Clarence
The further Mox would get into Silnaria, the more odd looks he would be getting from the natives he passed by. It was a stare of scorn and contempt that was all too common from high elves. It was a gaze one would throw to a peasant, which was unsurprising considering the amount of beastkin slaves kept around. However, there was another emotion, far more subtle than the rest that belied the elves' condescending glares. An emotion he wouldn't be able to see, but rather *Smell* If he lingered around one long enough.

Fear.

Rumours of a savage black beast that bore the features of a canid with seething red eyes had travelled from one mouth to another, eventually turning into a drunken tavern where tongues let loose. They said that beast had slain entire patrols by itself in the capital city of Ulnoor, where it had made its hunting grounds every night, and that it was responsible for the collapse of a coastal keep not very long ago. Though whether these tales held any credence of truth in them or not remained unclear, there was no doubt it had made the high elves uneasy around canifor beastkin, and Mox was no exception. 

All the same, Silnarian taverns were busy as ever this night. The scent of cheap liquor hanged low in the air around inebriated companies that hardly seemed to regard the new arrival. Though no sooner had the weather oakwood creaked beneath the fox's footpads upon entering the tavern, than the corner of his eye could catch a single uncanny stare on him. A dark, hooded figure sat by himself in a cornermost table, seeming to raise his mug upon catching the vulpine's eye. For the briefest of moments, a smile seemed to flash on the figure's canid muzzle before unhinging to call out at Mox in a deep, somber tone.

"New around these parts, brother?"
Melany
*Contempt and scorn where something Mox had gotten use to cast his way. If it wasnt for his species in some places it was for his profession in others. But the fear was a new one, the scent strong enough he could almost taste it at times. Losing focus for a moment as he haggled with a street pedlar for dried meat out in the streets.*

*With that fear directed at one of his own that only made Mox more wary as he made his way through the streets. Senses sharpend to the slightest hint at danger in this foreign land. It was a boon when he finally entered that tavern. Bathing in the warmth of the hearth fighting off the nights chill when he feels the eyes upon him.*

*Upon the callout Mox tightens the grip on his halberd but gives a nod in greeting. Making sure not to catch the blade on the ceiling the vulpine makes his way over to the corner table so he didnt have to yell.* "Is it that obvious? Think I stepped over the boarder just a night ago. May I? *He asks as he gestures at an unoccupied seat.*
Clarence
Upon closer inspection, more of the canid's features would be clear. His fur was a midnight black, a pair of deep scars across his upper muzzle and right eye breaking the dark monotony. The long, angular ears and muzzle revealed his breed as a desert jackal... Or at least what used to be one. The pair of aberrant crimson horns atop his forehead resembled a demon's, and an array of metallic spikes upon his jaw made it unclear of whether it was a tribal adornment or something far more sinister. 

He gestured upon the empty seat with an armoured paw, crude blackened steel covering all that could be seen of his lower arm beneath his cloak. The pair of mismatched eyes gazed intently at Mox- one of seething scarlet, burning like a summer flame, the other a pallid silver, cold as a gravestone. 

"Ain't much vulpine folk 'round 'ere. 'Specially free ones." The jackal stated in a thick southron accent. He took a low sip from his mug before flipping a gold coin in his free hand, stopping for a moment to see the result before turning his gaze back to regarding the fox. "Ya picked a fine time then. Land's full o' chances for a score, if ye know where to look..."
Melany
*When the seat is offered Mox leans his halberd against the wall near it before taking the seat. Much of the Canifor before him didnt catch him by surprise, scars were common for veterans of conflict and the metal was easy to overlook for many reasons. The horns are what he openly stares at for a moment as the rumors of the blackened canine came to mind. His attention turning from the horns to the Canifor himself as he speaks.*

 *This close the traveling cloak he wears hides nothing. What little armor he was wearing being an unadorned brigandine chest piece. The cloth covering black with no identifying markings with a belt of many knives crossing from his right shoulder to his left hip flash briefly in the fire light. What scars he did carry were no match for the jackals in intricacy or size, revealing at least some combat experience.*

*Triangle ears twitch at the clatter of the coin as it hits the table, Mox gaze flicking to it before back to the speaker.* "Saw a few of mine in irons on the way here ya. Cant do much for em less one wishes to face the law and dance at the end of a rope I'm assuming. What opportunities does this place have for newcomers?"
Clarence
A shallow grin flicked at the edge of his lips, flashing his razor-sharp canines for a fleeting moment. There was darkness in those corners, hints of something far more sinister lurking right beneath the surface of the jackal's uncanny visage. Or perhaps it was merely a figment of the vulpine's imagination. "It is unwise to presume things like that so easily..." He mused, a low snarl resonating with his words, eyes narrowing at the fox.

And as quickly as his gaze turned morbid, it softened once more, beckoning a nearby barmaid for another round of drinks. The felid woman seemed hesitant to oblige at first, though the flick of a coin her way soon loosened her attitude... As well as ensuring her silence as it was accompanied by the subtle scraping of claws on wood from the jackal's side. The feline barmaid would soon return with two mugs of ale, one of which the jackal would pass onto his current companion with a soft smirk.

As his wrist docked unto the table, the distinct clanging of chains could be subtly heard on his wrists, where a worn out pair of broken shackles could be hardly seen under his cloak. 
"Our kin has been shackled in spirit far more so than in body." The jackal spoke with a low whisper, leaning his head forward. "They have grown complacent for far too long and forgot the ferocious heritage that runs in their veins. In due time, they shall be reminded," His words resonated like they were carrying the weight of an oath, eyeing the fox intently before leaning back against the seat once more, indulging in his drink. "Anyone that knows to use how to use the business end of his weapon properly may find this current unrest as a golden opportunity. Simply ask the right kind o' questions to the right folk~" He smirked lightly, tapping his mug on the table after taking one last sip, standing up to make his way out. Though a keen eye could catch his tail flicking under his cloak, like urging the fox to follow him, should he get the hint.