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“Oh, glorious, a customer!” You have to admit, with an approach like that, the stoat-morph is doing a very nice job of making you feel like you’re wanted here… or at least, faking the appropriate attitude. “And what can I get you today?”


Donovan is a stoat-morph, standing at about five feet tall - not painfully short, but enough that most of his customers have to at least tilt their heads down to speak with him eye-to-eye. Dressed in a faded vest and stained undershirt which contrast with the garish purple tie he’s got wrapped about his neck, he’s covered from head to toe in a coat of light brown fur that gives way to white at the front of his neck and torso. With its gold tarnished and leather faded, his belt speaks of being well past its sell-by date - and his pants and boots aren’t in much better shape, either.

Black, beady eyes peer out at the world, while round, twitchy ears swivel toward unexpected sounds. He keeps his whiskers short and well-trimmed, their neatness contrasting with the rest of his appearance. His face is usually split into a grin that displays his full set of sharp little teeth, and he certainly seems to be the most enthusiastic fellow when it comes to pushing his goods onto others. Perhaps a little too enthusiastic… or can there be such a thing when it comes to a salesman?



Donovan owns the Rigard Armor Shop - the Twopenny's Used Protectives.


  • The shop
  • Himself
  • Business
  • City Watch