[center][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjU0LjE5YjdjOC5ZU0IwSUdFZ2NpQmhJSGdnYVNCaC4w/cocomat.light.png[/img] [b][color=00aeef][sub]Mal[color=6ecff6]e ║ Heterosexual ║ 27 Years ║ Au[color=7bcdc8]strali[/color]an Timezon[/color]e (GMT+10)[/sub][/color][/b][/center] [hr] First and foremost... [b]Welcome![/b] I suppose this is the part where I tell you a little bit about myself. I'm a PC-based videogamer, and have been for several years; mostly shooters and RPGs. Ask to find out more! I'm also into the occasional Anime and TV series. As of late, Altered Carbon has caught my interest greatly. Anything futuristic and dystopian tends to catch my fancy these days... though I don't adhere solely to those particular genres (don't even get me started on Game of Thrones). In terms of writing ability, I'd say I'm somewhere between a [color=f7941d][i][b]High Casual to Low Advanced[/b][/i][/color] writer; being able to churn out three and up to five or usually even more meaty paragraphs depending on what I'm given to work with or my current mindset (and if I can be bothered; quality over quantity, though). 1-on-1 Role-plays via PMs tend to best suit me, or even via a medium such as Skype for the short 'n' sexy. Being [i][color=6ecff6][b]Male[/b][/color][/i] myself, I write only as male mains... although I can churn out side-characters of either gender if necessary. Any pairings will be MxF only. If it matters, I'm primarily [b]DOMINANT[/b]... but I'm not opposed to switching up - to an extent. I enjoy [i]dark[/i], [i]slick[/i], [i]action-packed[/i] Role-Plays - usually with elements of [color=f6989d][i]romance[/i][/color] thrown in ... and am also [i]purrrfectly[/i] comfortable with more Mature, Adult [b](R18+)[/b] themes - from excessive gore and profanities to general naughtiness or straight up [i]bangin'[/i] - whatever you'd care to call it. I can be pretty darn graphic and explicit... so if you're in the same frame-of-mind, we'll get along brilliantly. Romance can be thrown in - I do have a sweeter side, although I'm not one to shy away from flings either. Sample posts are warmly welcomed, so if you're the type who likes to kiss and tell... feel free! I'm primarily after partners who are [i][b]18 years or above[/b][/i] only - preferably [color=f6989d]female[/color]. Having said all that, I'm perfectly approachable and enjoy chatting and getting acquainted with peeps. Questions? Credit card issues? Anything and everything - feel free to [b][u][color=f7941d][url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/convos/new?to=Ataraxia]drop me a line[/url][/color][/u][/b]. I'm purrrfectly open to chatting, even if we don't wind up role-playing together. . . . [i]I don't bite.[/i] [sub]Much.[/sub] [hider=Here's a taster of what to expect when I write (SFW Edition)] Had [i]Aries[/i] been up even a couple of hours prior to that fateful phonecall, she still would have missed her agent. The couch [i]Wolf[/i] had occupied just a few hours before was empty and unmade, and there was no telling when exactly he'd vacated the premises. As usual, the agent came and went as he pleased. His parka was missing, and her button-down had been - surprisingly enough - neatly folded and laid where she'd tossed it the night before. That wasn't all that was out of place; his sidearm was missing. This was more-than-likely a [i]business[/i] venture, and there was no telling when he'd be back. At least he'd deemed it fit to bring the burner and earpiece along, though the latter of the two was currently switched off. It was still mostly dark when the rush of frigid air filled his lungs, clouds of warmth expelled in billowing plumes of condensation with every breath. He didn't sleep much - not since the Army days and now, less so. It took him a moment to adjust to the darkness and the winter chill. First thing he was going to do when he got back to the apartment was take a hot shower... at least, whatever amount of heat he could muster from the rusty pipes that twisted through the crumbling building that he and [i]Aries[/i] now occupied. He spared a moment to glance at his watch - [color=39b54a][b]0512[/b][/color] - before setting off briskly into the darkness. He'd spent 48 hours assessing the area, routes of approach, any local warehouses or shady back alleys where thugs conducted their business. At least he wasn't going in blind. Come [color=39b54a][b]0605[/b][/color], [i]Wolf[/i] had already scoured many an abandoned building or one that looked as though it'd be ideal for drug storage. Or keeping girls locked up in the basements. There were no signs of life to speak of at this time of the day - especially not given the time and place. Which was fine, as it made scouting much less tedious than it needed to be. By the time [i]Aries[/i] awoke, there'd be at least half-a-dozen snapshots in her Inbox for her to go over. For the most part, it was the mark of local gangs that had been graffiti'd onto walls and otherwise inaccessible buildings which were worth checking out. [i]Wolf[/i] was about to scale the fence that surrounded what appeared to be an old brewery when something caught his attention, even over the cacophony of wind and snow. [i]Footsteps. Heavy ones. And the clatter of something rigid slapping against thighs. Gun-barrels. Automatic, presumably.[/i] Immediately he ceased his efforts and fell into a hunch, making himself appear smaller and less threatening than he actually was... slowly shuffling away towards the source. Right on cue, two burly-looking Russians rounded the corner and almost collided head-on with him. They hadn't raised their weapons though - Kalashnikovs, from what he could make out. AK-47s. Not something your run-of-the-mill gangbanger would lug around. The exchanges that followed were all conducted in fluent Russian. [color=fff200]"что ебать?! What the fuck? What do you want, pig?"[/color] The smaller of the two was clearly the more hot-heated, wasting no time in prodding [i]Wolf[/i] with the barrel of his rifle - hard enough to bruise. The agent made a personal note to return the favor, right as soon as he deemed the two muscleheads dispensable. Instead, [i]Wolf[/i] crumpled to the ground under impact - a convincing display of frailty and weakness - and raised his arms weakly. His voice was intentionally hoarse and strained at this point, and when he did speak... it was with an accent that would have easily passed as belonging to a local. [color=f26522]"нет! No, [i]comrade[/i]! Please, don't shoot! I just need a fix. Pleasepleaseplease. I've... I've got money! I can pay you! Just a little hit, please!"[/color] The desperation in his voice would've reduced an audience to tears. The gun barrel wavered briefly, the two Russians still wary but certainly looking like they were convinced. [color=fff200]"Fucking junkie piece of shit. You shouldn't be skulking around at this time. Come back later!"[/color] [i]Wolf[/i] clearly wasn't going to take "No" for an answer. And so he upped his game, clawing at the men's ankles like a person dying of thirst. All the while, he remained wary of where those guns were pointed - at any point if they were to feel threatened, he'd have to do this the messy way. Thankfully the act paid off, and by now the two Russians were more concerned with keeping their brand new boots from being torn to shreds than shooting a paying customer - however unsightly he was. [color=f26522]"I pay double, да? Please, [i]comrades[/i], just a little hit! I cannot take it!"[/color] The Russians spared each other a wordless glance. Normally, hired muscle didn't partake in any of the transactions. Micromanagement made things run a lot more smoothly. But the chance to make some extra rubles for barely any effort? It was too good to pass up. Plus, the man was clearly desperate if he'd be willing to cough up twice the amount. [color=fff200]"Okay. Okay, fine. We don't usually do this comrade, but if you're willing to pay extra... we shall do you this favor, да? Alexei, help the man up!"[/color] With a curt nod from his partner, the larger of the two men hoisted [i]Wolf[/i] onto his feet and dusted him off. And with a greatly exaggerated grin that any toddler would've seen through, they led him away - presumably to where the drugs were stashed. No doubt there'd be extra muscle there, as well as chemists, packers, distributors. It would be one of many safehouses in a whole network, but it was a start. [/hider] [hider=And another (SFW) . . .] Caked in dried blood and dirt, [i]Bjorn Forgefire[/i] looked more akin to beast than man. Large and heavily built, even by Noxan standards. Indeed, one could have easily mistaken him as a fearsome grizzly... had they not seen his battleaxe swinging in a fearsome arc; whistling through the air and rending through their bodies. And those eyes. Those piercing, burning [b][color=DAA520]eyes[/color][/b]. Often the last thing that unfortunate souls laid eyes upon before head was brutally severed from body. But within that primal savagery, there was also a cunning... a knowledge, a confidence. The eyes of a man who had seen much of blood, of battle. Not the eyes one would expect to belong to a Prince... at least, not your usual royalty. Bjorn's heavy gait was not unlike that of the other twelve men that followed him into the great hall - men who were of equal or slightly smaller build. There was no need for subtlety... for this was no invasion. No, this was a homecoming. Nearby raiders had been spotted early into the night. Forty or so. It was not unheard of for outcasts and all manner of criminals and escapees to band together in order to survive... but to have a sighting this close to Castle Bloodaxe, let alone a raiding party that large - that was certainly unusual. [i]Courting death[/i], the more learned would have chirruped. Normally, a matter like this would have been left to border patrol and the sentries to deal with. But it had been months since Bjorn had last tasted battle... and like a man dying of thirst, he craved it. The [color=DC143C]bloodlust[/color] boiled and bubbled deep within his core. Yearning, [i]aching[/i] to be nourished. And so, thirteen men departed in the dead of the night. And as dawn broke, thirteen men returned; bathed in the blood of their enemies. [color=aba000]"Brother, I heard there was scum down by the old riverbed."[/color] The thunderous voice that blared from the landing above belonged to none other than [i]Gunnar Hammerfall[/i], the Second Prince and Commander of The Howling Berserkers - one of the largest and most formidable armies in the Kingdom of Noxus. Standing only slightly taller than Bjorn, but just as large and as intimidating in stature, his piercing blue eyes held his brother's own as the latter dismissed his battle-soiled men with a comradely smirk and a curt nod. [color=aba000]"They didn't give you too much grief, I trust?[/color] Gunnar chuckled. [color=f7941d]"These boots are ruined! Blood of such filth never washes off."[/color] Bjorn growled as he joined his brother up on the landing, though the grin that bared his teeth clearly insinuated jest. Of the three brothers, Bjorn and Gunnar had always been closest; both as playmates and trading blows as sparring partners. The two men embraced in a bear hug that would have almost certainly crushed an average person, before Gunnar stepped back to regard his brother with a look that embodied both pride and amusement. [color=aba000]"It's still hard to believe that this wee little [i]cub[/i] could transform into a dragon! I've got a surprise for you, brother. A [i]gift[/i] if you will."[/color] Bjorn squared his jaw and cocked his head; a gesture that he was both intrigued and suspicious. Apart from weapons, fine chainmail and the heads of enemies slain in battle... he wasn't sure what else to expect as a [i]gift[/i]. And the mischievous twinkle in Gunnar's eye informed him that it was none of those. [color=f7941d]"Brother, there's really no need. I have everything I could possibly want."[/color] Gunnar chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder as he strode back towards his own bedchambers. [color=aba000]"You haven't even seen [i]her[/i] yet! Go on, get yourself cleaned up and enjoy. You deserve it."[/color] Scowling, Bjorn made his way back to his own quarters - not bothering to cleanse himself beforehand; instead wanting to sate his own curiosity. [i]What was Gunnar up to?[/i] The answer wasn't what he expected. The heavy oaken doors swung open as though weighing nothing, and he stepped into the room... a hulking, bestial mass of sweat and blood cast into ominous silhouette by the first light of day. Under normal circumstances, one might have spared him a lingering glance. Largely built as he was, his face was also not to be scoffed at; in fact, one might even call him handsome. In a dangerous and rugged sort of way. However, as it was, a normal bystander would have either been left frozen in fear or sprinting for the hills. His keen eyes spotted her first. From the slenderness of her legs and her hair - female. A female wearing a shirt that was quite a fair bit too large for her frame. A female he did not recognize. The distance between them was closed in an instant, Bjorn reacting instinctively even before his mind had made light of the situation at hand. Alarm bells blared in his skull as a calloused, powerful hand wrapped around the girl's throat and hoisted her into the air - as easily as a child might lift a stuffed toy. [i]It's not the first, nor the last time someone has been sent to "deal with us".[/i] An [i]assassin[/i]. That was his first thought, for nobody entered his chambers without his express permission and without his knowledge. The large shirt had slid down to the point where it was almost as though she were draped in a toga. And yet, even the exposure of her creamy flesh and the feminine features failed to quell his storm. [i]Death has many, many faces. Who is this woman? What is she doing here?[/i] His grip tightened as the thought crossed his mind, and with the same ease as before... he pinned her back hard against the cold, stone walls. It hadn't even occurred to him that this girl was the [i]gift[/i] that Gunnar might have been referring to. [color=f7941d]"Who are you, girl? Who sent you? Why are you in my chambers?"[/color] Each question was spat out in rapid succession, Bjorn's voice heavily laden with venom and contempt; a startling contrast to the more amicable tone reserved for his brother and those he cared for. His grip was like steel, and his fingers were dug and positioned so tightly into the flesh of her throat that she would barely be able to find purchase around any of his digits. He let her breaths come in labored wheezing as he left [i]just[/i] enough of her airway open for her to respond - eyes hard and narrowed as they bore into her own to discern truth from lies. [color=f7941d]"Speak now, or I'll crush the life from you."[/color] [/hider]

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><img src="http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjU0LjE5YjdjOC5ZU0IwSUdFZ2NpQmhJSGdnYVNCaC4w/cocomat.light.png" /><br><br><span class="bb-b"><font color="#00aeef">_{Mal<font color="#6ecff6">e ║ Heterosexual ║ 27 Years ║ Au<font color="#7bcdc8">strali</font>an Timezon</font>e (GMT+10)}</font></span></div><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br><br>First and foremost... <span class="bb-b">Welcome!</span> I suppose this is the part where I tell you a little bit about myself.<br><br>I'm a PC-based videogamer, and have been for several years; mostly shooters and RPGs. Ask to find out more!<br><br>I'm also into the occasional Anime and TV series. As of late, Altered Carbon has caught my interest greatly. Anything futuristic and dystopian tends to catch my fancy these days... though I don't adhere solely to those particular genres (don't even get me started on Game of Thrones).<br><br>In terms of writing ability, I'd say I'm somewhere between a <font color="#f7941d"><span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">High Casual to Low Advanced</span></span></font> writer; being able to churn out three and up to five or usually even more meaty paragraphs depending on what I'm given to work with or my current mindset (and if I can be bothered; quality over quantity, though).<br><br>1-on-1 Role-plays via PMs tend to best suit me, or even via a medium such as Skype for the short 'n' sexy.<br><br>Being <span class="bb-i"><font color="#6ecff6"><span class="bb-b">Male</span></font></span> myself, I write only as male mains... although I can churn out side-characters of either gender if necessary. Any pairings will be MxF only. If it matters, I'm primarily <span class="bb-b">DOMINANT</span>... but I'm not opposed to switching up - to an extent.<br><br>I enjoy <span class="bb-i">dark</span>, <span class="bb-i">slick</span>, <span class="bb-i">action-packed</span> Role-Plays - usually with elements of <font color="#f6989d"><span class="bb-i">romance</span></font> thrown in ... and am also <span class="bb-i">purrrfectly</span> comfortable with more Mature, Adult <span class="bb-b">(R18+)</span> themes - from excessive gore and profanities to general naughtiness or straight up <span class="bb-i">bangin'</span> - whatever you'd care to call it. I can be pretty darn graphic and explicit... so if you're in the same frame-of-mind, we'll get along brilliantly. Romance can be thrown in - I do have a sweeter side, although I'm not one to shy away from flings either.<br><br>Sample posts are warmly welcomed, so if you're the type who likes to kiss and tell... feel free!<br><br>I'm primarily after partners who are <span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">18 years or above</span></span> only - preferably <font color="#f6989d">female</font>.<br><br>Having said all that, I'm perfectly approachable and enjoy chatting and getting acquainted with peeps. Questions? Credit card issues? Anything and everything - feel free to <span class="bb-b"><span class="bb-u"><font color="#f7941d"><a href="http://www.roleplayerguild.com/convos/new?to=Ataraxia">drop me a line</a></font></span></span>. I'm purrrfectly open to chatting, even if we don't wind up role-playing together. <br><br>. . . <span class="bb-i">I don't bite.</span> _Much.<br><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Here&#039;s a taster of what to expect when I write (SFW Edition)">Here&#039;s a taster of what to expect when I write (SFW Edition) [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none">Had <span class="bb-i">Aries</span> been up even a couple of hours prior to that fateful phonecall, she still would have missed her agent. The couch <span class="bb-i">Wolf</span> had occupied just a few hours before was empty and unmade, and there was no telling when exactly he'd vacated the premises. As usual, the agent came and went as he pleased.<br><br>His parka was missing, and her button-down had been - surprisingly enough - neatly folded and laid where she'd tossed it the night before. That wasn't all that was out of place; his sidearm was missing. This was more-than-likely a <span class="bb-i">business</span> venture, and there was no telling when he'd be back. At least he'd deemed it fit to bring the burner and earpiece along, though the latter of the two was currently switched off.<br><br>It was still mostly dark when the rush of frigid air filled his lungs, clouds of warmth expelled in billowing plumes of condensation with every breath. He didn't sleep much - not since the Army days and now, less so. It took him a moment to adjust to the darkness and the winter chill. First thing he was going to do when he got back to the apartment was take a hot shower... at least, whatever amount of heat he could muster from the rusty pipes that twisted through the crumbling building that he and <span class="bb-i">Aries</span> now occupied.<br><br>He spared a moment to glance at his watch - <font color="#39b54a"><span class="bb-b">0512</span></font> - before setting off briskly into the darkness. He'd spent 48 hours assessing the area, routes of approach, any local warehouses or shady back alleys where thugs conducted their business. At least he wasn't going in blind.<br><br>Come <font color="#39b54a"><span class="bb-b">0605</span></font>, <span class="bb-i">Wolf</span> had already scoured many an abandoned building or one that looked as though it'd be ideal for drug storage. Or keeping girls locked up in the basements. There were no signs of life to speak of at this time of the day - especially not given the time and place. Which was fine, as it made scouting much less tedious than it needed to be. By the time <span class="bb-i">Aries</span> awoke, there'd be at least half-a-dozen snapshots in her Inbox for her to go over. For the most part, it was the mark of local gangs that had been graffiti'd onto walls and otherwise inaccessible buildings which were worth checking out.<br><br><span class="bb-i">Wolf</span> was about to scale the fence that surrounded what appeared to be an old brewery when something caught his attention, even over the cacophony of wind and snow. <span class="bb-i">Footsteps. Heavy ones. And the clatter of something rigid slapping against thighs. Gun-barrels. Automatic, presumably.</span><br><br>Immediately he ceased his efforts and fell into a hunch, making himself appear smaller and less threatening than he actually was... slowly shuffling away towards the source. Right on cue, two burly-looking Russians rounded the corner and almost collided head-on with him. They hadn't raised their weapons though - Kalashnikovs, from what he could make out. AK-47s. Not something your run-of-the-mill gangbanger would lug around.<br><br>The exchanges that followed were all conducted in fluent Russian.<br><br><font color="#fff200">"что ебать?! What the fuck? What do you want, pig?"</font> The smaller of the two was clearly the more hot-heated, wasting no time in prodding <span class="bb-i">Wolf</span> with the barrel of his rifle - hard enough to bruise. The agent made a personal note to return the favor, right as soon as he deemed the two muscleheads dispensable.<br><br>Instead, <span class="bb-i">Wolf</span> crumpled to the ground under impact - a convincing display of frailty and weakness - and raised his arms weakly. His voice was intentionally hoarse and strained at this point, and when he did speak... it was with an accent that would have easily passed as belonging to a local.<br><br><font color="#f26522">"нет! No, <span class="bb-i">comrade</span>! Please, don't shoot! I just need a fix. Pleasepleaseplease. I've... I've got money! I can pay you! Just a little hit, please!"</font> The desperation in his voice would've reduced an audience to tears.<br><br>The gun barrel wavered briefly, the two Russians still wary but certainly looking like they were convinced.<br><br><font color="#fff200">"Fucking junkie piece of shit. You shouldn't be skulking around at this time. Come back later!"</font><br><br><span class="bb-i">Wolf</span> clearly wasn't going to take "No" for an answer. And so he upped his game, clawing at the men's ankles like a person dying of thirst. All the while, he remained wary of where those guns were pointed - at any point if they were to feel threatened, he'd have to do this the messy way. Thankfully the act paid off, and by now the two Russians were more concerned with keeping their brand new boots from being torn to shreds than shooting a paying customer - however unsightly he was.<br><br><font color="#f26522">"I pay double, да? Please, <span class="bb-i">comrades</span>, just a little hit! I cannot take it!"</font><br><br>The Russians spared each other a wordless glance. Normally, hired muscle didn't partake in any of the transactions. Micromanagement made things run a lot more smoothly. But the chance to make some extra rubles for barely any effort? It was too good to pass up. Plus, the man was clearly desperate if he'd be willing to cough up twice the amount.<br><br><font color="#fff200">"Okay. Okay, fine. We don't usually do this comrade, but if you're willing to pay extra... we shall do you this favor, да? Alexei, help the man up!"</font><br><br>With a curt nod from his partner, the larger of the two men hoisted <span class="bb-i">Wolf</span> onto his feet and dusted him off. And with a greatly exaggerated grin that any toddler would've seen through, they led him away - presumably to where the drugs were stashed. No doubt there'd be extra muscle there, as well as chemists, packers, distributors. It would be one of many safehouses in a whole network, but it was a start.</div></div><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="And another (SFW) . . .">And another (SFW) . . . [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none">Caked in dried blood and dirt, <span class="bb-i">Bjorn Forgefire</span> looked more akin to beast than man. Large and heavily built, even by Noxan standards. Indeed, one could have easily mistaken him as a fearsome grizzly... had they not seen his battleaxe swinging in a fearsome arc; whistling through the air and rending through their bodies. And those eyes. Those piercing, burning <span class="bb-b"><font color="#daa520">eyes</font></span>. Often the last thing that unfortunate souls laid eyes upon before head was brutally severed from body. But within that primal savagery, there was also a cunning... a knowledge, a confidence. The eyes of a man who had seen much of blood, of battle. Not the eyes one would expect to belong to a Prince... at least, not your usual royalty.<br><br>Bjorn's heavy gait was not unlike that of the other twelve men that followed him into the great hall - men who were of equal or slightly smaller build. There was no need for subtlety... for this was no invasion. No, this was a homecoming. Nearby raiders had been spotted early into the night. Forty or so. It was not unheard of for outcasts and all manner of criminals and escapees to band together in order to survive... but to have a sighting this close to Castle Bloodaxe, let alone a raiding party that large - that was certainly unusual. <span class="bb-i">Courting death</span>, the more learned would have chirruped.<br><br>Normally, a matter like this would have been left to border patrol and the sentries to deal with. But it had been months since Bjorn had last tasted battle... and like a man dying of thirst, he craved it. The <font color="#dc143c">bloodlust</font> boiled and bubbled deep within his core. Yearning, <span class="bb-i">aching</span> to be nourished. And so, thirteen men departed in the dead of the night. And as dawn broke, thirteen men returned; bathed in the blood of their enemies.<br><br><font color="#aba000">"Brother, I heard there was scum down by the old riverbed."</font><br><br>The thunderous voice that blared from the landing above belonged to none other than <span class="bb-i">Gunnar Hammerfall</span>, the Second Prince and Commander of The Howling Berserkers - one of the largest and most formidable armies in the Kingdom of Noxus. Standing only slightly taller than Bjorn, but just as large and as intimidating in stature, his piercing blue eyes held his brother's own as the latter dismissed his battle-soiled men with a comradely smirk and a curt nod.<br><br><font color="#aba000">"They didn't give you too much grief, I trust?</font> Gunnar chuckled.<br><br><font color="#f7941d">"These boots are ruined! Blood of such filth never washes off."</font><br><br>Bjorn growled as he joined his brother up on the landing, though the grin that bared his teeth clearly insinuated jest. Of the three brothers, Bjorn and Gunnar had always been closest; both as playmates and trading blows as sparring partners. The two men embraced in a bear hug that would have almost certainly crushed an average person, before Gunnar stepped back to regard his brother with a look that embodied both pride and amusement.<br><br><font color="#aba000">"It's still hard to believe that this wee little <span class="bb-i">cub</span> could transform into a dragon! I've got a surprise for you, brother. A <span class="bb-i">gift</span> if you will."</font><br><br>Bjorn squared his jaw and cocked his head; a gesture that he was both intrigued and suspicious. Apart from weapons, fine chainmail and the heads of enemies slain in battle... he wasn't sure what else to expect as a <span class="bb-i">gift</span>. And the mischievous twinkle in Gunnar's eye informed him that it was none of those.<br><br><font color="#f7941d">"Brother, there's really no need. I have everything I could possibly want."</font><br><br>Gunnar chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder as he strode back towards his own bedchambers.<br><br><font color="#aba000">"You haven't even seen <span class="bb-i">her</span> yet! Go on, get yourself cleaned up and enjoy. You deserve it."</font><br><br>Scowling, Bjorn made his way back to his own quarters - not bothering to cleanse himself beforehand; instead wanting to sate his own curiosity. <span class="bb-i">What was Gunnar up to?</span><br><br>The answer wasn't what he expected. The heavy oaken doors swung open as though weighing nothing, and he stepped into the room... a hulking, bestial mass of sweat and blood cast into ominous silhouette by the first light of day. Under normal circumstances, one might have spared him a lingering glance. Largely built as he was, his face was also not to be scoffed at; in fact, one might even call him handsome. In a dangerous and rugged sort of way. However, as it was, a normal bystander would have either been left frozen in fear or sprinting for the hills.<br><br>His keen eyes spotted her first. From the slenderness of her legs and her hair - female. A female wearing a shirt that was quite a fair bit too large for her frame. A female he did not recognize. The distance between them was closed in an instant, Bjorn reacting instinctively even before his mind had made light of the situation at hand. Alarm bells blared in his skull as a calloused, powerful hand wrapped around the girl's throat and hoisted her into the air - as easily as a child might lift a stuffed toy. <br><br><span class="bb-i">It's not the first, nor the last time someone has been sent to "deal with us".</span><br><br>An <span class="bb-i">assassin</span>. That was his first thought, for nobody entered his chambers without his express permission and without his knowledge. The large shirt had slid down to the point where it was almost as though she were draped in a toga. And yet, even the exposure of her creamy flesh and the feminine features failed to quell his storm.<br><br><span class="bb-i">Death has many, many faces. Who is this woman? What is she doing here?</span> His grip tightened as the thought crossed his mind, and with the same ease as before... he pinned her back hard against the cold, stone walls.<br><br>It hadn't even occurred to him that this girl was the <span class="bb-i">gift</span> that Gunnar might have been referring to.<br><br><font color="#f7941d">"Who are you, girl? Who sent you? Why are you in my chambers?"</font> Each question was spat out in rapid succession, Bjorn's voice heavily laden with venom and contempt; a startling contrast to the more amicable tone reserved for his brother and those he cared for.<br><br>His grip was like steel, and his fingers were dug and positioned so tightly into the flesh of her throat that she would barely be able to find purchase around any of his digits. He let her breaths come in labored wheezing as he left <span class="bb-i">just</span> enough of her airway open for her to respond - eyes hard and narrowed as they bore into her own to discern truth from lies.<br><br><font color="#f7941d">"Speak now, or I'll crush the life from you."</font></div></div></div>