[I'd prefer to run this on a Discord, Telegram or skype chat!]
Ah, good to see ya, I'm Shakad, son of Shaj, grandson of Shade Shadowka!
So, let me guess... You have an issue related to the supernatural or the downright strange, and you need some help solving that situation?
Or are you perhaps looking to get into the trade of silver slinging yourself?
Well, you are in the right place!... Or well, talking to the right fellow that is. Monster hunting has been a Shadowka family tradition ever since my great great great grandfather noticed he didn't catch the bone fever when he got bit by a ghoul!... Uhh, well he found out we are more resistant to supernatural afflictions, since that would and should have killed him otherwise.
Figuring this might be because of our blood, not the copious amounts of alcohol we Dragonians are known to consume I swear, He melted down his silver buttons and loaded them into his Colt 1860 navy, before clearing out the entire graveyard. Ever since he was obsessed with the supernatural and became quite the expert at solving situations that required some more ''creative'' thinking. It soon became his profession and he made quite a living, but he knew it could not last forever. He eventually passed his knowledge down to his son and so on and so on.
I've been doing this sorta stuff for half my life, and I'm pretty confident to say that I at least sorta know what I'm doing... No, I'm serious, I ''do'' know what I'm doing trust me.
I've dealt with Ghouls, Undead, Werewolves, Vampires, Ghosts, Hellhounds, Shapeshifters, Skinwalkers, Wendigo's, Witches, Curses and a lot more!... That and Assholes who Litter...Pricks
Now, don't be thinking that we silver slingers, which is slang for monster hunters, are just a bunch of gung-ho roughnecks with shiny shooters, no Sir/Mam!
Although we can never fully escape having to lay some lead and silver into the things that go bump in the night, most situations are solved with a silver tongue instead.
Most critters of the night are people like you and me, and are more than willing to come to terms if you can be persuasive enough. Violence is an option but not always a must!
Oh the stories I could tell you about when I met Minerva and we.... Oh, well I am getting off track, sorry about that.
Now, if you are in need of any help, or are looking to get into the trade, don't be afraid to swing by!
Shakad Shadowka
-The address is scribbled down underneath the notice in the form of a hand drawn map, pointing to the small town of Grey mountain-
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[To help you get a feel for the type of story and the world I have prepared a description of the location you can find me in. The reasons and means by which you visit are for you to decide.
You are not obligated to follow this pre-written entrance, but I figured it would help you get a feel for the story! ]
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You find yourself in front of an old wooden, three story ranch style home in the outskirts of a small village named ''Grey mountain''. The house was situated at the end of a long dirt road that lead a fair bit into the woods. The building had obviously been around for a while and the redwood walls had been bleached by the sun in certain spots, but was otherwise well maintained. The hot Southern sun and the humid Bayou air had taken their toll on most of the older buildings in this area, and it was rare to see such a place in a good state of repair.
Through the windows you could see the lights were on and smoke rose up through the chimney, curling around the tree branches as the subtle breeze carried it up towards the clouds.
Walking up to the door you'd pass another American relic. A Matte black old style Ford mustang with a set of reinforced doors and hood. It was caked in a layer of dust and mud and proudly sat on top of a set of large off road tires.
After climbing up the short stairway you'd be facing the front door. Above it sat a sign made out one of an oak board, reading the following:
'' Shadowka homestead and bar, monster hunting services. ''
There was no doorbell, instead you'd spot a knocker fabricated out of a horseshoe. This whole place gave off an old school vibe, yet had a strange welcoming look to it. If not for the car outside one might mistakenly believe they had traveled back in time to a place where electricity was not a common commodity.
After knocking you'd find the door to be unlocked and a voice called out from behind it
" Come'on in, I'll be with you in a second!''
The voice was that of a man in his mid forties, and had a slight Southern accent to it.
Following his instructions you enter into the home, Being greeted by the faint smell of charcoal and freshly cut firewood. The hallway was decorated with the skull of a deer that hung above the doorway and shelves of decorative bottles, glasses and books. Continuing through the hallway and following the source of the voice, you'd enter a much larger room that looked to be the bar or saloon type of area. It was partnered with a kitchen that split it in half with a bar top counter, and everything was styled in the same old school theme. The home was heated by a large stone fireplace that was situated in the middle of the living room and had a ring of furniture around it. The walls were covered in pelts, old deactivated guns used as wall hangers and other general clutter you'd expect.
Before you had any more time to look around you could hear someone open a can of something and place it down on the counter. Behind it Stood a tall but slender figure, clad in a red checkered shirt and dirt stained khaki cargo pants. The tall Dragonian swiped one of his bangs out of his face before he beckoned you to come closer with a smile.
'' Ah, don't be shy I don't bite... What can I do for ya stranger, need a drink?
He gestured to the old red fridge and stocked liquor cabinet behind him.
Shakad was a tall, grey skinned Dragonian with long blood red hair and a well kept beard. Dragonians were the more humanoid relatives of dragons, and were basically two legged wingless humanoid lizards who were in many ways anatomically identical to humans, except for their faces, ears,horns, a tail and a few other minor things. He had lighter red markings on his face that made it look like he was wearing warpaint around his eyes and on the bridge of his nose.
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