((Yes! ^_^ I'm happy with what we discussed, and it works for me!<img alt=":D" src="./images/smilies/icon_mrgreen.gif" title="Very Happy"/>After getting a word back from Ambrose, I'll edit in my own post right here! ^_^ Looking forwards to it!<img alt=":D" src="./images/smilies/icon_mrgreen.gif" title="Very Happy"/>))<br/><br/>((*EDIT!* Post is up! ^_^ WOO! Also, thanks to Ambrose for helping me with a character (I had absolutely no idea what I was doing...>_<), and hello to everyone I don't already know from Daumutef's game! Double-hello to those of you I do! ^_^ Looking forwards to joining you here!<img alt=":D" src="./images/smilies/icon_mrgreen.gif" title="Very Happy"/>As far as preferences go, um...roughly 75% pred, 25% prey. Of course, that might shift up and down. x3 Generally, Ryla will be more preddish than not, but...well, anything can happen! ^_^ Soft-vore preference, oral vore...um...that's about it. x3 ))<br/><br/>"So, lemme get this right.....the reports are coming in on some kinda...um...boat that--"<br/><br/>"Ship." The rat corrected her, sounding every bit as exhasperated as the dozens of other times he'd corrected the fox girl.<br/><br/>"That's what I said, a boat that is used to smuggle things? Don't you think that's kinda...Oh, I dunno...a little cliche? I mean, come on. Secret reports on a boat that, heeeey....smuggles things. I mean, come on. Come ON!" Ryla just rolled her eyes. It sounded like something out of a silly story. Not to mention ,it was kinda OBVIOUS. Why not send the reports on something that WOULDN'T draw a great deal of attention? A well-guarded merchant ship, for example. Rubbing at her temple with a fingertip, she took a few seconds to just...breathe deep. Yeah. There was no sense getting bent outta shape over it. It just meant she had to go out on a little boat, into the harbor, meet with a buncha roughnecks, hope they didn't actually want to SELL her the damn information that had already been well-paid for (Though not with her coin, of course), and get safely back to shore.<br/><br/>All in hopes that the smugglers were 'good people' who'd deliver on what they promised, and not try to rob her of every coin she had. Or kidnap her. Or worse.<br/><br/>Honestly, Leon was turning out to be more trouble than he was worth. The rat constantly took risks. Oh, not risks with HIMSELF, but risks that involved HER sticking HER neck out. Sure, the money was good. It had to be for what she did. There was, however, a very fine line between acceptable risk and reward, and the rat had the annoying habit of making her cross that line far, far too many times. It wasn't the first time she'd very seriously considered simply eating him, getting one final use out of him, and after depositing him back in the sewers he'd crawled out of, finding someone a little more capable and a little more trustworthy. Plus, he...well, he kinda smelled good, really. She'd never seen a rat take a bath as often as he did, as if THAT would rid him of the general thoughts that surrounded him and his kind. Maybe...yeah....<br/><br/>...That wasn't such a bad idea. She'd complete her side, get paid, then just eat him. Problem solved, and she'd have a long, enjoyable night of digesting ahead of her, filled with all the pleasures that it offered. It sounded simple enough. WHAT could possibly go wrong...?<br/><br/>**** Later that day, when things went wrong...****<br/><br/>Clearly, the kitsune had a screw loose somewhere inside that pretty little head of hers. Oh, she was a looker for sure. Long, silvery hair that matched the soft fur of her tails, the fuzzy appendages numbering nine in total. She was slender but attractive, with enticing curves in all the right places, a pretty face, hypnotizing eyes, soft pink lips...<br/><br/>...And sadly, simply mad.<br/><br/>"Look, lady....you gots ta pay for tha infa-matin' bot ways, see? Whens we picks it up, we gets paid. When we drops it off, we gets paid. See, dis is how da biznizz works, unda-stan?" The grizzled old tiefling, captain of the vessel, explained for the half-dozenth time. She just wanted the reports...for FREE?! This was how they made their money. They charged a pickup AND a dropoff fee.<br/><br/>"....Uggggh. I...I know you're trying to speak common, but I really can't understand a word you are saying. Okay, okay....lemme slow this down for you. You...Have.....Already...Been...PAID. I KNOW you've been paid. Otherwise, you'd not be here. I don't paid for products that have already been paid for. You were paid to deliver...so, DELIVER!" The entire process had been nothing but an excercise in extreme frustration. Ryla honestly could only understand half of what this guy said. It sounded like he was speaking...well, PIRATE or SMUGGLER or something, and it was clearly not the common tongue. She'd already had to think about the various things that could go wrong, consorting with these rough-types she'd not already had prior dealings with. Some, especially those around Port Verge, she'd reached an 'understanding' with. The understanding that she'd pay them for services, and they'd do those services.<br/><br/>These types? Well, they were not exactly on her payroll. That meant, obviously, they were trying to finch her.<br/><br/>Gripping her staff a little more tightly, Ryla gave the wooden deck a few firm taps. Dangit, how she wished she could make the cheap crystal mounted on top glow. It would make this go over so much better. Oh well, one day... "Look, the longer we stay here, the longer things can go bad, right? So just deliver, and in the future, you'll be ensured REPEAT business. See how that works? More money in the long run, rather than trying to stiff me now. So, you can either-"<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Thunk</span><br/><br/>Where once she had been staring hard at the captain's face, her vision was suddenly obscoured by a four foot long shaft of wood, quivering where it had imbedded itself into the mast beside her.<br/><br/>Gazing dully at the wood, Ryla bit her lower lip.<br/><br/>"See? You gone and messed it up."<br/><br/><br/>**** Even LATER that day ****<br/><br/>So, things had ended up working out well enough, after all. She had a nasty nick on her thigh from where a cutlass had nearly made her an amputee, and not once, but THREE TIMES she'd found herself staring down the gullet of rather large alligator of indeterminate sex who'd seemed to think she was simply the 'bee's knees' when it came to fine dining. Sure, she'd had to run for her life, nearly lost her snazzy hat, banged her forehead on a door, lost the little lunch she'd packed, and stubbed her toe....but it really wasn't THAT bad, right?<br/><br/>Yeah. The rat was fox-food, and he didn't even know it yet. Little pest...<br/><br/>Honestly, she had no idea if she'd been sold out, or what. By all accounts, she should not have survived  the encounter. The dozen and a half of the local thugs who'd crept aboard the ship, leaving shortly after Ryla had and slipping in while the captain was occupied, should have been her end. It was clear some of the crew had been paid off, as NOONE happened to see the boat coming, and more than a few of the crew were absent in the resulting confrontation. So, of course, when the thugs had started a brawl aboard the ship, seeking to capture her...well, the numbers were woefully one-sided, with only eight crew members and HER against...well, more than she cared to really count.<br/><br/>Mainly because she was running.<br/><br/>The first instinct tended to be the best one, and that first instinct was 'grab the booty and run'. So, she'd snatched the documents and done just that. Of course, that plan had only worked until she found herself cornered, which given her unfamiliarity with the ship, happened rather quickly. Hence her first encounter with the charming alligator.<br/><br/>Had it not been for her feathered savior, she might very well have never left the ship alive.<br/><br/>Like an angel...sorta. Well, yeah, a black-winged angel that kinda...waddled more than walked. A waddle that was far, FAR too funny...<br/><br/>Well, a black-winged angel nonetheless, Misha had decended upon her adversary with all the force and fury of a hurricane. From a safe distance, of course. Okay, maybe she'd actually just stood off to the side and sang something in a surprisingly enticing voice that just kinda made the alligator briefly forget that Ryla was there. THAT was enough, though, and Ryla had used the opportunity to good effect. With a word of thanks to her feathered salvation, she and the harpy had made good their escape from the ship, cracking more than a few heads until they'd managed to slip off the side of the boat, steal the very vessel that the thugs had slithered in on, and made their way back to the port itself. A part of her still wished she'd managed to eat one of the thugs, but when you were more concerned for your own life than dinner, well...at times, flgiht was better than fight. Cracking a few over the head with her staff was rewarding enough, and with Misha dispensing with a few in her own way, well...they'd made good their escape.<br/><br/>Not to mention, Ryla had made a rather interesting friend in the process.<br/><br/>Not just any friend, though. One that could use....MAGIC.<br/><br/>The result ended up being a strange and mutual attraction. Ryla's own interest in magic seemed to coincide neatly with Misha's desire to talk about it, and before long, the harpy had a 'student' that practially put the black-feathered girl up on a pedestal higher than the gods themselves. Practically every word was one of admiration or compliment, and even more surprising...there was not a hint of deception to be found. Only...well, GENUINE interest. The fox-girl had even been MORE thrilled when the topic of learning magic came up, and the ensueing begging Ryla had done would have made even royalty blush with the amount of abashed adoration it included. When Misha had begun to 'show off' her magic, her new friend stared in silent amazement, her mouth hanging ajar, furry ears perked...<br/><br/>And just watched. Wordlessly. Without even...well, saying NEGATIVE things.<br/><br/>Admittedly, Ryla even found herself liking the way Misha took an interest in her tails. She'd always been proud of them herself...but someone else admiring them? Well, that was pleasant indeed! Though she'd never admit it, she actually enjoyed the way the harpy would snuggle herself into the veritable blanket of warm, furry appendages, how she'd wrap them about her as best as possible, practically making a little nest for herself comprised entirely of fluffy, comfy tails.<br/><br/>It was all almost enough to make Ryla forget that she'd been sold out. Almost.<br/><br/>Either way, despite how awful the majority of the day had been, at least there was one bright point, and that was the dark-feathered harpy herself. Upon their establishment of a working friendship or 'alliance', Ryla had offered the bird a place to stay, in exchange for all the 'magic talk' Misha could stand. It had worked out well so far, though admittedly it had only been a half-day affair.<br/><br/>Comfortably nestled in her room overlooking the harbor, Ryla watched the bird curiously as she gazed out the window, looking for the ship that her contacts were supposed to be arriving on. The...swiftwing? Sweetwind? Ahh, whatever it was. The name didn't matter. Their affiliation, however, DID matter "So, these people you're supposed to be meeting..." Ryla murmurs quietly, pacing the distance of the rather spacious room "...They're supposed to be arriving this week? Any news, yet? I mean, y'know. What with you being a powerful mage and all, you have some way of knowing when they're gonna be here, right? Or when they're getting close?" Ugh, it was so unfair. She KNEW she could use magic. She knew it. The harpy had even said it. Well, sorta. Slugs were used in potions, right? Clearly magical. So, why in the heck was it just so darn DIFFICULT?!<br/><br/>Pushing the negative thoughts from her mind, Ryla continues her pacing, her long, silver-furred tails swaying and swishing behind her in unison "I'm...quite interested in meeting them, myself. After all, they'll need a guide, right? Hey, you'll put in a good word for me, right? I know this place like the back of my hand. Plus, I'm cheap. Or, at least, I'll be cheap for the friends of the girl who slipped me outta that slippery situation back on the ship." Not to mention, the girl who was going to be teaching her...MAGIC.<br/><br/>Her eyes practically sparkled at the thought.<br/><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Ryla's Picture...yyyaaaaayyy fox-girls!</span><br/><div style="padding: 3px; background-color: #FFFFFF; border: 1px solid #d8d8d8; font-size: 1em;"><div style="text-transform: uppercase; border-bottom: 1px solid #CCCCCC; margin-bottom: 3px; font-size: 0.8em; font-weight: bold; display: block;"><span onclick="if (this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display != '') {  this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = ''; this.innerHTML = '&lt;b&gt;Spoiler: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=\'#\' onClick=\'return false;\'&gt;hide&lt;/a&gt;'; } else { this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = 'none'; this.innerHTML = '&lt;b&gt;Spoiler: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=\'#\' onClick=\'return false;\'&gt;show&lt;/a&gt;'; }"><b>Spoiler: </b><a href="#" onclick="return false;">show</a></span></div><div class="quotecontent"><div style="display: none;"><a class="postlink" href="http://s36.photobucket.com/user/CassyInko/media/kitsunegirl_zpsf99b16ee.jpg.html"><img alt="Image" src="http://i36.photobucket.com/albums/e42/CassyInko/kitsunegirl_zpsf99b16ee.jpg"/></a><br/><br/>Or, can just look at my avatar! x3</div></div></div>