<strong>Name:</strong>Tyler James “T.J.” Matautia<br/><strong>Location: </strong>Back Room of the Underworld Tavern<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Midday (ish)<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>All<br/><br/><br/>(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/89/37/a1/8937a10d8b353e0682bd923203ac45e4.jpg)<br/><br/><br/>After a few moments sitting quietly and observing the woman in the shadows on the other side of the room, he brought his feet off of the table and onto the floor, sliding up to his feet in one smooth motion. He seemed alert, far too much so. His body language spoke volumes. His jaw was set, his eyes were fixed, his brow furrowed. Slowly he stepped away from the table and began to walk a long, slow circle around the group of groaning revenants from last night’s reverie. Whatever buzz he had seemed to be pushed away with a sense of urgency, of emergency. But before he could do anything, the being was gone, a shadow slipping back into the night. Then, with a grave look, he looked down at the handful of coins.<br/><br/><br/><strong>”That... was a monster. A full-blooded monster with a capital M.”</strong>Tyler spoke with a voice that seemed to suit him. Rugged, rough. He walked close to where the thing once was, breathing the air deeply. The thing somehow SMELLED of darkness. Then, he turned to the rest of the ménagerie assembled around the table.<strong>”Those… are coins. All soul’s day kind of sounds like something associated with Halloween, all souls’ eve. And yes, you did drink yourself stupid last night.”</strong>The man cracked a smirk, turning back to approach them once more, leaning over to grab his cup of beer and offered it to the man who was coughing up sand.<strong>”Here. You sound like you need a drink.”</strong>He looked at the others, wondering what they would do next.<strong>”I’m not too keen on touching those coins. We don’t know that that thing’s master is, or what its plans are.”</strong>