his dog-eared trousers.

A few flicks, emissions of carbon dioxide, deep throated cough and exhale took place before the moment he was in became a little bit more endurable.
Having consumed another long drag, he turned to look at a nearby cathedral. Monumental statues and gargoyles blurred renderings of their former selves. Former detail and characteristic youth seemingly stripped away. Owed to either a signs of neglect, change in priority or in what one values today. Or simply acid rain eroding the earth’s surface characteristic.
Much like one’s thick skin or sense of self-worth. One, after all, can always evade harm or violation in whatever shape, form or situation. But a process so gradually chronic and disintegrating, that one became desensitized and docile to the notion would cause a loss of purpose. Or a relinquished sense of what one may have been running from in the first place.

Having drawled through the next walk of blocks, Xell finally found himself outside the designated workplace. A tall black windowed building of unusual spiraling architecture. Some civilians even remarked that it looked like a circuit.

Many complex lights, eclectic structures, paths of whimsying paths so complex, one wouldn’t know where it started nor where it ended.

Where many may find their position in the workforce at this company a trend setting point of conversation that carries prestige and status- for civilians like Xell, uncertainty became a burden since the start. Uncertainty so intangible, however, any reason to leave felt like grasping at straws.
Without looking, he open out his hand to let the cigarette butt drop to the floor like a swatted fly. Smearing the ash marble floor with his shoe to leave a sooty stain.

He pressed on towards the glass doors, pulling back the sleeve of his work shirt reluctantly to reveal his bare and vulnerable wrist. A raised and indurated lump protruding his scales. Scar revealing where the chip had been slotted within the epithelial tissue.
A keypad on the wall immediately detected the notion and pinged the words ‘ACCESS GRANTED’ in attempted encouraging neon green lights. Twin glass doors suspended from titanium framework opening up and enabling him entry.


Level 72

Having ascended the monumentally high levels through the circuit, much like a hamster test tube with a fan like sound whooshing past each level like a dull toll, the box finally came to a stop. As the door whirled open, Xell stepped outside.

Vased plants and waterfalls decorating the hallways. He walked up to the reception area. Dull eyes glazed over the person behind the desk. A green dog with long hair, a striped shirt and ears. A oversized dangling tag that carried the name ‘Zacharias Maynard’. Face stuck in the newspaper impolitely whilst the computer blinkered in the background.

“You’re killing trees doing that…” Xell blurted without much thought. Or empathy for that matter.

The grey eyes looked over the pages of grey print. Maintaining his lazy position, he whipped out a hand to point at the Dragon’s wrist with an index finger.

“You need to sign in.”

“Already did that at the door. How many times do I need to do this?” Xell muttered “it’s a bit much.”

“Employee attendance and business performance tracking,” Zach muttered, licking his finger to turn a page “Oh… you need to take your pills.” He gestured with his hand towards the open baskets whilst keeping his face buried in the gazette foliage. Bored eyes still visible from the hollow.

“So… what mood are we in today…” his voice trailed off as the chip got scanned and a digital photo with a name appeared on the computer screen. Finally earning his attention elsewhere. “Xell Weaver?”

“Has this been approved by a doctor?” Xell asked, trying to sound incredulous. With the bland emotion within his tone, it stood out as more of a statement or moan, rather than a protest.

“Difficult today, aren’t we?” Zach furrowed his brown from behind the papers still “ok, blue pill for you.”

“Are you at least going to tell me what they are?” Xell picked up the capsule from the basket placed before him. Inspecting it indifferently before gulping it down with a glass of water that was pushed towards him.

“Nope,” Zach replied “can’t cause bias. But it should get you back on track.”
The dog forced a smile which appeared to be a ghost beneath his many layers of stoicism. Almost liked it was drowning.

“Right…” Xell muttered after he had turned his back to leave the dog in the wake of any conversation he had had all day. Automatic doors shutting behind him which left sounds of water fountains and air vents trailing in a maze of ambience.



Xell walked across the labyrinth of desks. Some people getting to work within their cubicles. Otherwise using the internet for other purposes. He mentally shook his head at the latter.

“Must be new here…” he rolled his eyes as he saw an X-rated picture of long-haired fennec posing a position he didn’t even think was possible.

Having arrived at his cubicle, he slumped within his chair. Head spinning as he tried to accustom himself to the dreary effects of earlier. He massaged his temples, before burying his face into the palm of his hands.

After several minutes passed, he relucntantly opened a drawer to the right of his computer desk. Reaching out for more pills that clattered in the container like a packet of smarttees. He exhaled. A bead of sweat crossing the boarders of his face til it splattered on the keyboard.

“Is this as good as it gets?” he opened his eyes dryly. Rattling the pills in the bottle. “was it always like this?”

X e l l
Marshland - The Fall

"'Sides, this is how I see it: the worse things are, the more you gotta laugh. What's the point of being miserable over stuff you can't control, or paralyzed with fear over what might happen? 'Snot like that helps any. Life is for living! Might as well enjoy it, yeah?"

“Yeah… I guess…!” Xell growled in response to Nikki’s comment. Continuing to step through the soupy marsh which was as comfortable as trying not to step on an ulcer under his foot.

‘Well… isn’t SHE just a ray of sunshine?’ that ethereal voice resounded through his mind. Causing the Draconi to check his surroundings, even though he really should’ve been used to this by now.
I could change that. Help her learn how complicated life can be.

“Don’t think even you could dampen her spirit.” Xell sniggered with a red glint in his eye. But then wiped the smirk off his face instantaneously as a shadow draped his face.

Xell bit his lower lip at the unwelcome welp that arrived within the bogmarsh scene. A canine novan gawking creature with a wired look in eyes. Frolicking in the muddy wetlands with a gun wavering in an almost drunken manner. Shouting at the top of his lungs. He looked like an asylum patient who had escaped a methadone clinic.

Xell stopped to wonder with what borrowed time the sorrowed mongrel spent in these pits. Hours. Maybe days? However much time it may have been, it appeared chronic anxiety and shackling fear had driven him to irretrievable insanity.
Xell stood with a fatigued open mouth as his eyes crawled from the grubby novan arrival, to Taffy. Where he appeared to be making his way.
‘Well, this just go interesting.’ The voice sniggered in his head.
Almost as if Xell’s eyes got forced, his eyes fell upon member to member on the group as the beast spoke. It took over and forced him to speak in a tone so calm, so tranquil and well spoken, but with an air of deception that may make one feel uneasy.

“This got VERY interesting indeed!” earning the attention of everyone, causing the group including the newcomer to turn around.

“A forlorn Coon who acts as tough as nails to cover her pain. Blinded by goals, outcomes and expectations of others when really she’s just running from something. Ha, micro manager.”

The draconi smiled with gnarled teeth as he turned his attention to the otter novan, and then addressing other members consecutively. The howling wind blowing grit passed them.

“A fallen kid whose guilt is consuming him so much he can’t even decipher what his purpose is anymore. What did you do, urchin? You’ve got the weight of the Universe on your shoulders there.”

“A forest guru who’s blind but SOMEHOW knows her way. Not very sus at all… is it?” his voice sang with amusement.

“…a run and gun hog who coulnd’t take the strain…” Xell mused out loud “an abomination of a bird girl…”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, rainbow and sunshine. That’s one pair of glasses to look through… what are you going to do when it all comes crashing down? Go running off with the Unicorns?” Xell laughed hysterically as he looked at Nikki.

“You can’t join us by the way! We’re full!” Xell pointed at the scruffy Novan newcomer, before clasping the air as if squashing him to dust.

The novan looked on, shaking deliriously with the gun by now pointing at him.
Before he could pull the trigger, he found himself tackled to the ground by the Draconi who leapt up into the sky with his elongated wings and dove head on to knock him into the swamp. Bubbles surfacing through the black murk as the reptilian novan dealt him fistfuls.

A huge gasp was heard as the canine found himself lifted from the mud by the scruff of his neck. His body dangling as Xell’s teeth and eyes could be seen from his muddied silhouette. Holding the gun in the other hand.

“Now we have some bait for our pest problem!” Xell turned to the group “a reasonable sacrifice, would you say? Hahahahaha! Just say the word and I’ll throw him!” the Draconi leaned his head towards the vines that were moving more than ever.

What do we want?
An Ink post

When do we want it?
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