((I hope im not too late to get into this rp...the character im rping is s extention of my others, created just for this purpose))<br/><br/>Whistling a light tune, he retired from the small oblong tent behind him for the last time.<br/>?n the ship?On the Grosvenor...?she had told him, speaking in short prepositional phrases as always. The damned gypsy had led him about for 5 years now, telling him to do this and that, and he had begun to forget why. He trailed slowly back now in his mind now to the day he came to see her at first, long ago when he asked her what would become of him, dumping a handful of gold into her palm for the information so invaluable to him?r<br/><br/>Staring into the bubbling cauldron of ?osmic forces?in front of her, the gypsy saw a grand quest in him. He was; A petty thug, weak and barely fast enough to survive in his trade, taking whatever he could get, begging at the feet of furs of Anastasia Foxsho? class for scraps or pennies. He would become, and is in the present day; A man, though only barely fitting into the classification, hardened by poverty physically, mentally and spiritually, while still kind and gentle to women, appearing more of a pompous ass to other men, cocky and arrogant. His true future was what the gypsy focused on however, seeing past his mortal life, into greater things he would accomplish beyond; good or bad, she knew they were great.<br/><br/>?e was now, far too deeply immersed in her ramblings to deny her final orders, having already blindly committed 5 years of his life, knowing only that her prophecies had kept him alive thus far. He didn? know, that she had simply used all that to prepare him for what lay in his now immediate future, nor that this ship, more or less one of its passengers, would be the death of him?r<br/><br/>?he past five years had filled him with enough information, skill and experience to compensate for the vast amount of his life that would be lost. He had fought and loved more than enough to grant him the sage wisdom he would need in this final trial. He had acquired many different accents and dialects, sampling many jargons and dabbling in a vast multitude of professions. The life before these past five years now lay shrouded in ruin, long forgotten parents and siblings strewn about in wake; now, only one thing mattered, boarding the Grosvenor?<br/><br/>?e walked down the dank alley, his boots clicking hard around his war torn footpaws as his firm steps echoed off the adjacent walls. He wore a great deal, furry leggings around his pants, fur of some unknown creature. Hard metal bindings held them fast to his legs, a unseen layer of hard steel under the fur, parting at his knees only to continue up his thighs. At his hips his leggings and unseen pants met with a shirt, unseen as well beneath layers of Chain mail, then another furry thickness, a unknown fur again. A black sash draped across his midsection, parting the lightly silver fur, holding a long sword that resembled a katana, to his back, that any man who knew his blades could tell in an instant was, actually fake. His arms were armored just as his legs seemed to be, fur, steel, chain mail and then cloth, all the way do his fingers and stopping at each wrist, into a pair of light brown gloves, appearing to be the only article of clothing he owned that displayed any amount of natural wear and tear. Extending out of his broad chest, a short neck quickly came into his long skull, displaying a face of a rat, not a mouse, though still containing a boyish softness, indicating his mild age of sixteen. Red hair blazed out of the top of his head like a stagnant blaze, moving rarely, but catching the eye easily, a feature he had always disliked; however, usually able to take advantage of his thick black fur, able to sneak almost anywhere at night if he could somehow hide his hair. A long black cloak flowed out behind him, draping loosely over the ground, simply snapped into his armor lightly, hiding the dark brown burlap sack he carried about his back, filled with vast articles of random things, and a view ancient surprises he had obtained over the years, having never used them, being told to preserve them for his final voyage.<br/><br/>His cold, black eyes centered down at his nose, eyeing the pipe that parted his lips, following  smoke rings up into the air as he slowly came up upon the ship, stopping a few hundred feet away as the pipe fell from his lips.<br/><br/>He stared forward, mouth agape, eyes wide upon its insurmountable majesty, blinking a few times in rapid succession, then eying the crew slowly, recovering from his initial shock.<br/><br/>?hey?e almost done? he thought, frowning slowly as he advanced??I? late.?He thumbed a small golden coin out of his pocket, sliding it up his fingers with several quick movements before tossing it, matching his pace and allowing him to easily catch the flipping circle. He smacked it down on his palm snatching it, not bothering to look for a few more seconds. Heads. Bad Luck?r<br/><br/>((Im not sure if you would really want me in on the rp, but I was hopin?therefore I avoided boarding the boat, so I can still stop, if you all don? think there? room.))