Qito

image made with Portrait Workshop

STATS
Name: Qito
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Class: Warrior

Description: Qito is a muscular man with a tanned skin, auburn hair, grey eyes, a straight nose and a semi-permanent frown lodged on his brown. People making eye contact usually fear Qito can read them like a book and that he's planning to come back to murder them in their sleep.  The fact that he runs around clad in leather, wearing combat boots and two swords strapped to hus belt doesn't help either. 
Personality: -Qito is a man of many talents, but he excels at violence. He can be a mercenary, a soldier, a cold blood killer, a hitman. If you can fork over the cash to hire him, then he'll get rid of the person bugging you, no questions asked. His neighbours believe that he is a serious, quiet businessman with a lot of overseas contacts as he often away for longer periods of time. he's always friendly and doesn't stand out. 
Skills: Devoid of guilt/feelings, able to blend in
Enjoys: A plan coming together
Dislikes: Unnecessary casualties (he wasn't paid for them after all). 

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STORY
Qito stalked his current target like he'd done the past week. It took time to do the work he did. Well not always, some clients preferred a clean hit from afar. But sniping had never been the tactic he enjoyed best. No, coming up close, looking his target in the eye, the thrill of the getaway. Those were the things he enjoyed. And a nice drawn-out period like this wherein he got to know his target heightened the satisfaction he would get from the kill. 
Suddenly a chill seemed to surround him. Judging from the way his target skittishly looked around, she'd felt it too. A shudder ran down his spine and suddenly his brow was sweaty and he felt very uncomfortable. It was a feeling he only remembered from his childhood when he'd been afraid of monsters in the dark. The cold calculating part of his mind took over and dismissed the feeling though he kept up his guard. There was nothing he couldn't handle. 
"Not even me?" a voice popped in his head, spreading that same chilling feeling from before.
Qito would not budge. He steeled his thoughts and sent back, just as cold: "Nothing."
A confident purr reverberated through his mind, something between a chuckle and a growl as a shadow detached from the opposite side of the street. The creature was all black marred with white stripes, white fur and metallic claws. It's wings hung in tatters but the creature didn't look as if they were at a disadvantage. 
In just a few skips, it slashed through his target and licked the blood from it's claws like a cat. 
"Done." 
"What a Killjoy." Qito sighed.
"Not Killjoy." the dragon remarked, "My name is Klingsven Filideindrah and I've come to haunt you for all eternity."
Qito stood quiet for a moment and then said: "I have just one rule."
"Which is?"
"You clean up after yourself."
Klingsven bared his teeth in a freaky smile and said: "Not a problem." After all, why would he leave a tasty snack?

Qito had wondered briefly how life with a crazed beast would work out but surprisingly, he and Klingsven were well matched. The black dragon usually left him to his own devices, only following him out on jobs. The nights had been a bit harder to get used to, the dragon often insisting on watching Qito sleep. Sometimes he woke up to the feeling of claws running down his cheek, brow or shoulder. But if the dragon had wanted to kill him, he'd done it a long time ago. 
Today though, just as Qito was eating some lasagne, Klingsven made a rather strange request:
'I have been summoned to a flight/frenzy. Want to come and enjoy the fun?"
"Abd what's fun about it?"
"Everybody lets loose." the dragon grinned, "And I thought I'd show you some places you've never seen before."