atworldsend | action | open, choose your own adventure

a. the garden

Tamhas hates this place, if he's honest. He tries not to - making the best of bad situations and all that - but it feels wrong. The Dark Tower is so like Yggdrasil that sometimes, in the corner of his eye - because the Tower is always in the corner of your eye, he's found - he forgets it isn't the tree, thinks for a heartbeat that maybe he can find a way back. Not quite home, but the closest he has. But then he looks and it's a damn Tower, dark where the tree was all radiant, glorious light. And the fractured plate above is stifling. The sun, Tamhas' guiding beacon, feels so very far away even on bright days. A little like Svartalfheimr, but he supposes there is something to appreciate about this place in that.

It could be worse. It could be Svartalfheimr.

And it's not all bad, he supposes. The garden is nice, even if near all the plants are strange. He's always liked work like this, anyway. Steady, menial. It's comforting, soothing, quelling the itch in his hands. Sian would be delighted at all the strange new growing things to look at, even if there's wrongness here she'd hate, a thought which always makes him miss his sister keenly - Tamhas doesn't know a lot about all the various types there are here, and he's a farmer, not a herbalist, but it's enough. He tries to make it enough, anyway.

So, when he's not fighting monsters somewhere, he frequently comes here. Waters, plants, prunes, harvests - anything that's needing done, anything folk might need a hand with. And he takes solace in it, finds some measure of peace here, which is why he looks fleeting surprised when he almost walks into someone. He's usually more alert than that.

"Ah, sorry -" a fleeting smile, turning slightly wry as he inclines his head in greeting. "- you'd think a man would have learned to pay better attention by now, wouldn't you?" There's a cluster of blue banora white apples in his arms; after a moment, eyebrows raising, he holds one out in offering.

b. a street

A lot is strange and different and weird here, but some things are just as Tamhas remembers. Fighting is one of them. Most things here take to his sword as well as most things did back there, which Tamhas is remarkably grateful for. It's always good to do something. So, when he tumbles down from the plate to a street and finds he has company, he's not terribly perturbed.

He doesn't know what he's fighting. They're like the skeletal, feathered kin of Valravn, but different - of course they bloody are - but they come at him shrieking with claws like sickles and Tamhas responds in kind, falling easily into a dance he knows well. It's strange, fighting alone, not feeling the strength of his friends round about him, not having to dodge the spells Morven slings or consider tossing opponents back for Kenna or making openings for Halldis - but then Tamhas realises he's not fighting alone.

Friend or foe? He can't spare the time to figure that out, fending off blows and delivering his own as furiously as he is, but he resolves to hope for the former and deal with the latter after if necessary. He can't even tell if it's someone in the fight, or someone trying to escape it. Either way, he moves solidly between this new party and the creatures, light flashing along the length of his blade as he brings it down, cutting down one and scattering the rest, just for long enough that he can swiftly glance over at the new arrival. In battle, his face is stern, lips curled in a snarl, though that fades in a moment of genuine concern as speaks.

"You alright?"

And then he's turning back to face the next line of attacks, sweeping out in an arc with his sword to meet them.

c. the forest

Sometimes, it's easier to be a bear than a man. That's proven generally true in the woods around World's End. His senses are better for it, for a start, and the prevailing cold doesn't touch him, and there are things that would attack a man on sight that don't so much as look up at a passing bear.

(Sometimes, Tamhas attacks instead. Not today.)

And he's better at hunting as a bear than he is as a man, which he might consider a point of embarrassment, but he reasons that there are things he can do better than a bear. Hopefully. At the moment, he's up to the forelegs in river water, catching fish. But watchful eyes may notice that this bear, huge and golden furred, is perusing his catch with great, and perhaps unusual, scrutiny. Just as Tamhas is not a botanist, he's not a fishmonger, either, and the fish are as weird here as the plants, so every time he catches one it takes careful deliberation to decide if it's worth eating - or taking to someone who better enjoys and knows cooking - or if it might even be dangerous. So many things are dangerous, here.

The range he's caught today are definitely fish. He can tell that much, though there's one that's borderline, as far as he's concerned. Dubiously, he noses them further along the bank, and turns back to the water.

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"I am listening. Promise." And indeed, Tamhas leans his huge form closer to make it easier on Missile to convey this sacred wisdom. Are all dogs like this, he wonders? He finds himself hoping so.

If he could, he'd laugh rich and long at the information Missile has so kindly passed on to him. As it is, the bear huffs, shoulders shaking in something that would perhaps put some in mind of laughter, if bears were capable of such things.

"I happen to like a bath very much. But, you're right about this one. It's cold and strange. I wouldn't recommend it, wee one."

"I knew it!" Missile said, his tail once again wagging up a storm. He guessed it was possible for Tamhas to like baths. After all, he was a man sometimes, and humans seemed to like baths much more than animals did. He was relieved though to hear that he did not like this one.

"You know, Tamhas. I think Sissel would like to have a fish too! Sissel is my friend!"

"Well, you - we can take a fish to them, if you like." We because honestly, Missile looks much too small to comfortably carry a fish like these anywhere far. "Where are they? Are they a dog, like you?"

"There is no other dog like me!" Missile says proudly, puffing out his chest. "I am a top Pomeranian! But Sissel? Sissel is a cat!" He explains happily. "Do you know cats? They're not like dogs! Usually, I like to bark at them! But, not Sissel. Sissel is my best friend! He helps me take care of Miss Kamila and miss Lynne!"

"You're definitely the greatest pomeranian I've heard of!" Tamhas offers gladly. "I ken cats, aye. Never spoken to one of them either - I mean, not like this. I've spoken at them before." If a bear could smile, then he would. "It's good to have friends, here."

It is good to have friends. Missile agrees with that, since he is super friendly and friends can achieve a lot when they work together.

"Oh! Tamhas! I just thought of something!" The little dog spins in a circle, letting out a triumphant bark. "If we work together, you and me and Sissel and any other friends we meet. Maybe we can go to the tall place! You want to go there too, right?!"

"The tall place? You mean the Tower?" Heartening as the beast's enthusiasm is, his tone grows concerned as his thoughts do. Still, maybe Missile has some tricks up his sleeve - er, under his belt -- er, hidden in his fur? "Do you... have a notion of how we might do that, wee one?"

"Well!" Missile starts, about to tell his new friend his big plans for getting to the tall place when he suddenly stops, tilting his head with a small whine as he remembers something. Tamhas was doing a thing before he came! He was collecting fish, and Missile had ~~interrupted~~ rescued him.

"Since you made a good choice and decided not to go back in the big bath, maybe we could go to a warmer place to talk? It's wet here!"

Although slightly bemused - and endeared - by the way Missile switches topics - and apparently so appreciates him not going in the big bath again - Tamhas thinks that a fine idea. This isn't the most pleasant of places, even if the river can be fairer than most spots in the city.

"I'd like that. Shall we start heading back towards the city, then? I'll need to be a man again, to deal with these," he says, nosing towards the fish, "but I can change back, when I'm done."

"Yes! Yes!" Missile barks again, just to make sure Tamhas knows he really agrees. "I'm sorry I can't help carry the fish! But... Maybe as a man you can tie one to my back? Oh! That's right! You might not understand me when you're a man!" He sits on the floor and tilts his head, looking thoughtful.

"I can't communicate like this with all people! Just ones who have died before. That's how it seems anyway! I don't think too much about it!"

Edited 2021-10-08 21:21 (UTC)

"Folk who've died?" Unsettling, maybe, but it makes sense. How many tales are there of beasts with an easier connection to the realm of the dead? Plenty, certainly, that Tamhas accepts this information easily enough. "I haven't died... come very close though, if that helps?" The words are chagrined, the bear almost seeming to shrug its great, shaggy shoulders.

"We won't be able to speak, then, for a bit - but I'll change back when I can - or..." He frowns at the fish. "Once I've gotten them secured, I might be able to shift back and keep them?" Ah, if only Sigbjorg had told him the exact ins and outs of how being a bear works. But he keeps everything on him when he shifts back and forth, so... maybe he'll keep the fish?

Only one way to find out!

The bear leans back on his hind legs, body going tense as his head lowers. A shudder wracks him, claws digging into the earth, and then - things change. The claws grow shorter, paler, blunter. The body shrinks, becomes leaner. And the fur recedes, drawing back, until there is a man kneeling in the dirt, hands in the soil, half-hidden under an enormous golden pelt.

Tamhas looks up, blinking away the amber eyes of the bear to reveal his own grey-green, unfocused for a moment before his gaze lands on Missile.

"Hello, wee one," he says, his voice roughened in the wake of his transformation, a little smile on his face.

Missile can not contain his excitement. He picks up a lot of speed, like a mini helicopter circling around the mans impressive new legs. Missile stumbles in the mud, slipping and yipping and running with energy that never seems to end. When Tamhas speaks to him, the little dog begins a loud series of barks and yips. He is actually screaming "Welcome! Welcome Tamhas!!!" though the man can no longer hear him.

To Missile, Tamhas looks very friendly, and his energy reminds him of Miss Kamila's father Detective Jowd. Missile decides he would die for Tamhas!

He wonders if the man will be able to carry everything he needs back to the City? If he could just stop barking and running, perhaps he could help. But... He can't stop!

Tamhas' eyebrows raise at the enthusiastic response. He's not sure anything has ever been this excited to see him - though, he supposes there hasn't been much that's ever been remotely excited to see him. Bemused and endeared, he watches the little dog scamper around, slowly raising his hands in a placating gesture.

"Hey, now - hey," he coaxes, steady, though Missile is barking so much he's not sure he'll even hear. Shifting into a crouch, he reaches out with both hands to gently grab hold of the pomeranian to stop him in his tracks. Or attempt to.

"Calm, calm! It's only me!"

Wriggly body is wriggly. The first pass, Missile doesn't stop, squirming through Tamhas hands to do another circle before managing to slow down enough to stop. The next time round as the gentle hands grab his sides he managed to stop running, panting heavily and happily letting out another two barks as if to say "Thank you!"

His tail smacks the man repeatedly as he looks up at him, tongue out and mouth open. What are they going to do next?

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