<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/3/39/Townsend.png)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>John "Townsend" Templeton<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Law Dog (Rank 3)<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 20th<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Night<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Moving from the sheriff station to the Whateley Estate<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Lilah,”Doggie,” A Goddam Whateley, CLOSED<br/><hr/>It rattled him, watching the girl glare at him, and whisper.  He couldn’t even make out the words, but there was something chilling in the little whisper, in the way she pointed the rag face at him again.  Dolores’s mad eyes were the most unnerving of all, and when Dolores rose and became obedient, he couldn’t help casting about again.<br/><br/><em>Gorram shadows.</em>His teeth were on edge, grinding together, and for a moment he leveled the pistol at the back of the girl’s head.  Every one of ‘em ought to be burned to death and their ashes thrown off the mesa.  He shivered, feeling for a moment as if inky fingers were digging through his skin into his soul.<br/><br/>He levelled the gun.  One quick shot.  Bilton would back him.  This whole business of letting the girl go didn’t sit right with him, anyway - and no matter how hard a man Bilton was, kidnapping another redhead to take her place and chopping her up to look like a werewolf attack didn’t - it wasn’t right.  Townsend wasn’t a man who often bothered with right and wrong, and it might not have bothered him so much if it hadn’t meant letting the little slit go back to the arms of her family.<br/><br/>He cocked the hammer back, taking a breath to steal himself, still walking through alleys.  His finger started to squeeze.<br/><br/>Then a man (https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/25/Doggie.png) stumbled into him, spoiling his aim, and the high strung Townsend jumped back.  “Jesus Christ!” he shouted, finger pulling the trigger.  There was a splash of red in the middle of a faded, dusty vest, and the drunk stumbled to his knees, grunting and looking down at the red blossoming across his vest.<br/><br/>“No… no, no…” murmured the drunk.  His fingers traced over the blood, and Townsend’s eyes went wide.  “No please don’t m…”<br/><br/>“What the hell are you doing stumblin’ round this time of night?!  Scared me half to death you crazy - “<br/><br/>A low growl cut through the night, and Townsend’s face paled.  He pulled the hammer back, fanning it with his off hand, desperately emptying shots into the chest of the man on his knees.  The man’s dilapidated finery, began to twist and rip, his eyes shining in the moonlight.  The bullets made his body spasm and jerk.<br/><br/>“No - no, please I don’t waaaaaaaaooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!”<br/><br/>The drunk’s cracked, besotten voice rose from protest to howl, echoing through the night.  Then his fingers were twisting, growing, as Townsend stabbed his knife forward, trying to open the thing’s throat.  A powerful hand, sprouting claws and fur, wrapped around Townsend’s wrist, and tugged his arm free from his chest in a spray of blood and a crack of breaking bone.<br/><br/>