Thar Shaddin

((This is an AR thread started by request. It has no discernible plot or direction. Feel free to join as you will.))

The corpse just looked so sad where it sat against the tree. The fairy was mighty disappointed with how depressing the sight was. Just because she'd put it there didn't mean it shouldn't at least be pretty. This would need to be fixed!

Gelden fluttered her wings and tried thinking. It was a hard endeavor and she fluffed her hair as she scrunched her nose up and pouted her lips out. Her cheeks puffed and she huffed the air out, making her lips flap together in a noise that made humans blush.

She giggled and an idea struck her. She giggled more, then shrieked with joy at her Thinky Thoughts. It would work! It had to!

She reached up and plucked one of the varied stalks of flowers woven into her hair. The tiny branch she brought forth was covered in tinier white flowers with small black speckles poking out of their centers. It was perfect. She bounced and tumbled closer to the body. The hands lay by its sides, palms facing up, and the legs stuck straight out away from the tree trunk. The man's eyes were half-closed and one lid was slightly higher than the other, enough to make her giggle behind her hand. He'd look dazed if he weren't so dead.

A small trail of spittle ran down the side of his face from his mouth. His lips were just barely parted and his head tilted. She reached and pushed on the top of his chin just under his lower lip, making a wider hole between his teeth. She took the stalk of flowers and pushed it inside of his mouth until she felt the stem rubbing against the swollen tongue.

She stepped back to examine her work. The corpse was just as dead as before but the flowers sprayed from the mouth and she beamed at her creation. She clapped her hands and shrieked with giggles that rocked her entire body.

"Pretty!"

She took another step back to clear herself from the corpse's area, giving herself plenty of room. She raised one hand and twirled it down, jutting the other arm straight away from her body. With careful mimicking of humans she'd seen, she gave the corpse a bow.

Arthelonius scratched his goatee absentmindedly, he'd been relatively certain that it had been somewhere around here. In retrospect leaving a marker or trail might have been a better idea than relying entirely on his keen woodsman senses but then again he had been in a rush. Anyways, Artheo thought to himself as he smirked, he only needed find one of the bodies and considering how busy he'd been tonight he would have had to awful run of bad luck to not run into any corpses.

But still... one of them had been here, he was certain of that. He dropped to one knee for a moment, his leather armour creaking slightly as he moved, and examined the sodden black soil beneath his feet. To an untrained eye it looked like the kind of earth found anywhere in the woods but while Arthelonius may have had only one eye left it certainly wasn't untrained. The blood clinging to the ground and the deep indentation in the soil made it obvious that someone’s head had impacted the ground with some force here. Admittedly, Arthelonius remembered that quite vividly but it was nice to have some physical proof, mainly because the actual dead body that should be here seemed to have wandered off.

People normally died when you broke their neck, if they didn't Arthelonius would have noticed it by now, and yet it looked like this man had found the will to stand up and walk away. For a moment Gant paniced slightly, a fact like that could ruin his entire repuatation, but then remembered the man hadn't been breathing, so either he was a phenomenal actor or he really had died and someone had dragged him off.

Arthelonius wondered who would do such a thing and, then almost as if someone had heard his question, he heard a high pitched tittering noise. He got to his feet quickly, unslinging the crossbow from his back as he went, and took aim in the direction of the sound. Unsurprisingly he saw trees, meaning that either trees were sentient and had a poor sense of humour or that there was someone outside the clearing. Gant gave a quick look around, he was almost certain what direction the noise had come but then again the woods were renowned for playing tricks on people. Not good tricks mind you, tricks like "Knock, Knock," "Who's there?" "No one, but you're about to fall into a camouflaged pit full of spikes so bye." but tricks none the less.

But no, nothing. Whoever had made that noise was beyond that tree. Perhaps they'd moved the corpse? Well that didn't matter, if they hadn't Arthelonius would have a fresh one in a matter of minutes because he knew they'd be dying to meet him. Gant smirked to himself as he silently moved through the trees towards the giggling, they wouldn't know what hit them...

He spun out from behind the tree and fired the crossbow. In a way it was blind shot, Arthelonius couldn't see the target but with his experience he had made a very educated guess. The bolt made a satisfying thunk as it penetrated the skull but unfortunately it was the wrong skull.

Gant had aimed reasonably low, assuming that everyone important was in and around six foot had resulted in some very embarrassing and painful mistakes in the past and so these days Gant aimed for the midsection. However, in this situation that would have constituted a head shot, that is if the target in question hadn't been bowing. The bolt had flown graceful;y through the air, right over the taregts head and slammed into the head of the very corpse that Arthelonius had just been looking for. Gant immediately dropped the crossbow, deciding that in the situation he didn't have time to reload, and in one deft motion he drew his sword.

A hundred thoughts flew through Arthelonius head at that moment but as far as Gant was concerned only one of these required articulation.

"... why are there flowers in his mouth?!" said Arthelonius in a slightly shrill voice

The whistle of the arrow didn't draw her attention, but the shrill man's voice did. The fae turned with wide eyes and a beaming grin to see a large human with sword brandished high.

"Hi mister! Do you like it? I think it makes him pretty!"

Her own voice rose in response to his apparent distress, excitability making her almost energetic enough to wag her bottom like a clipped dog. She resisted this urge to instead step closer to the body and examine the arrow.

"Dead people are so boring. They're like rocks but smelly too. If they have ta be boring do they have ta smell, too? Humans are weird."

The arrow had thonked cleanly into the man's skull through one eye socket, and the fairy pouted when she realized what had once been a sparkling blue orb was now jelly that slurged down along the man's face. It was lucky he was dead or it would have been a very distressing injury. She thought people liked their eyes.

She looked back at the squeaky man and raised one of her hands to pull one bottom eyelid down further, exposing her eyeball to the air. The sudden cool feeling underneath her lid made her giggle.

"Were you jealous or somethin', Mister? You still got one eye."

"Hi mister! Do you like it? I think it makes him pretty!"

Arthelonius had seen a lot of horrifying things in his time, hell he'd done most of 'em, but somehow the floral vomit effect that the creature had created from the dead man's body had to be one of the worst. Sure, Gant had killed the guy and all but there was some dignity in that, no better way to go than have your neck snapped by Arthelonius Gant himself, but gussying up the corpse with flowers offended some sensibility that Gant didn't even know he had.

"Dead people are so boring. They're like rocks but smelly too. If they have ta be boring do they have ta smell, too? Humans are weird."

If marigold mouth hadn't been proof the dead people like rocks theory sealed it, this thing was crazy. Sure, you could says the career killer hardly has room to judge the pint sized florist but he had a sword and that gave him a lot of authority on the matter.

"Were you jealous or somethin', Mister? You still got one eye."

Arthelonius bristled, while it was a bit late to start getting protective of his eye he couldn't help but scowl. In that moment he thought about lunging, what chance would a pint sized fruitcake have against him? But he hesitated.

It would have all been so much easier if the bolt had hit her rather than flower face it would have been fine. But now he'd probably have to lop her head off and on top of having green blood or something else that'd leave a odd stain she'd probably curse him. Fairy folk did that, it was practically all they did, and while Gant was all for regular curses the magical ones gave him pause. So in a rare show of self restraint Gant didn't lunge at the creature and instead cleared his throat and formulated a response.

"No, no it don't make him pretty." said Arthelonius levelly "He's not meant to be pretty, he's meant to be dead. Also he's meant to be where I left him, what'cha think your doing moving peoples stuff about anyways? That's rude that is."

A mild voice sounded at waist level, a few paces behind Gant. "I believe the discourtesy is all mine, Sir. You see, it was rather in the way of my flowers, (the little one's creative use of which can be overlooked, as they are otherwise such a perfect adornment to her lovely hair). I was just about to water them."

The voice was, of course, Zou's, and this was, in a manner of speaking, his neck of the woods. In full markhor form, he made a show of munching grass lazily, his animal countenance betraying no trace of his human mind.

The fairy giggled. This man's voice made her laugh and want to dance. He sounded mad and unsure and silly. She wondered if he had a lesson to learn that she could teach him. She wanted him to squeak more.

"Well I ain't the one who left him all sad and alone, am I? You can't go leavin' your property all around 'cause what if a wolf found him? Then he'd be dead and eaten. So I did you a nice thing, see? You owe me!"

Of this fact the small fae was quite sure. She had done this man a favor even without meaning to and now he would just have to do her one back. It was some silly human idea but she could make it work in her benefit. Maybe he needed to learn to not leave things lying around, like bodies and eyes. How did somebody lose an eye, anyway? Maybe the patch was just to look funny. Humans liked doing things like that. Just in case, she pointed right at it and laughed. He would like that.

But now another person was there, and the fairy nearly tumbled over herself for excitement when she saw him.

"Oh, how pretty! Let's call him Lumpy!"

She and the squeaky man were already a team, after all.

At first Gant looking incredulous, you couldn’t justify an action with hypothetical wolves, but before he could retort or even realize that he was losing sight of the bigger issue here his face went stony. A man could only take so much and though Gant had made a life by taking everything he could get his hands on there were some exceptions. He didn’t know who she was, he didn’t know what she was but by know he knew all he needed to know.
She’d just pointed and laughed at the patch.
There was no going back now, she could be a magical fairy of the forest that could grant eternal happiness and make dirt into gold but when you insulted the patch it didn’t matter what you’d been because in a few minutes you’d be a corpse.

But life, or in this case death, does not always go as planned.

He’d it all worked out, lunge forward and keep slashing until he hit something. It wasn’t going to be pretty but when your depth perception is questionable and you’re dealing with miniature people sometimes you just need to go with the messy option. Once little miss tactless was out of the picture he could get back to his doing, after he gouged one of her eyes out of course because…well… Gant didn’t actually have a good reason for that but it seemed appropriate. So that was the plan, not exactly elegant but certainly simple. But alas Gant had failed to take one thing into account.
Namely the talking goat

“The hell…?” Gant muttered as he reeled around “Does every damn friendly forest creature have to stick its nose in my business or something?”

Arthelonius Gant was a superstitious man, not enough to keep him for butchering anything which snubbed the Arthelonius Gant aesthetic but enough to get nervous when forces he didn’t understand came into play. Suffice to say talking goats was not something Gant understood nor something he wanted to learn about. So he took a quick step to the side, trying to find a position where he could keep both magical oddities in his line of sight, an activity which caused Gant himself to resent the eye patch a tad.

“Look, right. I don’t know what mystical summit I’m interrupting here but I’m just going to take flower face over there and be on my way.” Said Gant as he backed off to the side with his sword still outstretched. “There don’t need to be trouble, I can just leave you two discussing flower arranging and exchanging gardening or whatever it is you do.”

Gant was feeling quite edgy by now, half wondering what else was going to saunter out of the bushes and calmly ignore the fact Gant had killed a man and come back for the body, and the other half just trying to deal with the idea of a talking goat. By know Gant was pretty much lost, only certain of one thing.

And that was that he would have preferred to be dealing with the hypothetical wolves.

Zou managed, between mouthfuls, a friendly chuckle rather incongruous with his bestial countenance. Lumpy. He rather liked it, and told the little fae just that.

The man, Zou noticed, was becoming more nervous with each passing word. “There don’t need to be trouble, I can just leave you two discussing flower arranging and exchanging gardening or whatever it is you do.”

"Yes, Sir, I think that would be best. Perhaps you simply need to lie down for a time. Feel free to use my hammock, it is strung up over there." Zou indicated with his tapered forehead a direction through the thicket, and then turned to Gelden. "Do you like the rain, little friend?"

"Flower face! Ahahahaha!"

The fae slapped her knee and guffawed, thinking this the funniest thing she'd heard in ages. Why, if he called this poor sad little corpse flower face, then that meant...but first she'd need to ask.

"So I'monna call you Patches. I know you'll like it 'cause your patch is all big on your face so you must want to be called Patches."

Now she looked between both of her new friends and pouted, her wings fluttering to indicate the depths of her distress, though she did beam a moment when "Lumpy" said he liked the name.

"But I don't garden none. I'm no good with plants, they just get mad and tangly. I think Lumpy's right, we should all take a nap together! It's a big hammock, we'd all fit and I bet you're real comfy for lying on, Patches!"

She did not appear to have heard "Lumpy's" later question.

"Well I'm going to call you shut up cause you should shut up!"

It had been meant to sound steely, even threatening, but by now Arthelonius was a little alarmed by the current situation and so it was a lot more high pitched than he'd intended.

He'd heard stories about things in the forest, stories about horrible gut wrenching monstrosities who would rip flesh from bone and could devour the very soul of a man, but he'd never heard any stories about something like this. Although, to be fair such stories may have existed but who would listen to a man who spoke of talking goats and rude fairies? If there had been such a man Gant wouldn't have listened to him, in fact Gant probably would have punched him.
But that would be done out of principle.

But no, no... that didn't matter. Gant needed to calm down, he needed to get a handle on the situation and-

"A hammock!?" Gant barked "You're a goat! How do you even have a hammock!? How did you put it up!? Why would you need one?! What, in case after a hard day of eating grass you need a nap?!"

This wasn't helping, Gant knew that, but even so he was finding it difficult just to ignore them. As always the idea of killing them wasn't far from Gant's mind but for the first time he found himself unable to commit to violence. This was all just too weird and he suspected if he were to engage with it in any real way, like murder for example, he was almost certainly get stranger. So Gant made a decision, he was going to ignore them.

So Gant moved. It was quick sudden dash across the clearing and within moments he was crouched beside the corpse. He'd abandoned his defensive posture and though now his back was turned to the two oddities Gant felt a lot calmer. Now all he could see was a humdrum everyday mutilated corpse and Gant could deal with that. But even so he wasted no time and immediately set about rifling through the corpses pockets.
He didn't want to stay here any longer than necessary and on top of that he wasn't sure how long he could avoid looking at the bouquet sticking out of the dead mans mouth.

Zou, listening patiently and quietly to the man's words, decided that it would be best to stay in markhor form and lead him on for the moment. He had realized by now that the man's fear of supernatural occurences was the only stopper in his bottled rage, and he did not want to see the fae get hurt. "I am indeed a goat, Sir, and the wonderful realm of hammocks and armchairs and fried eggs and porch windows have long been denied our kind. Out here in my little realm, I am working diligently to rectify matters. My next project is a footstool, designed for the hoof of a goat. But first, these flowers need watering."

The man seemed preoccupied with the corpse, and therefore not paying much heed to what Zou was saying. An imperceptible flash of blue streaked between his beautiful horns, and a distant rumble was heard. "Feel free to use the hammock, Madam, I think you'll have it all to yourself for now." Perhaps the fae could escape the brewing storms of the steely skies and the swordsman's temper alike by simply not being there. The rain that Zou was bringing was relatively concentrated, and would only affect the immediate area, so that his flowers might drink.

Rain did not bother the small fae in one way or another. Like other woodland creatures, she accepted it as part of life, but unlike them she had no den to call home. Besides, it was much more fun to play in the rain than to hide from it.

But all this went over the fairy's head, for she was focused entirely on the human.

"Patches! That's not nice! You shouldn't be rude!"

A hop here and a skip there, twirly-one twirly-two, and a scrunched up nose. The little fae concentrated hard, harder, hardest! She stared and wiggled her nose and splayed her fingers and shrieked -

"Bugbears and beetles!"

And if the spell had worked, Patches would find his mouth full of a rather large beetle. Or maybe ten beetles. Or 20. Or maybe he'd grown antennae - or maybe nothing at all happened. Sometimes beetles just weren't in the mood to be spelled. The fae had no idea. Nonetheless, Not Being Rude was an important lesson and she hoped he'd learned it.

"Rain..." thought Arthelonius gritted his teeth "Well this day couldn't possibly get any worse"

Then suddenly Arthelonius stopped. Not because of the inane prattle going on behind him but rather due to the fact that when he gritted his teeth he found them a whole lot... grittier than they had any right to be. Not only that but his teeth also appeared to be moving around in his mouth, which was a rather disturbing experience.

One not at all helped by the realisation that those weren't his teeth.

He made a sound halfway between a scream and choke and only narrowly avoided poking himself in the eye with the back of the crossbow bolt as collapsed beside the body. He abandoned his sword, quite quickly decided that he needed both hands to claw at his throat as he coughed up dozens of beetles. It was disgusting, it was horrifying and it was probably in the top ten of horrible things Gant had found in his mouth but all in all it didn't actually take him that long to cough up the creatures. Admittedly he was fairly certain that some of the beetles were now missing legs and all but it was still a significant improvement.

However, there was a good side to all this for as Gant lay on the ground beside the corpse he caught sight of the very thing he'd been looking for.

"You god damned litte... little!" said Gant as he propped himself up on his elbows "You know what, you know what? I'm going to kill you. Yeah, both of you. Now I didn't want to do this but as my daddy always said "If someone don't leave you in peace you leave 'em in pieces"

Gant moved quickly, reaching behind the dead man's body and grabbing the pistol that had been holstered on his back and then he spun arounf to face the two oddities behind him.

"Course me and my da' are different men, so I'm going to leave you in one piece..." said Gant as he took aim with the weapon "Just with a few holes in ya."

He's intended to use this weapon for a job in the city, using one of the distinctive weapons of the group that had attacked him that night was one sure fire way to ensure blame didn't fall on him, but now it had a different purpose. Hopefully he wouldn't have to use all eight bullets to kill these creatures but if he did then he was more than happy to go looking around for another pistol.

"And a footstool for a hoof would be called a hoofstool, you twonk." said Gant as he used his free hand to slick bad his rain sodden hair.

Then he pulled the trigger.

As Gant spun around, unexpectedly armed, and began uttering halfwitticisms, Zou began the shift into human form. He hoped to keep the fellow on his toes long enough to allow the little one to abscond. However, his utter lack of training in the violent arts put him at a perilous disadvantage.

"Do you mean hooves like these?" he said, wiggling his human foot in the air just as the slug pounded sharply into his inner thigh. It took him a second to realize that he had been shot, and he reeled backwards on his heels with a stunned look in his violet eyes. He had not yet half-transformed, and a reversal was therefore easy. As his leg collapsed beneath him, he shifted back into full markhor form. His face tightened in pain like strained netting as the slug fell from his leg, and he kicked off with his hooves.

Were it not for the presence of the little one, Zou would surely have fled for his life. As it was, his chivalric heart pumped his blood into a fervour, and he leaped formidably forward, head tucked in and corkscrew horns pointed at Gant's chest. He expected nothing short of death in return for this brash move, but his gentlemanly nature allowed for no other course of action.

It was a very good thing his evil little rock-shooter hit Lumpy instead of her, because she stood confused and beaming bright with a smile even as he produced and aimed the weapon. She had no clue what it could be, except that maybe he would throw it at her soon - and she could dodge something like that.

But then there was a loud bang and Lumpy was hurt and she was screaming and wailing at the top of her lungs.

"Lumpy! Don't die! Patches that's not very nice!"

Lumpy's chivalry was touching and sweet, but utterly lost on the small fae. While the markhor charged forward with horns down to gouge, she bent and began taking up chunks of earth, flinging them at Patches with loud shouts of reprimand.

"Bad Patches! Bad!"

Each clump of dirt flew through the air to land wherever it chose, though she'd laid a small spell on each before throwing. Some might cause flowers to sprout wherever they landed; some might burst into more beetles, itching to crawl about. And some might just stick where they landed like the most annoying mud ever. It didn't matter. Patches was being so rude! He had to learn to stop!