World Without End

[Guest Kasmandre]

ooc: Hey y'all, some of you may know me and some of you may not (somehow, I think you're better off not knowing me, but that's your problem ). After a long hiatus from these hallowed halls, I've returned. ANyhoo, I invite one and all to join in a quest (after all, isn't that what life's all about?).

 

Slamming IntoC:

 

Life. It has many meanings and many forms. Always understood is the life we live in our physical forms. But what lies beyond these fragile bodies (for even the most powerful and permanent of us must one day shuffle off this mortal coil)? Glimpses into the realm of spirits are freely given, but rare is the man who is allowed a long look into the abyss. Perhaps this is the ultimate injustice, preventing us from knowing what fate awaits us; but maybe it is the ultimate mercy, for who could know what effect such a look would have. Perhaps an urge to hasten the end...and perhaps one to prevent it, no matter the cost...

 

Nightfall-

For many places, the setting of the sun is a sign for work to end and for sleep to begin. At the Pen's Keep, however, it most often signifies a beginning of the true work: writing. The daylight hours are reserved for any number of pastimes and adventures and, for many, night is the only opportunity to make some record of these adventures. So, while the world at large lies asleep, at the Pen, lights of various natures shine on desks of various natures and the days of these brave and noble ken are given permanence in the dark of night.

 

In the Old North Tower, this is doubly true, for the occupant attempts to write for two: himself and his absent love. Naturally, this is difficult work. Numerous drafts have found there way into the fireplace at the center of the highest room of the tower. Different styles and perspectives have been attempted and rejected. Despite his constant efforts, this particular door into the past has remained closed.

 

"No, no, no," Kasmandre mutters, scratching out line after line of his latest draft. "That's not what happened at all. That's not even close. Artistic license, nothing. This is just spew." Disgusted, he tosses the latest pile of rubbish into the fire. He watches the half-truths and miscommunications disappear into the smoke.

 

"Disappear? Hell no, they'll just be back next time I pick up a pen. This is hopeless. Worse, it's pointless. Who's going to care about this after it's written? Just me, and..." But he trails off, not willing to mention her name, perhaps worried about putting a jinx on her. Perhaps just worried in general. After all, it would be strange not to worry if the one you loved had neglected to write or let you know what was keeping her from returning as planned. It would worry you even more if she hadn't told you why she left in the first place.

 

Knowing he'd get no work done with such dark thoughts, Kasmandre gets up form his desk and descends the stairs of the Old North Tower, being careful to avoid the eroded portions that he had yet to repair. Maybe a walk in the night would clear his head.

 

However, he gets no farther than the door into the tower when he runs into a young serving-elf. The elf lets out a yelp of surprise and drops the tray of food that he had been bringing Kasmandre.

 

"Oh, no!" he wails, his face screwing up into an almost comical expression of horror. "Poor Sheemie has dropped nice man Kasmandre's dinner!! Poor Sheemie should be whipped good for this, so he should!! Poor Sheemie-"

 

Knowing that Sheemie will go on all night lamenting the loss of a bowl of broth and a glass of juice, Kasmandre interrupts him. "Sheemie, it's my fault. I had forgotten you were coming."

 

"Forgotten Sheemie was coming!! How could nice man Kasmandre forget Sheemie was coming? Sheemie comes every night to bring nice man Kasmandre his supper, so he does!! Sheemie has never forgotten a once, he hasn't!!"

 

Kasmandre searches quickly for a way out of this dilemma. Then he realizes the obvious answer: "It's just that you're early tonight, Sheemie. I wasn't expecting you quite yet. I was going to go for a walk."

 

"Oh, Sheemie is sorry for coming so early and interrupting nice man Kasmandre's walk, so he is!! Sheemie just met the funny-funniest man and he wanted to tell nice man Kasmandre about him, so he did!!"

 

Kasmandre thanks whatever gods rule this land for this ready-made out. "And what man was this, Sheemie?"

 

"A funny-bunny of a man, nice man Kasmandre, so he was!! He was walking through the halls all losty-wosties, he was!! So Sheemie asks him what he's looking for like a good serving-elf should, so he did!! And you'll never guess who he was looking for, nice man Kasmandre, so you won't!!"

 

Kasmandre is already smiling widely in anticipation of the punchline. "Who was he looking for, Sheemie?"

 

"He said he was looking for 'Ren Rasault Brightlance,' so he did!! And Sheemie tells him there's no such person, and Sheemie knows everyone in the Keep, so he does. And Sheemie tells the man that someone put him on a wild goosey-woosey chase, so they did!!! Isn't that funny, nice..." Sheemie trails off there, noticing the expression on Kasmandre's face. Sheemie had never seen anything like it on nice man Kasmandre's face. If he hadn't known nice man Kasmandre very very well, he would have said nice man Kasmandre was scared.

 

"Sheemie," Kasmandre says, and hell if he doesn't sound scared too! "Are you sure the man was asking for Ren Rasault Brightlance? Are you positive that's what he said?"

 

"Aye, nice man Kasmandre, that's what he said," Sheemie says, feeling a little scared himself.

 

"Sheemie, do you know where this man is now?"

 

Sheemie thinks for a moment, then replies, "I think he said he was going to get a drink in the tavern before he left the Keep so he did. But nice man Kasmandre-"

 

But at this point Kasmandre is already halfway down the corridor.

[Guest Kasmandre]

As Kasmandre races through the myriad hallways of the Keep, his mind is fixated on the name Ren Rasault Brightlance and why the writer would use that name.

 

There was never a single question of who had sent the letter, only one person in this world knew that name. Even in the world he had originally come from, he hadn't used the name Ren Rasault openly in thousands of years. And since crossing over to here...

 

No, there was only one possible origin. But why, in the name of all the gods that ever were, would she send a letter to him in that name. She would know that he didn't use that name anymore. It'd be like wearing a dress shirt to paint a fence.

 

So why?? Why not just send it to Kasmandre?

 

There was no answer.

 

Kasmandre bursts through the door of the Tavern, startling a few of the newer members of the Pen. All the more experienced ones are used to people making entrances in this way.

 

Kasmandre shouts above the general din, "I'm looking for a messenger."

 

About a third of the patrons look up, obviously this is a popular occupation. Most of them mutter, "I'm off duty." into a mug of ale and continue drinking.

 

One, however, says, "Unless your name's Ren Rasault Brightlance, I don't give a @#%$."

 

Kasmandre walks over to the man. "And if it is?" he asks.

 

"Then I got a letter for you," he replies. "You him?"

 

"Yes, give me the letter."

 

The messenger reaches into his cloak and pulls out a letter. "That'll be ten geld," he says holding the letter out.

 

Kasmandre digs a number of coins out of his purse, tosses them down on the bar and takes the letter. He sits down at the bar, his back to the messenger who is busy gathering up what must be a generous amount. With trembling hands, Kasmandre breaks the seal and reads the parchment within:

 

Dearest Ren,

I can only hope this letter reaches you. Although I am certain that the messenger I send is trustworthy, I could not give her your common name for fear of the letter falling into foul hands. I can only pray she is able to find you.

When I set out months ago, I was in search of a wizard I had heard mention of. From the stories I heard, I believed he could restore our lost powers (I intended it as a wedding gift, so much more the fool was I). I found this "wizard" although he is much more and less than that. Instead of aiding me, he captured me, as an end to his own twisted means.

I was able to escape, but at great expense. I am now in hiding the coastal town where we first arrived (I fear even to include its name here).

This wizard's work is detestable in the extreme and he must be stopped, no matter the cost. You must come at once, bringing whatever men you can gather (and my prayers beg that the Pen's residents are as great as the stories proclaim, for we'll need such!).

Come with haste, my love, for the wizard has agents everywhere.

Eternal love,

-C

 

Kasmandre's hand's tremble even more as he finishes the letter. But they no longer tremble with fear, but with extreme rage. I will pay this wizard back for every harm that has come to-

 

But then a line of the letter catches his eye: "I could not give her your common name for fear of the letter falling into foul hands. I can only pray she is able to find you."

 

her. she But the messenger was a...

 

Kasmandre turns, just a little too slow. The messenger is already striking, the sword bearing down on his head.

 

There's no time for Kasmandre to react...

 

ooc:Ok, feel free to jump in! If no one does, the story will end in a hurry...

[Gyrfalcon]

Daryl glared down into his mug of ale with a dissatisfied twist to his mouth. There wasn’t any specific thing he could pin his bad mood on- it was just the result of a day full of minor disappointments and aggravations with few good things to balance the list. Rather then take his bad mood out on Gyrfalcon, who graciously allowed the werefox to use an unoccupied room in his suite, Daryl had removed himself to the tavern to try to relax. He had been managing to do that fairly successfully, but suddenly...

 

“I’m looking for a messenger!” a voice cried out, rising above the general din of the tavern. Daryl looked up to see who was asking, and noticed that many other people had as well. Most of them responded they were off duty, but one surly fellow a few seats down from Daryl growled out.

 

“Unless your name's Ren Rasault Brightlance, I don't give a @#%$." He immediately returned to his drink, but the man in the door had heard him. He approached the messenger, and Daryl discreetly studied him. He was a little taller then Daryl, and was dressed in a flowing white shirt and light blue trousers. His hair was black, and was a bit disordered, as if he had rushed down to the tavern. He had a strange scare over his right eye, vaguely cross shaped.

 

“And if it is?” the man, who seemed to be Ren, asked.

 

"Then I got a letter for you," the messenger replied, his eyes assessing Ren a bit more carefully then was normal for his type. "You him?"

 

"Yes, give me the letter." Ren said shortly, obviously eager to see the letter.

 

The messenger reaches into his cloak and pulls out a letter. "That'll be ten geld," the man stated, the standard fee for messengers.

 

Ren distractedly threw two dozen or so gold coins on the bar in front of the messenger and took the letter. By chance, the chair just to the left of Daryl was unoccupied, and Ren took it and immediately cracking open the letter. Daryl could see by the way the letter trembled that the man's hands were shaking.

 

Daryl shook his head and his motion hitched as he saw the messenger stand. He had just taken a large payment, and most messengers celebrated that with more then a few drinks...

 

Wary, Daryl lifted his cup and ducked his head, looking as if he was intent on his drink, and allowed his peripheral vision to register the man’s movements... as he drew a sword. Ducking his head a bit more, Daryl subtly tensed.

 

“Her? But the messenger is a...” the man beside him said in a startled tone. He turned around and gasped in surprise as the sword arced towards his head. There was no way he could block the blow, and he knew that he was going to die...

 

Daryl turned to the left and his arm short out, closing over the man’s wrist. The man’s momentum played out against Daryl’s corded muscles, the sword halted instantly, inches from Ren’s startled eyes.

 

“I’ve had a bad day, swordsman. I’m willing to give you a worse one if you don’t go away now.” Daryl snapped in irritation. The last thing he wanted today was to have someone killed right next to him.

 

Instead of trying to jerk his sword free as most people would have tried, the man jerked a dagger from his belt and lunged across his body, stepping closer to Daryl to try to sink his dagger into whoever was holding his sword away from its target.

 

To his credit, the man executed the fairly difficult maneuver perfectly, stabbing Daryl straight in the stomach. Unfortunately for the assassin, his dagger was neither silver nor magical, and all it did was put a hole in Daryl’s shirt and give him a minor scratch.

 

Daryl sighed and rolled his eyes up to the heavens. “Why do they always have to try to stab me?” he asked the uncaring gods as the fact that his target wasn’t bleeding washed across the erstwhile assassin’s mind. He struck again and again, further ruining Daryl’s shirt- and his mood.

 

“That’s it” Daryl growled. His free hand snapped across and caught the man’s dagger hand as the werefox stood. With an almost contemptuous ease, he crossed the man’s arms, keeping either weapon from being brought into play. This also brought the man’s face close to Daryl’s own- which Daryl took advantage of by head butting him hard. The man’s head snapped back, and the assassin woozily tried to reel back, but Daryl’s grip prevented him from doing so, and allowed Daryl to snap his head forward again, smashing the man’s nose.

 

The werefox released his grip and the man tried to bring his weapons around into a guard. All that netted him was a painful chop to the wrist, sending his sword flying. Desperately, the assassin slashed with his dagger, but missed. Daryl responded by driving his knee up hard, and the assassin’s breath left him in a great rush as his face drained of blood. He dropped his dagger, then curled up and whimpered.

 

“What a day.” Daryl said with a sigh as the bouncers forced their way through the crowd.

 

“What’s going on here?” The head bouncer, a burly dwarf holding a large club, asked in a deceptively quiet tone.

 

OOC: A note on Daryl- right now, Kasmandre/Ren won’t know he’s a werefox, (though he might wonder why Daryl isn’t bleeding from multiple stab wounds...) since Daryl doesn’t advertise the fact and is currently in his human form. A description of Daryl can be found here:

 

http://home.earthlink.net/~gyrfalcon/theae...e/darylbio.html

 

So you know what your savior looks like. *smiles*

[Guest Katzaniel]

A petite female tabby cat lay on the garbage cans outside a tavern, trying to sleep. The cat had been restless all evening, lacking even a mouse to keep her busy. No one inside the tavern seemed willing to accompany her strange tigertaur form, as none of them knew her yet, so she kept herself in this form until she could gain more aquaintances around the Pen. This process was slow, however, and she was glad for a moment of excitement when she saw a clearly upset man run all the way down the street and enter the building.

 

Katzaniel got up and stretched, then sauntered into the bar. She witnessed the scene that took place inside, and noticed the lack of blood that Daryl was displaying. Obviously there was something non-human about this guy, she thought. Perhaps he would be more accepting of her. Nonetheless, she stayed in observer mode for a little longer, not wanting to frighten anyone. If anything more happened, she could always follow them outside and introduce herself there. Meanwhile she lay down again and licked her paws, keeping them clean whilst keeping up appearances.

 

*Katz

 

"No man ever steps in the same river twice - for it's not the same river and he's not the same man." -Heraclitus

 

Edited by: Katzaniel at: 11/25/02 7:38:00 pm

[Guest Kasmandre]

Kasmandre nodded thanks to the man who had come to his fortunate rescue. He then turned to the bouncer and answered, "There's nothing going on here. This gentleman," he picked the messenger up off the floor and gave him a hard shake, "was just going to tell me exactly how he came into possession of a certain letter. Weren't you?" And Kasmandre's eyes flashed a bright red.

 

The messenger grimaced and spit in Kasmandre's face. "You and yer hardcase friend there can do whatever you want to me, I'd rather die than betray the Wizard."

 

Kasmandre's eyes now glowed with crimson fire. He kneed the messenger in the gut and punched him in the face, sending him back to the floor. The bouncers (and Daryl) had seen enough. They grabbed Kasmandre, restraining him with some difficulty.

 

"Look," the head bouncer yelled into Kasmandre's ear, "I don't care if you fight, just do it outside!"

 

Kasmandre looked at the bouncer with a look that screamed murder. "Outside is fine by me," he said emotionlessly. And then, all the men holding Kasmandre were flung back by some unseen power. Kasmandre grabbed the messenger by the shoulders and heaved him through the nearest window, into the street beyond. Kasmandre then left the tavern (through the front door) without so much as a backward glance.

--------------

Kasmandre1.1

All the old bugs have been fixed

We swear!!

Ok, there is this one where he explodes when placed beside women with large leather shields.

But what're the odds of that?

[Gyrfalcon]

One moment Daryl was helping to restrain the angry Ren, the next he was flying head over heels through the air. Hitting the wall hard, Daryl slid down to slump on the floor, muffling a cry of pain and waiting for his broken scapula to regenerate.

 

A small tabby cat meowed at him and padded over, sniffing him curiously. Her back arched and her fur puffed out as she caught the strange scent of this seeming human, but then the cat consciously relaxed and meowed at him again. Daryl distractedly petted the cat with his good hand, somewhat surprised at her reaction- most cats wanted nothing to do with him. Rubbing carefully behind the cat’s ears, he managed to evoke a contented purr from the small cat, conscious of the fragments of his scapula shifting back into their proper arrangement and fusing. He tried to ignore the scream from outside.

 

“So, what brings you here, little one?” he asked the cat, not really expecting an answer, before wincing as another scream echoed from outside. Somewhere nearby, a hand bell began ringing as one of the constables that served the town at the base of the Pen Keep called for backup.

 

“It looks like someone is having his head handed to him... and given the way that man I helped was acting, I’d say it’s not Ren.” Daryl told the cat. She meowed and nuzzled his hand in response.

 

“Hey, you all right?” One of the kinder patrons asked. Daryl looked up and waved his unoccupied hand without any pain “Yeah, I just got the wind knocked out of me when I hit the wall, and this cat here wanted some attention.” Daryl said with an easy smile.

 

“That’s good. You’re luckier then those bouncers- half of ‘em are out cold. Damned mages- you can’t even lay hands on them because of all those damned spells.” The man said bitterly.

 

Daryl shrugged. “Maybe, but that would-be assassin shows that mages can die as quickly as anyone else when they’re surprised.”

 

The man brightened a bit and chuckled “Which is why so many tend to have fighters like yourself around them. It helps to prevent those sorts of incidents. Hey, if you need work, look me up- Dril Yarnaga- any of my caravans would do well with an extra fighter of your skill.”

 

Daryl smiled and bowed his head. “I’ll remember to do so should I need work.” he promised.

 

A few moments later, a burly police sergeant and several constables entered and started towards the bar. Daryl eyed their demeanor and judged it a good time to leave. He silently got to his feet and ducked into the dimmer portions of the room, making his way quickly to a hallway that led to the inn’s rooms.

 

“Mew!” Daryl started and turned to see the tabby looking up at him. “Meow!” she said for emphasis, winding around his legs. Daryl quickly picked up the cat and perched her on his shoulder. Her claws latched onto his shirt as he made his way down the hallway. Behind him, he could hear the bartender and the sergeant talking.

 

“The one that broke up the fight in here? He’s right over- hey, where’d he go? He didn’t pay his tab!”

 

“Search the place!”

 

Daryl judged it a good time to leave, and he quickly ducked out the window at the end of the hallway. He slid through the window adroitly and paused for a moment to secure a fishhook on a line to the inner handle. Once through, he gave the fishhook an expert jiggle, causing the window to shut itself. Another jiggle pulled the fishhook free and he pulled the hook out under the window, returning it to his possession. Moments later, Daryl hurried on into the growing gloom as night fell, safely away from official scrutiny and with a tabby cat perched on his shoulder.

 

He reiterated softly “Today is not my day.”

 

OOC: Any town will have its police force, and I think they’d frown on dueling in the street. It’s up to you if you manage to kill the assassin before they come, Kasmandre, and if you manage to evade capture or not. We’ll have to blunder into each other soon.

 

Katzaniel- Sorry to hijack you like that, but it allows you to observe Daryl a bit.

[Guest Katzaniel]

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Daryl had reached relative safety in an alley, distant from the recent action, Katzaniel allowed herself to slip off of his shoulder, landing with a soft thud on the cobblestones below.

 

The young man, aware of the cat's departure, turned around to see the tabby looking up at him quizzically. He kneeled, petting her a little more, and finding himself wondering what she was thinking about him. For that was the overall impression that she exuded: silent evaluation of his person.

 

He returned the expression, trying to figure out whether this small creature really was able to think in that way, and what conclusion she was reaching. Then he saw something that would have surprised the average person into running away, or striking at the cat, or some other extreme response. The cat began to grow, her hair taking on a sandy hue, her thighs and shoulders and the rest of her increasing rapidly in size until before him he saw a lion crouching in the alley. He took a step back, but with all he'd seen in his life, that was all the reaction that took place.

 

The lion lifted its paw up to him, and for whatever personal reason, he took it. When he did so, another change, more difficult to describe, began to take place. Within moments, he found himself holding the hand of a creature, half man, half cat. The man portion of the figure was dressed only in a bone necklace, and the other hand held an ancient-looking spear. The lower half was a tiger, bold orange fur decorated with piercing black stripes across a muscular midsection and complete with four legs and tail. Daryl's eyebrows raised unbidden, for the sight was spectacular, if somewhat forewarned. The tigertaur let go Daryl's hand, but when he didn't make his exit, it spoke.

 

"What is that strange scent on you? What is it that makes you not judge me?"

 

Edited by: Katzaniel at: 11/26/02 9:30:38 am

[Guest Kasmandre]

"Tell me!"

 

Slam!

 

Kasmandre picked up the messenger, who was now quite bloody. He held up the limp form so they were eye to eye. The messenger no longer looked afraid, as he had when Kasmandre had first come out of the tavern. He was past afraid. He knew that he was going to die very soon. Now he just wanted the pain to stop.

 

"Tell me," Kasmandre growled.

 

The messenger gurgled bloody nonsense.

 

Kasmandre screamed in frustration, a scream that sounded more like something that would come from an animal than from a man. He heaved the messenger straight up in the air. The messenger flew twenty feet up, then came hurtling toward the ground. As he reached Kasmandre, Kasmandre gave him a downward shove, adding even more momentum to the fall. The messenger hit the ground with a sickening crunch.

 

Kasmandre knelt down and picked up the messenger's head. Blood dribbled from the messenger's lips. He said a single word (or maybe it was just nonsense): "Gelban."

 

"Alright, stand up," a voice behind him yelled, "slowly."

 

That'll be the local posse, Kasmandre thought. Briefly, the idea of using magic against them crossed his mind. He quickly quickly brushed away, although he didn't know whether he dismissed it because he didn't want to harm law-men or because he didn't want to waste any more of his finite store of mana.

 

Kasmandre did as he was told, standing slowly with his hands raised. When he was finished standing, he felt a point in his back. One of the officers had a sword right behind his heart. He needed to think of a way out of this, he'd had too much to do to get stuck in some cell.

 

"Now, look, mage, I'm gonna put these here bracelets on you. If I so much as smell magic, you're gonna wake up on the other side of this life."

 

Kasmandre felt cold steel wrap around his right wrist a quick glance up revealed the nature of the "bracelets." They were two locking rings connected by a short length of chain. In other lands Kasmandre had heard them called "handcuffs."

 

The officer with the bracelets twisted Kasmandre's right arm behind his back and grabbed the other one to do the same. At the same moment, the officer with the sword to Kasmandre's back moved his weapon a little to the left. Just an inch, but maybe enough.

 

Well, @#%$, Kasmandre thought, you only go around once... And with a single, fluid motion, Kasmandre twisted around to his right, escaping the grip of the officer. Unfortunately, the officer with the sword was quicker than many of his ilk, and managed to thrust his sword as Kasmandre turned. His sword hit Kasmandre's shoulder blade and tore a line to his armpit as he turned.

 

Kasmandre winced at the pain, but didn't let it slow him down. He started running down a nearby alleyway, the police in hot pursuit.

 

ooc: If you still want time to talk to each other, this could be a different alley, I'll judge what Kasmandre does next off your next posts.

--------------

Kasmandre1.1

All the old bugs have been fixed

We swear!!

Ok, there is this one where he explodes when placed beside women with large leather shields.

But what're the odds of that?

[Vlad]

OOC: I'm assuming this is a fairly large city...

I'm also going to have two guys for a few posts, one will die, don't worry.

 

IC: As Kasmandre was running from the cops, and the were-creatures were conversing, a different course of events was taking place elsewhere.

 

In an alley off of the main street in town, which also happened to be the street Kasmandre was running down, two men were plotting.

 

Man 1-So, the boss sends us to this town no one's ever heard of...

Man 2-...to kill a guy named Remme. Yes.

Man 1-I though his name was Reg. Like Reggie, but shorter.

Man 2-Well, read the note boss gave us.

Man 1-Don't you have it?

Man 2-I remember boss handing it to you.

Man 1-@#^&!!! Wha'da we do now?

Man 2-Let's ask this nice gentleman running by...

Man 1-He won't stop to talk to you, the authorities *cough* are after him.

Man 2-Well, let's ask them.

 

The two men leave the cover of the alley, and step out into plain view. They obviously never have heard of this place. One is wearing shorts, no top, the other has several layers of clothes on, not to mention gloves and a hat.

 

Man 2-Excuse me, officer?

Officer-Can't ya see I'm busy, buddy?

Man 1-Hey, isn't that Jerry's body?

Man 2-Yes, I think it is. But it can't be... He's off by some place called "The Pen".

Man 1-I think that guy was our man.

Man 2-Really??

 

The second man pulls out a rather large object out of an unseen pocket. It appears to be a horribly contructed bow, with a band of rubber for the string, and twigs for arrows.

 

Man 1-What is that thing?

Man 2-I was about to ask you how I use it...

Man 1-If we get this guy, I think we get a raise.

Man 2-How can you think about money when Jerry is lying dead right next to you.

 

By the time this dastardly duo figured out to chase after Ren, they are the only two left in the street.

 

OOC: I hope I didn't take this too lightly.

---Vlad the Imploder---

No relation to Vlad the Impaler

 

"If I had $75 for every time that happened, by the way, it'll cost you $75..." -Dr. Hibbert

"Hello, everybody!" -Dr. Nick

"Me is smart. Dur." -Stick

[Guest Kasmandre]

ooc: *holding his head in his hands* I'd hate to see what you'd try if you wanted to take it "too lightly." It's fine, just try to keep in mind that, for the most part, this is a serious story. While some comedy is unavoidable, I don't want this to become a farce. *steps of his soapbox*

 

Just a couple notes: "Jerry"(it's as good a name as any) the messenger/assassin, wasn't dead yet. Although whether those two morons would realize this is a wholly different point. Also, I'm starting an ooc in the Greenroom, so I don't clutter up this thread with any more ooc: posts.

--------------

Kasmandre1.1

All the old bugs have been fixed

We swear!!

Ok, there is this one where he explodes when placed beside women with large leather shields.

But what're the odds of that?

[Gyrfalcon]

Daryl blinked at the strange creature before him as his mind struggled to process the question. It wasn’t the complexity of the relatively simple question that was giving him problems, but the sheer existence of the man/tiger before him. A lycanthrope himself, he was familiar with many types of shape changers and strange hybrids like the tigertaur before him. However, a shape change from female house cat to lioness to male tigertaur? That was truly strange.

 

“Ah... that would take a while to explain. A demonstration might prove quicker.” Daryl said with a minimal bow, trying to decide how to address this strange person- sir? Madam? Tiger?

 

Daryl straightened and closed his eyes, reaching inside of himself. Katzaniel watched curiously as the strange human twitched once, then growled in pain. The growl deepened into a low scream and Katzaniel took a step back as Daryl’s features bulged weirdly as they reshaped.

 

Immersed in agony, Daryl forced himself through the change from man to a hybrid of man and fox, furred and fox-headed, tailed but walking upright. Straightening from his partial crouch, Daryl shook his head briskly and instinctively scented the night air. The smells of a city, both fair and foul were overwhelming for a moment, but then Daryl blocked them from his mind and caught other scents. The closest, strongest and most interesting came from the tigertaur he stood across from. Daryl smelled all at once tiger and human, lioness and house cat, panther and leopard and puma and cheetah... the creature across from him seemed to represent the potential to assume the form of any cat that had ever walked under the glimmering stars.

 

Remembering his manners, Daryl bowed once again and held his arms out for inspection.

 

“My scent, tigertaur? That would happen to be because I’m a werefox, and my scent is an combination of fox and human. As for not judging you? To be frank, I’ve met a lot stranger creatures then you over the past few years. By the Nine Hells, my room mate is an immortal half-elf who was once one of the most powerful magic users in the world! I’ve worked with vampires and met the daughter of a world that sits between two universes. A shape-shifting tigertaur is certainly interesting, but I have no reason to fear you because of what you are.” Daryl smiled slowly as an observation came to him.

 

“I think people judge others because they don’t want to judge themselves, to look inside and see how irrational their fears and hatreds are. I have no reason to hate you and little to fear you unless you choose to attack me. And the fact you’ve decided to talk hints that you don’t want to fight.” Daryl finished with confidence.

 

Daryl cocked his head curiously. “My name is Daryl. What would yours happen to be, tigertaur? And how are you able to shape shift like that? Most shape shifters like myself only have a few closely related forms that we can change to. You, however, have shown yourself capable of three disparate forms and of changing your gender.”

[Guest Katzaniel]

The tigertaur smiled in mirth. "Most people never get far enough to ask that question," it said. "But the answer is that I have not changed my gender at all - I am really two beings inside one body - albeit a very pliable one. We're not quite sure what exactly did it, all we know for sure is that a long time ago, a magical spell went wrong, and here we are."

 

"I can be any type of cat I find the need for," it continued, "but unfortunately only this last shape, the mixture of the being I used to be with the man who cast the spell and is now trapped in this mind, is the only one with the vocal cords capable of making human speech. Because of the very same judging attitudes of which you speak, I find it convenient to be inconspicuous as an alley cat most of the time. But, we get bored of each other after a while, that's why I decided to follow you. That man you rescued in the bar, do you think he might need help again?"

* Katz

"No man ever steps in the same river twice - for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.

-Heraclitus

 

Edited by: Katzaniel at: 11/28/02 9:45:17 am

[Gyrfalcon]

Daryl scratched behind one ear, making certain he had taken in the entire statement. As far as he could discern, the creature before him was composed of two souls inhabiting one body, which for whatever reason was capable of shifting through many different shapes.

 

“A very interesting way to exist.” Daryl said in wry understatement. “If I may ask- what was your name again?”

 

Katzaniel blinked and then extended his hand. “I am Katzaniel.” Daryl took the tigertaur’s hand in his own furred hand.

 

“As I said before, I am Daryl.” he responded.

 

The werefox considered Katzaniel’s last question and shrugged. “Given the way he threw me and those bouncers without even a word or gesture, I’d say he can take care of himself. Still, this probably isn’t the best place to have a discussion- perhaps we should head back towards the Pen Keep?” Daryl suggested.

 

His expression changed as he looked over Katzaniel’s shoulder, going from confusion to wry humor.

 

“On the other hand, I could be wrong. I think I just saw Ren run by with a few officers after him.” Daryl said in an amazed tone.

 

Unfortunately, the sound of his voice attracted the attention of the next band of officers, and five of them turned down the road. They stopped short as they considered the two furred figures. Then one of them made the mistake of drawing his sword. “Surrender!” he shouted at Katzaniel and Daryl. The werefox sighed.

 

“Excuse me for a moment.” He said politely to Katzaniel before stepping around the tigertaur and walking slowly towards the policemen.

 

“Stop and drop to the ground!” One of them shouted, aiming a crossbow at Daryl.

 

“I believe arresting us because of what we look like is called discrimination, humans. Whoever you’re chasing after, I doubt he has fur, so please go away.” Daryl said calmly. Behind him, Katzaniel and turned around and subtly moved forward as Daryl kept the police’s attention on himself.

 

“Drop!” Came the predictable barked command. Daryl’s mouth thinned as he reviewed his options and came to the conclusion he wasn’t obeying these idiots. Daryl had never developed any respect for the police, as those he had met have always been corrupt, greedy, cruel, and stupid. These five hadn’t done anything to dispel that illusion.

 

“No.” Daryl said, stepping forward again at an implacable pace. The rest of the police had drawn swords now. The officer with the crossbow didn’t bother with another warning, but instead fired at Daryl.

 

Daryl blurred as he leapt into the air, the bolt striking sparks against the stone wall where Daryl had stood moments before. Daryl rolled once in midair and came down on his feet in the middle of the surprised police. Before they could bring their swords around to defend against their sudden opponent, Daryl struck.

 

Daryl punched and kicked, striking the police officers with amazing force. Unlike the assassin he had fought earlier this evening, the officers wore chainmail armor. If it made any difference to the unnaturally strong werefox, he didn’t show it, quickly rendering three of the policemen unconscious.

 

The fourth man with a sword dropped it and circled behind the werefox, planning to stab him in the back with his silver-washed dagger. What little lore he knew suggested that he could do some serious damage with his otherwise largely ornamental dagger. Before he could raise his dagger and strike however, a hand tapped his shoulder. “Eh?” was the last thing the guard said as he partially turned, only to receive the iron-hard wooden shaft of the spear Katzaniel held across his face, knocking the policeman unconscious.

 

The last man frantically struggled to reload his crossbow, sweat dripping into his eyes as he watched the two monsters beat his friends senseless without breaking a sweat. Fumbling a crossbow bolt into place, he started to raise his crossbow, then stopped and swallowed as the razor edge of the tigertaur’s spear blade touched his throat. Before the man could contemplate heroics, Daryl took the crossbow from him. The werefox nodded, and the spear was withdrawn. Before the man could consider this, Daryl smashed him across the back of the head with the stock of his own crossbow, dropping the man into comforting unconsciousness.

 

“This place is really getting to be a bad place to stay. Why don’t we leave?” Daryl suggested, warily scenting the air, his ears turning this way or that to confirm that there were no observers of their recent scuffle with the law.

[Guest Katzaniel]

"That sounds best," agreed Katzaniel. "I don't know the city very well, but if you lead, I'll follow."

 

The tigertaur looked down at one of the unconscious bodies at its feet. "It's a pity about them, if only because they won't forget us when they wake up. Neither of us is exactly conspicuous, but at least we both have the option of temporarily discarding these forms. Anyway, you're right, let's get a move on."

 

The tigertaur's form melted into that of a sleek cheetah, who looked expectantly at Daryl for a moment before the two took off.

* Katz

"No man ever steps in the same river twice - for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.

-Heraclitus

[Vlad]

The Big Pointy One posted,

 

It was late, and the young demi-human samurai had just made his way into town. Not through the front gates of course. Usagi (as he was commonly known) had been outside the protective walls of The Pen doing some meditation, as well as practicing his bladework. The rabbit warrior preferred avoiding most humans as they were unused to his appearance; not to mention, he wasn't exactly the type who kept many friends. After scaling the outside wall, Usagi easily lept across the distance from the battlements to the top of the nearest building. Running silently across the various rooftops, he quickly made his way to the inner walls of the keep. He was interrupted however, by a loud order of "Drop!" Instinctively he crouched down on the highest point of the building he was currently on. He quickly found where the order had come from. Apparently a group of five officers had decided to confront a werefox and what looked like a half-tiger, half-human. Usagi shrugged, he had seen many things in his life time.

 

Carefully placing one hand on the hilt of one of his katanas, Usagi tensed, ready to leap off and aid whomever he felt needed it. Right now he figured it'd be the highly outnumbered pair. Still, he watched in curiosity to see how things started off. He nodded smugly as the officers were quickly dealt with in a lon-lethal manner. Whomever these two were, they obviously weren't out to do too much harm, otherwise those officers would be lying in puddles of their own blood by this point. Letting go of his katana, he waited for the duo to start moving again before he started to follow. However, only moments after they started on their rapid pace, they stopped.

 

Daryl raised his nose to the air, sniffing a few times. "Do you smell that, Katzaniel?"

 

Katzaniel, who was currently in cheetah form raised her head, smelling the air. Instead of changing back to her tigertuar form, she simply nodded, and motioned to the rooftop where Usagi was perched within the shadows, like some bird of prey.

 

"Odd, I always figured rabbits were more of a country creature. And on a roof more less. That means whomever's following us could only be..."

 

Seeing no need to hide any longer, Usagi hopped to the ground, right in front of Daryl and Katzaniel. They both instinctively went into attack-ready stances, waiting for a reason to lunge. In a slow, non-threatening manner, Usagi eased his katanas from their sheathes.

 

"Usagi, I take it? Gyrfalcon had mentioned you. I believe he said you have a bad attitude, can't work in a group all that well, are arrogant and egotistical. On the other hand, you can *almost* back it all up."

 

The rabbit warrior nodded once. "Indeed. So, is he still alive? Last I checked, he had a bit of trouble handling that katana of his." Daryl couldn't help but chuckle momentarily. "Oh well. Anyways, I'm not sure who you two are, but I hope you realise that there are laws around this place, and attacking officers is against one of them."

 

"Yes, well, I hope you realise I don't take too kindly to being associated with crime, simply because of my non-human form. If you don't mind, we were currently vacating the presence. If it's a fight you seek, let's make it quick. If not, get out of our way."

 

Usagi slid his katanas back into their sheathes, seeing no need for a fight here. He stepped to the side, motioning to the alley in which Daryl and Katzaniel were heading. He shrugged and set a pace down a side alley when he suddenly bumped into Kasmandre.

 

 

OOC: I'll let you take it from here... I hope you don't mind me adding to the fur count at this point. Or joining in right now. Heh.

Vlad the Imploder posted,

 

OOC: Just remember, I am John.

 

The two men were getting ready to start looking for Ren again, when they were encountered by the meanest burlyest, uglyest bunch of police officers they had ever seen. These two don't get out much.

 

As the officers approached, James (Man 2) readied his bow in the only way he knew how. Point the stick at the guy and hope it hits. John (Man 1) on the other hand, was prepared to surrender at any given moment, with his sabre trembling in hand.

 

The officers all had nice gray uniforms, with helmets like those of World War I germans. There were five in all, ranging in height drastically. In fact, the difference was so severe that one was completly hidden by another.

 

The one in front had a long long-sword that he expertly wielded, wheras the one in back had a crossbow which he aimed through the hole between the tall one's legs. John happened to see the crossbow, and it caused something inside of his mind to snap.

 

John slowly turned to his left, eyeing everyone carefully. He lunged forward at his former comrade, and madly slashed with his blade. Luckily for James, only his top five layers of clothes were torn, and he remained unharmed physically, if not mentally.

 

This behavior not only stunned the guards, but also made them question their opponent's sanity. Deciding it would be dangerous to actually hurt these madmen, the guards put down their weapons and charged at their foes.

 

Seeing the charge, James let go of the arrow he had set in his bow earlier. Unfortunatly, he used the bow backwards, and the arrow went straight into his gut.

 

Seeing his partner, or former partner, fall to the ground in agony, John immediately suspected magic on the part of the cops, and as such, began to run. He ran and ran and ran... in circles, while the law stared in pure horror.

 

One officer, apparently getting dizzy watching the mentally unstable man decided to put a stop to this. He slowly apprpoached John, planning on knocking him out, and hopefully not doing any permanent brain damage. Scientists might want to study this subject.

 

As soon as he got close, John ran towards a wall and did a stunt very reminiscent of the matrix. This only added to the officers confusion. Possibly realizing this is a good time to try an escape, or maybe just by dumb luck, John ran throught the street, and soon encountered the furry trio.

 

Seeing them didn't make him slow down, but the opposite. John started running even faster, thinking he had had too much of the 'funky white powder' as he called it. Walking animals, what next?

[Guest Kasmandre]

Kasmandre raced through the alleys of the town, trying to evade the maddeningly persistent police force. They seemed to be everywhere. Every time he began to outdistance one group, he ran headlong into another. As he ran, he considered what the sentence was for assault and battery. Then he remembered the crack the assassin's ribs had made. Seeing as it had been a good ten minutes since the fight and Kasmandre hadn't sensed any magic being wielded (or seen any obvious signs of it), he began considering the sentence for murder.

 

Let's just say he had never been more opposed to capital punishment.

 

As he turned into an alleyway that looked awfully familiar (as it should, it was the first Kasmandre had run down), Kasmandre saw two men starting down from the other end. These two, armed and very strangely dressed, combined with the five officers currently on his tail created a situation to be avoided at all cost.

 

Kasmandre jumped up onto a pile of boxes, then leaped off of those onto the roof of the building on one side of the alley. He glanced down into the alley as he finished this maneuver. The police didn't seem to have seen where he went and the two men never seemed to have noticed him in the first place. The two groups converged on each other, both sides drawing weapons.

 

Kasmandre decided to let them take care of themselves. He sprinted to the other end of the roof and quickly lowered himself to the ground. As he hit the ground, he noticed several unconscious police officers. He was just wondering what had happened to them when he looked up and saw Daryl, Katzaniel, and Usagi.

 

Kasmandre had been through a lot in the last half hour. He'd started out frustrated about his stagnant work. Then he found out that his love had been through gods alone knew what. Then he had almost been killed. Then he had (most likely) beaten the assassin to death (something that bothered Kasmandre. He had no problem with killing, but like that...). Then he had to run through the alleys to avoid the police. And now...

 

Now he was looking at a half-man, half-rabbit and a half-man, half-fox. In the company of a cheetah, no less. A single thought crossed Kasmandre's mind: So this is what it feels like to lose your mind...

 

And then he fainted dead away.

[Gyrfalcon]

The Big Pointy One posted,

 

Usagi looked down upon the now unconscious form of Kasmandre. He wasn't quite sure what to do, so he scooped him up and made for the roof tops once more. He had a feeling the mage was in similar trouble as compared to Daryl and Katzaniel. He considered his options, and decided to take him in to The Seven's treehouse within the inner courtyard of The Pen's Keep, as he didn't know where Kasmandre currently resided. Moments passed, and Usagi easily made the jump from ontop of a guard tower (a stealthy move, that.) to inside the first courtyard. A few more moments and Usagi and his silent passenger were in front of the large tree that housed Usagi's companions. He yanked a free-hanging vine which released the spiral stair case to the outer balcony. Once inside, Usagi set Kasmandre down on a rather comfortable couch in the common room. He went back outside to rest on a long chair, and eventually found sleep.

If Kasmandre had trouble waking up that morning, Usagi could see if there wasn't anything Roxxia, the ranger-cleric, could do. If not, well, he supposed he could call the authorities and have them deal with it.

 

OOC: I hope this works for you, Kas... just so you know, Usagi obviously doesn't know your name yet... I was just using it in place of pronouns, to avoid confusion and what not

Gyrfalcon25 posted,

 

Daryl and Katzaniel exchanged glances, assimilating what had happened in a few short moments. Just as Usagi had taken the lead away from where he and Katzaniel had disabled the patrol, a strange, gibbering thug had run by. If that wasn’t enough, a moment later Ren had dropped from the rooftops, and caught sight of the trio. His face had assumed a look of almost bemused horror before his eyes rolled up and he slumped forward. At a loss, Usagi had grabbed Ren and agilely clambered up to a roof. From where the crazy thug had come from, Katzaniel and Daryl could hear the jingling of armor and the heavy breathing of running guards.

 

“What say we follow the rabbit.” Daryl said before leaping most of the way up the building and showing that his claws were for more then fighting by latching on to the wooden wall, then climbing to the roof in a few quick motions. Katzaniel meanwhile ran up an irregularly stacked set of wooden crates, leaping the last ten feet in a single spring.

 

Once on the roofs, the pair followed Usagi, running silently to avoid alarming those below them or alerting the police to their presence. Eventually, Usagi led them to the Pen, and they paused at the walls to assess what they should do.

 

“Well, we have a couple options- we can wait here, go to Gyrfalcon’s quarters, or follow Usagi. Any preferences?” Daryl asked Katzaniel, who had returned to his tigertaur form.

[Guest Katzaniel]

"Unless you feel like taking the time, right now, to tell me more about Usagi, and to tell me more about Gyrfalcon - I think I've heard his name, but I don't remember why - then probably you should just make that call, too. Although I can say I have strong preferences for not just waiting here."

 

OOC: Sorry for the brevity, but there's not much else for me to do here. Right now Daryl is the one who knows what's going on, Katz is going to bow to his expertise.

[Gyrfalcon]

Daryl scratched behind one ear. “Well, Usagi is an anthropomorphic rabbit, but you saw that. Gyrfalcon hasn’t said much about him- I get the sense they struck sparks when they had to work together. He did say that Usagi is fairly good with his swords and had a number of throwing weapons on him. He also said that Usagi is trustworthy and honorable, and all that heroic stuff.” Daryl made a face.

 

“Gyrfalcon is a half-elven ranger. He’s sort of famous in some places, I guess. He goes out and does good deeds, mostly because they need to be done. However, I think I’d rather avoid him for a week or two. I’m sure when those policemen wake up, one of them will mention you and I. Unfortunately, I’m the only werefox in town, and I’d rather not be questioned about *why* I beat up a few police officers. He’ll probably forget about asking me in a few weeks, though.”

 

“So you want to follow Usagi?” Katzaniel asked, and Daryl nodded.

 

“It’s preferable to the alternative.” he said dryly. Standing, he took a few steps back to give himself enough room for a running start, then charged forward and leapt up onto the tower. Katzaniel shimmered into a great leopard before crouching and leaping, landing lightly beside Daryl.

 

“I know where Usagi probably went, follow me.” Daryl whispered quietly. The two set off along the walls, silent shadows in the night. Finding the stairs down from the walls, the two slipped down into a large courtyard, though it seemed tiny indeed compared to the great tree that grew in the center of it. The tree’s limbs spread over the courtyard and created areas of deeper shadows, though the warm light coming from various windows in the dim shape of a house nestled among the branches of the tree helped to dispel some of the darkness. Daryl quickly found the free-hanging vine and deduced that it probably served some purpose, as the tree was by and large free of vines, and with no others hanging free like this.

 

Giving the vine a light tug, Daryl and Katzaniel jumped back in surprise as a cunningly constructed staircase wove down to them. The two silently walked up the stairs and stepped onto the outer balcony, to find Usagi fast asleep on a long chair, though his long ears twitched uneasily as he smelled the scents of two predators nearby.

 

“Usagi.” Daryl said in a moderate tone, and the lapine warrior rolled off the chair and to his feet instantly. He relaxed a little as he saw his two visitors, and looked curious.

 

“What brings you here?” he asked cautiously.

 

“This and that.” Daryl provided in an offhand manner before growing more serious. “I think Gyr’d disapprove of my thumping those policemen’s heads, and I need a place to stay tonight where I won’t have to deal with the police. I suspect that Katzaniel is in the same boat. Would you mind letting us stay here tonight?”

 

Daryl paused, then admitted “I’d also like a long talk with that man you rescued.”

[The Big Pointy One]

Usagi made a long, silent yawn. He scratched behind his ear in contemplation. "Fine by me, I suppose. There's a guest room at the end of the hall, and that man is still asleep on the couch in the common room to the right of the door there. If you want some rest, head to the end of the hall and turn left, there should be an empty guest room there. Just be careful not to wake anyone." That being said, Usagi yawned again, lied back down in his chair and promptly fell back asleep.

[Guest Kasmandre]

Katzaniel and Daryl glanced into the common room and, seeing Kasmandre asleep (unconscious?) on the couch, decided to wait until morning. Hopefully whatever was going on could wait until then. They turned into the guest room and sent to sleep. Perchance to dream...

 

ooc: sorry about the obvious delay tactic. I'm on the computer at my parent's house and I can't concentrate (too many people running around looking over my shoulder). I'll get back here in the morning.

[Guest Katzaniel]

Katzaniel woke up the next morning to discover Daryl already awake and ready for the day. She stretched her limbs and back, then shifted into the tigertaur shape and stretched its arms, uttering a satisfied good-morning yawn.

 

"Ren must be up by now," she commented. "He had a good head start on us, at any rate."

 

"Probably," replied Daryl, standing up. "We may as well investigate, and see whether Usagi has anything to offer in the way of breakfast."

 

"Breakfast sounds good right now. But seeing as how Ren hasn't really met me yet, perhaps we'd better do the introductions. I think perhaps... to lessen the shock... yes, I'll meet him as a house cat. You don't mind if I come along for the talk, do you?"

 

"No," said Daryl aimiably. "You have as much right to an explanation as I do. Either way, he might not be receptive to our company right now."

 

Katzaniel nodded her thanks, then took on the new shape - a large, orange-tinted feline that might almost have been a baby tiger, but looked less dangerous. She hoped that with proper warning, the transition into full-grown tiger with human torso wasn't going to be as bad as it might otherwise have been.

[Guest Kasmandre]

Kasmandre found himself in Trelain. This was incredibly convenient as it was where he had to go. He was on horseback riding in through the gates of the city. Ahead of him, waiting in the middle of the avenue on a white mare was the person he had come looking for. He trotted his horse next to hers.

 

She was the first to speak. "You go on to the Pen," she said, smiling. "There's someone to the north of here I want to meet."

 

All at once, Kasmandre understood that he wasn't coming back to Trelain. He had never left in the first place. He was only now about to start his journey toward the mythic Pen. Still, he had an odd sense of foreboding, like a memory that was buried in the back of his mind. He just couldn't remember...

 

"Then I'll go north, too," he replied, and the words sounded strange to him, like he had said them before...

 

"No," she insisted. "Let me go on my own. I want this to be a surprise. Promise me you won't follow."

 

"I promise," he said, still following the script. "Who are you looking for?"

 

And then something turned. That's the only way to describe it. Something turned. Like colors seen out of the corner of your eye, and everything was different. And what she said now was not according to any script...

 

"I'm off to see the Wizard. I'm off to fetch the Wizard's Eye." And she opened her hand and she was holding the Eye. It appeared to be a smooth, round stone, but it was really an eye. But it wasn't called the Wizard's Eye, it was the Eye of...

 

And then the world shattered. Trelain was gone and they were back in the Dread Palace of Kimreddeth, in the throne room. The Eye was no longer in her hand it was in Kasmandre's. It was glowing, pulsing, throwing off horrible power. And she said something else that wasn't in the script.

 

"Ren, you let me fall again..."

 

And the Eye exploded, and they were both flung back into the Outside. But there were no nets to save them this time, this time there was only the fall...

 

And in the emptiness, Kasmandre screamed.

 

"Cassandraaaaaaa!!!!!"

 

And he woke up.

 

He looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, trying to figure out where he was. This became significantly easier as various members of the Seven ran into the common room in response to his shouts. Kasmandre looked down in embarrassment. This was the first time he had run into most of them and this was not the right foot to be getting off on.

 

"Sorry," he muttered, "Just a nightmare." He got up off of the couch and looked around, now concentrating on how he got here.

 

This answer was not much harder to find out. At one end of the room, a large anthropomorphic rabbit stood next to the an who had saved his life at the tavern. Weaving between their legs was a cat that looked more like a baby tiger than a pet.

 

Kasmandre walked over to them and said, "I'm guessing that I owe you gentlemen my life at least twice over after last night. If you decide to come with me today, I may owe you several times more. Or I may pay you back.

 

"But first I think some introductions are in order. You may well know who you all are, but I don't believe I know any of your names. Although," he added, glancing at Usagi's eyepatch, "I'm willing to bet you're somehow related to Mr. Bunny."

 

Kasmandre sat back down on the couch. "I am Kasmandre. I suspect that you may know another name I used. I ask you to keep that under your hat for the time being. I prefer not to use that often. I reside here at the Pen in the Old North Tower. And before the sun sets today, I'll have set out for Trelain, on the shores of the Western Sea."

[Gyrfalcon]

The Big Pointy One posted,

 

Satisfied that everything was fine, Sliver went back to his room to sleep. Roxxia set about to fetching herself some breakfast while Rocoss went to catch some morning air on the front porch. The rest of The Seven remained asleep as it was. Usagi stifled a yawn, then addressed Kasmandre.

 

"Indeed, I am the son of Mr.Bunny." Kasmandre gave him a quizzical look then, "...it's a story best saved for another time. Anyways, you can call me Usagi... where I came from, we didn't have much use for names. Feel free to call me as you wish." Usagi paused for a moment, almost in thought, "I think I will accompany you to this Trelain you speak of. I'm not sure what your path has in store for you, but I am in need of even a small journey. Besides, you could probably use my blades. You never know what trouble you can run into on the unprotected roads these days."

Gyrfalcon25 posted,

 

Daryl, once more in his human form, frowned. “I think it’d be best for me if I left town for a while. No offense to you, but I was involved in a bar fight with that guy you beat the crap out of. Then on top of that, I evaded the police a few times, assaulted a few policemen, and they have descriptions of two of my three forms. While I’m not all that worried about the police, I think I’d rather avoid another lecture from Gyrfalcon about what he terms my ‘bad habits’. So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll tag along behind you for a while.”

 

Kasmandre looked at the human, wondering about the comment ‘two of my three forms.’ Shaking his head, he returned to the business at hand. “This journey is likely to be somewhat dangerous.” he warned Daryl.

 

Daryl smiled and shrugged “Good, then I won’t get too bored, will I?”

 

Kasmandre suspected that Daryl didn’t know what he was getting himself into, and tried again. “Our opponents aren’t likely to all be unarmored assassins that you have the drop on, you know.”

 

Daryl’s smile widened into a grin. “Good, I’d still get a bit bored if there wasn’t some variety.”

 

Kasmandre looked hard at Daryl, then shrugged and shook his head. “It’s your funeral.”

 

Daryl chuckled. “Or the funeral of whoever gets in my way.” he responded confidently.

[Guest Kasmandre]

Kasmandre stood up again. "Well, two companions may not be enough to go against the forces I expect, but, then again, wars have been won by less..."

 

"Actually, you have three companions," Daryl interrupted. "I think you may want to sit back down."

 

The cat that had been contently winding it's way around Daryl and Usagi's legs stepped forward.