Role

Chapter 5

That smell, the stench of vaporous sweat and foreign liquors hung heavy in air
of the Dojo that night. Drawing to its end and giving way to dawn a sense of
trepidation welled up in the pit of his bowels. His leave of duty was almost over,
time enough only to settle a few bills leftover prior to his enlistment with the
Spire. Crumpling a sheet of paper in his paws a deep rumbling groan passed his
lips, "Nother one, mrm." motioning to the barkeep. Shaking his head he slid another
shot across the bar. A cheap mixture of vodka and milk, garnished with a sprig
catnip grasped in his paws he pondered it for a long time. Every word that comes
out of his mouth sends eyes rolling. Every stroke of the pen he so carefully
strikes met with befuddlement. They all look down on him, just another dumb alley
cat. It's hard to hold the peace when your charge doesn't respect you. It was
about to get much worse, reassigned to the golden city upon the tears he would
either stand out like a red thumb or be relegated to the shadows his profession
holds dear, hardly the qualities of a lawman. On the cusp of downing another shot
something caught his eye, a small rack at the far end of the bar. A variety of
literature filled its frame.

"Analysis of the Martial Arts, this month's edition (Ringside at the Arena)",

"Theran Weekly, (Does the Captain of the Brigade have a secret boyfriend?!)"

"Adventurous Assassins, (Joint-locks and ground controls to spice up the bedroom.)

Tabloids, trash, common enough most would overlook them without a second glance,
but one stood out to his eyes, "Bounties and Booties, featuring the special guest
article (Tails of a sleuth, the life and times of Lerzion Lionsclaw)".

At five copper coins it was a steal, he spent the rest of that night pouring over
the heavily abridged biography of the long forgotten, relatively obscure detective.
It was heavily abridged, and historian worth their salt would take note that many
artistic liberties were taken with the source material to give it a little more
edge, focusing less on his life as a rager, painting him as a hardboiled detective.

Inspiration quickly took root, even a felar could have the esteem of his more
civilized peers if presented in the right light. From this point on he endeavors
to improve himself across all avenues of societal facets, literacy, speech, posture
and more. Hoping to emulate the (Heavily embellished.) figure of his personal hero.