Who: Hellcat OTA When: Saturday March 28, 8pm Where: Near the arenas, where those heading to the fights can see What: The striped terror of Red Block is taken for a walk during fight prime time and causes some unlikely chaos Warnings: TBA
The crowd of people, owners, visitors and humans alike, parted way before him. Whispers and mutters floated through the air as they realized what was among them. Two handlers on either side held the heavy chains attached to the red-banded collar half hidden by his fur. One walked behind to ensure no trouble. He moved easily between them at a leisurely pace, sleek muscles rippling beneath orange and ebony coat. His paws made no sound on the ground as the sensitive pads absorbed impact as well as alerting him to the vibrations from movement around him. White spotted ears flicked tirelessly in all directions to catch the sounds, usually one canted forward while the other was cocked behind for best possible range. The collar irritated him, even buffered by fur, it dug at his neck continuously. His trail twitched back and forth to show his dislike of the restraint. A multitude of smells assualted his nose, mouth open slightly to allow the vomeronasal organ in the roof of his mouth to aid his nose. Sweat, food, human and mutant scents were carried on the air around him, flavored with mood and state of arousal.
He could feel the tension in the chains from the grip of the handlers on either side. Not that they'd be able to hold him if he charged forward. But he was more interested in exploring. It was rare to get out just to be out instead of being led to training rooms or arenas. He sensed no particular purpose in those who held his leash, just faint anxiety about what might happen. Stopping one hundred and sixty or so pounds was far easier than stopping five hundred with vicious claws and teeth attached. Hunger cramped his belly, golden eyes searching restlessly for the right prey and opportunity to pounce on it. A small temporary stand selling meat he identified as hot dogs came into view here and there through the throng. The rich scent of juices cooking reached his nose and between one step and the next he was veering smoothly to the right, disregarding the pressure of the leash. Humans jumped and yelled, getting out of his way. Fear scent abruptly sharpened the air and he paused looking for the prey. Muffled words with a tone of anger came from behind him as the handlers he'd dragged along crashed into the spectators.
Raksha ignored them all, refocusing on the rack of hot dogs cooking on the cart. Instincts told him to pause, to crouch and pounce on the delicious food. But experience taught him that the carts had hot metal parts that burned sensitive paw pads and noses. Snorting softly, he trotted forward again with his gaze fixed on the treat. Pressure on his neck increased as the handlers got caught and tried to untangle themselves from the crowd long enough to stop him, startled by the type of trouble he was causing. Careful to avoid the parts that burned, he settled back on his hindquarters and put his front paws on the cart, briefly staring the terrified vendor in the eye. Ignoring the potbellied male despite the opportunity for more meat, he started pulling hot dogs off the rungs with a delicate precision belied by his size.