Hajard- Russia

[ferabird]

Your Name: Ferabird
E-mail: ferabird AT yahoo DOT com
URL: www.freewebs.com/euclidesfan/hypnotize.html

Character-
Name: Hajard
ID: ----
Gender: Male
Sub-Species: Euclides
Rank: Script-Writer
Breed: Lapine
Type: Fortune
Mutations: None that I can think of
Accessories: There's a lot... and all of it pending approval. Mem- Feel free to edit out anything you think unfair or the like.
Dice Bag (w/ dice set)
Jewelry (from worthless to priceless)
Rings
Bracelets
Necklaces
Lady’s Sash
Hankies
Feathers and beads
Bone mask
Smallish Satchel (Things inside will have a - )
-Panpipes
-Penny Whistle
-Slingshot
-Lady’s Manicure Kit
-Small box of bits of colored chalk
-Lady’s Hand-mirror
-Decorative Dagger (would not hold up against another weapon in combat)
Belt/Sash of Pockets (Things inside will have a +)
+Sealing Wax
+Ball of Twine
+Cracked Monocle
+Gentleman’s Dress Gloves
Notes: A rather comically jovial Euclides, one might go so far as to think him crazed considering how bold the lapine had become. Good luck tended to do that for fortune types, didn't it? Far too confident for his breed, this jackrabbit of equally bright coloration bounded from one Euclides to another, making little bets and after a roll of the dice more often than not scooping up and claiming whatever little token or item he'd won. In a nutshell, this script-writer was most often the very picture of confidence to the point of foolhardiness, though that could very really change if his luck ever left him. His goal... to win away a puppet master's tophat.
(Proper history pending)
Stats-
Health: 20/20
Strength: 2
Speed: 7
Dexterity: 6
Intelligence: 4
Charisma: 5
Stamina: 3
Luck: 8

Assigned Country: Moscow, Russia
Items:
100
-10 Healing Medecine
-15 Reviving Medicine
-5 Soap
-5 Towel
-5 Medical Needle/Thread
-30 Pony
30 Remaining
Tirithium: 50+30= 70
Hunt-Critters Found:

[iprince]

You were one of the lucky ones. One of the few who led a rather uneventful trip from England, to your designated country. Although it wasn't as first class as you'd been promised, seeing as you came in the form of a giant, green rabbit. That would hardly do. But alas, you were given a comfy sort of cot to sleep in during the ride, and weren't faced with the same reckless noisemaking as the other train riders. Nope, just the occasional whinnying of your pony.

Now though, now you were out of that smelly car and out in the open, the brisk, cold air clear and refreshing after such a ride as that. You might want to hurry and duck to cover now, what with humans deboarding the train. The day was done, and the sky was inky black, but there would soon be crowds. It would do you no good to be caught or spotted by a passing human. Not this early into your trek. It was also freezing. A temperature that an Irish lad like yourself wouldn't be quite so used to. Your pony was trembling with cold behind you, warmed only by the pack of supplies she carried on her back.

There weren't many places for one such as yourself to go. The alleyways next to the train station were free, and a little while on there seemed to be a few ramshackle buildings, quite possibly abandoned. There was always the snow covered streets to travel along, if you were quick and kept to the shadows. No doubt you would find suitable shelter that way, but the cold was coupled by the night, and even with your superior luck, you'd be freezing your tail off in no time if you didn't find somewhere to go soon.

[ferabird]

It was cold... but that was to be expected, wasn't it? Then again, what better reason to bring packs for the pony? He'd be acquiring a thing or two now that he was here.... A shame he hadn't more time before departure. Into the alley he went then.... the pony's lead in his maw. Keen eyesight was turned to the shadows, massive ears alert to any motion within the darkened area. It would only be that much more convenient were there some wretched soul or criminal lurking there. And should anyone see him on the way... well... soul strands were deliciously useful.

[iprince]

They were indeed ,but there were only so many a Script Writer could hold, and that would be useless against the crowd of people now bustling through the cold, Russian streets. Fortunately for you, the alleyways proved safe enough. The only noise were rats scurrying in the garbage, hunting down food, and the stray cats prowling through the shadows, hunting -them-. The pony didn't enjoy the little noises though, not in the least. She seemed unusually skittish as she was tugged through the alley, pausing when she thought she had the chance. She didn't get much of one, and trailed along behind you with only mild fussiness.

A sound, muffled an indecipherable, caught on the slow wind, deadened as if it came from between walls or floors. It was loud though, or as loud as such a stifled noise could be. Interesting.

Continuing down the alley brought you to a back alley, where a fence lined most of the houses backs, and a pathway, snowy and littered with rubbish, carried on for several length on either side. To your left, the area looked cleaner, brighter...and was that an open door, way far down? Perhaps a warm place to rest, if your pony could fit through the frame. To your right, on the other hand, seemed to come the source of the muffled noises. But from which building was impossible to tell at this distance.

[ferabird]

Yes... a mobbing would have been bad. Then again, this was why he was sticking to the alley for the moment. Between that muffled sound and the greater likliness of going unbothered, our beloved lapine opts to take the right turn. If nothing else perhaps he could take out one of the conspirators to get himself a good thick coat and one of those lovely warm hats...

Sticking to the one near side where the muffling came from, he'd slowly lead his pony along. Best to keep at least himself out of sight if possible... Great lengthy ears prick upwards, dished towards those sounds in search. If nothing else he might be lucky enough to find a run-down stable nobody'd be checking. And he wasn't above stealing or trading off some of his baubles to feed the stupid beast. All in all he was rather disappointed with it... One would think a pony acquired by the Murdock would be more accepting of 'creepy' settings. Hardier. Beggars can't be choosers though, so he'll slink along in an attempt to find the whispers, using the piles of discarded garbage to shield himself from the cold-cutting wind. And along that thought... perhaps someone had discraded an old blanket or coat out here? Pallid eyes began to dart hopefully about. He was supposed to be having good luck, wasn't he?

[iprince]

Murdon weren't exactly known for the best care of animals. They were much better at making them, altering them. For all you knew, the pony could've been conjured up on the spot, just for the quest. Surely a murdon wouldn't think too much about making a perfectly resilient and sturdy animal. They were always rushing about with their works and ideas.

The pony wasn't important right now, though. The muffled noises coming from somewhere down the alley were, on the other hand. As you drew closer, words began to become distinguishable. At first, numbers were all you could hear. A shouted 'five' or 'seven', then gleeful cawing or angry, muffled grunts of disappointment. For some reason it sounded...familar. As if were something you've heard many a time before.

It was.

You came to the building the sound originated from, where a window was left open, just a tiny crack, and the noise was fluttering out perfectly. The sound of rolling dice, making bets, shuffling credits and coins.

Whoever was inside, was gambling.

There was a door beside the window, left open a crack as well. You could enter if you wished, by the humans would be mighty surprised at seeing a rabbit of your size and hue enter their little building. There was a short alley connected to the one you were on, right beside the house, with heaps of garbage cans piled up. If a coat or a cloak, or some other form of disguise, was hidden in there, perhaps you'd be able to pass as a short, deformed, man.

[ferabird]

There was always anthropomorphic form. He'd have to walk stiffly to keep his oddly shaped legs from giving him away, but if he found one of those lovely long coats people tended to wear in such cold climates he might be able to pass it off. Oh- but it was going to be uncomfortable trying to fit into boots. And of course he had to... even lapine Euclides had claws, and them tapping on the floor would give him away unless there was a carpet.

Down that smaller alley directly alongside the building then. His first order of business was to tie off that rediculously skittish pony. Once he'd given reins a tug to assure them secure.... he'd clamp his jaw to avoid painful exclamation before shifting up.... assuming his anthropomorphic figure. Seamlessly bones shifted and re-figured, tendons and ligaments forced painfully to accomodate the new bone structure. Body was given a quick shake to assure all was in place... before he began to shudder. Hells, but it was cold! Carefully he kept as silent as possible, one hand shifting his belt of pouches about his waist and the satchel across his shoulders, whilst the other shifted through the less-nasty garbage. Feh... not glamerous perhaps... but gamblers talked.

[iprince]

There wasn't much among the trash, but at least what little there was appeared to be of some use. The first few things you pulled out were nothing buy soggy, stinking paper, a book, torn in half and molding, a coupe socks, missing toes and heels, and an old, a single ratty boot, and something that looked like it might very well have been a hat in its previous life.

And then there was the coat. Not a glorious coat, perhaps, but it was something. The pockets were torn, there were rips and tears throughout it, front in back, and nearly all by one button was missing. But it was a coat, none-the-less, and someone as inventive as a Fortune Euclides could find a way to make such a tattered thing work.

The voices inside the building rose a few notches, speech turning into yells. It sounded as if a brawl had taken place. Something flew through the window, shattering the glass and spraying it out against the back wall between the houses. Whatever it was clunked hard against the wood, and fell to the snow with a squelch. Your pony started at the noise, tugging at her lead and pawing nervously at the ground. She shivered, the cold and fright was getting to her.

She really was a pathetic thing, wasn't she? The poor dear.

[ferabird]

Ah! Now there was a start! Grasping the material of the coat he'd give it a careful shake. Best to dislodge any vermin who might have tried to call the thing home, though he didn't want to risk ripping the thing any more-so than it already was. Now... how to hide himself? He had gloves in that belt of pockets... Yes! Unhitching the belt, he'd give the coat a snuffle to assure the stink wasn't too horrible before carefully guiding arms through the sleeves. Satchel was already set aside, and once the belt was cinched about his waist to hold the coat shut, and his singular button (hopefully one higher up on the throat) was fastened. Quickly his gloves were fetched out and donned. How to hide those massive ears and clearly animalistic features....? Well- there was always that towel he'd bought.

Carefully folding lengthy ears, the lapine went into the pony's pack. Not that... or that... but that! He fetched out the warm piece of cloth, quickly fashioning a wrap to cover his ears and the back of his skull. First though, he snagged away that loose sash he always wore. Ah... such a nice piece. Regardless, he'd knot it about his face to shield his features, towel draped over his head next and tugged forward some in an attempt to mask his muzzle. He'd have to tip his head down to minimize the impression of a lengthened face.... how annoying. Fishing into his belt of many pockets, the fortune-type drew out a small decorative dagger as well as a length of twine. Using the former to sever the latter at a usable length, he'd then tuck the blade away before beginning carefully to use the length of twine to tie the towel more firmly in place.

Hajard's musing was interrupted by the shatter of glass, and unwilling to risk the loss of something potentially useful he'd skirt over and snag up whatever had been flung. Quick glance was given the item, and depending on what he saw he might decide to either discard it, or tuck it into those sadly empty saddlebags. Ah... he hated being rushed. It didn't sound like he'd get a chance to go dicing...

And assuming someone would be pursuing the lost item, Hajard stood more straight. He peered at the mass of discarded garbage, and snagging up the pony's reins he'd look to lead the silly thing behind the piles. If she could keep quiet... they might be able to go unnoticed. Hells- but he needed to find the local hunting grounds! Hiding from humans like this was just... irritating.

[iprince]

It was a glass mug, with walls as thick as a full inch and hard as rock. It was circular, but the sides were angled, jutting out to create a hexagonal shape abnormal for most glasses. The inside, on the other hand, was as smooth and perfectly round as any. It remained uncracked, despite being flung threw a window, and the thick scent of beer smothered it.

It didn't appear to be of much use.

No one appeared to retrieve the discarded glass, but the shouting inside the little building increased tenfold and was quickly followed by scuffling and groans of pain. A fight, it seemed, had began, and loud Russian curses were beginning to fill the back alleys. Not one from the squabble, but from windows that were flung upon to shout obscene things to the noisy men. Most likely telling them to shut-up or they'd be calling the local authorities.

Said authorities seemed to be coming anyway.

A weak lamplight cascaded down the back alley, inching closer and closer to the building...and coincidently toward you.

[ferabird]

One man's trash was another's treasure, and since the lapine couldn't get a terribly good look at the mug to determine it's worth, he stuffed it into a pocket. He'd check that later. And with the pony's packs being distressingly empty, there was little worry in leaving her secluded behind the piles of garbage. She'd likely find some rough forage back there and keep in place until the authorities were long gone.

Thusly rather thn face the well-armed and prepared authorities, the lapine darted into the building, slipping along the shadows that hugged the wall as he peered curriously towards the squabbling dicers. Were they wrapped up enough in their fighting he'd likely have a chance to snatch whatever object they were combating over and be out before the drunken idiots knew what had happened. After all, no rat-hole like this had less than two or three exits. Glancing guagingly about, Hajard looked to locate as many of those exits as possible.

[tigs]

It seemed that the pony was very much upset with the prospect of being left alone, for she bumped against the garbage and the building, making small noises of concern and perhaps pony paranoia. This may be of little concern to you, however, because now a few beefy men were spiraling around the room, thrown with the impact of whatever brawl had occurred. A table was upset, and its contents were spilled in all directions. A single die had been left sitting only a few feet in front of you, a small layer of cards only a little beyond that. It seems someone was a bit of a sore looser, perhaps.

Too bad you'd been hoping to avoid the authorities, because calls of warning began to sound behind you, giving the beefy men a final chance to calm themselves before being forcibly subdued. Luckily though, as long as you kept a low profile, you wouldn't be noticed while the other men were being detained, and could perhaps chance sneaking forward to interrupt the authorities before they took possession of whatever may have caused the fight. Perhaps it was simply money, but it seemed unlikely with the rage which was filling the eyes of the men before you.

The lights flickered around you slightly, and it brought your attention to someone hiding in the corner just a bit up from your current position. Another fortune hawk? Hopefully whoever it was wasn't interested in your potential prize. You were rather close, after all, and as long as nobody asked questions, and as long as you didn't draw attention to yourself, it would probably be an easy grab. Getting out would be the... fun part, seeing as a mass of bodies was slowly filling the room and blocking two of the exits already. Whatever you decided to do, you'd have to do it fast and hope luck was on your side today.

But being a fortune, surely that wouldn't be an issue... right?

[ferabird]

Luck was always with him! After all, he'd two lucky rabbit's feet to fall back on... ones he could never drop or lose. Rapidly he flicked his gaze here, there, and there... eyeballing the floor in particular as well as any niches where the coveted item might have fallen. Meanwhile one overlong foot darted out in a sweep, sending that forsaken die skittering into the shadows. As if any of them would hear above the chaos! He himself began to sink back into his chosen corner, a rather pointed glance thrown the figure tucked off to one side. He wanted whomever it was to know they'd been seen... so that they didn't feel inclined to do anything foolish. And once he'd relocated it, he snatched up that poor unloved die.

A short period of time was given for everything to calm before the lapine re-emerged, hunching himself down so as to appear as non-threatening as possible. He was raggedly enough clothed to be mistaken for a bum or beggar, and likely to go disregarded. Nimble as he was, it wasn't terribly hard to avoid bumping people. And hunched as he was, it was hardly difficult to scoop up any forsaken dice or money he came across. One should never throw away a potentially useful item.

However he knew... knew there was something else there. An item of worth that had been enough to rouse bloodthirst as well as greed in the gamblers. So whilst carefully 'stumbling' through the crowd, he kept an eye open for anything that might qualify. Whatever trinket they fought over- he was sure that even were he unable to use it himself he could readily sell it.