Redneckah's Take

Ya'll ain't telling it right at all. 

First off, Mr. Bloodtrail wasn't drinking no scotch.  No sir.  Scotch is way too classy, and we all know Mr. Bloodtrail's a sleezy, no-good low-life who'd sellout his own mother for a quick buck.  Mr. Bloodtrail wans't drinking nothing—he pulls shit like slicing up people who're minding their own business when he's stone-cold sober.  Imagine what he's like after a few swigs of whisky (and not the good kind, neither—we're talking the bottom shelf, $9.99 party handlers of the stuff).

Now Darkthorn, he's a mess.  Plain and simple.  Always bitching and moaning about something or other.  Can't count on him to pose long enough for a picture without crumbling into a puddle of snotty tears.  I swear you look at him sideways and he's gotta go scribble a poem about you done broke his heart. 

Panthera, as you can likely guess, is just a floozy.  Uses tequila as an excuse for other people to go and lick her wherever they please.  I happen to know her favorite spot is on the bottom of her foot, but she'll take a tongue just about anywheres. 

So there ya go.  I'm the only one who's got her head screwed on straight in the bunch.  But I don't let that bother me none.  Being with these Rogues is kinda like a family reunion for me.  Lotsa hollering, drinking and someone usually winds up with a broken jaw.  That's how we do.  Take it or leave it.

-Redneckah