Raktol Santhon

Welcome

• A late night...

  The boat rocked gently in the evening air, carried by small swells and dips in the water. It was a chilly night and the few furres who were aboard pulled their cloaks and coats more tightly about them, hoping to ward off both the chill and the clinging ocean mist that tried relentlessly to work its way into fur and up against skin, furthering the misery a late night ferry crossing was already inflicting on those who would much rather be in warm beds with warm company.
  
  The ferry was study and had plied this route a thousand times, so many that the crew barely needed any direction to keep the course and maintain the steady pull of their oars. Two decks maximized the number of passengers, though only the better off got to enjoy the night air up top. Less well heeled passengers got to enjoy the cramped space below decks, where close confines, sweat and bilges combined to make the trip distinctly unpleasant. But even they had it better than the load of slaves chained to their oars.
  
  On the open deck, one male sat apart from the others, his legs crossed underneath him as he leaned his broad back against the railing. His body seemed to roll automatically with every motion from the sea, his feline form adjusting to every change without conciously doing so. Indeed, he seemed to be dozing, eyes closed and a soft rumble that could be snoring or purring emanating faintly from somewhere deep in his chest like distant thunder. His black cloak obscured most of his features, though as it shifted it revealed the hilt of a sword belted at his waist, dark clothing and the glint of several glass or metal vials strapped in a neat row along his belt. A simple but solid looking oak staff was held firmly by both large hands as it lay across his lap.
  
  Though he projected no aura of unfriendliness, he was still given his space. There was enough room that no one needed to crowd him and no one felt a desire to bother him or try to strike up conversation. Actually, no one was conversing much anyway. The general aura of exhaustion and grim endurance of the night's conditions saw to that.
  
  Up ahead, lights appeared like small fireflies, as if the well known insects had suddenly decided to buzz over the sea on some mad whim. Within a couple of minutes, the moving pinpricks resolved themselves into lamps and torches lighting the docks of the island that was the boat's destination. Some hung from poles, others were carried by those who required more than just enough light to see by as they carried out their tasks. A collective sense of relief flowed through the small crowd on the boat as their trip reached its end and their boat thumped lightly against the dock. A line began forming to disembark even before the ties were firmly secured. By the time the gangplank was run from the deck to the dock, furres were almost but not quite pushing.
  
  The black panther sitting by the rail opened his eyes when the ship docked. He let the crowd thin out, waiting with patience until only a few were left waiting their turn to get on solid ground. Then he rose in a single fluid, silent motion. Without a word, he walked off the boat and headed inland.
  
  This character is just getting back into RP after a few years of inactivity. Bear with me while his RPR gets fleshed out.