<div class="floatleft">(http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2011/171/e/1/threadlink_by_doomburg-d3jg794.jpg)</div><br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 30pt;"><strong>E</strong><span class="bbc_u">dgar</span> <strong>M</strong><span class="bbc_u">arks</span></span>(http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=141932.msg6385799#msg6385799)<br/><strong>Location</strong>:<em>The Blue Iguana</em><br/><strong>Tagging</strong>:<em>--</em><br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 30pt;">~ &gt;</span><br/><br/>Edgar had been in the vicinity for a few days, by this time.  It was routine; enter an area as a handsome man, scope it out for the best place to prey, and then play his game with as many unsuspecting men (and sometimes even women) as he could in one night.  Then, he’d finally take his leave and move on to the next town.  Sometimes he chose to take reprieves, between; he would rent a bedroom for a few nights in the country or simply travel far from his last caper.  He was a man of procedure and strongly disliked when things went awry.<br/><br/>But he never let things go awry.  Ever.<br/><br/>He was very careful in his choosing of victims; he never took a man who seemed to have too much power, and never took a woman who’s man might hunt him down.  He took only a few things, things he could carry in his bag without making his theft obvious; he’d stolen pistols, jewels, money (of course), and occasionally even clothing, though he was careful not to steal things that carried evidence of it’s origination (signets, emblems, etc.).  He couldn’t allow himself to be traced or followed so easily, and thus his characters always changed, as well.<br/><br/>He sometimes took to tinting his hair with clothing dye, wore his makeup in different fashions and his long hair in different styles.  He stole new clothing and bags at every stop, and sometimes even stole personalities.  He’d gotten away with ridiculous things; it was amazing what one could do with a bit of beauty and promise of a sleepless night.  Of course, that sleepless night rarely came for his victims.  A quick, thin needle pushed past skin and flesh, coated in poison was all it took; then he was left to loot, sometimes even gaining a bit of pleasure for himself at their expense.  (He especially loved women for this reason…)<br/><br/>Tonight, he wore a red dress; it was cotton and cheap, a bar maiden’s outfit.  Of course, he lacked breasts, but he had created a pair of water-filled, leather sacks to make up for it.  The setup was rather uncomfortable — a tight, custom-made corset used beneath his clothing to keep the sacks in place — but it was worth it when a man grabbed his chest and fell for the illusion.  They were small, but all he needed was to appear female, anyway.  His hair was put up in messy curls, pieces hanging around his face and around his crown; it made him look used and easy.  His eye makeup was heavy and his lips red, cheeks done up with rose to play up the ‘whore’ character he portrayed.  And he did a damn good job, of course.  He flirted and used his body naturally, as if this was, indeed, who he really was.  He even left a few red lip marks on several men to display how ‘ready’ he was for the taking.<br/><br/>This night, however — despite his many years of practice and care — he’d made a mistake.  It was a small mistake, but the consequences would be far more than he could’ve prepared for.  He had grown used to things coming easy; men were drunk, ladies were easy to seduce.  His mistake was allowing himself to fall into the arms of a rather large man.  He groped and kissed him — actions he was far used to by then — while the man drank with his mates to their latest plunder.  Edgar mistakenly allowed the man to force a good bit of alcohol down his throat, and was made to swallow.<br/><br/>Edgar wasn’t a man who cared to drink.  He even feigned to drink his glasses of wine to please the more gentlemanly of men.  So this sudden, very large mouthful of heavy grog hit Edgar<em>very</em>hard.  His head swam and he felt uneasy; he would need to take his leave before things got any more out of hand.  He stood with the lied intent of fetching more liquor.<br/><br/>And he wobbled.<br/><br/>…He was in trouble.<br/><br/>He snuck around to the outside, debating whether or not he could make it out of the area; he was an incredible lightweight, and wasn’t even sure his feet would carry him such a long ways.<br/><br/>With a heavy sigh, he let himself lean back against a post, attempting to let the liquor settle and start to diminish its effects; it wasn’t too much, so it would pass quickly, right?<br/><br/>Ugh, he didn’t like this.  He didn’t like being out of his game or messing with his routine.  It aggravated him, and the alcohol didn’t help him in the area of poor judgement.  With renewed determination, he turned back into the bar and decided he would choose new prey, someone smaller that could make use of the drunken state of his; the easier he appeared, the easier they fell for him.<br/><br/>Besides, all he really needed was one more good looting.  He’d gathered at least a few days’ trip worth of valuables (thanks to a rather lucky find so early in the night), so one more, good find would certainly be enough to fund him for the next town.  He could make the theft and leave, then this whole mistake would be left behind him.<br/><br/>A perfect plan, he thought.  A perfect way to get things back on schedule.<br/><br/><br/><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 30pt;">&lt; ~</span>                             </div>