Wolf RPG

Ssshhhhhhh...

The soft whispers of rushing water echoed everywhere, filling the woodlands with its ceaseless chatter. The breeze whistled through the pines gently, adding its own high notes to the refrain, punctuated sharply by the eager chipping of boreal chickadees catching up on the morning's news within the stately boughs.

It was a truly beautiful morning. Yes, that was passing judgment on a morning that just was what it was, but Enso still found it to be such. He stopped, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply, savoring the earthy scents of moss, mud and pine.

The man was not a wolf - similar, but there were stark differences. Most notable was his striking fire-orange and snow-white coat, which was plush and elegant. A plumed tail was held high and coiled over his back, his face broad and round. Enso Sensei was an Akita, descended from loyal hunters and guardians that graced the islands of Japan. That lineage served him well as he wandered the wilds aimlessly, now finding himself at the doorstep of a new vista that seemed pregnant with teachings. What will I learn here? he mused, Who will I encounter?

Opening his rich brown eyes once more, he moved very slowly, each step modest, taken in full presence as he followed the creek's course. Each sound, smell, sight, delighted his senses, singing of the thrumming of life in each millimeter he covered. After some time, he found what he was searching for - a large, upright boulder, likely a hitchhiker from the last glacial melt. Its front surface was relatively smooth, and to the Akita's eyes, most welcoming.

He turned sharply to slowly walk to the inviting stone sentinel. Upon reaching it, the dog crisply placed both of his front paws together, elbows splayed, and bowed his head so low that his nose touched the earth. He then sat down in front of it, adjusting his hindquarters and tail until he was comfortable. Head erect, gaze lowered, he then went completely motionless, becoming little more than just another part of the environment. To any passersby, he would hardly stand out save for his vibrant hide.

A perfect morning for wall-gazing.

pinprick legs stabbed their way through slushy snow.

she'd followed the tainted thing for some time. whenever it paused or slowed, the black wing would halt to bend and twist her head, examining the creature from each corner of her two red eyes.

it looked sick. looked blighted and bright. disgust and pity churned within her sunken gut.

when it did what it did, the oddness grew. a new emotion croaked within her - curiosity.

pinprick legs stabbed their way through the slushy snow.

approaching.

The silence made it easy to detect the distinct sound of light steps in the slush. He’d had the feeling of being tailed for some time, but couldn’t glimpse his shadow, whatever or whomever it was. However, the monk could smell them. Fetid, rank, scented of old blood and long-festering illness. Caution was present, but not fear.

The Akita’s profile remained almost unnaturally still, except for the sudden swivel of his flame-hued ears.

“Konnichiwa; hello,” he finally spoke, still facing the solid surface before him. It was a few breaths before he finally, deliberately, lifted his stocky figure into a standing position and turned, brown-black eyes settling on the approaching stranger.

He blinked. For all intents and purposes, what crept through the forest appeared to be a preta. Lean was too understated a word - this creature was emaciated, ill, likely suffering. He placed his forepaws together and bowed his head, “What can this old monk do for you?”

address halted her step. churchbell to a troll. she stood gape-eyed as it rose and turned.

it had a queer sort of face, as if swollen from sickness, or bloated by blood prevented to flow by the noose about its neck.

yet is spoke with a man's voice.

yet it spoke with foreigner gesture.

her tongue slipped out to wet her whiskers.

hhhhai. long-unused chords clogged with unspoken ramblings. she made a long, hissing sound-

she spat onto the snow a yellow glob.

mmmonk. her wide-eyed attention was back on the thing. vat is monk?

Ahaha, sorry. It’s what popped into my head as soon as I saw your character.

The preta spoke, her voice rough, ragged, raspy. She spat - more evidence of an apparent illness. Enso’s face remained passive, neutral. There was no disgust. Instead, he found compassion welling in his chest: what circumstances had caused this ghost such a fate?

It took the man a breath to discern the question spoken through an unfamiliar accent, as the common tongue appeared to be a second language for both of them.

“Ah, I am a spiritual wanderer, madam,” he explained gently, “I go where life takes me. Enso desu. My name is Enso.”

He lowered himself into a respectful bow once more.

“What do you call yourself?”

spiritual. wanderer.

a draug. clearly, following after the living, leeching off the good black of blood and depth of bone.

hel. in giving it an old name, no longer attached, she hoped to foil it.

she was curious. her head lifted and she extended a leg, tilting her chin sideways in an avian manner. little sniffs only offered more strangeness.

vhat is monk-enso do? it was entertaining, speaking to an undead thing. her tail wagged at hip-height.

Enso allowed a soft smile to ever-so-slightly curl his lips upward. The being in front of him seemed cordial enough. Of course, he had no idea that she judged to be him of undead ilk. If he had, he'd probably find humor in the classification, and the irony that he, too, had likened her to a preta.

"Hel-san, douzo yoroshiku. It's a pleasure to meet you, honored Hel," came his sincere reply, followed by another, but less-formal, bow.

This was indeed a curious meeting. Hel intrigued him - her mannerisms were unusual, to say the least; certainly, in a way that would understandably frighten many. Most feared what was foreign, unknown, but not-knowing was most intimate. To Enso, Hel was not so unlike himself under it all.

"Enso eats, sleeps, walks, and sits, madam," the monk stated simply, giving a nod of his head, "I'm curious what brings you here on this fine day?"

Perhaps his calm demeanor was a boon in this interaction, or perhaps it placed him in greater peril than had he been more defensive. Regardless, he held steady, a single ear turning toward the song of a nearby bird.

her head tilted left and right, finally a grin spilling over her lips. this thing, it knew either humor, or flattery.

ærede hel ... she repeated, under her breath.  heh, heh, heh.

and it knew acting, too! the madwoman had a smile by all appearances genuine, but no actor could best a jester in playing the fool. she did not believe this ensio knew what the joy of a meal or the blessings of sleep were.

ee leeve here, in myr-lond. ee go, myr to myr. ee can show, to enso-monk come from far-awey.