Fantasy Tooth, Hoof and Claw [rascal & inthesea]

[RascalRoadkill]

A fantasy RP with InTheSea , focusing on groups of animal shifters called werefolk.

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KALUDARK​

Kaludark Arzel Burak has a name that, to many, sounds like nonsense- something without meaning, rhyme, or reason. Only the uneducated outsider would say that, though. Burak, the signifier of kingly blood, Arzel, the name of their father, and his father before him- a signifier of great things ahead of them. Kaludark- the only part uniquely theirs, and ever-cherished.

Overall, it means that Kaludark is their leader. The werefolk have suffered enough tragedies over the years, and by Burak's blood, Kaludark will be the one to keep away the dark and ensure their people stay in the light. It is not an easy feat, and it never has been, especially considering how young they are in comparison to their predecessors. They're no teenager, of course, but they are certainly not the grizzled, going-on-sixty-year-old orc their father was.

Their lands must stay secure, which meant ensuring that none of that blasted necromancer's minions had strayed far beyond where they should be.

Out deep in the forest, Kaludark leads their little band of fellow, trusted werefolk to ensure that this stays true. Arzel II led by example, and thus, so shall Kaludark. Any other leader might sit safe in their ivory tower, but Kaludark's weakness always was bureaucracy, ironically enough.

A large, hulking wolf with jutting tusks and fangs shakes its pelt and returns to the form of a humanoid as Kaludark stands, nose twitching. Something is… here, out in these green, twisting woods that only they and their werefolk knew best. Someone that shouldn't be here. Kaludark knew just about every one of the werefolk by scent, and this… this is not someone they know.

It would be a smaller concern if it weren't for the blasted roaming bandits that share their werefolk blood but none of the sense. So, forgive the orcish leader's discretion.

Kaludark does not speak, simply raising their hand to signal the rest to halt behind them. Their group of five stops on command- anxious to know what exactly their leader has found.

And what has Kaludark found, just beyond the glade?

​

 

[InTheSea]

Ataya Olivewood

Survive.

Since the Necromancer's undead army ravaged the world, the denizens that had lived in the Verdant Weald scattered to the four winds when their realm was destroyed. Only a few had remained, and those few lived within what remained from the initial scarification. What was once the precious Verdant Weald had become the Scarred Vale. The people that lived there dedicated their lives to ensuring what was left of their home was safe from the death and decay that followed the mages minions wake. There was no longer strength in numbers, but rather the determination of a few.

The people of the Vale, though scant as they were, were of varied heritages and kept themselves secluded from one another, their huts dispersed through the remaining forest. One such being was Ataya, a buckskin-colored satyr with olive-green eyes who made a living by doing anything and everything necessary to ensure her survival. She could mend clothing including leather, she knew how to forage and to hunt, and she wasn't too shabby when it came to gardening either. She also was gifted with basic elemental magic, but it was hardly anything to brag about. The people traded with her, and she with them, and so the peace they had scraped together remained. None of them had any drive to face the Necromancer and his army, though many wished for someone to do so. The freedom they had was only just, for as soon as the skeletal beings found them, it would all be over. Ataya was the same. The Necromancer was none of her business, and while she could fight if necessary, she just wasn't cut out for that kind of thing. The Necromancer's magic would rip her to shreds even before she could muster a fireball in her palms, so she was content with her life in the woods.

Unfortunately for her, the Necromancer wasn't the only thread to befall the world.

Those afflicted by the Werefolk curse were on the rise, or rather, a growing army of them that were little more than bandits. The people of the Scarred Vale had heard whispers of the creatures through the magics that allowed some of them to commune with plant and animal life, but none of the denizens believed the pack would come to them. So when the bandits did arrive, it was a horrifying shock to them all.

The pack rounded up everything they could in the center of a clearing where the would-be leader stood as a massive wolf with scars furrowed all over his body. The rest of his pack surrounded the terrified forest folk to ensure none were to escape. Among the forms of wolves she could see all matter of beasts; felines, other canines, bears, foxes, and more filing in behind.

"Join us or die." Was the declaration of the leader, said in a practiced way that suggested he had said it many times before. The words passed through the unaffiliated with a ripple of terror, Ataya included. Some rose and ran, and some of those were felled with disregard for their families. Others were changed regardless of the fact they fled, bitten or clawed, blood forcibly shared. Those who did not run pledged allegiance and were turned; some by blood, some by magic.

It would be too easy to say that Ataya accepted her fate. As non-confrontational as she was, it would have made sense for her to join. The pack was large, and though many bore old wounds that showed through their thick pelts, they were strong and fierce. But Ataya did not want to become nameless. The same scent overpowered everything, and death was a far better option than turning into a crazed beast as these fiends were.

So she ran, but not after tucking her long braid into the back of her dress.

In the thick of the fear from the group that tried to flee, Ataya ducked passed friend and foe. Her hooves pushed her farther than the others, her ability to leap above a diving wolf saving her from being tackled. The leader didn't bother to watch her run, his pack knew what to do. With her heart pounding in her chest, she could barely hear the sound of the paws that thudded on the ground behind her. She darted through the trees to force her pursuer to take other routes, and she had a sneaking suspicion they were enjoying the chase.

At one point, the beast lunged at her again and she was forced to jump. She misjudged the timing, and the claws of the long-legged wolf dug into her left thigh. A chunk of the linen dress she wore tore away along with skin, fur, and blood, and she screamed in agony from the attack. As she hobbled away, she could hear the wolf laughing as it licked it's paw clean behind her.

"I never tasted satyr before now." The voice was gruff, but she couldn't tell the gender.

Despite the throbbing in her thigh, she pressed on, but she was caught much faster the second time. Teeth caught her ear, and she wheeled around to kick at the beast, which miraculously caught it in the jaw and caused a yelp a pain. She received another slash to her face that time as a reward for her hubris, and she stumbled away again.

"Now you're pissing me off." The wolf snarled as it spat some blood. "Killing you would be easy, I think I'll make you my pet."

The third lunge did not go as the wolf predicted. Ataya tripped over a root as her injured leg failed to lift, and she fell forward. The wolf leaped on top of her, but it was too late to stop its trajectory. With the position of Ataya's head, her horns were headed right for their head. The immediacy in which the wolf collapsed—dead—on top of her made her cry out in pain again. She struggled, but her horn was stuck in the skull of her attacker. Blood dripped from the wound in the wolves head, and she could feel it dripping down onto her own head. The moment the wolves blood touched the open wounds on her face, she knew she was doomed. The moment her blood mingled with that of the werewolf was the moment her body changed. The affliction took over. Her bones screamed, or maybe that was just the sound of her own voice, as her body sought to tear itself apart.

When the pain ceased enough for her to see clearly again, she mourned the sight of paws where hands used to be; she was cursed. Howls from behind her got her attention, and though her body ached from the changes and the wounds, she galloped off through the woods, leaving the dead werewolf behind.

She did not know how long it took her to get beyond the Vale and to somewhere safe, but the moment she heard frustrated howls of her pursuers, she knew that she had reached some kind of border they weren't able to pass. The scents that made up the new territory—for now she had such an ability—were different than that of the werefolk bandits. Yet she knew they were still that of werefolk. She hoped at least she could evade both parties for a time, because she knew she couldn't run much longer.

---

It had been three days since she entered the territory of another pack of werefolk. Thus far, she had managed to keep herself out of trouble, and she even caught a couple of fish in a river that passed by. The river gave her the ability to mask her scent for the most part by using the mud and grit along the shore. She knew that she still smelled of the bandits, and that could pose a problem if the other group were to find her on their territory. She reasoned it was a problem she could deal with if it ever came to it, because all she cared about was trying to get the newfound beast under control.

Since her affliction, she had not been able to transform back to her satyr form. No matter how hard she tried, her body ached and protested. It frustrated her to the point of tears, and no amount of willing her reflection—as she looked into the river below—seemed to change that.

So it was then, as she scowled at her reflection in her newfound wolfish way, that she thought she heard something. She looked from from the water and rose to her paws and hooves—because that was what happened if you were an afflicted satyr, you retained your hooves—and looked about her. Her ears, one torn, twitched to hear more sounds. She strained to see through the trees, but she was unskilled with this new form, and though she stood fearfully, she also had the posture of one ready to fight if necessary.

Original code by natasha., edited by me

 

[RascalRoadkill]

KALUDARK​

It is potentially unwise for the leader to leave their entourage behind given the value Kaludark held- both for the stability of their community and as a symbol for the rest of them to follow. But Kaludark only caught wind of one person beyond the trees, and to come upon with with an entire group of werefolk might be too intimidating, to say the least. If they can make their way through this situation without conflict, then all the better for it. It may be unlikely, but… they've seen enough violence. They've got to try.

Regardless, Kaludark puts their hand on the leather-wrapped handle of a handaxe as they push aside the leaves. They pray they will not have to use it, but…

Still, Kaludark advances, ducking low through the brush to finally come upon the riverbank. There, about ten feet away, a werefolk- even if they weren't learned in the fauna of the Vale, they would know this is no ordinary creature simply by instinct alone.

The smell of bandit makes their nostrils flare, but it's unusual… one alone? This individual certainly did not look the part of a raider, but… if there's one bandit, there's surely more. If this even is a bandit in the first place.

Kaludark narrows their stark yellow eyes, standing and straightening their posture to full height to make clear the difference in stature.

"You," they say, sacrificing their usually casual speech for a stern tone. "You smell like raider, but you venture alone. Why do you walk my weald?" They tap the handle of the handaxe. "Do not attempt to harm me. It will end badly for you."

 

[InTheSea]

Ataya Olivewood

Leaves shifted beyond her sight, and her muscles tightened. She debated running before whatever it was could get to her, but she decided against it. The newcomer was coming from deeper within the territory, so the likelihood it was one of the bandits coming to find her was a much slimmer scenario. If it was someone from the territory, she had a chance to plead her case.

Assuming they didn't gut her first.

Where she had been expecting another werefolk, she saw instead an imposing orc. Luckily, the axe that they grasped tightly in their hand didn't suddenly come hurtling her way and instead they stood up tall with narrowed yellow eyes. The voice that came forth immediately reminded Ataya of someone in a position of leadership, so either the orc was the leader of people within the territory or they were high enough on the chain of command that she still stood a chance to get out of the situation without a fight. Her own posture shifted to one who was not actually looking for a fight, her bi-colored tail tucking between her cloven hind legs. Her ears, the left one torn from her attackers teeth, fold against her head.

"I...am not...a raider." Ataya's voice sounded rough from not being used and because of the fact she was trying to speak through foreign vocal chords. "They...attacked...my people. I...was turned." The fatigue she felt from the effort she exerted trying to speak was immensely frustrating considering how exhausted she already was from her situation.

"Not a threat...I need...a place to rest. Safe." To punctuate her point, she sat down upon her haunches, which made her feel a bit better. "I can't...get out...of this body." She growled, though she turned her eyes away to ensure they understood it was not meant to be perceived as a threat towards them.

Original code by natasha., edited by me

 

[RascalRoadkill]

KALUDARK​

This other of their folk is rather diminutive; well, in size, yes- but that is in comparison to themself, and nearly everyone is technically diminutive to them. No, Kaludark thinks diminutive in personality. At this moment, at least, tail tucking between her legs and ears folded down. Time will tell, perhaps, whether this is simply how this individual acts or a result of the situation- or perhaps they will imminently part ways and Kaludark will never know.

Still, they tilt their head, curious. The story would explain the smell of raider… and it would certainly explain her ragged appearance otherwise. There is a spark of sympathy in their eye, but they keep it to themselves for now- they've seen tricks of similar caliber before, but they would rather not leave someone out in the wilderness in a foreign body either.

They will help- but they will not leave caution behind. Kaludark leaves the ax in their grip as they put a hand out to make an offer. "If this is true- and it best be, you may follow my group," they say- for now, they will leave out the truth of their position; they silently chastise themselves for implying it earlier with "my weald". Perhaps it would intimidate too much, and if this is a bandit trick, they would rather not reveal their identity. No matter; they have already said it. All's well, she hopefully has not noticed.

"We're returning home. I believe I can teach you how to return to your true form, but not here. I do not know how long it would take, and given the frequency of raiders, it would be unwise to linger."

This, at least, is truth- given that this appears to be new to her, they have no earthly idea how long it would take to show her how to return... especially since they do not know what she is "supposed" to look like in the first place. It could take hours, by all means, and Kaludark still has weary companions to return home besides.

 

[InTheSea]

Ataya Olivewood

Ataya wouldn't have cared if she heard the thoughts running through their mind. Her people were passive, elusive, and did little to make themselves known to others outside of their minute group. She was, of course, no different in that regard. The satyr did what she could to survive just as any other, and if that meant keeping her head down then so be it.

It also helped in this particular situation. A towering orc who bore arms they clearly knew how to use like an extension of their own body was far superior to the little knowledge she had about her new body. Even if she wanted to fight him she was sure he would cleave her in two without missing a beat. No, passiveness would hopefully keep her from certain death.

Their tilt of the head was enough for Ataya to assume she was—for the moment—safe. They were quiet for a time, and as they mulled over her broken words she merely stood as still as possible to avoid triggering any action from the other. It didn't take terribly long for the orc to come to a conclusion as they extended their hand in her direction.

His words caused the tension in her body to ease. Her shoulders slumped, her tail relaxed, and her ears lifted with some semblance of neutrality. She looked less weary at the prospect of some honest to goodness help, and perhaps that help also came in the form of something decent to eat. The reality of his true station hadn't even dawned on her, she didn't really care. At least not yet.

"I swear...it's not a lie." She couldn't get her voice to really give off her emotions yet, but she hoped the words were enough to convince them she was indeed not lying. "Do you...want me to walk...ahead of you?" She wasn't sure how they wanted to go about it. Seeing as they said 'we', she could only gather there were others. "Or...am I do walk...in the middle?...I'll do it." She still had yet to move, clearly waiting for some kind of gesture or vocal permission to allow her to move.

Original code by natasha., edited by me

 

[RascalRoadkill]

KALUDARK​

Well, anyone can say that- but Kaludark is more inclined to believe her than not given the circumstances. Really, they'd honestly prefer for this to be true, and are hoping that it is. Necessary as it became in some scenarios, Kaludark has never enjoyed having to turn folk away regardless of circumstance.

Still, they're reassured by how she seems to relax instead of tense more at the idea of being led to Kaludark's home. Reassurance that she will not be surrounded by enemies- or, perhaps, relief that the plan is going through..? Kaludark is inclined towards the former. They'd like to keep their faith in people, no matter the times.

"Middle of the pack," they answer, "I have several others with me. They will ensure that no danger befalls you. I will lead the way."

Practically, it would be better for her to be in the midst of their group. Yes, Kaludark will have their back turned to her… which isn't ideal, but they trust their group of fellow werefolk. They'll watch for anything amiss, Kaludark is certain. Trust is an important thing in these times- rare to come by, but valuable when earned. If any bandits come by seeking to finish the job, it'll be easier to guarantee their failure.

Kaludark puts back the handax and waves her over to follow them. Kaludark watches before they get too far, though, to ensure she follows.

 

[InTheSea]

Ataya Olivewood

The middle of the pack it was to be. She believed that at least there they would see that she was not a threat. Whoever traveled with them would see her wounds and know they were still quite fresh. Ataya wasn't sure if the raiders would inflict wounds upon themselves as some sort of plot to take down the pack that controlled the territory, but she certainly hoped they wouldn't do something that insane.

"Thank you." She said in a softer tone of voice, relieved. The encounter had gone better than she could have hoped for. The raiders were brutal, seeing how they killed and changed others so mercilessly, it was her only experience with what these strange creatures were.

As soon as he waves her over, she followed him to the rest of his group. She could feel their eyes upon her, and she knew that they would be watchful for any sudden movements. She didn't worry about it. She knew her intentions were pure, and they would come to find she was trustworthy in time. And that was assuming she would be able to stay for an extended period due to her inability to shift back to her normal body.

It was a little awkward, having to use paws and hooves. Her body adjusted to where everything was proportionate to each other, but that didn't make her look less than the amalgamation of wolf and goat she currently was. She knew she looked weird, but at the moment she didn't really care. The farther from the border she was, the safer from the raiders she felt.

Original code by natasha., edited by me