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Beast World #62: Rough Trails & Rougher Trials

Beast World #62: Rough Trails & Rougher Trials

Michael stepped through the dark woods at a slightly above leisure pace. The first rays of the dawn's light haven't yet penetrated the ironclad cover of the forest's canopy. Its thickness held together the shroud of darkness below, only small shreds of it peaking through rarely. Although he knew he walked a familiar path, the reduced visibility made the walk nearly alien, with a stumble here and a trip there, an uncertainty started to seep into Michael's chest even if he didn't know it.

'Alright. It is going to take a bit to get there, but I'll be making it in time. So... daeman. Based on what I know they are just basically pink demons. Ok, ok, ok... I've done this until now on a dime... I just... phew... just gotta do my character research. Yeah... just like theater. Literally it is just theatrics. So... what's a demon? Well if years of playing dnd thought me anything is that they are either feral, unhinged and nuts OR eerily calm, imposing, calculated and scheeming. I did both of those and a demon that can do both is even worse. Just gotta switch between those when it makes sense. Mhmm... so personality wise... basically gotta switch between one of those pointy eared muscle covered hounds and a chihuahua that can actually bite, not just bark.'

While the nervous human revised his 'role', he'd already start to adjust his body language. As if by instinct he'd lift his shoulders and roll them back, his spine popping as he straightened, shoulders relaxing and dropping at ease after that. This move would straighten his posture entirely and push out his ribcage and chest, something his mother drilled into his head over the years as being a confident, yet relaxed posture when done right. He'd straighten his head's posture, from the neck, which nearly made him look like it was positioned up from a downward perspective, requiring him to literally look down upon someone with his eyes. His hands were curled up nearing to fists, yet hung relaxed, as if to show an eager readiness for violence. As a last touch up instead of stepping quietly as he got used to over the years, he'd let his steps announce his presence, as one who's afraid of nothing would.

After traveling a bit over half of the treck towards the river and where the Rock Backs would be situated, there would be a clear sight of lights up ahead in the distance, clearly from torches. Michael would gaze at them with a bit of confusion, but regardless he kept on walking closer and openly. Slowly, three figures would be more visible, one of them turned showing as to either be themselves striped or have brown stripes painted on their back.

Only half a second of hesitation would pass as the human took in a deep breath and he then shouted out. "Ay! You three. You're with the Rock Backs, correct?" He'd say while showing quite the enthusiastic face despite his true feelings of nervousness.

As he had guessed, indeed the trio seemed to be Tuskir and the stripes confirmed their alegiance as expected. The figures turned to face him properly as he shouted in his approach. Once he got a bit closer, one of them that was a bit more upfront huffed a not so pleased snort at him.

"Aye. We were sent ahead to guide ya to our encampment, Daeman." He replied with a clear displeasure to his tone.

Another one of them stood silent as he just glared at Michael, while the third let out a guttural squeal and spat on the ground. "Well? What ya waitin' fer, hellspawn? Pick up the pace and keep yer paws where we can see 'em. Just cause ya struck a deal with Bruyza, it don't mean we gotta like ya."

"Dawww. Isn't this nice? We already seem to be getting along and on the same page. I've a feeling we'll be sharing stories soon while braidin' one another's hair, eh? You'd look good with twin tails." Michael said smirking while looking at the third Tuskir who haf a wilder mane and carried himself in a heavier looking armor than the other two.

The human continued his walk with the trio, but something didn't sit right with him. While they walked, two of the three had put out and discarded their torches. As they walked forward wordlessly, those same two boar men would also position themself to the sides and back of Michael, doing so nearly seemlessly, but not enough for the human not to notice.

While they advanced, Michael would peek at them with the corners of his eyes while also glancing forward at the only one who still had a light source. 'This doesn't feel right. I know for certain we were to meet at the same place as before... am I being paranoid? Alright... think. If they were afraid I'd not show up they'd wait until the time was up and then came to us... there's no reason for them to think I need escorts since I'm supposed to be a big scary strong thing. Eeeeh... why are these shmucks here then?"

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Michael started taking into consideration multiple reasons that could be possible for his unexpected escort to be present, but none of them made sense. With his uneasiness building up, he'd sling his backpack off and hold it, quickly getting the attention of the two at the back.

"What do you think yer doin', hellspawn?" One of them asked while putting a hand on an axe hung by his belt.

"Hm? Oh, cut down on that paranoia. Makes you seem pathetic. This meat form I had to take to be here has needs. One of them happens to be water. If you've ever heard of somethin' like that, or... what? Do you milk rocks up in the mountains to sustain yourselves?" Michael would reply with a chuckle as he taunted his escort while starting to rustle objects in his backpack with his hand.

"You... hnngh-..." The Rock Back grunted and huffed as he muttered between clenched teeth.

Taking advantage of this momentary distraction, Michael would feel about and find one of his tiny Woh flask potions and he'd use his fingers to tuck it into the band of his bracer at the wrist, before grasping a hold of a small water skin and pulling it out. 'Heh. Well, I might not be a good slight of hand at pocker, but I didn't learn to hide pieces of paper in my sleeves for nothing. Stressful, but thanks to that I passed chemistry in highschool.' He'd think while smirking at the one of the escort he just antagonized, giving him a double eyebrow wiggle lift up as he took a sip of his water.

"You really like talkin' daeman, or you just like the sound o' your voice?" The armored one asked, who also happened to be the one with the torch at the front. He walked with his back turned at the human, not even trying to gaze back as he spoke.

"Eh. I find conversing with you meat sacks at least a bit intriguing. It is fun to hear what thoughts run through those narrow minds of yours. Why are you asking? Interested in actually entertaining me in conversation?" Michael would reply as he packed his waterskin once more and put his backpack back on.

"Thought ta meself it'd be crazy to converse with somethin' like ya, but then I realized, what da hell, when am I ta get another chance like this?" The Tuskir continued while slowing his pace, as if to let Michael approach to make their talk easier to get into.

The human naturally inched closer bit by bit as he simply walked, his smirk still on his expression. He'd keep vigilent of the two in the back while moving up in the small formation. "Indeed. Perhaps I'll be able to satisfy some of your curio-"

Before he could finish his sentence, the armored tuskir in front of him stopped dead in his tracks, turning with a decently large vial of liquid and herbs in his other hand and he'd splash Michael right in the face. Surprised by the sudden violent spill of liquid against his face, the human would close his eyes and bring his hands to his face to quickly wipe away the liquid. While blinded in this manner, his guard would be shattered as a brutal force would then slam into his right side, making Michael buckle as he got sent rolling in the opposite direction.

"HAHAHA! GOT 'IM GOOD, DIDN' I?!" exclaimed one of the two Tuskir from the back, who was armed with a club, right after he just bashed up the human.

Michael took a half second to realize he just got attacked, with the hand that had the vial hidden against its wrist pushup to his eyes to wipe them, he'd push himself up on the other wobbly like. He was afraid to try and open his eyes, unknowing what he got splashed with so instead he bit on the cork of his poison vial, opened it and stashed it in his cheek, as he dripped the solution on his tongue while wiping his eyes. "I- I can't see-..." he groaned loudly while trying to get his footing.

"Yeah. You got 'im good." The armored tuskir said while tossing the vial aside. "Better prepare yourself fer a sudden departure daeman. We'll make sure ta send ya back to the firey pit ya came from. Hope ya liked a lil' taste o' holy water. Keep ya well on your way back." He'd say while taking a handaxe off of his own belt.

"Hah ha ha... Sadly fer ya, not all o' us are keen on makin' deals with hell filth. Bruyza ain' gonn' be happy with ya missin' but is expected of daemen to be shifty scum, so yer missin' presence will be easy ta explain when we're all... surprised yer missin', he he he... ." The tuskir who Michael antagonized said while snorting and cackling, unsheathing his handaxe at the ready.

The three began closing in on Michael, their gate relaxed as they taunted him, their confidence in having the upperhand letting them ooze with a gloating energy. Michael instead had finally gathered himself, head tilted back as he held onto his face, having just finished the last few drips of the Woh vial.

"I can't see... how you furred fucks didn't think that'd just piss me off." He'd say as his trembling voice would change to one more confident. As he spoke he lowered his head at a way lower angle, pulling his hand down in the same motion to reveal a pair of bloodshot eyes, as well as a bloody dripping nose and a wide toothy grin, stained by his own crimson. The shadows on his face would make it seem like he bared his teeth from ear to ear, the expression of the pin point focused eyes, quickly darting to focus on each of the three attackers. Now, that put a stop to their enclosing movement, and this simple shift had changed their confident gloating to a dread filled uncertainty.