Neverwinter Forest wash me clean off the land

Rolled an 18

The bounty hunter appeared only contemplative when it was revealed there was more to the roll he was expected to fulfill. He finished stretching without pause, releasing the last of the tension from his body. I do my best, he thought to say, but somehow, did not feel it would be a welcome sentiment. It sounded as though Solharr thought there was still more he ought to earn.

Catamaran did not believe himself capable of disabusing him of the notion. So he did what he was asked, and he showed him his strength.

It was a slow start. At first, the bounty hunter only casually circled the other man, his tail swaying idly at his hocks. When he argued and when he threatened and when he warned others off, he tended to posture and vocalize like any other wolf. But when he fought, he appeared almost unassuming, deferential as he looked for his opening.

A playful feint. A cheeky snip-snap aimed at the other man's hocks. Catamaran made as if to dart away only to shift, suddenly, into overbearing aggression. Still, his voice was quiet — a grunt of effort as he slammed into the other man and the hiss of his breath as he made a grab for the meat of the other man's shoulder.

His jaws ached with the effort it took to pull his punches. Instinct pushed him to deal devastating blows, but this must necessarily be a wrestling match more than a true battle. The marks they put in each others flesh should not hinder them beyond today.