And through suffering, we find our solace in the hearts and minds of other great men...
- Some guy, probably.
Ashan 76th
It was dangerous game . Headaches plowed into his mind like needles, and he was feeling crushed performing the task at hand. Mal had Metamorphosed four rats caught from the tunnels into Hyx thus far, ahead of his crew of four men carrying pots of the resulting stew, a fifth carrying dozens of sizable clay bowls, by which a sixth man pulled from the stack and poured, ladling out the hot, nourishing food while Mal protected them.
”I thought more would flee,” he told Danzig, his cook.
”Aye, you’re a scary lout but the smell of a good meal is irresistible when ‘yer starved,” the cook responded, his pot sloshing around as he plopped it on the ground. “Looks like we’re here.”
One by one, the remaining pots were set down at the busy intersection of homeless, thieves, and more importantly children. The rest of Mal’s meen fanned out, each armed with a bowl and hollering out into the dark.
”Aye, ye lads, get ‘yer food!” one bellowed, voice echoing out into the halls.
”This fellow’s Padfoot, heard of him? He’s a good one.”
Unsure of what to say, Mal sat back in the shadows before laying down, curling up to take a nap as feet streamed by. The air was filled with delightful ‘thank-you’s and the sound of dribbling stew, the crackle of sipped broth and the tears of those who hadn’t eaten in recent memory.
The beast, the Becomer-turned eight-foot-tall gigantic fox with bronze tusks, claws, and teeth simply lay there, head buried in his paws and that thick, bushy tail keeping his ears warm in the cold Underground. He was called Padfoot, or that was what the locals knew him to be called. There were all sorts of tales, saying he’d eat folks who got too close, but the most commonly told rumor happened to involve Padfoot as a dog rescuing a young thief from the City Guard--true, but embellished wildly by now.
The men felt good, especially Danzig; Mal’d brought Moriandis along, and the man complained constantly.
”My feet hurt, I need to take a break.”
Mal stirred, lifting his head to look over at the hunched-over male struggling with the bowls. “That’s not very redemption-like, Mori,” he chided. “Serve ten then take as many bits.” Mal yawned, putting his head down, trying to put the side effects of his Overstepping out of mind.
”Why aren’t you helping?” asked another one of his crew.
Mal growled just a bit, then spoke with his eyes closed; “food like this doesn’ jus’ grow on trees, y’know. Immortals I’ve got a fekkin’ headache righ’ now, too. Used too much ‘o my pow’r makin’ them Hyx for the folks to eat.”
That was the last anyone said in complaint.
At first everyone had scoffed at his idea to feed the homeless, and Mal remembered the feeling of what it was like to starve, to be unsure of your next meal; what it was like to be treated like dirt by any who could get a good job. Eventually they agreed, on the grounds that Mal needed a good reputation so folks would protect him and their business. Most wanted to keep being fed.
OOC
Steel Pot x2 - 2 GN
Clay Bowl x40 - 4 GN
- Some guy, probably.
Ashan 76th
It was dangerous game . Headaches plowed into his mind like needles, and he was feeling crushed performing the task at hand. Mal had Metamorphosed four rats caught from the tunnels into Hyx thus far, ahead of his crew of four men carrying pots of the resulting stew, a fifth carrying dozens of sizable clay bowls, by which a sixth man pulled from the stack and poured, ladling out the hot, nourishing food while Mal protected them.
”I thought more would flee,” he told Danzig, his cook.
”Aye, you’re a scary lout but the smell of a good meal is irresistible when ‘yer starved,” the cook responded, his pot sloshing around as he plopped it on the ground. “Looks like we’re here.”
One by one, the remaining pots were set down at the busy intersection of homeless, thieves, and more importantly children. The rest of Mal’s meen fanned out, each armed with a bowl and hollering out into the dark.
”Aye, ye lads, get ‘yer food!” one bellowed, voice echoing out into the halls.
”This fellow’s Padfoot, heard of him? He’s a good one.”
Unsure of what to say, Mal sat back in the shadows before laying down, curling up to take a nap as feet streamed by. The air was filled with delightful ‘thank-you’s and the sound of dribbling stew, the crackle of sipped broth and the tears of those who hadn’t eaten in recent memory.
The beast, the Becomer-turned eight-foot-tall gigantic fox with bronze tusks, claws, and teeth simply lay there, head buried in his paws and that thick, bushy tail keeping his ears warm in the cold Underground. He was called Padfoot, or that was what the locals knew him to be called. There were all sorts of tales, saying he’d eat folks who got too close, but the most commonly told rumor happened to involve Padfoot as a dog rescuing a young thief from the City Guard--true, but embellished wildly by now.
The men felt good, especially Danzig; Mal’d brought Moriandis along, and the man complained constantly.
”My feet hurt, I need to take a break.”
Mal stirred, lifting his head to look over at the hunched-over male struggling with the bowls. “That’s not very redemption-like, Mori,” he chided. “Serve ten then take as many bits.” Mal yawned, putting his head down, trying to put the side effects of his Overstepping out of mind.
”Why aren’t you helping?” asked another one of his crew.
Mal growled just a bit, then spoke with his eyes closed; “food like this doesn’ jus’ grow on trees, y’know. Immortals I’ve got a fekkin’ headache righ’ now, too. Used too much ‘o my pow’r makin’ them Hyx for the folks to eat.”
That was the last anyone said in complaint.
At first everyone had scoffed at his idea to feed the homeless, and Mal remembered the feeling of what it was like to starve, to be unsure of your next meal; what it was like to be treated like dirt by any who could get a good job. Eventually they agreed, on the grounds that Mal needed a good reputation so folks would protect him and their business. Most wanted to keep being fed.
OOC
Steel Pot x2 - 2 GN
Clay Bowl x40 - 4 GN
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