Sonic Aftermath

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(For now, this will be a private RP thread between me and Chadin. It's going to be a medieval-style, swords and sorcery adventure. Here's some Celtic music to help set the mood Smile

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jiwuQ6UHMQg

)

A traveler walked down a dusty road, bundled tight in a hooded cloak against the autumn winds. Brown, yellow, and orange leaves swirled around him, following the gusts as the road cutting through the trees created a wind tunnel effect. Old Man Winter wasn’t here yet, but the weather promised that he would be here soon.

The traveler wore a hooded blue cloak, concealing much of his face. A quiver of arrows along with a bow hung off of his back, while a short sword strapped to his belt patted against his leg over and over again. Most of the other people he met on the highway stepped out of his path. It wasn’t because he had a large, imposing figure though. It was quite the opposite. The traveler had an average height. Rather, it was the gray fox ears poking up out of his head, and the tail poking out from under the blue tunic. This man was one of the beast-folk.

As a human woman quickly tugged her child off the pathway and gawked, the canine’s golden yellow eyes focused only on the path ahead. Every time he visited human settlements this was the treatment he got. While the humans needed his kind, that didn’t mean he was welcome to congregate with them. This had been drummed into his head since he was a kit. The beast-folk generally kept to themselves, and they avoided letting the children interact with humans until they were grown up like he was now.

However, you could make great money being a wilderness guide for humans, and that’s why he was travelling to the little hamlet of Neraweather today. Beast-folk had infinitely more knowledge of how to travel and survive in the wilderness compared to their human counterparts, so their guidance was most prized while traveling overland.

As he turned another corner, Neraweather came into view. It wasn’t much of a place. A patchwork of fields spread around the town, currently barren since the harvest had been done a few weeks ago. Old houses clustered together around a good-sized inn and tavern combined into one large building. That was the man’s intended destination. This was where people came looking for guides or huntsmen like himself.

Not wasting any time, the traveler quickly made his way to the tavern’s front door. He ignored the curious glances and strolled right inside. A smell of rotting meat promptly greeted his cold, black nose. Looking off to the side, he saw a discarded piece of chicken sitting in the corner of the packed-earth floor. While there was a normal, mangy four-legged dog nearby, even it did not consider the food worthy of consumption.

However, the dog did see fit to immediately start growling at the traveler as he strolled across the room. Meanwhile, the conversations floating around the room fell silent as the other patrons followed him with suspicious eyes. Once again, the traveler paid it no mind. You needed to have thick skin if you wanted to do a job working for humans. Even though humans and beast-folk had been acquainted for centuries, comfortable or friendly interaction was rare.

But...at least they’re not hunting me down with torches and pitchforks, the canine reflected. The older folks in my town love to always remind the younger generation about the days when they’d hunt us down, as if we were just as wild and uncivilized as our four-legged kin. They always say our kind would be called things like “abomination”, or “demon”, or “freak”.

Come to think of it those names still got tossed around at him, only now it was whispered instead. But the humans never knew he heard them, considering they assumed his ears were the same as a human’s (even though they obviously weren’t).

The canine quickly made his way to the bar as the stares followed him, drawing back his cloak. He shook his head, letting his matted hair splay out a little more. He quickly took a seat at a stool, and glanced at the board with the menu behind the bartender.

“Your special please,” he said simply.

The man behind the bar glared at him for a moment, but turned and went back into the kitchen without further fuss. After all, his money was just as good as anyone else’s, wasn’t it?

In any case, to avoid speaking to any of the humans, the canine started running his hand through his hair, trying to adjust it back into a more presentable state. The silence around him was deafening, since he was the only beast-folk there at the moment.

The wind began to pick up outside, sending autumn leaves aflutter in a graceful, colourful dance upon the billowing gusts. The trees creaked and groaned against the growing breeze. Another figure emerged upon the road, this one accompanied by a small caravan of merchants seeking to strike up a trade of their goods for the small village's fair of food and supplies.

But the one leading them, the one at the head of the pack towered over the humans and stood nearly as tall as their powerful draft horses; one of the beast-folk. And yet, despite the creature's intimidating stature, it stood upon a pair legs that would appear more appropriate upon a skeleton than a living beast. In place of feet, shoes, or even paws, this creature stood upon cloven hoofs whose diminutive size belied the gaping stride of the creature. Easily for each step one of the human merchants took, the creature accounted for two with a single, casual step.

It wore a green tunic with a dark crimson band of leather lining the hem and boarders of his tunic and across the top of it's shoulders. In place of any traditional pants or kilt the creature wore a matching green and crimson kilt of sorts split into four pieces across it's front, back and sides which provided both decency for the close-minded humans and mobility for the practical minded wearer.

Beneath his large cloak, a comparatively small tail poked out from the back of the kilt and hung low against the soft cotton fabric, hiding the vibrantly white underside. The creature's face, visible for all to see was that of a deer, a stag to be precise. He bore all the traditional features of the four-legged breed, with his soft cinnamon brown coat and white underbelly and throat. A distinctive black velvet nose upon the end of a long, slender snout and large, paddle-like ears constantly swiveling and scanning for the sounds of danger. Two, imposing antlers stood proudly upon his skull, the sign of a strong, healthy stag. It wouldn't be long before his antlers would fall off for the long cold winter, but what he would lack in masculine appeal, the greater mobility more than made up for when traversing the thick snow banks of the forest floor. Of course, without his antlers human often mistook him for a doe during the winter months. To be fair, the males and females do appear very similar if one does not understand what signs to look for. After all, unlike humans, the doe's of his kind do not have such hefty bosoms, no, often they are as flat-chested as the males until it comes time to birth a fawn.

Still, it can be extremely embarrassing for all parties, and a point of insult among the stags to be mistaken for the opposite gender when dealing with humans. To that end, that is why the stag bore a distinctive tattoo upon his cheeks. Not a real tattoo of course as it would be foolhardy to sear the flesh so as to prevent any fur from growing over it. No, instead of inviting frostbite and enduring the pain of such an act, the stags often would use thick natural dyes that would bleed into the fur and stain it for months at a time; even with frequent washing.

Of course, this tradition mostly found use with those of the deer-folk who frequently dealt with humans. Many choose to live isolated lives in the deep forests away from the humans not entirely unlike their four-legged brethren. But, appealing that life may be, there could be little doubt that the humans lifestyle yielded far better food than foraging within the woods ever might.

And so it is that like many before, this stag took to serving as a pathfinder and forester, paid in either food or human coin. True, dealing with the humans at times could be a... trying experience. Especially those who would call him a demon spawn simply because of the cloven hooves he was born with. Still it is not in his nature to be aggressive, despite the daunting long bow he sported upon his back and the short dagger strapped to his belt.

The journey had been long and hard. It would be good to sit beside a warm fire and enjoy a hearty meal and rest in peace. The mood within the caravan was already raising as they laid eyes upon Neraweather. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. The merchants had been polite throughout their journey, but he could tell they felt ill-at-ease amidst him. Many a night he'd listened to their hushed whispers with perfect clarity when they thought him asleep or out of earshot. With this last caravan, it would be many months before any other humans would travel, he would make this town his temporary home-away from home for the time being. His savings more than enough to afford him a comfortable stay at the local tavern and inn. Which is precisely where he went after collecting his fee for service rendered.

Loud clunks announced his arrival, even before he opened the tavern door. To many inside, it would seem as though a tree had up and walked through the door as he had to crouch low through the comparatively low door antlers first. Another minor inconvenience of dealing with humans, but one he'd long ago learned to accept. After all, few humans were as tall as him even without his antlers. With them, none even came close. The tavern already bore a deathly stillness as he entered. He offered what might amount to an apologetic smile for the disturbance, but the people didn't seem to relax any.

A quick scan of the bar revealed a clue as to why. There at the bar, he spotted another of the beast folk. A grey fox, if he were to guess. Yes, too small for a wolf, wrong colour for coyote. Understandable perhaps why they were so on edge. Carnivores, even to a deer-folk like himself naturally carried a foreboding aura with them. Still, given that he was the only other beast-folk in the room and that the humans already appeared wary and borderline belligerent, perhaps it would be best to seek familiarity in kind.

He clopped over to the bar, his steps only muffled by the occasional fur throw rugs, eying the bow and quiver across his back and the distinct protrusion of a sword through the back of his cloak. Well armed, but he didn't this fox was a fighter like some of the wolf mercenaries he'd met in his travels. No, he struck him more as a guide like himself.

Trusting his instincts, he walked up to the stool beside the fox, confident that the fox already knew he's there. "Greetings friend. Mind if I join you, friend?" He asked politely, holding one of his hands out towards the seat beside the fox.

That's a very odd-sounding pair of boots...

The canine's ears rotated backwards to track the sound of Chadin's hooves on the packed dirt floor. Sounded a bit like wooden pegs on the hard-packed earth. His curiosity aroused, the traveler turned around on his stool to look at the sound's source. For the first time since arriving in the town, the canine let out a smile. He knew that wasn't the sound of human feet. Would have been nicer to chat with a beast folk more like himself, but beggars couldn't be choosers in a place like this.

He just hoped the deer wasn't too afraid to be near him. While being a beast folk had its benefits, some old habits and instincts from their four-legged kin just never went away. When the deer asked to sit down, the traveler nodded enthusiastically.

"Go right ahead," he said with a toothy smile. "No one else here will talk to me."

Then realizing he might make the stag nervous by putting his teeth on display like that, he mellowed his smile so the teeth would be better hidden in his mouth.

"My name is Augustine. What is yours?"

"Chadin. Pleasure to meet you, Augustine." The big deer answered as he took a seat beside the fox. The deer chuckled at Augustine's earlier comment as he cast an appraising eye over the tavern patrons. Many of them kept a weather eye on them. To be honest, it was making him more nervous than the carnivore sitting beside him.

True, like all canine's his old instincts told him to be wary of the fox, but at the same time, he also knew that unlike larger beasts like bears and wolves, foxes are no serious threat to his own kind, even the four-legged variety. Mostly due to the size difference. Even the beast-folk variety knew well enough to steer clear and avoid trouble with larger prey species like himself and his kind are fiercely defensive of their young.

"Yes..." Chadin continued, breaking himself out of his own thoughts. ", this place does seem to be less... receptive than other places I've visited. Still, there is safety in numbers."

While the two of them were talking, the dog in the corner continued to softly growl at the both of them. If the two of them were human, someone would have probably ordered the dog to be quiet.

"Yeah, I know about numbers. I've been feeling uneasy since I finished up with my last client a while ago," Nail said, trying his best to ignore the growls. "Are you a wilderness guide too? Can't imagine why else you'd come...here."

He wanted to add a few more choice words but there were plenty of humans in earshot.

"I hope I get a new customer soon. Surely there will be someone, since this place is on the road between the bigger towns around here."

"Yes, I am a guide. Though if you were expecting to find more clients here, you might be disappointed. The last band of merchants I guided here planned to stay until spring. I myself planned to set myself up here until then as well, once business picks up once more." Chadin replied as he cast a scrutinizing eye over the tavern floor. As much as he doubted any humans would be foolhardy enough to do anything more than glower, but it never hurt to be careful either.

Augustine only smiled at Chadin's words.

"There will always be that someone who plans badly and waits until the last minute to go somewhere before winter settles in. Someone in this town will be like that, and they will pay dearly for my services. You'll see."

He briefly cast an eye back at the kitchen door behind the bar. The man behind the counter hadn't reappeared yet.

"I'm built for this sort of weather, since my mother was an Arctic fox. I do quite good this time of year, since most of the other guides are wintering somewhere. Pretty soon my fur will be turning solid white."

He brought down his sleeve to show the fur. In warmer months the entire arm would be a dark shade of gray, but the underside of the arm was starting to go white.

Chadin chuckled at some past memories. "Yes, I suppose that's true. I've set myself up for a pleasant winter's stay when some foolhardy expedition insists I guide them through the wilderness. Hard to say no unfortunately, they were willing to pay extra for the late season services and that coin can get you a lot of fine luxuries after the job is done."

Chadin glanced left and right, wondering where the bar keeper was. He'd have thought they'd have come around by now to inquire what his order might be.

Augustine carried on, pulling back his sleeve to display how his dull grey coat was slowly turning to white with the coming change of season. "Must be nice, having a camouflage that changes with the seasons. Pity humans are so... adverse to seeing us beast-folk being 'indescent', as they call it, that you can't fully exploit such a gift. Sadly, all I benefit from in the winter is that these great tree branches on my head fall off. Sad to see them gone after having growing used to them all season, but it's a small price to pay to be ten or twenty pounds lighter when you have to traverse deep snowdrifts."

"You like running around without clothes?"

Some of the humans' heads shot up, when they overheard Augustine saying that. Aug's eyes shot wide open look at the response he got, realizing that he was talking a bit too casually. While interacting with humans, sometimes he forgot their cultural differences. Augustine looked around with a nervous smile, feeling embarrassed. The canine resolved to speak a little more quietly now.

"Well... Most of the men in my family make their livings working with humans, so my dad got me used to wearing them while I was a cub. It doesn't bother me wearing them all the time now. I could get by with just my natural fur in winter but clothes make it a lot more bearable."

It surprised Augustine a great deal to hear about Chadin losing his antlers for the winter.

"Wow, you lose them for winter? I never knew that."

The barkeep reappeared from the kitchen, rather disgustingly wiping his dirty hands down on his apron. Augustine hadn't seen anyone else around who looked like they worked here. Maybe he was the only person manning both the kitchen and bar? In any case, he frowned when he saw the deer sitting next to Augustine. One of the beast folk here was bad enough, but two? Oh well...money was money. Unlike Augustine, he addressed Chadin.

"So...what do you want, Mr. Deer?"

"Heh heh, I'm not saying I go around without clothes all the time either. Merely that sometimes, the bothersome things are more trouble when their worth. Besides, I would think a predator like yourself would find them more trouble than their worth during a hunt. A bright blue cloak like that must stand out like a sore thumb in the woods. Not to mention clothes tend to get tangled or snag in bushes and potentially scare away your quarry."

"The name's Chadin." the big deer pointed out politely. "I'd like to get a plate of roasted potatoes and some fresh vegetables if you have any available."

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Nail Strafer

Chadin

Nail Strafer

Chadin

Nail Strafer

Chadin

Nail Strafer

Chadin

Nail Strafer

Chadin