Under the Red Hood |Bellatrixxx & Pazzo|

[Bellatrixxx]

Her father had insisted she make the three day journey to Mansfield. Insisted. "Everything will be fine," he had said, kissing his daughter's forehead under the hem of her identifying crimson hood as she stood on the threshold on their small home, still hesitating. "The sooner you leave, the sooner you return. And we can't hold out until Spring. You're the only one I trust to make the journey."

He was right. There in Calithorne, things had never been easy. Cut off from the rest of the world surrounded by the Grey Wood and backed against the base of the mountains, Scarlet had only ever known hardship and hard work. And now, with winter only just now passing its solstice, they still had a far way to go before their lake was thawed and the sun returned to their farmlands.

The people were hungry. Alammor's King had sent out ravaging enforcers, brutal Sheriffs, to each and every one of his villages to claim higher taxes this past summer, uncompromising in his need for funds for his prideful invasion against their northern neighbor, Fjordland. The poorest among them had suffered greatly, but the farmers and fishermen of Calithorne had always known how to stick together, their village well established many generations ago by the present inhabitant's great great grandfathers.

Scarlet Quilles, and her father Keran, were among the long-standing ones. If the village had the presence and money to have a mayor, Keran would be it, his blood running deep through the soil and roots of the surrounding trees, his love for the people unequaled. He looked out for -everyone-, no matter their own personal opinion of him or his daughter, and was extremely respected in the community for it. He had been the one who attempted to negotiate with the Sheriff that came, demanding they pay an exorbitant amount of wheat, barely, smoked fish, and salted pork, with Keran trying to explain if such amounts were given there wouldn't be a damn Calithorne come Spring. He had nearly lost his life, beaten at his age by the enforcing crew before extra stores and wares were outright stolen, all in the name of the King.

Now, with nearly still a month to go in the season, he was sending his only child off on an incredibly dangerous journey to the nearest town over. Mansfield was larger, wealthier, sturdier, and often had a surplus to sell. Scarlet had always been a crafty girl, often concerning the neighbors around her who thought she better off sewing instead of tanning leather, or weaving baskets rather than shooting arrows into the heart of a target over thirty yards away. Keran had always indulged Scarlet, allowing her to explore all of her heart's desires, and never regretting doing so. He had lost her mother, his wife and the love of his soul, in the birthing, a woman with the same color hair of fiery bold strands, and he honored her memory by raising Scarlet to be just as strange, odd, and as wonderful as the original woman.

And she was. Raised now twenty years in the great shadows of the Grey Wood, Scarlet had a propensity for the dark and mysterious. While the other children had kept away from its borders, choosing to splash on the banks of the nearby lake, Scarlet would sit as close as she dared to the edge, a sliver of charcoal darkening her fingers as she drew strange beings and shapes on an old weathered cloth. She was the only one who trespassed within occasionally, despite the warnings of the dangers that lurked. Bears, snakes, and of course the legendary Guardian that was said to be a wolf cursed by the Gods to roam and roar for all eternity. Sometimes, when the stars and moon were considerably bright in the night sky, Scarlet was sure she would hear something unnatural far off into the forest, or once or twice may have caught a glimpse of movement in the distance with her sharp sight. And of the few times she would drag Rican to the upper hayloft of his father's barn to secretly bed away the urges of being a red-blooded woman, she swore she once saw a pair of golden eyes deep in the foliage, leering and searing through the mist at her with such intensity she had quivered and cried out in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the man holding her hips and thrusting behind her.

The Guardian may have just be a legend, a trick of the mind conjured by a woman strange enough to give it life. Her father just chuckled away her stories and tales whenever she went to him with questions, telling her it was just a dream of an overacting mind, yet Scarlet still really and truly believed.

But belief and fairy tales wouldn't put food in their bellies. Adorned in her blazing telltale cloak and gloves, the rest of her body in a dark brown vest with fitted leggings that laced up the side of her legs with cord, Scarlet had journeyed off on a mule-drawn cart towards Mansfield. In the back were some of her own creations, charcoal and graphite drawings on stretched leather within wooden frames, oiled leather articles ranging from clothing to sheathes, and an artfully crafted bow made from white oak that she hoped would catch a fair price. She had her own main weapon, a trusty thing made of yew at her right hip on the seat of the cart with a quiver stuffed with bolts between her knees. Thin daggers littered her person as well all under her wool hooded cloak, a new interest of hers that she only recently realized, as well as some packed fresh water, a loaf of brown bread, and a bit of salted pork.

Thankfully it had been uneventful going, as well as there. The bow had been traded for quite a few sacks of wheat, some leather items had been exchanged for a few slabs of smoked venison, and an artwork piece or two had bought a large basket of eggs. The visit was short as she had known Calithorne was waiting, but also because something had been gnawing at her for days. In fact, when she had known she would be sent to Mansfield in the first place, instinct had screamed at her to stay, to hold off for a few days and settle in. But father had insisted.

Insisted.

The smoke had been spotted rising through the early morning air miles away, its thickness signifying many large fires. Abandoning the cart along the road was the easiest decision she made, unfastening the ties to grab onto the mule and spur it into what constituted a gallop for the beast. She was far lighter than the laden cart, so the animal ran in a greater speed than she would have been able to travel on foot towards what would become her worst nightmare.

The sounds of screaming hit her first before any sounds of fighting. Ash from thatched roofs and wood beams thickened the air, making Scarlet cough as she kicked the mule to make him go faster, but it did not deter her. Calithorne was in flames, almost every home burning and burning quickly as people ran either from the hacking swords or in search of their loved ones amid the chaos... Only to be hacked down seconds later. The mule reared up on its hind legs in fear when it reached the border, not accustomed to the sights and sounds of a battle, no matter how small or one-sided it might have been, but Scarlet was already in the process of dismounting and proceeded to continue the downward slid off its rump.

Landing firmly on her feet, a plume of ash erupted around her boots as the mule scurried off screaming, leaving her alone as she lifted her bow upright with her left hand. Her oiled-leather archer's gloves, as red as her cloak, reached her elbows and coated her fingers like a second skin. With practiced movements, an arrow was lifted, notched, pulled back, aimed and—

*THWIP* The feathers angled the arrow as it sliced through the air, thudding deep into the chest of a man in black armor, caught with his sword raised to bring it down on Louise, the cobbler’s wife. The woman screamed, turned and began to run, only to be gutted seconds later by a different raider in black. Scarlet was hardly making a difference with her presence, the number of enemies far too many. For every one she fired down with her shots, killing them one by one, there seemed to be five more, chasing families out of their homes by the flames only to run straight into their blades.

"Father!" She screamed into the wind, scanning her surroundings as she continued to move forward. The roof of a nearby home collapsed in a horrendous crashing sound that deafened her ears, the fire roaring as it consumed the beams like kindling. She ducked against the blast, her cloak billowing behind her shoulders, and when she stabilized herself another arrow was notched as she advanced.

"Father!!"

"Scarlet!!" The voice of Keran cut through and Scarlet ran towards the sound, ignoring those around her as they fought for their lives for an unknown cause. She found him, standing his ground like a soldier with her great grandfather's sword against a taller, broader man. She aimed and fired, the arrow sinking deep through the assailant's throat, enough for him to gurgle and freeze, giving Keran the pause needed to finish him by taking off his head with a mighty swing. There were still more of the black-clad raiders in Calithorne, but at least he was safe. With relief on her face, Scarlet stepped forward right when Keran turned to her, his arms open to run and embrace her, thankful she was safe, when suddenly...his face fell in shock.

"What has happened? Who are these men?" Scarlet approached, not realizing just yet what has already happened. "What do they want? Are they....are they...?" She frowned at the rigid way her father was standing. Blood suddenly started to drip and pool to the dirt behind his ankles. "Papa?"

She reached him when he buckled forward, catching him just in time before he fell to the earth, and embedded between his shoulder blades was an axe, expertly thrown. Slippery blood coated her gloves, and she wailed a sound of dismay at the sight, hands shaking as she laid him down to the scorched ground as best and easy as she could. "No, no, Papa, I'm here! You can't leave me! Stay awake, please, please stay awake," She cupped at his cheek, trying to keep his face turned towards her as her eyes pleaded with him. "I'll find something to stop the bleeding. Just hold on, just—No! Get off me! Stop it, stop—NOO!!"

Hands had suddenly grabbed her roughly by her shoulders, ripping her away from her dying father. Her hood fell back, spilling out her mass of cinnamon hair as Scarlet fought and struggled, heaving before reaching for one of the thin blades at her bicep then twisting to shirk it once, twice, three times into the upper chest of the one who grabbed her. He roared, falling back as she moved to straddle him between her thighs, now clutching the hilt with both hands to raise it high above her head and bring it down ten more times, spraying blood all across her face, arms, and chest until there was a gaping crater in his pectoral cavity. Her rage and distress overwhelmed her as she gritted her teeth, tears cutting pathways down her bloody and ashy cheeks before a second raider grabbed her by her hair and yanked her back. He kicked the blade from her hands before sending a cruel knee straight into her gut, knocking the wind from her, and Scarlet landed on her hands and knees, heaving into the dirt. She tried to crawl back towards her father, but she was kicked in the ribs again, sent rolling onto her back in a daze, her green eyes wide towards the smoke-filled sky. Blood dripped down her bronze skin, as red as her articles, and soon the shadow of her intended executioner blocked the sun from her sight, looming, sword raised to bring it down between her large, heaving breasts.

"Time to die, Red." He said, stating a common moniker directed towards her by anyone who looked upon her.

Scarlet closed her eyes with a tired exhale, waiting for the impact to strike her heart.

 

[Pazzo]

A lone, older man sat upon the bank of a beautiful mountain lake, under the shadow of a great cypress tree. He was lean and muscular, with his rough cut hair and beard tied back with crude leather thongs. In his muscular hands was a long fishing pole made from knotted reed. He took in a deep, relaxing breath, allowing the clean air to cool his lungs. Birds chirped away somewhere in the branches high above. One could not ask for a better place to reinforce ones inner calm.
The lake was still and quiet today, giving Osric's soul the serene peace that he so craved. The fish were active, as he had four thick bodied trout laying in the crudely woven basket to his side. He looked down at it and frowned. He had never been skilled at weaving reeds together, and really should have payed better attention to what Keran had tried to teach him all those years ago.



Still, the basket did its job well enough. He wondered how the old man Quilles was doing, and silently wished him well. It had been nearly thirty years since Keran had found him, shivering and starving outside of his hamlet. Terrified and hungry beyond belief, most of the towns people had approached, but only to freeze, and then slowly walk away. Oscric growled low and deep in his chest, a nose that any normal human would not be able to make. But then again Osric was anything but normal.
Despite his own fear, Keran had persisted, and showed him kindness. He fed a clothed him when he was just a boy, and taught him the basics of forest survival. But Osric felt a deeper need, a draw to be away from people and society. He was more comfortable by himself, at home amongst the trees, and sleeping under the star filled sky. Once, when he had been about twenty or so, he had been making one of his weekly visits to the city to trade or sell his collected hides, herbs, and other oddities he would find. On this particular visit, a small group of bandits had decided to call. Five or so were at the general store, harassing the proprietor, and making unwelcome advances at his wife.
Osric was not happy with how the beautiful, motherly woman that always put a spare pie aside for him was being treated. He had immediately stepped in, and took a swing at one of the bandits. He missed of course, and was cuffed smartly for his efforts. Osric didn't really remember much after that, just that a few moments later the bandits were all dead at his feet. Blood poured from his suddenly massive, clawed hands, as the general store owner and his wife looked at him in unbridled terror.


His rage immediately abated, and his hands went back to normal size. He shook his head, and tried to apologize. He then ran, and hid himself in the woods. Osric had never been more afraid in his life. The boy had found a small hollow trunk to hide in, and stayed there for almost a whole day. It was then that he heard the cries of a young girl, running terrified through the woods. Osric had stood to see. A young girl, no more that eight, wearing a red hooded cape. She was breaking into a dead run, screaming, as a bear tried to give chase.
His protective instincts immediately kicked into action, as he roared out at the bear, running towards it upon his corded, muscular arms and legs, covered in coarse black and gray fur. The black bear flinched, stood still for a minute, and then scrabbled off in the opposite direction as a demonic wolf man hybrid charged after it. Osric then stopped upon the path where the bear had stood, and sniffed in defiance. He turned to face the whimpering girl, who had fallen, and was wiping her eyes.


Osric had gone full wolf at that point, and trotted up to the young girl, whimpering and licking her face. The girl had giggled, and immediately recovered. It was quite the sight for all of the villagers of calithrone to see her riding the big wolf home. He had come to find out later that none other than Keran was her father, beside himself, wondering how his daughter managed to sneak away to play in the woods yet again.
At that moment, his pole jumped into his hands, dispelling his reverie. Another hungry fish wrestled with his line, attempting to make a meal of the fat night crawler worms that Osric had dug up earlier that morning. He laughed, his eyes wide with excitement as he yanked upon his ad hoc fishing pole, setting the hook in the mouth of what had to be his biggest, most powerful fish yet.
He pulled hard upon his reed shaft one more time, only to feel a sudden release. Osric fell backwards, as his heels caught one of the many upraised cypress roots that littered the banks. He swore an oath as he fell, looking at his bare hook, the fat worm he had placed on it gone. He swore again, and tossed the pole aside. The bearded man looked to his basket again, and just shook his head. It was a good day, and he had plenty to eat, and to salt and preserve for later.
He groaned as he stood up, and stretched his muscular arms, and sniffed at the air. A normal man might have missed the faint scent of smoke upon the air. His eyes then narrowed, as his pupils dilated. Osric then turned his head to the west, in the direction of Calithrone, tilting his head this way and that, letting his keen ears pick up the faint sounds here and there. He clenched his teeth as he realized what they were. Screams of terror and rage, of pleading and cruel laughter. His nose then caught another scent. That of pure, fresh blood.


He looked to the horizon, and saw distant pillars of thick, black smoke. Icy tendrils of panic tried to creep up his spine, only to be beaten down with the fierce resolve he had come to know as an old friend. He was five or so miles away. Perhaps he could make it in his human guise? Not give into the beast just yet? He growled in defiance and knew that was a fallacy. Calithorn was in trouble, and he would need speed. Osric leapt into the air, his body shifting and morphing into the form of the huge, savage lupine once again.


Wind rushed through his fur and against his skin as he galloped at fill tilt, weaving around the huge trees, and barreling through the underbrush. His lupine heart pounded furiously as he neared the town, the din of terror and anguish becoming louder, as the smell of smoke grew thicker in the breeze. It felt like an eternity of running, despite how swift her really was in this form. Terror gripped at him. How could he have missed this raid? Had he grown so fat and complacent on his relaxing, peaceful lake?



Osric's fear then slowly turned to rage, as his keen nose caught the scents that he did not recognize. Smells of rough leather and unwashed bodies, caked with grime, filth, and soured ale. His paws gouged out great rents in the earth, tossing dirt and moss aside with each desperate stride. He could finally see one of them just ahead of him, beating what looked like a woman. A woman wearing a red, hooded cape? The wolf growled and whimpered. "No, it couldn't be…" He thought, as his rage finally bubbled over, and took hold of him.


The bandit held his sword up high over the woman, as if to strike her down. Osric's amber eyes glowed with white hit fury, as his wolf body almost quadrupled in size, with his front paws morphing into huge, bestial hands tipped in wicked sharp black claws. Just as the bandit was about to bring his weapon down upon the helpless woman, the beast was upon him. A massive maw latched upon his shoulder, snatching him off of his feet as six hundred pounds of muscled fury barreled into him.

The bandit didn't even have time to scream. Osric let out a deafening roar the permeated everything in the immediate area, as he shook his head violently. Each toss of his head drove his serrated teeth deeper into the bandit's body, crushing the man's chest with a sickening wet crunch. The beast tossed his head to the side, opening his mouth, tossing the permanently maimed bandit in the air in a wide arc, landing upon his head about twenty feet away. The cobblestones had no mercy upon him either as he rolled down the orange hued street, lit by the many fires angrily burning upon the thatched roofs of Calithorne.
Violent pain shot up through his left side, as two crossbow bolts buried themselves into his massive deltoid. He glared at the two terrified brigantine wearing ruffians that had shot at him, and casually reached to his shoulder as he held their gaze, ripping the quarrels free of his flesh. The tow bandits gaped at their soon to be executioner, and made a half hearted attempt to turn and run.
One of them even made it a few steps before Osric's unfathomable speed made escape impossible. He brought his clawed hands down in opposing, wide sweeping arcs, cleaving the two idiots right though their abdomens. The werewolf did not pay them any more heed after that, and looked around helplessly as the burning town, the mutilated bodies, and the streets, running thick with blood.


He did not want to think of it, but the town was lost, brutally slaughtered, but for what? Who in the hell would do such a thing? Tears streamed from his bestial eyes, glowing hot with amber fury. He clenched them shut, and turned his snout to the sky, letting forth the most mournful howl in the history of lycanthropy. It filled the streets, and echoed off what few walls still stood, before being drowned out in the roar of the fires, now burning with such ferocity, one might think they brought hell with them.

 

[Bellatrixxx]

She didn't imagine it would hurt for too long. The axe. It probably was just a flash of pain, a tightness in her chest, and then...silence. Bliss. Warmth. A return to her father and a meeting with her mother. Death had the warmest embrace of all, and Scarlet thought she was about to meet it. But she wouldn't; not today at least. A burst of air suddenly exploded directly above her face followed by a wet, sickening crunching sound of thick bones splintering into a hundreds bits deep in soft muscle. Her eyes burst open just in time to see the body of her would-be executioner being tossed side to side, his body limp and jerking before being sent flying high into the air, only to land so hard against the earth his body bounced three times before settling.

And there, for the first time in conscious memory, she was staring up at the looming creature of the Guardian of the Grey Wood. Her jaw dropped and she froze, locked under him in righteous awe.

He was immense, grander and more horrifyingly spectacular than she could have fathomed, and he stood back on his hind legs as a man would instead of a beast. His fur was coarse but did nothing to hide the layers of thick muscles that seemed to ball between his joints, his eyes ablaze as two bolts suddenly sank into his upper arm. The creature didn’t flinch, hardly even blinked before turning to his attackers as if to ask if that was truly their best decision in that moment. He ripped the projectiles from his own meaty shoulder as if they were nothing more than a mere nuisance, displaying extreme intelligence while sending blood spraying to the ground before he leapt and charged. Scarlet flinched when he ran, feeling the power kick off his limbs when he vaulted from the ash and dirt, but when it was realized he wasn't after her she peeked over her curled arms to observe his actions.

He gutted the two fools with thick claws, the sound of his attack spreading through what remained of the village and alerting the remaining raiders of this new threat. Heads turned. Minds judged him too dangerous, and soon orders were being shouted over the din. The leader cocked his black-gloved hand up and issued the retreat, and Scarlet turned weakly to watch the small remaining group of raiders retreating from their target. Her molten eyes watched them, the fires of her home reflecting in the dilated irises as she confirmed them within her memory, taking in every detail in those short few minutes to make sure to recognize them when she found them again. The wind howled then with the guardian, feeding the fires and sending more timber crashing and sparks flying into the blackened air. Scarlet knew the town was lost, and soon they would be taken as well if they were caught in the firestorm, or suffocated by the polluted air.

Dragging herself to her feet, her wavering form turned to the Guardian as he stood a short distance away. Scarlet took a rocky step, followed by another, stumbling towards him. Her righthand was outstretched for him, her vision wavering a bit as her brain struggled to find air. She didn't know why, during this, he felt the need to show himself, but there were whispers deep in her instinct that told her he was safe. That he knew her, somehow.

The closer the came the more she hesitated, until Scarlet was barely moving at all to touch his side. When she finally did, her fingers curled into the thickness of his fur at his left flank, her beautiful face upturned towards him with glazed and reddened eyes.

"Take us from here," she coughed, now both hands gripping him tightly, pulling her body against his pelt and pleading with him to save them both. They were risking being burned where they were, and the raiders were gone now. They had failed that day and just needed to find a way to survive.

"Please. Get us out of here."

 

[Pazzo]

The huge, hulking wolf man, easily twelve feet tall, towered over the fountain, its once clean water now streaked with red. His amber eyes glared down upon the still twitching corpse of the bandit that he had just killed, his arms and legs bent around at sickening angles . He fumed, as he laid his ears back. He slowly licked his fangs as the fires burned around him, turning his head to look in the general direction in which the remaining bandits fled. He growled low and deep in his chest, and considered going after them. His chest rumbled as he thought of a long, painful interrogation of the few he left alive, to glean more information as to what the motive for this horrid act had been.

He was about to leap after them, only for his hardened, bestial face to relax. A familiar scent cut through the stench of soot and death. He then felt a hand gently touch the fur on the side of his muscular knee. A gentle, feminine voice found his ears, pleading in its tone. He turned his great head to look down upon the familiar red cloak, her head covered in the coppery red curls that he could have sworn he had seen before.

His mind raced, as he placed the scent to the same child he had helped so many years ago. It was her, the very same girl, now grown into a young woman. She was still alive. The blood he smelled upon her was not her own, but she was visibly shaken. Osric let out the great breath he didn't know he was holding, his breath steaming in the chill air. He lowered one of his great hands down to comfort her, his very fingertip being large enough to fill her palm.

He listened to her words, and agreed with her desire to leave. His ears perked as he turned his head this way and that, focusing his keen ears through the noise of the fires. His eyes narrowed, as he heard nothing in the way of survivors. He growled again, turned his head away from the woman, and spat in frustration. He then turned his lupine eyes to the fountain, gazing upon its surface, taking in deep breaths into his leathery, voluminous lungs. Osric knew of a place they could go. Relatively safe and quiet where they could hide, where creatures as simple as bandits could not follow.

He reached into the fountain with his clawed hands, and traced a few ancient, runic patterns upon its sparkling surface. His reflection faded, as a rift in time and space opened upon it, replacing the surface of the water with a plane of pure darkness and shadow. Osric picked up the woman in his great, muscular arms, and held her close to his powerful, corded werewolf chest. With a fluid leap, his went head first into the rift, with it closing just behind him.

Upon the other side of the rift, was another world all its own, a reflection of the prime material plane of existence. Cottages were here, but everything was reversed, just like what one would see in a mirror. The sky was a nimbus of dark blues, indigos, and violets, as thick clouds swirled and billowed. The cottages here had what looked like the ghosts of flames licking up their surfaces, but did not burn.

Osric looked around the umbral realm, growling softly as he sniffed the air, his keen ears pricked, and spinning on a swivel. This realm was home to a few denizens that could be considered dangerous, but not to him. Night creatures tended to respect one of their own, and so long as he kept her close, nothing would harass her. His voice came as impossibly deep and penetrating. Giving the feeling of touching one's soul, commanding the terror hidden within to come out. "We are safe."

He bent over, his tendons and muscles cracking as he did so, putting Scarlett upon her feet.
"Those bandits." He rumbled in his beastial, primitive voice. He nostrils flared, blowing forth steam in the frigid, shadowy air. "Do you know them?"

 

[Bellatrixxx]

The Guardian had to have been more than a mere ultra-powerful beast. When he turned his great head in her direction, big eyes blinking like golden discs from high above, Scarlet could have sworn she saw real intelligence there, real understanding. Any other cursed creature might have given chase after the retreating raiders, or even perhaps have attacked her so full of instinctual rage to not recognize her as an ally. But that was not to be the occurrence here. Instead, he lowered a great paw down, and without even thinking of the obvious consequences that could happen, the woman raised her right hand and grabbed hold of its massive index finger. Her middle finger's tip couldn't even connect with her thumb, the digit was just too large, but it gave her a good scale in realizing just how big he was.

The wind howled and the air grew hotter around them. Sparks flew in the billowing smoke as he turned towards a small fountain that was near the center of Calithorne's square. Scarlet grew confused, and even dug her heels into her dirt a bit to tug on his finger in the opposite direction, trying to get him to flee with her, to have her mount his back for them to charge off far away. She didn't understand what he was doing, and each second that passed proved to be more treacherous than the last.

Then, he dabbed his finger onto the water's surface. It must be growing warm from the nearby heat of the fires, but what he drew maintained its shape. Glowing lines illuminated the water, and she stepped closer in terrified awe before the entire place dropped before them, replaced by a darkness with shimmering lights. Scarlet gasped and made a move as if to retreat from it, never having seen magic before, but the Guardian wolf wrapped her up in his embrace, catching her against his furred chest only to -leap- forward and through the barrier.

Scarlet flinched, her eyes squeezed closed as she grabbed fistfuls of his fur. Her body shook a bit, refusing to look around as she felt them land. Already the air was cooler, soft and serene, yet there were no noises of birds or wind rustling leaves. Slowly...those ember eyes crept open, and when he placed her down to the ground, she sank to her knees naturally, landing on her left hip's side and kept upright by her left palm. She was breathing heavily, replacing the black smoke that had tried to invade her lungs as she looked around with wide eyes in this strange place.

The sky was dark, yet her surroundings were familiar. They were in Calithorne, yet...not. There were ghost-flames around the cottages that were here, but they did not consume anything. The air was still. Silent. Until the Guardian spoke in a voice that was deep and raspy.

She jumped, spun to him, then placed a hand against her heart. "Are we safe?" She questioned as if she didn't believe him, before slowly moving to stand to her feet. Ash clung to her clothing and cloak, so Scarlet began to beat at the cloth around her with gloved palms, disturbing the light flakes and sending them falling to the ground like dust. "Where even -is- 'here'?"

She gave another scan of her immediate area until her eyes fell on him, the great bestial work that towered over her. It was still a strange realization that not only was she here, but here with HIM. The myth and legend of the Grey Wood. Scarlet shook her head at his final question.

"I didn't recognize them, or their token badge. Black armor with a hawk grasping a sword within its talons, that's what the one who was attacking my father had on his left breast." With a sigh, she raised her right hand and ran her covered fingers through her cinnamon hair to keep the long strands from falling across her forehead. "But I bet either Mansfield might know of them, or if that fails, the Capitol. Either way, I'm going to find them, gut them all, and make a new cloak stained with their blood..."

Speaking of blood, her tuned eyes caught onto a dark wet spot on his shoulders. The fur there was matted in a black substance that she could only assume was his blood. The crossbow bolts! That's right. Two had been shot into him but he had ripped them out like a savage instead of waiting for someone to extract them with care. She took a step forward, pointing to his injury. "You're hurt. Allow me." Reaching at her provisions belt, Scarlet was prepared still from her journey on the road before this whole disaster had been realized. There, in a small leather satchel, was something to dull the pain after helping the blood with its clotting, as well as a clean cloth. But there was no way for her to reach him from the ground. She motioned for him to come closer.

"Is this your natural form?" She asked, not even thinking of the possibility that he might be a human, just assuming he was just a very advanced wolf.

 

[Pazzo]

Osric lifted his snout high into the air, closed his eyes, and took in deep breaths, followed by quick sniffs. Several scents registered to his savage, lupine mind, his thoughts analyzing each one. First was his instincts. Prey or foe? None of the multitude of scents registered to either of those immediate quantities, ans so higher order brain functions proceeded to tear into everything else.

Some nightkin goblins were in a forest nearby, but their pheromones suggested they were feeling fear. It was likely they caught his own scent, and granted him a wide berth. As well they should, as he hated those little bastards and their annoying pranks. He then lowered his muzzle, and regarded the attractive redhead with his amber eyes. "Yes, we are safe." He said flatly. It was not the way of a savage mind to go into much detail when forcing lupine jaws to form words.

Listening to her ask of this place, Osric looked up, and surveyed the immediate area. "The Umbra." He half growled, and half muttered, lightly nipping his tongue by accident. He hated trying to speak in this form. "A shadow mirror image of reality." He continued. Osric's furry ears perked at her recollection of seeing the bandit's crest. A black hawk with a weapon in it's talons. "Amateurs then." He muttered. Any self respecting thieves organization knows better than o carry any identifying markers on them.

His ears then flattened. Things had just gotten a lot more complicated. Perhaps the badge is a plant object, meat to throw blame upon someone else, or it could have been an initiate, eager to prove himself and find a sense of belonging. His wolf lips then curled into a sadistic smile, as she spoke of combat, fighting, and revenge. He then nodded, as she spoke of Mansfield, or even the capitol area as potential sources of information

He then watched her as she advanced upon him, pulling forth what looked like bandages and herbs, used to treat wounds. She then reached for his shoulder. He shook his head. "No, I have no need of that." He grumbled, as he knelt down, using his great muscular clawed hand to wife the blood and grime away from his furry, massive deltoid.

Osric then showed her his shoulder. His fur was still bloody, but the arrow wounds were knitting themselves together, almost completely healed. "I heal normal wounds." He growled, keeping his speech as simple as possible, his mind wrestling with the words, fighting to communicate. "Things made of silver however, cannot be healed quickly." His mind wrestled with the beast, having had enough of trying to think logically. The girl then spoke of his form, and if this one were his true form.

"I am what you see." He said gruffly, as he mentally willed himself to change. His hulking, brutish stance slowly became more upright, as his height shrank. His wolven features faded away, to reveal human like features, until he wore the form of a handsome man, lean and muscular, wearing little more than a loincloth. The beast was still there in his mind, the rage still fresh, but his thoughts were somewhat more clear for the moment.

"I am the wolf, and I am a man. Not one or the other, but both, all at the same time. I believe you would call me a "Werewolf" per se, You can call me Oscric." He murmured in his now eloquent, if still gruff human voice.
He then looked around, and peered into the woods. Several beady little eyes peered out at them from behind the leaves and underbrush, but kept their distance. "Pay them no mind, they aren't looking for trouble." He murmured. As he looked down to the ground, and then back up to the woman, a slight smirk on his face, as an idea unfurled in his mind.

He looked to the woods, and whistled, becoming with his hand. "Good evening!" he called out to the nightkin in a somewhat pleasant voice. "Perhaps you can help us with something!" He continued.
The many pairs of reflective, cat like eyes flashed, but one set of them drew a little closer, until the lone nightkin revealed himself. It was squat, no taller that two feet high, with gangling arms and spindly legs, mated to a melon shaped body covered in haphazardly sewn together rags. It's nose was long and pointed, as were its ears. It's skin was a pale shade of azure, and despite not looking all that clean, smelled of cinnamon.

Osric then looked to the woman, and whispered so only she would hear. "These creatures are not terribly bright, but they occasionally have useful information. Draw this badge you saw into the dirt with a stick, and show it to him. Perhaps he has seen it somewhere." He murmured, as the creature presented itself with trepidation, its yellowed eyes watching Osric carefully, glancing to Scarlett every so often.

 

[Bellatrixxx]

The Umbra.

The Guardian, the most feared and wonderful creature of her imagination and childhood, was here, speaking to her. His voice was graveled, fierce as he chopped through the words in answering her questions with his powerful maw. Scarlet felt her fear of him and this place melting away, her assumptions that she was safer here not truly correct, but almost wherever they were together she knew she felt safe with him. He wasn't going to hurt her, and he -was- intelligent. His guess that the raiders who attacked and murdered her village were amateurs made immediate sense. Whomever had burned her home and killed everyone within were clearly hot-headed. Animals. Brutes with purpose do not destroy shelters, farms, and women unless it was an act of war, and they were too far from the northern border where such battles were occurring for the ground to be Fjordland. No, this had to be some vendetta, some 'lesson' that needed to be taught by locals and sent to the surrounding towns. Calithorne was gone, burned to dust and its people with it. She needed to find out why.

He refused her offer to heal him, and he would see that such an act confused her. Scarlet could clearly see the blood matting his fur, and had seen the arrow bolts sinking into him! But when he leaned down to her level, moving the grim and matted fur apart to show her his dark flesh underneath, she leaned forward and observed it was as he said. He was healed. The meat of his body having somehow naturally sewn itself back together in minutes, leaving behind skin as pristine as before the fight. Her mouth dropped in awe as she looked up, listening to his explanation to his powers and nodding that they were slowed down, or perhaps even halted, by silver. She gave a sad snort of laughter. "Well, you don't need to worry about me having any silver. We were far too poor to afford such luxuries."

She had asked about his form purely out of interest, but never in her wildest imagination did she expect him to start changing right before her eyes. Taking a step back in mild concern and a touch of fear, she watched with wide green eyes as his stature shrank in size, his muzzle shorten into an angular nose, the hair all over his body evaporating away into muscled, human flesh, and fingers and toes morphing from meaty clawed paws. And then there he stood in raw masculine glory, his skin lightly caramelized by the sun as if he spent much time under the wild rays, but his hair was the same color as the previous form's pelt, and his eyes...his golden eyes were exactly the same.

He spoke as if it was the most casual thing, to transform from beast to man in a mystical mirror plane. He looked at Scarlet and explained his soul, how what a 'werewolf' was to her might be the most accurate description as to what he was. She took a tentative step towards him, followed by another, and slowly those features on her face softened from fear to pure wonder. Scarlet soon stood before him, closer, and just to confirm that this was real, that we wasn't dreaming, she reached upwards to his body and lightly placed her palms upon his chest. Fingers splayed she felt how -warm- he was, the power that ebbed through him like blood. Her right hand moved across him, her touch gentle and exploratory before resting directly over his heartbeat. It felt...heavier. Deeper. As if the beast inside was still pounding away in his rib cage despite wearing the body of a man. He was here. Oscric. Her Guardian. He had come to her home, fought with her, and saved her life.

Why did he feel so damn -familiar-?

"Oscric." She whispered, stepping in that much closer as her slender red-gloved hands lifted to the sides of his neck, leather thumbs caressing the tendons there as if he were a puzzle and she sought to touch and understand every piece of him. Her fingers slowly worked back until she cupped his skull, and there she brought his head forward to hers as she simultaneously rose up on her toes to close the distance. He was taller than her, his chin able to rest on the very top of her head if he so wished, but she tilted back and brought him near until their foreheads touched the other's. The tear trails from her father's death still cut through the dirt and ash that still clung to her cheeks, and her eyes fluttered closed as she pressed her third-eye to her wolf's.

"I'm Scarlet," she whispered back to him, cradling his head and keeping her forehead to his. She then opened her eyes, so close that now his pupils melted into a single golden oculus, and she gave him a sad smile as her lashes fanned his cheeks. "Thank you for saving me. But please don't leave me now. I need your help in finding out who did this."

There was no way Scarlet would have known in that moment that Oscric knew her father and had already decided to aid her. For all she knew, the Guardian had things to take care of himself, or now that she was safe, held no interest in helping further. So she pled her case, prayer to the Gods that made him that he would stay by her side for just a little bit longer. And when he turned to the woods with an idea and a mischievous grin tugging at his lips, Scarlet breathed a sigh of immense relief.

With a soft step back, she released him. Turning to follow his line of sight, she soon saw a group of those beady blinking eyes peering at them from the nearby wood. With a gasp, she moved behind Oscric a bit and reached for her bow...only to realize that she must have lost it during the attack, right before he arrived. "Shit." She cursed, more at the fact that she was in this place without her main weapon, a weapon that was likely burned as tinder by now from the flames, so she remained hidden behind the man and watched him call out and greet one of the creatures that was brave enough to approach.

It was an ugly thing, wobbling with its stumpy legs towards them both, before stopping a short distance away as if waiting instructions. Oscric turned over his shoulder to whisper back at her to draw the badge and see if this...thing...might have some information, and she gave him an incredulous look.

"Me??" She whispered sharply back, giving the goblin-creature an unsure expression before turning back to her wolf. "Why me? What if it attacks me? What even -is- that thing?"

Ugh, it was so ugly and strange, but this Umbra place was his world. If Scarlet wanted his help, she needed to learn how to trust him, so with a sigh of resignation, she stepped from behind the man's back and moved slowly sideways towards a thin branch that lay nearby. It would be clear to both of her audience members that she was unsure about the entire thing being asked of her, but Scarlet was never to be accused of being shy or overly fearful. Making her way back to Oscric's side, she bent over in front of the little goblin, and began to draw in the sand.

She was no artist with a stick, but the image would be clear enough. She drew the smooth head with its beak, a feathered body, wings outstretched, and ended with its little feet clutching the blade and hilt of a sword. It was practically burned in her memory through rage alone, so when she finished the final details, Scarlet stood back up and nodded that she was done enough for the creature to take a look.

​

Now, fascination had replaced concern at its little presence, and she watched carefully as it came closer, peeking at her dirt-drawing, observing it from all angles before suddenly jumping up and clapping its hands. It turned to look at her and pointed to the east.

"What?" Scarlet felt a glimmer of excitement, stepping closer, eyes widening at the possibility of a clue. She turned to where he pointed, saw nothing, then turned back to its beady little eyes. "What do you know?"

The goblet then performed a series of acts and movements, communicating through motion where he might have seen the crest.

"East?" Scarlet spoke the words she was guessing it was moving about for. "East, yes. Okay. By the Thorne Ridge Mountains. There's......there's a.....hole?" The goblin shook its head with a frown and made the motion again. "A house? A cave?" It nodded. "A cave. Wonderful! Alright so inside the cave live the men who wear that crest?" It shook its head in a 'no' motion and rubbed its fingers together as if it was massaging a coin. "Ah. Money. Treasure. They have a store cache there, probably filled with things they have stolen." The goblin nodded. "And you've seen them there before?" A nod of Yes. "Anywhere else?" No.

Scarlet sighed and stood back up straight to look at Oscric. "It's a start. We need to search for the cave as soon as possible. They might want to move and clear out from the area after seeing you." Scarlet then turned fully towards him, her emerald eyes filled with pain as she stepped close to him, smelling the earth and warm musk that clung to his beautiful skin. "But please, let me bury my father first. The village should stop burning by morning. And I can't leave him out for the crows. I just can't..."

Her left gloved hand reached forward to stroke down his right forearm, her voice pleading her case. She knew they were short for time, and assumed he might want to be rid of her as soon as he can, probably not wanting any part of this drama to return to the solace of his forest domain. But she couldn't do this alone, not without him. Not yet.

"Please. I just need somewhere to rest tonight. Safe. Then we will go out tomorrow in search of the cave. Once I find out where these men are based out of, you can leave me. I....I promise. I won't ask more from you. I just. I just need a little help..."

 

[Pazzo]

Osric watched the creature's movements intently, memorizing everything. He knew of the area the nightkin gestured of well enough. A series of mountains with an abandoned silver mine in them. His eyes narrowed. It made sense enough, it was close to a fairly high traffic road, with lots of merchant caravans to hit. Fat, slow, attractive targets for bandits. It still didn't answer his question as to why they raided and murdered a whole village though.

The werewolf man listened to Scarlett speak of her plans to bury her father in the morning before enacting any plans, and of her desires to rest. He looked back to the small gaunt humanoid, and nodded once. He reached into the pouch at his waist, and withdrew a hand full of dried and peppered meat. Osric tossed it to the nighkin goblin, who caught all of it, squeaking with glee. It scurried back to it's forest area. One could hear him chattering excitedly, followed by more chittering.

If noting else, the local goblinoid population wouldn't bother them for at least a week, even if they could. Not that they would be able to with what Osric had in mind. He was a little hesitant, as he had never brought anyone to it before. His safe space, inherited from his ancestors before him. A shard realm in its own right, crafted from werewolf magic. "I know of a place." He murmured.

He took a few steps forwards, and brought up his hand. His fingernails elongated into razor sharp claws, as he casually sliced them through the air in front of him. It was as if the very fabric of reality sliced open, to reveal a darkness that seemed to swallow up all light that even got close. He sheathed his claws, and took Scarlett by her hand. Using his other hand, he drew back the rent in spacetime like a curtain, and stepped inside, leading woman with him.

As they passed the threshold, they would feel a sharp change in temperature. Not too cold, but not to warm, with several comforts of home carried upon a slight breeze. They stood in a hemispherical chamber, roughly twenty feet in diameter, and ten feet high. Osric turned, and ran his fingers up the rent in the fabric of reality, healing it. Once the light from the rent faded and her eyes adjusted, Scarlet would see the chamber's walls were made of polished granite, with little flecks of quartz scattered throughout. They each glowed and faded as she moved, giving the appearance of little stars against a clear night sky.

Heavy animal skins covered a portion of the wall behind them, which Osric walked over towards, and pulled aside. It revealed an earthy, clean room hewn out from solid rock, with a long table lining its center. Stacked across it were piles of leaves, sticks, roots, and other herbs and spices, all neatly sorted next to a large mortar and pestle. Lining one wall was an ancient looking stone and mortar stove, with stacks of dried wood placed next to it. Upon the opposite wall was another long table, with a long copper trough running its length. Flowing from it in upwards plumes, as a cold blue mist, that flowed over what looked like several animal quarters, hanging from the ceiling. All of them covered in salt, with little flecks of ice hanging from them.

Osric continued walking forwards into the next room. This one was large and spacious, with a central fire pit filled with glowing orange coals. The walls were granite, with more of the glowing quartz flecks. Around the walls were small tables, and what looked like thick straw mattresses covered in a wealth of tanned hides, lined with soft fur. Small clay bowls lines the tables, with thin wisps of smoke flowing upwards, smelling of sage. He then gestured to the next room, hidden beyond a hanging hide curtain. "There is a wash area in there, as well as a privy. Help yourself, while I look into fixing us a quick supper, so that we will have our strength for tomorrow."

************

A few hours away, sequestered away in the back of an old abandoned silver mine, was a rickety wooden table. It had a modest pile of roughly minted coins upon it, next to a wooden block with a small wheel of cheese set upon it, freshly cut open, next to what looked like a blood red, heavily salted meat. Nearby was a small green glass bottle covered in a wicker sheath, the crimson liquid it held about half drank.

In front of this table was a rude chair made from cut pine sapling trunks lasted together with hemp. Seated in it was what looked like an attractive woman with sunkissed skin, wearing form fitting deerskin hides. She would sip from the bottle, and occasionally pick up a coin in her slender fingers, bringing it up to her eyes to examine it. Standing behind her were two men, both tall and muscular. One of them had greenish skin, owing to his trollish heritage. He easily stood around eight feet tall, wearing nothing more than tight fitting black leather pants. His arms were folded across his massive chest, as his coal clack eyes glinted in the flickering candlelight.

The other male was of average height, but more more attractive, with sandy blonde hair framing his rougish face. His clothing was colorful, and well fitted. A gold ring in his left ear glinted, as he absently stroked the lute in his hands, filling the room with pleasant tones. "They are late." He murmured in a deep, liquid voice, as the troll grunted in annoyance. A few moments later, they could hear angered wearing, and feet sloshing in the ankle deep water that filled the cavern passages.

The woman chuckled, as she turned to see the three burly men carrying a fourth, sporting a huge, blood saturated bandage around what remained of his leg. The first man was the biggest, with red paint upon his face, situated in lines under his fuming brown eyes. His hair was long, and done up in crude dreadlocks. He was the first to speak. "What the hell Vera?!" He roared out at the seated woman, who only arched an eyebrow at him. The troll took a menacing step towards the man, only for Vera to shake her head side to side in ever so slight of a manner. The troll folded his arms, and fixed his eyes upon the irate man, waiting patiently. Max was such a good boy Vera thought to herself.

"You said there were no defenses! A village ripe for raiding!" He called out. Vera stood up, and flexed her arms behind her back, stretching lazily. "I take it you ran into some trouble?" She mused pleasantly, her face curling into what could only be described as a teasing smile. The dreadlocked male however, was not the least bit amused. "You're damn right we did!" He yelled, his eyes red, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth. Vera just planted her hands upon her hips, and cocked one of them to the side, listening expectantly. "Do tell." She murmured, as if speaking to a small child.

Varrick tossed his dreadlocks out of his face, and started daggers at the woman. "Some damned beast, the likes I have never seen." He grunted. "It looked vaguely like a wolf, and a man, only he was twice the size of your thug here." He growled angrily. Vera's eyes flashed mischievously. "Did you see a woman perhaps?" She countered seductively "One wearing red crimson, with coppery colored hair?"

The bandit turned his head to the side and spat, narrowly missing the troll. He lowered his head, his eyes boring into Varrick. Vera could tell he wanted to eviscerate Varrick. She was none too keen of his insolence. But the bandit turned to look at her, and nodded. "Yes. Joey was just about to run her through with his blade, like you wanted. Just before that creature ripped him in half." He said acidly. Verga grinned, and nodded her head. Max was upon the man with an alacrity not thought possible by someone so large. In one fluid motion, he picked up Varrick, and brought him down over his powerful knee, snapping his back completely in two. He fell to the ground, gasping, as max cooly reached out, and snapped the necks of the ones he had brought with them. "Splendid." She murmured to him, as she dropped a hand full of the gold upon him, as Varrick clawed at the air towards her, his eyes wide open in disbelief….