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 The Dog From Majesty, DaveTheHydraKing, Beaver

SETTING: Outside of Majesty, further west towards Albronel, at the foot of the mountain base.

WEATHER: The sky is dark and cloudy, winds are high and cold, as a storm threatens to come.

TIME: The year is 12995, word of deathcats still sweep the land, and D'issan still shows the scars from when they attacked. Late afternoon, Month of the Wolf, Day four (Lighting)

CHARACTERS INVOLVED: Krag(DaveTheHydraKing) N/A(Beaver)


The sky was dark, clouds hung low, skimming the top of the great mountain pass Krag walked upon. The winds blew hard, threatening to tear away any stray items one poor soul might of let go. The taste of rain was in the air, yet none fell. It was more of a threat from higher powers, a threat to test any wolf stuck on there own, or perhaps to humiliate those stupid enough to dare travel at such a time.

"By the Five..." Krag muttered to himself as the wind howled, slashing him across the face. Holding his jacket closed, he tucked his head down, shielding himself from the bitter wind that dared attacked him. He knew he should of left Majesty at another time, one where he didn't smell the bitter sent of a storm in the air. However, his foolish nature made him believe he could find shelter. Something which had not came true, and something that didn't seem as if it would come true.

It was all a fools choice! Krag thought to himself in bitter spite of his own nature. He wouldn't dare turn back at this stage, his own proudness wouldn't allow him to do suck an act. Majesty was not a good place for him. Too many fights, and too much fear lingered in the streets of Majesty. However, street thugs where far easier to deal with, rather than whatever beasts lurked in the path he took.

His path across the bottom of the mountain was not an easy route, it was plagued in sharp turns and less than knowledgeable ways. If anything, it was only thanks to his animal instinct that kept him on the beaten path. However, for all of that, he still failed to actually know where he was heading. During his time in Majesty he had heard of a place ruled by a Queen, with lush streets and the ability to learn magic. Something that had peaked his interests ever since he spent his time at the temple of the time.

Krag stopped in his tracks suddenly, his ears pricking up at the sound of something. It was soft, yet it sounded like a shout within the distance. He stopped, his head turning around sharply looking for someone or something. He sniffed the air, but the musky scent of rain masked the smell of anything. Small droplets of water softly pattered on the back of his jacket, and in a move of instinct he looked up to the sky, only to feel the cooling rain patter over his face. Then, in the distance, the sound of something cracking and tearing came. Then the rumbling of the ground came. Krag's head looked up at the mountain. The rain suddenly throwing it down, masking his vision slightly.

Crash! As if the mountain came down, Krag dived out of the way of a horde of rocks and broken tree crashing into the ground. Lying there in the mud, Krag pushed himself to his feet, his eye's squinting at the rubble in frustration.

"FIVE DAMN IT!" Krag screamed at his misfortune, as his hands gripped his hair. Throwing his head back, he let out a frustrated roar, something very animalistic in sound. Kicking the ground like a child, he shook his head. Gritted teeth and heavy breathing came from him. He needed to find shelter, he needed to get out of the storm, he needed his pack.
A wagon rolled onward pulled by a strange beast, a lantern could be seen seated next to a short woman with the legs of a horse. Bare breasted she held the reins head swaying to a very boisterous clamor emitting within the purple painted wooden box. The wagon was made of wood, beveled trim embellished the edges of the vehicle. Golden etchings above a small door adorned the top section of the covered wagon. The beauty and rich colors were a wonder to behold, along with the fancy embezzled designs crafted into the woodwork.

The low sound of a Korthold melding with a dulcimer could be heard among the sounds of the forest in the evening hours. Emitting from the wagon was a cacophony of music, woodwinds melding with string based instruments, the forest seemed to part for the wagon. The dark of the night almost seemed to recede to the gaudy beauty of the procession. Singing and laughing could be heard within the wagon mixing together in an almost enchanting and beautiful sound. The voices of a dozen men and women gave life to the world around them.

The horse legged woman was not the only one visible to the forest, four goat legged creatures sat atop the wagon's bowed roof, clacking their hooves together, strumming dulcimers one of which picking a lute, accenting the distinct sound of the dulcimers. Percussions could be heard banging as three of these creatures trotted around the slow moving wagon. The song that scratched the ears of any whom may be within earshot had a mystical quality to it that was strengthened by interludes by the dulcimers and the soft patter of the drums muting the endings of the string instrument's sound. It wasn't a sad melody nor a romantic one, adventure was not a quality this particular song spoke of either, it flowed with an emphasis of nature. A calming sound that drove one onward however with no particular destination. Those who raised their voice in song sang in the common tongue telling of a soul bound to itself, forced onward. The chorus oddly had pertained to the sound of the wind.

The horse legged interloper rocked her head from side to side steering the massive beast in front of her, who even seemed to sway its head to the rhythm. There small grin on the bare chested creature when suddenly a loud crash could be heard in the night. The music never stopped but one of the violas ceased when suddenly the face of a goateed man stuck his face next out through a small hole next to this woman. "Shelta!" the man's voice rang with a jolly demeanor. His body was half inside and half outside of the wagon. She smiled with an aloof gaze, hardly acknowledging the man. "Hmm?" Shelta mused. "What do you make of that sound?"
"Well a bit out of tune, you can learn a thing or two from my viola skills." Her voice was far less expressive than his, almost slightly tenebrous sounding.
"Oh? You play the viola Shelta?" This brought an even wider grin to the man's face.
"Oh indeed I do play the viola Patrin, why don't you grab me yours and I'll show ya a thing or two." Her smile remained plastered on her face. She was a fair looking woman with brown hair similar to the shades of Patrin. He squinted at her and attempted to pull his body back into the carriage, but he was stopped by something. He looked at either side of the opening, turning his head from left to right. A board was nailed on either side of the opening angled so he could peek his body out and not pull it back in. She scooted over so she was blocking one of his shoulders and put her hooves up against the railing, stopping him from coming all the way out, leaning back on him cackling. "You know... I figured it would be you would come out first. " He tried to pull himself back into the carriage, but he was trapped and when he tried to push himself out the front she put her weight against him, her bare back stopping his exit.
"Ah-ah. Your my prisoner now Patrin, what ever will I do with you?" She joked putting a hand on the top of his head, grabbing one of the horns sticking from his forehead and giving it a playful shake.
"Well I'm uncertain a lump sticking out of a hole would be much use to you... Well at least not with his face downcast. Spun upside down I'm sure this seat could use a lump of my skill." He said in a smarmy demeanor with a toothy grin.
"Well..." She allowed. "I have a better idea. And at that she picked up a bucket from the floor of the seat and placed it over his head. "I think this better fits a lump of your skill."

Without a word Shelta turned the reins toward the origin of the crashing sound in the distance, it had sounded like a rock slide. The party didn't seem to object to the change in course they were enjoying their merriment. Shelta placed an elbow atop Patrin's new helm and held the reins in one arm. Every once in a while one of the other goat legged creatures gave Patrin's behind a slap. He sat humming along with Shelta as they drew close to a cliff. The drummers still trotted around the carriage and the band was in full swing.
Time had passed for Krag, how long was unimportant for him, all he knew was the disappointment of the air around him, and the wetness of his own drenched clothing. His mind was racing with the thoughts of anger, frustration and misery. Enough so it was enough to tilt him on the edge of the beast. Like the rockslide from only moments ago, his time during and after Majesty had all been down hill, and he could almost see the crash site where he would fall. It was a thought that terrified him to the bone, whilst boiling his blood. It all seemed as if he was falling, thrown off a mountain able to see his demise yet have no way to stop it. All he could do was watch, and without his pack, he had no soul to catch him.

He was convinced that leaving Majesty would be for the best. After all, nothing could be gained from there. An area as thuggish as the dark streets of Majesty served as no ground for a lone wolf. He could defend himself, that was no issue, he could fight, and fight he did. Yet fighting, even for a wolf, would become boring after a while. The idea of being hunted was never enjoyed by Krag, but, the fact that he was hunted by inexperienced and over confident hunters, was enough to drive him away with an air of boredom and hate surrounding him.

The rain fell around him, forming lake like puddles, smashing into the ground like heavy stones. The world had became dark and moody, with the eye of the storm nowhere to be seen. There standing in the middle of it all, with rubble in front of him and a risky pathway to a new life behind him, was Krag.

His hands, plunged deep into the pockets of his jacket, Krag gave the pile of rubble one swift kick, cracking a branch of a dead tree in two. The pile shook with an uneasy tension, threatening to collapse further. Krag paid no attention however, his mind, although clouded with thoughts of despair, where set. He would make it to this land ruled by a Queen, and he would start a new life, one where he could learn magic, like the mages at the temple of time, and where he could spend his days drinking and reading.

With his head hung low, and his demeanour rigid, he turned on his heel and quickly made his way off down the beaten path. Nothing but the patter of rain joining him in his journey.

Yet that blissful silence didn't last long, it never did anyways. Krag, once again rooted in his tracks, looked around as his ears picked up sounds different to the nature that surrounded him. Something that sounded like music. It was faint in his ears, but he could hear that it was approaching. With music came people, and by the noises these people created, he could only judge they were somewhat friendly. Looking over his shoulder, Krag weighed up his options, he could head back, risking to miss them, or have them appear as thieves, or he could head on and make up any missed progress. Time soon passed, as he found himself heading towards the music. With music came people, and with people came shelter.
Onward the small gypsy band pressed! Their carriage moved with slow moving purpose as Shelta held tight to the reins. It didn't take long for her to scoot over and relieve Patrin of the trap he found himself in. She finally knocked the bucket down yawning with a mock expressive boredom, bringing a hoof down to the floor and sliding her horse-like rump to the side of the seat. Patrin began to wriggle himself free, finding his head positioned next to Shelta's hoofs.

"You're quite the devil Shelta." Patrin said with a toothy grin whilst repositioning himself in the seat. "If that joke is what makes me the devil, then I must be an evil demigod for what I did to your soup this morn'." The grin soon dissolved on Patrin's face. "Y'know... I thought the soup tasted bitter." Shelta grinned and Patrin placed the backside of one of his hand across his forehead, and the underside of his other atop his chest.

"Oh Shelta! What horrible deed hast thou inflicted to mine innocent morning soup? Hast thou defiled this one's treasured meal with a curse most vile? A pox of misfortune? Mayhaps the dreaded purple petal plucked with ill intent from the deadly nightshade flower hath garnished mine soup!" Patrin heaved with exaggerated breath, slumping over on Shelta, who didn't seem to mind as he laid his head against her breasts, looking up in her eyes with a terrified expression. Shelta's lips were curled in a faint smile as she stared ahead, rain dripping down her slender body.

"Nay! A single solitary pube hath garnished thy treasured morning... fast...of which ye breakethed... Well that isn't exactly true, single solitary is being a bit conservative." Shelta said scratching her head trying to in turn speak poetically as not to ruin the repertoire, meanwhile failing. "Vile demi-god! Say it isn't so!" Patrin wrapped her in a distressed embrace, burying his head against her flesh pretending to sob. He looked up at her abruptly breaking his foolish accent. "Well it isn't the first time I've accidentally swallowed one of your pubes." At this moment she snorted, unable to contain herself. Now who said it was one of mine? I recruited Cobb as a volunteer for that one." At this moment Patrin pulled himself from Shelta's bosom and adopted a very genuine look of revulsion. "By the five! Cobb? Would you enjoy seeing my with leprosy Shelta? Because that's how ya' get leprosy! --- I think I would welcome the nightshade now." He muttered.

The Satyr shook her head, chest heaving with a distinctive cackling laughter befitting her race. "Oh stop, if you were dead who else would I dupe with such ease? None of the clan is as gullible as my very own protector." She bent over in an instant retrieving the bucket from the ground and placing it atop his head. "My gallant Knight Patrin the wet brained!" She placed an affectionate hand against his cheek, which brought a grin to his face. He opened his mouth to speak when suddenly a faun jumped on the side of the wagon, grasping a bar. "Looks like a rockslide on the mountain ahead. 'Parently there's a human descending the mountain side now." The faun was clothed in a green tunic, a percussion instrument hanging from a strap around his neck. The horns on his forehead were adorned with brightly colored streamers and flowers sat in his hair.

"A human eh? In this weather?" Patrin tilted his head. "Well it wouldn't be the first straggler we've picked up in the dead of night, Patrin why don't you go introduce yourself. The mighty Knight Wet Brain should inspire fear into any who wish us harm." A smile danced along the edge of her lips. It was the other faun's turn to cock his head. Patrin enthusiastically sprung up, thrilled by the idea of a new face. He jumped from the wagon and trotted around to the door of the cart.

He emerged with a flute in hand and trotted onward just beyond the front of the carriage. "Patrin! One more thing!" He trotted back. "Maybe you shouldn't bring your armor, we don't want to bewitch this human into a frenzy of fear." She snagged the bucket from atop Patrin's head who had clearly forgotten by now. He looked up chuckling dryly pawing at his own hair. "Heh... Yeah maybe a good idea." In the next moment he galloped off, along with three other Fauns, instruments in hand. Shelta sighed and shook her head. "You know Fiara, sometimes I wonder how this clan has survived five nights. I shudder to think of the logic supporting five generations." The beast drawing the carriage turned its head. "Your lucky you weren't around to see the previous generation" The beasts voice was twisted, most certainty evil sounding.

The party of four fauns galloped toward the mountain, playing a welcoming tune on their flutes. The faun with streamers in its horns leading the way. They stopped in the path of the humanoid. Well hello traveler! We are the Chantri clan and we welcome you with a drier voyage than the one that currently seems to soak you to the bone. Even if thou may be malicious in intent. Those who enter our company find it rather impossible to hold onto ill intentions." The small faun boasted rather confidently, letting his words flow from his lips with a happy tone of voice. Patrin flourished in an extravagant bow, knowing that the song they played, their welcome song, beguiled positive feelings among any newcomers. The song seemed to always regulate any negative emotions and turn them into positive thoughts and intentions.
With his head down low and his hair drenched by rain water. Krag would of had the appearance of some desperate thug, ready to pounce on whatever measly scraps of travellers he could. However, upon first glance of the wagon that approached him, Krag couldn't help but lift an intrigued eyebrow. The music which came from it forced a smile onto his lips, and the group of creatures that approached him could bring even the stuck up of men to laugh.

Krag took a moment to step off the road, pushing himself to the side, allowing the carriage, pulled by a beast of a creature, to pass. With his hand raised, he waved to the group which approached him. They appeared friendly enough, and from what he saw, none really apposed a threat to him. Well, that beast could be a problem if they decided to attack.

He listened to the faun as they approached and smiled as music filled his ears. The mood was almost flipped in an instant, the cheery music dispelling any feelings of cold anger, which Krag had held onto so tightly.

"Hello!" Krag called out as they came closer. His voiced raised, so they could hear him over the horrid storm. Without thinking, his body cautiously took a few steps closer, and before he knew it, he was by the side of the beast which pulled the vividly decorated box. He looked at the beasts eyes, finding some animalistic comfort in them. He gave the creature a grin, showing off his sharp canines, but only for a split second before turning his attention to the group within the carriage.

"Ah, yes, well my initial plan was washed away with the weather, and by the way fate was just turning, I don't think even the gods wanted me to move... Not with that rockslide nearly ending me anyway." Krag said chuckling to himself, as he brushed his hair back out of his face, as he did so he also managed to squeeze out, what seemed to be, a mug of water from his hair. "I don't have any ill attentions, I assure you, unless making my way out of Majesty is one of them!" The werewolf joked to himself. His eyes suddenly darted around, glancing over all who habituated the carriage. All of them intriguing him in some way or another. They all seemed alien to him, as he had never seen there race before, but he had heard of them. Faun, creatures of nature. That alone was enough to make him want to learn more.

Reaching out a hand towards the Faun, who spoke to him, he offered a hand shake, smiling. "The name's Krag." He offered with a cool and confident voice. "Mind if I hop on with you? It's rather wet out here."
Patrin took Krag's hand and shook his hand enthusiastically, smiling all the while. "Aah tis' wonderful to hear, I didn't want to have to overpower thy with my overwhelming mettle. Th' names Patrin, come! Let's get you inside." He said finally releasing his grip. The faun turned and trotted toward the carriage. It was an average sized buggy and the faun were not the smallest creatures of the forest.

Shelta caught Krag's eyes in her own with a sideways glance as she placed the arm closer to the man behind her head. Her bare body was on display as she ran a hand through her long brown hair. An unnatural and almost animal laugh could be heard as he walked out of view. Patrin hopped up toward the door, pulling himself inside motioning for the human to do the same. As Krag approached three faun followed behind, playing their flutes in the same happy melody. Three more clung to the outside of the buggy talking rather loudly among themselves. As Krag passed them they all seemed to speak at once.
"Hello stranger!"
"Hello, they call me Copita!"
"You look wet, at least you won't go thirsty out there!"

Three more faun sat on the curved roof of the wooden vehicle, accenting the flutes being played, all three grinned happily as Krag made to enter the cart. The front of the room had an opening to the exterior where Shelta steered the beast drawing the cart. The back side of the cart had three large shelves that were supported by iron attached to the wall. On the wall in front there were cabinets and counter tops with various spices and plants in different bowls and jars. The same wall as the door had pegs where handcrafted items of jewelry shone next to a shelf where spare instruments sat, the interior was decorated with streamers and perfumed with the smell of incense.

Two Faun laid sprawled out on the far shelves, one on the first shelf one on the top shelf, they immediately dismounted upon seeing Krag. "Hello human!" One called as she made her way toward the stranger. Patrin stood with his back toward the front of the buggy. "Here Krag!" He said as he climbed into the bottom of the cabinet, emerging with a large brown bottle. "The Alchemists of Everdawn have come up with this marvelously thick beverage, four times the potency of ale!" Patrin thrust the bottle into Krag's hands as one of the faun behind him pulled his jacket off. The music changed outside to a different song, this time somewhat of an adventurous tune. One faun attacked Krag's head with a towel, scrubbing the dampness from his hair. The jacket was thrown toward the front of the carriage past Patrin. The Faun with a giggle attempted to strip Krag of his undershirt too.

"There's a tunic or two around here that should fit you." Patrin said approaching a wardrobe toward the front of the room, sitting on the wall beside the entrance to the driver's seat.
With Krag pulled into the cart, he could hear the drivers animalistic laugh. For anyone that could of been frightening, yet for Krag, a smile only grew on his lips. Although his time away from a pack has ultimately turned him less animal like, that sense of nature sent sensations up his spine that made him feel like home. Besides, he was a wolf, a social creature. Time alone wasn't good for himself, and the past years didn't help. So the inclusion of a group around him was welcomed.

Upon entering, he waved to the two Faun who appeared to burst to life as soon as they laid eyes upon him. With the one greeting him, Krag scratched the back of his head at being called a human. Although, he wasn't too surprised. Krag, ever since he entered Majesty, had abandoned the wolfish look he once had in his youth, for a far more respectable look. Clean shaven and well dressed. He would usually be mistaken in Majesty for a middle-class citizen, anyways. Quickly his attention was taken away as Patrin shoved a large brown bottle in his hands. Krag looked at with an odd sense of curiosity. Pulling off the cork, he suddenly got a strong sniff of the alcohol within the beverage. With the goat like creature explaining it's contents, Krag could only chuckle.

"Ha, Alright, the smell alone was almost enough to knock me out, I couldn't imagine what the whole bottle would do to a soul!" Krag laughed, as he brought the bottle to his lips, taking one large sip, he was suddenly cut short by the two Faun, suddenly assaulting his jacket. Just managing to not spit out the potent beverage, Krag quickly gulped what was in his mouth and stuck the cork back into the neck of the bottle. Turning his head, he laughed as the creature stripped him of his soaked jacket. The weight that was lifted off his shoulders was unbelievable. Although he didn't have time to stop, as he was suddenly robbed of his undershirt, by the other Faun. "Hey! Calm down with the stripping, will you? I didn't agree to anything like that." Krag joked as he was suddenly left shirtless.

Krag was a big guy. He just fitted within the wagon itself. His coal black hair was still damp and sent a shiver down his spine as a stray drop of rain water ran down his back, running over old closed scars that tattooed his back like some cruel painting. For how tall he was, Krag was still rather slim, yet toned. He didn't appear to be the type who could be a boxer, or throw the strongest punch, instead he appeared as if he could be nimble and fast, even with his height, closer to the form of a swimmer or a sprinter.

His head jerked in the direction of Patrin, even if he had no quarrels with how he looked, a tunic to cover up his body from the cold air that swept through the cart, would be more than appreciated. Making his way closer to Patrin, he placed the bottle on a nearby shelf. Pushing an arm out to lean on the frame of the driver's entrance, Krag looked down at Patrin as he searched for a piece of clothing for him. "That would be much appreciated, however, any of you wouldn't happen to be heading towards a Kingdom ruled by a Queen would you? Because that's where I'm heading."
Patrin gave a grin, tugging at his chin hair. "Hmmm... A kingdom ruled by a queen? A queen you say... Strange I'm not certain of any such place." He said turning his back on Krag, stepping toward the counter once more. "Maybe we should visit Lady Verridith when we reach Albronel Patrin!" One of the faun blurted with a wide smile as he wrung out Krag's shirt. "I could imagine the dragon queen of Vystriana would be quite loath to hear this news, we must inform her at once!" The female faun said, wrapping an arm through Krag's, as she stepped up next to him. The three of them smiled cheekily at the werebeast.

Patrin snatched a long sleeved white tunic from the wardrobe. The woolen garment was trimmed with brown along the collar and sleeves. "Oh the capitol! One is often beguiled by the grandeur of city life here. Take heed not to loose your heart in presence of town's square! Wine descends the heavens with Albronel its heavenly path. The bazaar, it calls to our wayward troupe, where we may further enchant the streets with merriment. Yonder is the path to a full purse, for the taverns and corners yearn for song!"

Patrin placed both of his hands atop his chest. He crossed the cabin passing the three, his hooves clacking against the wood floor as he crossed. Upon his route he scooped up the bottle on the counter and took a swig of the liquid, replacing it with a lute where he began to strum a soft song. The lady faun, her arm still intertwined with Krag's looked upward at her taller counterpart. "Will thou not part with his dripping pants as well, or would you fancy yourself a dance in the forest before camp is laid out?"

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