Lady, if you’re reading this… Yeah, I know. Feel free to laugh. But you better realize that I’ve learned my lesson. Never follow the chick who wants to find her long lost relative. Especially, if they’re chicks who you’ve picked up from the side of the road—LITERALLY, FIFI—and are crazy bitches with crazy tattoos and wicked dagger skills.
Svorak can go jump in a creek. I don’t care if Fifi’s hot as hell and a hundred times smarter than me. She’s still ice-bridge-over-lava crazy.
Right. So I lost the damn book. The first book that had all the details of this trip in all its starting disastrous glory.
Like me getting mauled by a damn rat/crocodile/tiger chimera of a critter and then fucking growing fur in front of Fifi. For four months, she didn’t know. FOUR MONTHS I had this under wraps and under control. Kept out of melee, took care of my wounds, ducked into alleys when shit with FUBAR. Nope. Day two on the road with Fifi on her search (weren’t even out of the backyard) and already one secret is out.
Sure, Fifi had claws of her own. At least those looked consensual. Mine? Not so much. Add to that, the hunter who was trailing the critter showed up and saw me in fur. As did a dwarf who popped into existence down the road. And the flying bat-woman straight from the seventh ring of hell.
I will never ever have any rights to yell at Shinji about being a leak ever again. I pop fur and half the population is right there to see.
Anyway. Bat-woman and Fifi are apparently sisters. If that’s the sister, I can’t wait to meet the broodmother. I’m fucked.
At least I got friend-zoned right off the bat. Gotta give that to Fifi. If she hadn’t yelled, “Friendly!” I’d probably be a smudge on Nameless’ chalk board.
The hunter, Thakish (I know I’m spelling that wrong, but it’s not like he’s gonna be reading this anyway), is alright. After trailing something for three months and half a continent, I’d be ready to take off the head of anyone claiming the critter too. But.. I was pissed. Not so much about being clawed up, the change takes the damage, but I was hoping the wolf pelt would stay hidden for a little longer. Anyway, nice guy. Good technique with skinning. Willing to share out the parts when people put in good reasons for wanting them.
Take Bat-woman and her wish for a spine whip. That will be something to see.
Ah, right. Bat-woman. No wait. Thakish and his improvised skull codpiece.
Okay, so back to Bat-woman. I don’t know why she’s hanging around. Honestly. She’s got ammunition like… Ruby’s team, Shinigami’s closet, and Tiger’s stash combined, I’m sure she has more fire power. Hell if I know why she just doesn’t yank her sister and hunt down the mother on their own. Clearly the woman’s been through a war in the most intimate of ways and hair trigger is the nicest way of putting it. Swings like a monkey on a vine between dead sober and giddy sugar high. A lot like Lady’s reincarnated sister.
Lady. Your sibling is cracked. She knows it. Her lover knows it. We all know it. Smooth out your panties and don’t set me on fire. I’m just putting this down as I see it.
… I ain’t kiddin’. I got enough sparks going on. Put down the match or I’m telling Medic that you skipped dinner again.
Course, I’m writing this assuming that Lady will get her twitchy fingers on this at some point and that I’ll be alive to know about it. Aaahhh… yeah. Assuming. Well, positive shit and all. Moving on.
Dwarf. Jern. Fucking capable. For a guy who popped into the future, he’s taking things in stride pretty damned well. Hits like a caravan stocked with bricks. First magic user I’ve seen for a while too. Svorak, you gotta meet this man. You know how you always complain that mystics are always so frail? Or that clerics faint at the sight of blood instead of stemming it? This fellow will open up your belly while closing mine. All in one swing.
I don’t know whether Medic will have a field day or a hissy fit. I know he’s old school, arms in guts, honed to the bone, but Jern’s got style.
Gotta wonder if his trick will have any effect on Lady. Will the magic rebound if it’s unnecessary? Or if the wounds don’t take?
Put down the fire. I’m not seriously proposing any testing. I saw what you did to Medic.
(He still gimped in the left knee?)(It’s been years since I’ve seen him)
So day two or three, barely out of the yard, I meet new people, gain a new bladder for the poison stock (like I said, guy likes to share) and we’re off to a rolling start. In that I’m stuck as a fucking critter til dawn.
Oh. And Bat-woman’s mini-weasel has no qualms in stealing a bites. Heh. Itty-bit’s got balls.
Which then brings me to today. A few days after that glorious start.
Today… Oh, today.
We met more Brokkai. Well, one. Couldn’t really miss the guy as he’s standing around a tree on fire in the fog. Lit the entire area up like Ruby’s grin over her newest crossbow (kid needs a hobby). Funny enough, Clarence, had his own troubles. A tiny guy in black robes. And I do mean TINY.
Y’know how I said I had enough sparks? Yeah. The tiny-ass mini-magic caster has a hard-on for fire spells. I bet you half my stocks in belladonna that at some point, my tail will be singed. And it won’t be by accident.
Clarence and Thakish got along just fine, and not long after that we think we’ve run into more Brokkai.
Yeah no. Undead with extendable dagger fingers (ten feet?!) and intelligent. One of those fuckers talked. TALKED. And not in the “Brraaaaaiiinnns” category. Full on sardonic rhetorical quip. Undead grunts don’t have enough working grey matter to pull off rhetorical.
We took down half of them—less said about that the better. The other four booked it. I’m not sure if back from where they came from or just away. I want to track them, but the death-bringer fire-caster was out of juice and desperately needed to pass out for the night.
We may still go after them. With my luck as it is, can we afford to let undead of that caliber wander? Where were they going? Where did the others go to? Were they expected at their destination? Have we just painted targets on our backs (more so than already?)?
On another note, I think I’m getting… No. I’m not used to this form. It’s still… Fuck. It’s not right. For one, I’m sure the chemicals in my brain are a different soup mix altogether. Priorities are shot to hell. I mean. Bite? Undead? Who’d do that voluntarily? Me! That’s who. I know I’ve got the nastiest case of after-dinner breath because now and then I’d catch Thakish turn and cough. But the worse thing? I can’t tell. It tastes weird, yeah. But it doesn’t seem off like the way Lady’s cooking goes.
But… I’m finding my balance a little faster with each change. The colours and the sounds, the SCENTS, aren’t as disorienting as they were a few months back. I don’t need to hide under a rock and wait for my senses to calm down. I still want to, but now they aren’t as bad.
Still want this curse gone though. I’m lucky these people aren’t ditching me mid battle, but I wouldn’t blame them. I get the feeling that I shouldn’t want to use this form. Hybrid or critter. I’m sure it’s easy to use it, but it doesn’t feel good. No, it feels great.
I’m gonna stop there. Writing in hybrid form is a pain in the furry ass. Even if I’m using the huge chunky pencil stub, the bone structure is off and the muscle cramps are not fun. The eyes aren’t geared for paper by fire light either.
Gonna go stretch out. Maybe run a bit. Thakish was making noises about me being his hunting dog; I’m tempted to see what game we can scare up. There’s just so much energy in this form. I need to move. To go. To run.