RP:The Fortuitous Wolf
A Beach in Cenril
The great black beast lopes easily across the sand, her giant paws making nearly noiseless pats as they strike the ground. Her long canine snout tips upwards towards the sky as she continues, breathing deeply and enjoying the salty balmy air of the beach. It felt good to stretch her muscles. It had been some time since the Lycan had been able to enjoy a good run.
Easily clearing a piece of drift wood, she sprints a few more feet before finally slowing to a trot and coming to a halt. Giving a sturdy shake of her coat, she wolfishly cringes as a few tufts of fur fall to the sand before being blown away by the breeze; she needed a serious grooming to rid herself of all this winter hair.
Turning her amber gaze to the water, her thoughts dive beneath the surface and she wondered when she might see those wondrous sights again.
Mcracken, wondrous as he arguably is, probably isn’t the sight Deidre longs for in that moment. Nevertheless, here he is, lanky legs taking him over the dunes in long strides, dreads windswept and interesting, coat fastened by single button over a shirtless torso and for the gods sake will somebody please take this man-apparent shopping for a new pair of breeches because the ones he’s wearing have seen far, far better days.
He seems preoccupied with an item his hand as he walks and doesn’t immediately look up from it as he approaches the wolf. “Ah, Lady Dee..” he pockets the item, continuing as he does so, “… I had hoped you’d return, for there is something I wanted…” Speech halts there, the kraken’s ocean-hued gaze widening just slightly as what he senses is there and what he actually sees are two things which don’t really gel at all. “… to ask you,” he finishes, a little bit feebly, squinting at the lycan, tilting his shaggy head this way and that.
Finally, he says, his tone redolent with fascination rather than alarm, “Art thou cursed? What fell magics have turned thee into this… creature, Lady? Dog, he remembers, these things are called ‘dogs’. Mac squats low on his heels, his knees making loud cracking sounds as he does so. “Do people turned to dogs bear any capacity for speech?” he asks, clearly still studying the transformed Deidre with utter curiosity, and then speaks more slowly, “Canst thou even comprehend me?”
The wolf turns to face the kracken fully as he pops over the dunes and stares at her openly. She hadn’t meant to come into contact with anyone on her run. Typically she kept to the Kelay or Enchantment forests that were more secluded and less traveled by others. But the sea had called to her and the open beach begged to be crossed on four legs instead of two.
Having been seen now, she supposed there was no hiding her true self. She made for an imposing sight, her shoulder hitting at just shy of 5 foot. Her massive canine head filled with large and sharp teeth made for biting through bone with ease. Her amber gaze looked out from a dark furred face. Mostly black fur covered her from nose to tip of tail, but bits of reddish brown can be seen scattered through out her coat, sun streaked.
She gives Mac a very wolf like roll of those amber hues and shake of her head. Of course he would call her a dog. For others like her, communication was easy enough with body language alone, but for someone not of her kind, it could be tricky. Moving to stand in front of the man, she still has to look up slightly to share a gaze, even at this greater size. Patting her paw on the ground once, then twice it’s as if she is telling Mac to stay put. With a small tip of her muzzle downward in a nod, she turns then and lopes off back over the dunes.
He is left for only moments before the woman emerges once more, pulling a ruffled shirt into place and tucking it into the breeches she now sports. She is barefoot and hair is mussed and wind blown. Her freckled face is slightly flushed but a bright smile graces her features, “I am a wolf, not a dog, but yes I can understand you in that state.” Coming to stand once more in front of the kraken, hands perch on her hips as she looks up to the man, her smile still bright, “What can I do for you Mac?”
The man-apparent’s gaze swirls through several sea-themed colours before settling on a clear sky blue, and he laughs a deep belly-laugh, “A wondrous trick indeed, Lady!” He’s got a barrel full of questions for her, but there are unfortunately more pressing matters at hand and the laugh fades to a more sombre expression, “I am glad to meet with thee again, for there is a matter with which I require thy assistance…” He flops on the sand and explains to Deidre about his suspicions regarding the youngling kraken he now knows is bent on causing havoc in the Dark Lands, and who has been luring seaborn with a false face resembling his own, only to have them stolen away to the Underdark--- to what ends, the elder kraken doesn’t know, “…nor do I know what, exactly has so corrupted one of my kind as to make it turn toward such a dark and cruel path. What I do know is, the youngling must be stopped by any means, and the captive seaborn set free. It is a mission fraught with peril even for one such as I… “ Mac regards Deidre quietly for a moment. “I had thought to ask you merely to find an alternate exit to the stone tunnels, away from the youngling’s forest lair in the Dark Lands, where I hope to trap it. But you…” a grin chases the gloom from his face, fleetingly, “… have unexpected skills that may prove most useful in a fray. That is, if thou see fit to put thyself in danger for a race with which thou are barely familiar.” The shine in those blue eyes suggests he really hopes that she might.
Dee listens intently as the kracken spins his tale. She remains standing and her hands remove themselves from her hips and her carefree stance becomes more intent as her arms now cross in front of her. Her eyes move towards the water once more, a slight crease forming between her brows as they draw down in concentration and concern. Her gaze sweeps back to Mac as he mentions her possible ability to be of use in what she could only assume would be a battle.
Sighing lightly, finally she sets herself next to the man in the sand, tucking her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms now around those and digging her toes deeply into the warm granules beneath them, “I am conflicted. I do indeed wish to help. I am afraid my abilities would only be useful on land, however. As I’m sure you’re aware, wolves are not sea dwelling animals therefore do not thrive in the water, much less beneath the surface.”
Looking out over the waters again, A small smile can be seen tugging at the corners of her lips. The look of fascination from the kracken had not gone unnoticed, “I am sure you have many questions about not only who, but what I am.” He was not the first she had encountered that had never known of her kind. At least he was more curious rather than damning, “I will be happy to answer them all. And I would be happy to help in anyway I can.”
Mac abruptly stands and thrusts a hand toward Deidre. If she takes it, he’ll haul her up to her feet. If she doesn’t, he’ll simply turn toward the dunes and the city beyond, in either case giving her a walk-and-talk as he goes, “No time for questions now. And no underwater where we’re going, at least as far as I know,” his lanky strides might make her walk a little faster than usual, “.. hence, the urgency of tis matter, for my kind—even aided with magic— do not fare well, long out of the sea.” His eyes are no longer the colour of cloudless skies as he glances toward the lycaness, his brows knit deeply over a gaze reminiscent of impending storms. “How the youngling kraken has remained far from the Mother’s vast embrace this long, I cannot fathom. But my suspicion is, it’s dark sorcery indeed which allows it. Certainly, many of the ones he’s lured to captivity will be locked into human form to survive, and suffering for it. Worse will the ones who cannot adapt in such a way to dry conditions.” That the very thought of this pains him is obvious. “More than likely, they are already dead, but on the slimmest chance of their survival, I must try...”
They’re already in the streets of Cenril, making their way to the city gates. Mac is silent for a time, his expression less anguished when next he looks toward Deidre, “You have my deepest gratitude for agreeing to help, Lady Dee. First, I do need thee to seek out an exit from those Underdark caves far from the Dark Forest. Then, make all haste to meet me on the road through the Dark Lands where that forest clutches the city. There, we are to meet with others who have offered their aid. And it is there we will track the youngling to its deepest lair in the earth, and take my people back from its sullied grasp.”
At the gates, he stops walking. “And, when the seaborn are safe, and the youngling is tamed or dead, I will ask you many questions, Lady. But go now, and find a safe place for us to return to the world above, bearing the sick and wounded.” Mac fishes in one deep pocket for an item, which he hands to her— an unusual-looking shell. “Take this, its whispers will help you find me when thy task is done.”
Dee quickly grabs her satchel and boots in passing as she hastens her stride to catch the kracken. Pulling one boot on, then the other in an undignified hopping fashion, she listens intently to Mac's instruction.
Having reached the gate, she now regrets replacing the clothing items. Although walking through the dirty streets barefoot would not have been wise either. Chewing on her lower lip for a moment, she seems to come to a decision internally and begins removing the boots and satchel once more. Digging within the bags contents, she quickly pulls out a large leather chord before snatching up the boots and stuffing those within the recesses of this mystical bag that seems to carry all! Taking the shell from Mac, she easily punctures a hole at the top with a single sharpened canine tooth before stringing the leather chord through. Handing the make shift necklace back to Mac, along with her bag she begs him to wait before trotting off behind a near by building.
Again, it doesn't take long before the wolf emerges, shirt and pants held within those rows of sharped teeth. Dropping the clothes at Mac's feet, she dips her head slightly so that Mac can place the shell around her neck now hanging from the chord. Perhaps she should have asked if it would still work after being "modified". Oh well, her nose should be able to seek him out seeing as he carried a strong odor of sea life.
With a final nod of her massive head and a light huff, the Lycan turns and moves off at a quick lope in search of her mission to be fulfilled.
Part of the No Seaborn Left Behind Arc