<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/BdSefSx.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Kroth-Taran<br/><strong>Race and occupation:</strong>Human Barbarian<br/><strong>Location &amp; Time:</strong>Aftermidnight; inside a dusty attick in amberdale<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>An-Yah, Peldor; open<br/><hr/><br/><strong>"I'd heard about the fuzzy part before,"</strong>he noted, eyes following her hands as they explored her softer places. For a moment he watched her rummage the room, before turning to do the same in one corner, pulling chairs aside so he could get to an old trunk. With a dagger, he pried at the latch, breaking it out of the dry-rotted wood to reveal... Moth-eaten clothing, a few leather-bound books with crumbling pages, and other items that he just sort of dug through, until coming out with a smaller lockbox.<br/><br/>Before he could open it though, An-Yah's hands were on him, exploring the way he'd done. He stood, turning towards her, not minding her examination in the least.<strong> "A few cuts and bruises... I'm not fuzzy at all,"</strong>he joked. Indeed, save for a trail of dark strands of hair descending from his navel, he seemed smooth below the eyebrows.<strong>"Not as padded as you, though"</strong>he chuckled, reaching around to cup her rear in both hands, giving a squeeze and a bit of a lift.<strong>"Nor half as pretty. I'm called Kroth-Taran, of the storm horse people."</strong><br/><br/>He would then release her rump (after one more little squeeze) and reach for the lockbox, shaking it to produce a metallic rattle.<strong>"I think I might have some of the metal the Farmers enjoy so much!"</strong>