08-18-2018, 07:17 PM
[table][tr][td][/td][td]
TYPHOON
NECRO MAMBAS
HEAD SOOTHSAYER
NECRO MAMBAS
HEAD SOOTHSAYER
[div style="width: px; font-family: GEORGIA; color: #422426; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px"][align=center]ARE YOU GOOD WITH CHAOS ?!
The soothsayer found herself out in the territory increasingly often these days - the central areas of her home housed too many souls for her to bear these days. And with the recent influx of injuries, she took to patrolling for any signs of wounded members or joiners. This time, her paws took her to the outer edge of the island, to where the crashed caboose jutted out of the natural jungle with the same offensiveness as a pimple marring pale skin. She never liked dealing with strangers too much, so she usually avoided the place; nevertheless, she came here now. She nearly turned away then and there, but she caught the smell of a stranger - a potential intruder - and took a deep breath.
Despite her sadistic tendencies, Rosemary dislikes fighting; she's driven purely by the instinct to defend her home and family as she tracks down Malphas through his scent trail. When she reaches him, her four eyes appraise him with narrowed eyelids as her forked tail lashes behind her. He looks unharmed and she can't smell blood or sickness on him; she's curious why he asked for a medic. "I lead the medic division here - is there something you need?" she answers him, cutting straight to the point. The stink of his sweat obscures his Clan stench, and she isn't sure if he even belongs to another one of the groups in other nearby territories; her nose practically curls in distaste when she concentrates on deciphering his smell, so she quickly gave up on trying to identify his allegiance.
Still, his nervousness is obvious, and that's enough to make her doubt he's here to assassinate any of the Typhoon's healers. Her shoulders roll back as she looks askance at him, not outwardly hostile but certainly less friendly than the strangely cheerful greetings that somehow became the default for talking to strangers on the border. "I'm Rosemary Roux," she adds, adjusting the leather strap of her satchel idly as she speaks. The herbal scent of the bag is probably enough to verify her claim to be a healer - who else would carry medical supplies while walking through their own territory?
[/td][/tr][/table]Despite her sadistic tendencies, Rosemary dislikes fighting; she's driven purely by the instinct to defend her home and family as she tracks down Malphas through his scent trail. When she reaches him, her four eyes appraise him with narrowed eyelids as her forked tail lashes behind her. He looks unharmed and she can't smell blood or sickness on him; she's curious why he asked for a medic. "I lead the medic division here - is there something you need?" she answers him, cutting straight to the point. The stink of his sweat obscures his Clan stench, and she isn't sure if he even belongs to another one of the groups in other nearby territories; her nose practically curls in distaste when she concentrates on deciphering his smell, so she quickly gave up on trying to identify his allegiance.
Still, his nervousness is obvious, and that's enough to make her doubt he's here to assassinate any of the Typhoon's healers. Her shoulders roll back as she looks askance at him, not outwardly hostile but certainly less friendly than the strangely cheerful greetings that somehow became the default for talking to strangers on the border. "I'm Rosemary Roux," she adds, adjusting the leather strap of her satchel idly as she speaks. The herbal scent of the bag is probably enough to verify her claim to be a healer - who else would carry medical supplies while walking through their own territory?
© MADI