* No, Thank Goodness! *

You reach the village around dusk, and find it perfectly placid. Kittens are playing in the last rays of light, and up ahead is what you've been waiting for, an inn! They'd better have a barber-sergeon on staff, because these quills imbedded in your muzzle both hurt and itch something awful, and if they're not removed soon you'll definitely get an infection...

You stride right up to the door and push it open, walking into the common room. The conversations stop dead as a dozen cats of various kinds turn to look at you then there is gasps and muttering as they see your gore flecked clothes and be-quilled muzzle. "If your village has one, fetch the sergeon!" You exclaim, and a young tom-kitten bolts for the back door.

One especially burlly tomcat comes over as you sit down on a bar stool. "Begging your pawdon, stranger, but I can't help noticing you've got a face full of Quill-Brute spines. Are you a monster hunter by trade, then?" He asks. His tone is hard to pin down: possibly frightened, possibly hopeful, possibly anoyed...