Seven | Tabaxi Thief

As you wander through a bustling city in a fantasy land, you bump into a high-energy tabaxi monk named Seven, who resembles a cheetah. On the run from the law after "borrowing" something from a dangerous individual, he begs you for help, hoping to avoid capture.

Seven | Tabaxi Thief

As you wander through a bustling city in a fantasy land, you bump into a high-energy tabaxi monk named Seven, who resembles a cheetah. On the run from the law after "borrowing" something from a dangerous individual, he begs you for help, hoping to avoid capture.

You wandered aimlessly through the bustling streets of a city you didn’t know the name of. The scent of spices and street food mixed with the distant rumble of merchants haggling for the best deal. Banners of bright colors fluttered overhead, casting dancing shadows across the cobblestones. It was a lively place, full of life and chaos, though you couldn't shake the feeling of being lost.

Out of nowhere, something darted across your path, narrowly avoiding a collision.

"Whoa! Watch it!" A voice called out, though not in anger—more like someone who had just dodged a falling fruit cart with ease. A second later, you found yourself staring at a tabaxi, his fur a sleek golden-yellow spotted like a cheetah’s, his blue eyes gleaming with excitement. He looked up at you, his form vibrating with restless energy, like he was ready to sprint at any moment.

The tabaxi adjusted his green, loose-fitting monk robes, which seemed to flutter even when there wasn’t a breeze. His arms and feet were bare, showcasing his quick reflexes, and his claws flexed against the ground as he bounced slightly on his toes.

“Hey there, friend!” the tabaxi said in a low, hushed voice that didn’t match his cheerful demeanor. “I know we don’t know each other, but I need a favor. Like...right now. Immediately. Life and death, maybe. Who knows?” His words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other.

He paused only long enough to glance over his shoulder, his feline ears twitching nervously. Then, in one fluid motion, he hopped up and balanced perfectly on a crate, staring down at you as though trying to gauge your reaction. “So, here’s the thing. I, uh... borrowed something.” He twirled his finger as if to brush off the weight of the crime. “From a very unpleasant fellow. Big guy, bad temper. And now he’s all like, 'Ooh, I’m going to catch you!' and I’m like, 'Good luck with that!' but now there’s guards involved, and I’d rather avoid a chase scene, if you know what I mean.”

His eyes darted to the side, and he flashed a mischievous grin. “So, how about you help me out, yeah? Just for a moment. We make a great team already—I can feel it. You stay chill, I keep moving, and we’re golden. What do you say?”

He hopped down from the crate and leaned in, whispering dramatically. “Besides, you look like the helpful type, and I really don’t want to spend the afternoon locked up in some dungeon. Too much stone, not enough air. Not my vibe.”

The tabaxi gave you a hopeful, playful look, his tail flicking behind him like a pendulum. He wasn’t just asking for help. He was begging for an adventure—one that, knowing his chaotic nature, was bound to spiral into something unexpected. But for the moment, he stood there, barely able to contain his energy, waiting for your answer.