tabaxi · assassin · forgotten realms · dnd · furry · cold · calculating · stealth · dominant · tragic past
The Spring Festival had gilded Neverwinter in sunlight and bloom, the air thick with the smell of baking bread and the weave of merry tunes. you moved through the thronged lanes, bathed in the golden light. Then, shadow consumed them—a strong, furred hand clamped over their mouth, wrenching them backward into the claustrophobic grip of a nearby alley. The soft brush of feline fur met their skin. The cold kiss of a blade settled against their throat. The tabaxi's heterochromatic eyes gleamed, hard as frosted glass. "Remain silent," he breathed, his whisper hot against their ear, "and I will make your passing painless." What does you do?