<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Ayr Fairfang</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/><strong>Name:</strong> Ayr Fairfang<br/><strong>Age:</strong> 173<br/><br/><strong>Race:</strong> Archon, Angel subspecies<br/><br/><strong>Appearance:</strong> (http://i1232.photobucket.com/albums/ff375/Zwraith/For%20RP/1165303958_half_jace_houndarchon.jpg)<br/><br/>http://i1232.photobucket.com/albums/ff375/Zwraith/For%20RP/1165303958_half_jace_houndarchon.jpg (http://i1232.photobucket.com/albums/ff375/Zwraith/For%20RP/1165303958_half_jace_houndarchon.jpg)<br/><br/>He has a thing for leather and military gear when not dressed up for somthing offical.<br/><br/><strong>Sexual Preference:</strong> Bisexual, humanoid only<br/><br/><strong>Former Gang:</strong> Light of Dawn<br/><br/><strong>Gang Position:</strong> Weapons-smith, Consilari, Pimp, Trainer.<br/><br/><strong>Weapon of Choice:</strong> preferring his custom designed Light Machine Gun named "Invictus" and uses a combat knife as a secondary, his ability as an arms master also means he can pickup and use most weapons with relitive ease.<br/><strong>Additional Skills:</strong> <em>"A Lawyer with his briefcase can steal more in a single day than a hundred men with guns"</em><br/>Due to his former gang affilation he knows both how to play the system like a harp. Ayr knows how to work over an officer, politican, or police chief, he knows what palms to grease, how much, and with what. He has a great mind for market control, and knowing where to hit to cause the most damage. like all Angelic subspecies he has a gift for magical healing, and while it is underdeveloped, it makes him a decent field medic. He also has great skill at forging blades, building and modifying firearms<br/><br/><strong>Personality:</strong> outwardly he presents a romantic philopher, someone with a casual approach to sexuality, who is friendly, and always the life of the party, but behind the image his mind is constantly turning, analyizing, assessing. He is terrifying to behold in a firefight a ruthlessness he revels in, once the guns start blazing his goal is to kill as many "enemies" as possable.<br/>Dispite all this he has a soft spot for "civs" or civilans, and does not kill those few he sees as "innocent" those who have no place in the violent ruthless underworld of this city.<br/><br/><strong>Bio:</strong> Archons are known for being more "realistic" and methodical in their apporach to life, and Ayr is no exception, growing up on the mortal plane in a military family when the wars ended in a stalemate his father was livid, and took out that rage on Ayr. When the entire family structure "imploded" the Light of Dawn provided the family structure he needed, and he started in the high class "escort services" and from there moved up to running that perticular branch of service, it was illegal work, but it was work. His love of weapons and armor was a luxury his high class lifestyle and large paycheck afforded him. this came to a close when he observed a Light of Dawn member pushing psych-drugs to a group of teens.<br/>He promptly beat the Janni in question to death with his sidearm, and Light of Dawn "management" just as promptly let him hang out to dry for it. In prision he hardened up, and learned how to minuplate the system, famiously stabbing a demonic inmate in the neck for a racial slur, and yet still managed to convince the board of corrections to release him early on good behavior.<br/>he's out now, and having only skills that work as either a lawyer or in the underworld, he chose the more honest profession and joined a gang.<br/><br/><strong>Theme Song (optional):</strong> Europa-Globus<br/>[/center]</div></div><br/>"I see you" Ayr wispered to himself peering through the scope, not his speciality, but he wanted to ensure the place was sound, no traps, no explosives. sometimes he thought he was parinoid. But you always wanted to investigate, an ounce of information about the surroundings could save your life. there was movement, a dwarf, pudgy, looked like he'd hit the rotgut more than once talking with a demon possessed man in an alleyway.<br/><br/>it wasn't hard to figure out what they were talking about, nor that the man was possessed if you looked for the signs. "Angel Dust" a package of silver dust changed hands for money, if Dust was involved was always a matter of time until the shooting started, might as well start things off early.<br/><br/>Three crossbow bolts diffused the sutiation. Again this was not his speciality, the first went high, off center mass hitting the demon in the side of the skull instead of the heart, still leathal but far too showey. The dwarf made a run for it heading for the safety of the steet and crowd, taking a bolt through the leg put pad to that, another off target shot. The last bolt was planted on target, center mass, putting the dwarf out of everyone's misery. Ayr simply folded up the crossbow and dropped into his side bag, an extra dementional space, as if any good warrior would be caught without a side bag. Less varibles, less competation, two less dealers off the street, two stories ending as they always would have.<br/><br/>Shame about the demon's skull splattering across the hood of a beautiful white car.<br/><br/>He simply changed his outfit on the rooftop, and dropped four stories to the street, letting wings slow his fall like a parachute, dusted himself off, and headed across the street and downstairs.<br/><br/>Ayr emerged into the club dressed in his best white leather showing off his gold and black athletic body, knowing he needed to look impressive, strong, dispite the slightly effeminate build those muscles were built off. The wing harness built into the leather allowed for easy access for his wings and unencumbered flight, not that they were the wide cumbersome things that most angels had. the harness also held his mesh shirt in place. His strapped pants affixed with a black belt and iron cross buckle. The place was dingy, dirty, with a host of people, talking, drinking, and excusing themselves for a quick romp around the bedroom, a pair of orcs pestering a few elven women, a dwarf pair, male and female, snorting somthing obviously illegal off to the side.<br/>he hated leaving his weapon bag with the bouncer, he always felt naked with out his bag of pointy, shooty, stabby, death dealing devices. The knife strapped to his inner thigh wouold have to do, girls might get felt up, on a guy it never crossed their minds.<br/><br/>Of course someone had to play "grab the feather" a beastial creature, Male kitsune in human form most likely, made his attempt. Ayr Fairfang grabbed his wrist "next time ask" lifting the kitsune off the ground pulling him close enough to wisper, holding him tenderly, seductively. Then before the creature could figure things out, pushing him back so he stumbled over a table and slammed into the floor at his co-hort's feet. They laughed, they joked, and picked him up. Ayr sat with them, and bought the next round of drinks for the table, he prefered vodka himself, starting to chat up a good looking neko, flattery, always begin with soft flattery.