Tristan_Archer

At an impressive eight foot seven, Tristan Asmodeus Archer is a towering specimen of his own, normally short and stout species. Sporting long, sandy blond hair that hangs down to the small of his back, the Lop immediately stands out in a crowd; with his black and white fur, his barrel chest and impressively curvy, yet muscular hips. Of course, one can't forget the devil in the details: that swollen, ebon cock and white furred sack. His pride and joy, his powerful tool... that ladyslayer that barely fits in his pants; arguably one of his Casino's (Club Euphoria) main attraction, alongside the beautiful women and the casino itself~

Borne of a rough childhood, Tristan knew little more than the hell that was his father, who only seemed to care for himself, his one solace was his mother who gave him all the care he needed, until she passed away, leaving nothing in his father's way of what he wanted. He promptly cut his losses and went to college, burying himself in the studies of business, aiming to gain everything he could never have. Years went by as he buried himself into those studies, a few friendships forged and tempered as time passed, but eventually one pushed too far. Using his own research and studies for her own, a woman, an upstart professor used what he knew to make money off of what he worked on. That was simply too much for him, she took everything he had, so he took everything in return and more. She 'left' the school after that and no problems happened since. But he couldn't deny that her methods were effective, and elected to take everything useful from them and use them in a more effective manner. And soon after, the rabbit was rapidly climbing the business and social ladder, and he thought nothing of it that some people in the business went missing as he continued to climb, and most certainly not the ones that vanished via his own hands.

An inherently selfish, uncaring individual, Tristan Archer only cares about himself. A crime lord whom styles himself as a business man, Mr. Archer runs a rather thriving enterprise of casinos and strip-clubs across the city; his Spade Pokerchip emblazoned upon whatever merchandise it can be put on. People know this is his emblem, and know he owns it if it's plastered upon them. He cares little about others, only to the extent of either furthering his own personal wants, or pure entertainment. This habit of marking everything even extends to the women in his care. Every single girl in his strip clubs are hand picked, and then marked with his emblem upon their body: marked as the property of Tristan Archer. If he sees someone he wants, he will throw everything into making it his, be it money, muscle, or simple charm: nothing will stop him from getting what he wants. Should something (or some one) cease to be of use or entertainment to him, he simply disposes of them without fanfare. That's not to say he's without charm; the man got to his place through charisma in addition to bribery and blackmail. Women fawn over him, men envy his power and wealth: there's very little reason to not enjoy the company of a man like him. Free rounds at the slot machines, bonuses at his poker tables, a chance to touch one of the show girls; all to give people a reason to flock to his business.