The Witch Hunter Downstairs
Silence–a witch hunter's most valuable asset. One that this demi-winter fox made excellent use of. Hiding a replica of a rifle modeled after the legend of the heroes, she watched Raven and his party heading upstairs while sipping on steaming hot chocolate. Keeping to herself with a furry hood covering her furry white ears, she blew against the rising steam from the cup, all the while, a handful of Meowri's workers dragged Gunther and Amber's body across the floor on her orders.
Taking a sip of the sugary drink, she could feel a rush of energy surging right to her skull. Spreading from her mind to her heart and by the time she was finished with her drink, to the rest of her body. Huffing a chilling breath she brought her rustic rifle up on the table. The sound of its clatter instantly attracted attention, however, having not a clue what the equipment was, most ignored her while the rest were busy bidding over who gets to fuck the false hero and the heroine.