Travelers of The Realm (closed for HotKittygirl)
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HotKittygirl
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Kat Intro
Background: Kat’s earliest memories were of the sand blasted streets of a small dessert city. What had happened to her parents she couldn’t recall, all she remembered since a kitten was the need for survival on the tough, mean streets. She grew up fast on those streets, a thief in the night until one day she was caught red handed. Yet it was by no brutal thug of a guard that she was captured, but by a funny man with a weathered face and a honest smile. He wore fancy clothing and a slender, curved sword at his side. The man introduced himself as Ser Brandon Whitecliff, a bard and dervish of the Dawnflower. He gave her two choices, come with him and learn the ways of The Healing Light or be turned over to the city guard for punishment.
That was the day Kat left the city for good; never did she even look back. The trip through the desert was long and harsh, yet always was there a song on Ser Whitecliff’s lips to keep their morale high. For a man of his age he had a wonderful singing voice and seemed songs from every culture Kat heard of and many more she had no idea existed. Yet in the middle of the night of the third day they were attacked. A group of slavers found their tiny camp in the rolling dunes of the sand sea. A pretty little catfolk female would fetch a good price in the fleshpens no doubt. Though before they could launch their attack in full Ser Whitecliff’s scimitar came flashing out from its scabbard like the morning rays of the sun. The fight was over before it truly began, Kat marveled at how gracefully the man moved as he sliced through his foes one by one. Yet he did not make it through the battle unscathed. A unlucky blow had left his left side bloodied through his expensive attire. The sight of so much blood brought tears to the kitten’s eyes, but Brandon assured her that they would make it to the safety of the temple. They set out that night in haste, Ser Whitecliff driving his horse as fast as he could.
By the time the sun began to rise and cast its brilliance over the land they had made their destination, or at least some of them. As soon as they came to a halt and several clergy emerged from the open aired temple to assist them Ser Whitecliff offered one final smile and died. Kat mourned the loss of the only friend she had truly known for several days. She was offered a place at the temple to grow and learn, to become part of The Dawnflower’s fold. In Ser Whitecliff’s memory she took up the mantle of the Dawnflower dervish, learning the ways of the dance and sword to smite the enemies of her new found Goddess and help those that sought redemption.
Background: Kat’s earliest memories were of the sand blasted streets of a small dessert city. What had happened to her parents she couldn’t recall, all she remembered since a kitten was the need for survival on the tough, mean streets. She grew up fast on those streets, a thief in the night until one day she was caught red handed. Yet it was by no brutal thug of a guard that she was captured, but by a funny man with a weathered face and a honest smile. He wore fancy clothing and a slender, curved sword at his side. The man introduced himself as Ser Brandon Whitecliff, a bard and dervish of the Dawnflower. He gave her two choices, come with him and learn the ways of The Healing Light or be turned over to the city guard for punishment.
That was the day Kat left the city for good; never did she even look back. The trip through the desert was long and harsh, yet always was there a song on Ser Whitecliff’s lips to keep their morale high. For a man of his age he had a wonderful singing voice and seemed songs from every culture Kat heard of and many more she had no idea existed. Yet in the middle of the night of the third day they were attacked. A group of slavers found their tiny camp in the rolling dunes of the sand sea. A pretty little catfolk female would fetch a good price in the fleshpens no doubt. Though before they could launch their attack in full Ser Whitecliff’s scimitar came flashing out from its scabbard like the morning rays of the sun. The fight was over before it truly began, Kat marveled at how gracefully the man moved as he sliced through his foes one by one. Yet he did not make it through the battle unscathed. A unlucky blow had left his left side bloodied through his expensive attire. The sight of so much blood brought tears to the kitten’s eyes, but Brandon assured her that they would make it to the safety of the temple. They set out that night in haste, Ser Whitecliff driving his horse as fast as he could.
By the time the sun began to rise and cast its brilliance over the land they had made their destination, or at least some of them. As soon as they came to a halt and several clergy emerged from the open aired temple to assist them Ser Whitecliff offered one final smile and died. Kat mourned the loss of the only friend she had truly known for several days. She was offered a place at the temple to grow and learn, to become part of The Dawnflower’s fold. In Ser Whitecliff’s memory she took up the mantle of the Dawnflower dervish, learning the ways of the dance and sword to smite the enemies of her new found Goddess and help those that sought redemption.
HotKittygirl
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Large amber orbs swept the once tranquil field that surrounded logging camp. Where once overgrown grass swayed lazily in the afternoon breeze, flies buzzed and swarmed over cooling corpses; the stench of death, sickly sweet, hung in the air. Yet despite the morbid scene that lay in gruesome display all about there was an undeniable tranquil quality to the moment.
The wind gently played over the field, whispering as it shifted the nearby branches of the large and looming trees. A stray leave fluttered here and there, twirling in an awkward dance before slipping from sight altogether. Those beautiful pools of liquid amber watched a particular large leaf tumble past before it got caught against the broken body of some foul humanoid. It was hard to determine just what it had once been, a gnoll, a hobgoblin? Kat lost herself for a moment as she contemplated the former existence of the creature, her large, triangular feline ear twitching amidst a wild mane of crimson.
The fight had been fierce, but in the end they had proved too ill-equipped for them. Kat herself had dispatched her fair share of them even if she didn’t appear the fighting type. She was of that wandering race of feline humanoids known commonly as ‘catfolk’. While she took after more of the human aspect of the humanoid type, she did have several undeniable feline qualities. The most prominent of those features were those triangular ears and thick tail, which were in almost constant motion. That sleek, svelte frame of ravishingly tempting qualities lay sheathed in a lay of silken fur of a raven hue, a stark contrast to the short mane of untamed crimson hair. Little of that lovely frame could be seen now though, clad in a skintight black bodysuit that left little to the imagination. Over that was a loose fitting halter top of fine chain links of a curious gleaming blue metal, her only concession towards protection and armor.
Even now that fine armor and attire lay splattered here and there with blood, the suit torn and scratched as well. A thick leather belt hung about her shapely hips, an elaborately crafted scabbard bumping against her high and thigh with each step she took. In her grasp was the blade that accompanied the sword, a beautiful scimitar seemingly crafted for gold, though at the moment its length was drenched if black/red gore. Despite her overtly feminine qualities and seeming lack of protection, the sword was a promise of death in the bard’s hands. Kat was never the type to brandish a weapon and offer empty threats, those that accompanied the bard knew that when the golden blade was bared only death would sate its thirst; thus the catfolk unsheathed it only when she really meant to use it.
The boisterous cry of their fellow companion ruined the otherwise peaceful calm after the storm, causing those feline ears to twist back in annoyance. Those brilliant amber orbs fluttered several times as Kat drew herself from her own thoughts, catching the curious look upon the priest’s undeniably handsome visage. Just what was going on behind those eyes of his, Kat couldn’t help but wonder even as he rushed to Artax’s side. An easy smile drifted out over those angular features before Kat offered a slight shake of her head. As the priest tended to their comrades wounds Kat set out cleansing her blade, running the flat over the ruined tatters of another felled humanoid’s attire. Only then did she spin the blade easily between slender digits and slip the tip into the sheath with a gentle sigh.
“If you keep screaming so loudly we’re going to call you Artax the Shrieker,” The bard said in a undeniably huskily murmur. She approached the two with an easy pace, her shapely hips swaying with each step, her tail moving in heavy opposition of those swaying hips. Her movements were graceful and precise, not an ounce of energy or movement wasted. Even after such a brutal fight Kat held herself poised and elegant; sometimes her very appearance could offer a boost in moral.
The wind gently played over the field, whispering as it shifted the nearby branches of the large and looming trees. A stray leave fluttered here and there, twirling in an awkward dance before slipping from sight altogether. Those beautiful pools of liquid amber watched a particular large leaf tumble past before it got caught against the broken body of some foul humanoid. It was hard to determine just what it had once been, a gnoll, a hobgoblin? Kat lost herself for a moment as she contemplated the former existence of the creature, her large, triangular feline ear twitching amidst a wild mane of crimson.
The fight had been fierce, but in the end they had proved too ill-equipped for them. Kat herself had dispatched her fair share of them even if she didn’t appear the fighting type. She was of that wandering race of feline humanoids known commonly as ‘catfolk’. While she took after more of the human aspect of the humanoid type, she did have several undeniable feline qualities. The most prominent of those features were those triangular ears and thick tail, which were in almost constant motion. That sleek, svelte frame of ravishingly tempting qualities lay sheathed in a lay of silken fur of a raven hue, a stark contrast to the short mane of untamed crimson hair. Little of that lovely frame could be seen now though, clad in a skintight black bodysuit that left little to the imagination. Over that was a loose fitting halter top of fine chain links of a curious gleaming blue metal, her only concession towards protection and armor.
Even now that fine armor and attire lay splattered here and there with blood, the suit torn and scratched as well. A thick leather belt hung about her shapely hips, an elaborately crafted scabbard bumping against her high and thigh with each step she took. In her grasp was the blade that accompanied the sword, a beautiful scimitar seemingly crafted for gold, though at the moment its length was drenched if black/red gore. Despite her overtly feminine qualities and seeming lack of protection, the sword was a promise of death in the bard’s hands. Kat was never the type to brandish a weapon and offer empty threats, those that accompanied the bard knew that when the golden blade was bared only death would sate its thirst; thus the catfolk unsheathed it only when she really meant to use it.
The boisterous cry of their fellow companion ruined the otherwise peaceful calm after the storm, causing those feline ears to twist back in annoyance. Those brilliant amber orbs fluttered several times as Kat drew herself from her own thoughts, catching the curious look upon the priest’s undeniably handsome visage. Just what was going on behind those eyes of his, Kat couldn’t help but wonder even as he rushed to Artax’s side. An easy smile drifted out over those angular features before Kat offered a slight shake of her head. As the priest tended to their comrades wounds Kat set out cleansing her blade, running the flat over the ruined tatters of another felled humanoid’s attire. Only then did she spin the blade easily between slender digits and slip the tip into the sheath with a gentle sigh.
“If you keep screaming so loudly we’re going to call you Artax the Shrieker,” The bard said in a undeniably huskily murmur. She approached the two with an easy pace, her shapely hips swaying with each step, her tail moving in heavy opposition of those swaying hips. Her movements were graceful and precise, not an ounce of energy or movement wasted. Even after such a brutal fight Kat held herself poised and elegant; sometimes her very appearance could offer a boost in moral.
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HotKittygirl
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“Well, I suppose that isn’t too bad,” Kat commented with a soft, rumbling purr from deep in her throat. Those amber orbs sparkled with an inner mirth as she beheld Nigel and Artax from her nearby place. Her hands slid out to rest upon her shapely hips as she allowed her weight to rest more fully on her left leg, her hips cocking ever so lightly. Her tail flicked out behind her svelte frame as she watched, her ears twitching now and then as well.
“Way to state the obvious. Who else would I be?” She retorted all too quickly, meeting Nigel’s gaze as easy as she met everyone. Kat was that way, she was a people person and could easily relate with the burly and gruff Artex as the gently spoken and naïve priest. She watched curiously as he moved, standing and smearing the crimson liquid over his nose. Her nose wrinkled impishly at the very sight, even as he began to check on her, as was his fashion. A knowing smile drifted out over her lips as she offered a shake of her head. Her hands slid from her hips and she held them at her sides, as if to display herself to his eyes even as she glanced down at herself.
“A few dents and dings. Nothing too serious, you should know me by now, Nigel;” She said his name softly, perhaps endearingly. Kat was nothing if not dexterous, while others might wear heavy armor and carry a cumbersome shield, Kat was more apt to dodge and weave around a foe.
“Way to state the obvious. Who else would I be?” She retorted all too quickly, meeting Nigel’s gaze as easy as she met everyone. Kat was that way, she was a people person and could easily relate with the burly and gruff Artex as the gently spoken and naïve priest. She watched curiously as he moved, standing and smearing the crimson liquid over his nose. Her nose wrinkled impishly at the very sight, even as he began to check on her, as was his fashion. A knowing smile drifted out over her lips as she offered a shake of her head. Her hands slid from her hips and she held them at her sides, as if to display herself to his eyes even as she glanced down at herself.
“A few dents and dings. Nothing too serious, you should know me by now, Nigel;” She said his name softly, perhaps endearingly. Kat was nothing if not dexterous, while others might wear heavy armor and carry a cumbersome shield, Kat was more apt to dodge and weave around a foe.
HotKittygirl
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Nigel's reaction to her mere presence was sometimes baffling. It wasn't as if they were newly introduced adventurer's, though at the same time they weren't exactly the closest of companions. His nervousness seemed to hold him at bay most of the time, even Kat's playful, easy-going nature seemed to make him blush more often than not. It was simply something Kat could not very well comprehend, not that she really ever tried to.
The catfolk wrinkled her nose impishly once more as the priest tried time and again to find a spot on her body that wouldn't make him blush, though twice he failed before settling upon her shoulder. One ear perked towards his hand, the other remained pointed towards the priest himself. A curious look came to those amber eyes as he finally offered the cloth itself, those amber orbs simply shimmered in the daylight seemingly casting their own radiance. With delicate, slender digits Kat lifted the cloth from his hand though not before making sure to brush her fingers against the back of it, as well as his fingers.
Only then did she bring the cloth to her face, where she sniffed at it curiously before dabbing it against her face here and there. There was a subtle tilt of her head to the right, along with the occasional twitch of her ear that gave her an almost mindful look.
“You face ogres and orcs, gnolls and giants without breaking a sweat. But one look at me and you look like a stiff breeze could knock you over,” Kat finally retorted in that singsong voice, her tone delicate yet with purpose. Another dab of the close and she offered it a slight flick, before she coiled it about her fingers ever so slowly, holding the priest with her molten amber pools; the rest of their companions and the remains of the battle all but forgotten for the moment.
The catfolk wrinkled her nose impishly once more as the priest tried time and again to find a spot on her body that wouldn't make him blush, though twice he failed before settling upon her shoulder. One ear perked towards his hand, the other remained pointed towards the priest himself. A curious look came to those amber eyes as he finally offered the cloth itself, those amber orbs simply shimmered in the daylight seemingly casting their own radiance. With delicate, slender digits Kat lifted the cloth from his hand though not before making sure to brush her fingers against the back of it, as well as his fingers.
Only then did she bring the cloth to her face, where she sniffed at it curiously before dabbing it against her face here and there. There was a subtle tilt of her head to the right, along with the occasional twitch of her ear that gave her an almost mindful look.
“You face ogres and orcs, gnolls and giants without breaking a sweat. But one look at me and you look like a stiff breeze could knock you over,” Kat finally retorted in that singsong voice, her tone delicate yet with purpose. Another dab of the close and she offered it a slight flick, before she coiled it about her fingers ever so slowly, holding the priest with her molten amber pools; the rest of their companions and the remains of the battle all but forgotten for the moment.
HotKittygirl
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As Nigel shifted his eyes back up to find the beautiful visage of the lovely catfolk, he indeed did find a certain hint of mirth twinkling in those liquid depths. The look on Kat’s visage was impassive, if only for a moment before that wide and knowing smile broke out and a rather lilting giggle that caused her shoulders to shake ever so lightly.
“Well...she did have a nice pair of breasts,” Kat retorted wistfully, the intensity of that mirthful look seemingly doubling as she continued. “Unfortunately, they weren’t attached to her. I think they were elven.”
Only after she finished her sentence did she take a step forward, holding the crisp ribbon of cloth before them before she slowly and intimately reached for Nigel. She found his belt, deft digits curling into it and offering a tug as she found his pouch and ever so slowly slid the ribbon into it. Yet even as she did the catfolk did not draw away, instead she held those blue eyes with her own, keeping that easy and infectious smile upon her breathtaking features.
“Well...she did have a nice pair of breasts,” Kat retorted wistfully, the intensity of that mirthful look seemingly doubling as she continued. “Unfortunately, they weren’t attached to her. I think they were elven.”
Only after she finished her sentence did she take a step forward, holding the crisp ribbon of cloth before them before she slowly and intimately reached for Nigel. She found his belt, deft digits curling into it and offering a tug as she found his pouch and ever so slowly slid the ribbon into it. Yet even as she did the catfolk did not draw away, instead she held those blue eyes with her own, keeping that easy and infectious smile upon her breathtaking features.
