<div class="floatleft">(http://i57.tinypic.com/mwv4go.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:  Araxis (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=266077.msg13136083#msg13136083)</strong><br/><br/><strong>CLIENT</strong><br/><br/><strong>Situation:</strong>Chatting up Chantal<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Chantal, Open, Mentioning Snogflog and Madame Celeste<br/><br/><strong>Content Warning:</strong><em>None</em><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>Araxis had heard of cultures where alacrity was frowned upon, but he never really understood it.  Nature and life both demonstrated that speed was often the only thing that mattered.  The fastest fox caught the slowest rabbit.  The first to step upon a new land got to claim it as their own.  Hesitation was an inability to act, a paralysis where any warrior realized the folly of entering into a battle with a dragon shortly before being devoured.<br/><br/>As many of the other men stood around and adjusted to the building, Araxis took another glance around.  One girl briefly caught his eye, an honest-to-goodness orc.  He'd heard stories of the prowess of orcs, but many brothels treated them like wild mares: not worth the trouble to domesticate enough to have them in the brothel without the blood of lesser beings being shed.  It was a testament to the talents of Madame Celeste, and more demonstrable proof why he wanted a chance to invest here.  Eventually he would test if the stories about orcs were true, but it wasn't his current mood.<br/><br/>Another woman caught his eye, dipping her head in proper deference but without the apprehension of those who truly felt unworthy.  He moved over towards her, allowing her some time to get a drink, though not interested in one himself.<br/><br/>As pleasant as the Casbah had looked when he glanced in before, cooked meat was something more for fire dragons.  Some dragons enjoyed the lukewarm taste of food and water in human form, he did not.  Simply sipping at water was hardly as vigorous as crunching down on the raw ice, forcing it through your gullet, and regrowing any of the teeth that grew too raw and worn from the brutal experience.  It was a metaphor for life itself.<br/><br/>He stopped near the woman in the purple bodice, offering a polite bow.  "Araxis," he introduced himself, and offered a hand, no doubt to take one of hers for a proper kiss.  Although his eyes caught on hers, he also watched because he wanted to see her curtsy, and wasn't the least bit shy about it.