Neverwinter Forest wash me clean off the land

A flicker of emotion crossed the bounty hunter's features. Mainly because he'd thought of Luhtar, and the flick of the other man's tail against his shoulder, and the scent of his saliva on the girl's pelt. He wanted to wrinkle his lips, though — easily! — the more discomfiting part of the situation was the strength of his reaction rather than anything to do with Luhtar in particular.

Catamaran had not often disliked other wolves. It was not a comfortable feeling.

Solharr's attention turned from Seastorm to him, and that was not particularly comfortable, either. The bounty hunter bore it without demure, answering these superlatives with a swivel of his ear. He supposed that it must be the truth. He was a warrior, was strong and capable. Why should his build not reflect that? Still, it put him in the mind of the gladiator-like tournaments he had be roped into in his youth.

But, having now spent a little time around the man, Catamaran felt relatively sure that wasn't what he was proposing.

"A spar?" he clarified, already stretching in preparation.