Gilded Bay Krusty Krab

@Hieronymous 

Wraen was a little disappointed to find out that yet another pack had decided to settle down along the coast, especially, since the location was right in next to a potential source of food. Oysters were not on top of her list of favourite foods and their salty contents made her very thirsty, every time she ate them, but with so many mouths to feed at home, you had to have quite a few cards up your sleeve. But maybe - given time - the current lodgers would turn out to be temporary ones. Come winter - they would be all gone. 

However, those who seek are rewarded. Gilded bay was a place she had not yet explored and it turned out to be a little gold-mine. Even better than the Oyster restaurant few blocks down. Ever curious and practical Wraen began to investigate the area thoroughly, stopping often to unearth (or un-seaweed) a tasty morsel from the oceans themselves. One could wish more for a meal, but then again there was plenty she had not yet found and tried out.

65°, currently it is slightly cloudy and set during the day. Located in Sequoia Coast, guilded bay | ooc notes: thank you for starting! <3

The bay was a beautiful, and bountiful place. Food was all over if one was to look carefully enough, all kinds of delicious little morsels that came from the sea - a wonderful little treat for the painted man. Chin, belly, tail, and legs were soaked with salt water as he continuously wandered into the pools, searching for little treats or even just to cool off a little. 

Splashing through the water, his eyes met the figure of a young woman who she too seemed to be enjoying the fruits of the sea. With a smile, he called out to her with a musical tune to his vocals. Find anything interesting lately!? Behind him, droplets of water flung around as his tail swished to and fro in a welcoming display.

The fellow, who had spoken to Wraen, was the most unusual looking wolf she had ever met. The pattern of his coat was as if the god himself had had a creative boost during making him and when faced with a decision of, whether making a black wolf or a white one had decided to dip the wolf-to-be in both.

She soon realized that she was staring, collected herself and smiled at him kindly: "I could wish for more and an easier access would be a bonus. What about you? Has Fortuna been favourable to you?"

Catching her staring, he felt the smile creep onto his face. Hieronymous was quite knowledgeable that he was strange to most, to all, really, those who hadn't already seen such coloration as himself before - which was quite rare. Even Hiero himself had yet to meet another of piebald coloration and wasn't quite certain the reason behind it. But he enjoyed it. Strange, am I not? You won't find anyone like me ever again. With a playful wink, he teased.

Not quite, some oysters a little while back but not nearly enough to satiate. He wasn't certain if this young lady knew of the shelled creatures or not, but to him, they were unique in taste. The slimy texture took some time to get used to, but they were a neat little snack once you knew how to get in.

"You are a true gem, ain't you?" Wraen teased him good-naturedly. "And modest too," she added for a good measure. Her usual test to see, if the other person had a sense of humour. If they did, she would go on. If they did not, then the conversation would probably not last long. 

"Oh, I know them. The shell is a nuisance, but the contents are quite filling. If not the most attractive stuff to feast on," she remarked, thinking about her own experience with sea-food. She did not mention the fact that the only time she had tried them (and plenty) had ended up with a severly upset stomach for quite a few days. 

"But compared to deer innards, they certainly look neater," she smiled. "So, where do gentlemen like you stem from?" she asked, even though he had claimed before already that he was one of a kind wolf.

So you think. Said with a playful wink, modest, not quite, but he was certain that's what she meant as well, the two were on the same page in regards to how Hiero spoke about himself. 

That's the one! Cheering in excitement, his tail waved high behind him - not in a display of dominance, but of sheer over excitement. Though unappealing in appearance, I hear they are aphrodisiacs to some. Eyes rolling up to the skies as he pondered this thought, he smiled before continuing. Though I felt no such effects, personally. With good reason due to his illness, but she didn't have to know that. 

Oooh here, Head swung gently to the left, and there. head swung gently to the right. Just a traveling entertainer really, looking for the right place to call home. But I hail from out of town, North East somewhere, can't really remember the exact location. Judging by your scent, I suppose you have a home.

"Aphrodisiacs?" Wraen looked at the shelled creature and could not come up with a more unfitting impersonation of a potent drug than this one. On the other hand... "Well, they say that Aphrodite was born out of sea-foam. Would explain the connection," she said more to herself than her companion.

"Aha," she listened to his vague travel history and, when he remarked that she looked like a house-wife of somewhere set, she laughed. "Do I have a lazy-husband and more-children-than-necessary written so plainly across my features?" she teased him.

That's an interesting interpretation! It excited him clearly, it was something that he would try to remember and use it in a story someday. It's pretty clever wording - say, do you happen to be a story teller of sorts? Out f curiosity. The way you explained that was just so breathtaking that I must inquire. Perhaps he was being a little too nosy, but unless shut down, he would try to get to know another storyteller if he could!

Her teasing might cause any other regular Joe to take a step back and re-think what they just said in hopes of not insulting - but Hiero could tell a teasing and try to throw it back in a playful manner, and he would try to do just that right now. Leaning in, and squinting his eyes just a little, with a soft tilt of his head. I mean, if I were to look at you juuuust like this, I can see it.

"Ain't you a weathered flirt," Wraen teased him and chuckled light-heartedly. "Usually people get confused at the third word and are running for the hills before I can even finish my complicated sentence," she explained, though this was not strictly true. Technically - they stayed, where they were out of politeness to a crazy person. Their minds fled.

"It's the fur, right?" she looked to one side and then to the other. Had the man met her few weeks earlier, he would have seen evident signs of determined puppy-teeth in chaotically attempted way of shearing their good ol' ount. "But I never answered your question - story-telling is something I like and enjoy," she said. "What about you?"

Those individuals lack the finess to appreciate a well put together sentence. He laughed, though it did sound familiar, for those to turn tail when faced with something they didn't understand. To feel inferior intellectually rather than learn from another - it was all too common. It's how you carry yourself. He continued his gentle teasing, deviating from her fur (as some ladies held that in high standards) and went more for less on appearance and instead oh how she carried herself. Prideful, and yet gentle. He shrugged - of course she was not obviously a mother, he moved on. 

I'm a bit of a story teller myself. I like to collect stories and add them to my repetoir. Do you have the time to tell me a little story perhaps?

"I never thought about it like that, but you are probably right," Wraen smiled. She let the comment about being prideful, but gentle pass her ears, because the next piece of news piqued her professional interest in the man. It was not every day she met a fellow story-teller, though this year had been more generous in that aspect than the rest. Hieronymous was the third one.

"I do not share mine, if it does not involve a proper trade agreement," Wraen replied. "Impress me first and then I will see, if I have anything that fits your taste," she offered. "Or we can have a take of "round-robin" and test each other. Know the game?"

He let that conversation slip, all he took from it was that he was glad she seemed happy with his compliment - the last thing he needed was to leave her insulted by his well-intended words. 

Impress you, well now I'm nervous. It's been a long time since I have ever told a story. He chuckled nervously, but at the same time, he was excited. It's been a long time since he has ever had an audience. 

I do not, but I'm intrigued. Please, explain. Round-robin? It sounds completely different to anything he had discussed previously with anyone. He couldn't even ponder what the hell it could be.

"If I got a mouse every time I heard someone say this, I would be fat and unable to move," Wraen noted, when Hieronymous did not rush to do her bidding. But he made up for this flaw by agreeing to play the game and wishing to know the rules. "The general idea is that we make a story together. Collaborative story-telling that is. I start with something, leave a cliffhanger and then you pick it up and take the story along for a while. Leave at the most exciting point and it's my turn to sneak out of the impossible situation," she explained. 

"Contributions do not have to be long. Often the skill of the story-teller lies not in the multitude of words they use, but with how few they can get by to convey an idea beautifully," she added."Questions?"

That sounds like a dream to me! To think of getting fat over the mount of mice necessary was incredible, the mountain of mice required for such a feat would be unimaginable! 

Carefully he listened to her explanation. Nodding along and the expression on his face clearly getting more and more excited. At this point Hieronymous found himself sitting onto the ground, his tail gently draped into a puddle as he was so taken by her offer. 

None at the moment. I suppose you would like for me to start, hm?

"Go ahead," Wraen allowed him generously, though she had had a couple of story beginnings in her mind as well. This was a game, where you got better with practice. As a kid she had played this with her mother often, nowadays - less often. But just like riding a bicycle, once you have learned, how to keep balance, you never forget it. Story-telling is the same ride. With less painful falls.

This was intriguing. He had the stage to begin the game, and for a moment he pondered, choosing how to start this story, the setting of all things, the words he would use. In a not so near land from here, a princess wandered a sandy sea — He paused, quirking his brow in the direction of his current storytelling partner. Waiting to see what she would come up with, how one would proceed - though he had an idea on how the game worked, it was interesting to see how a veteran would take it.

"... where she suddenly heard the most beautiful music and followed it's sound up to a dark cave. Without much hesitation she ventured inside and guided by the enchanting melody and caring for little else, walked the labyrinth," Wraen picked up the story and the words came flawlessly. She had to pause only once, in order to decide of, whether she hsould provide her partner with more details or leave it up to him to decide, where the foolish girl ended up to. "Suddenly she came into the light and saw..."

Oh, so he could go longer than he had previously. Interesting. He studied her own part in the story, noting certain aspects. Before he even knew it, the story had come around to him once more. Without dropping the beat of the story, he continued - The most beautiful opalescent stone. It shone like the moon within the cave, twinkling with its own light. It captivated her, drew her in, reaching out her snout she leaned in to touch it - He allowed the story to hang just as she did.

"...and WHAZOOM!" Wraen threw a wrench in the works. Naturally, she could have gone on about all of the miracle stuff that happened to the girl, that she gained some sort of super-powers, kicked some asses, saved her Prince Charming, rode off into the sunset, but where would be fun in an easy narrative, huh? True skill shows itself in the light of struggle. Let him work for it.

Ah, so she was going to make it difficult. What a tricky trickster! Tripping up on his words for a moment, he found his vocals once more to pick up the mantle that had so quickly come back to him. Upon her the light twisted and churned and formed a crown to adorn her head. The light filling her with -

"... unspeakable dread. The weight of the crown grew heavier and no matter, what way she tried to rid her head off it, it stayed stuck in place," Wraen picked up the thread and continued to roll the metaphorical yarn-ball of the tale. "If that wasn't worse enough, she heard a voice in her head, which said..."

I did not forget about you!! Let's get this trade thread!! >:C #warcry

Here I sit, atop your crown, I curse thee with mine weight for disturbing my slumber. Let your neck struggle with my power, until it cannot bear anymore, as the shining beauty becomes a beacon of your torture. The story may have taken a bit of a dark turn. As far as he could tell the story could end right here, but he left that decision up to the interesting woman. Perhaps she had one more wrench to throw into the story as she had before. And he relished at the thought of either ending the story or continuing...

A poet, huh? Wraen's eyes twinkled in amusement, when her partner-in-crime added a bit of balladry to the tale and she believed that she could hear a certain rhythm about the way he unfolded the story further. It was true - he could end it there and then, but Wraen was not going to let it happen for two reasons. First, it would be yet another story, where a feeble willed woman got in crap and had to wait for a prince charming to save her. Second, where would be fun in that.

Therefore she took her time to gather all her forces up from the trenches, rearranged them, pointed to the fortress that needed to be taken and yelled "CHARGE!". All in her mind, of course. In life, she began to speak: "The princess was devastated by the news at first. She did not understand, why and how she had insulted the invisible guardian spirit of the crown, and thought it's treatment of her unjust and mis-placed. After all, if one is not to be disturbed, one should put fair signs of warning - pee around the perimeter, build walls, do anything wolfishly possible and obvious that this was no man's land to trespass.

So, rather than giving in to her fate, she told all, what was on her mind to the crown, and then, holding her head proudly - though it was by no means easy - found her way out of the dark cave and stepped outside. "Either you tell me, how to get you off or I will find a way for you to rust and die. And you would not wish that, would you?" she spoke to it."

But the crown did not speak. Slowly but surely he was getting the beat of it, without hesitation, he picked up the mantle again and continued the story despite his original thought that perhaps it had finished. It seemed like she still had more to come. He smiled in mid-speech. Though as she tried, the crown clung to her head as months went on. It's glitter never-fading despite the rain or efforts of others to pull it off. The jewel was indeed magic.

Every time she tried to speak to the accursed object, she was met with silence, only feeling the weight on her shoulder grow. She was met with admiration by all, for her strength and stride in carrying such an evil burden, her beauty and power had spread from word of mouth, and eventually, all wanted to visit the princess with the heavy, star-studded crown, to gaze onto her like a diety in mortal form.

Hieronymous did not relent at Wraen's pressure to change the storyline in favour of a happy-endish outcome. He also managed to match the length of his contribution to hers. The game had begun harmless and playful enough, but now the girl's eyes were alight with passion and the challenge thrown her way. A battle of skills and she was dead-set of not losing. 

"There are many shades of silence. So, as the princess got more used to her burden, she also grew aware of the cursed soul trapped within the golden circlet. Those were minute details and for most people would go unnoticed. The crown grew physically cold, when it disapproved of something. It would burn hot against her skin, when angry and frustrated. It would tighten around her neck, when it felt like punishing her. And would loosen to tease and taunt her.

As if saying - look, how weak you are, you are completely in my power! The princess in the meanwhile had learned that ignoring the cursed object was the best way of making it calm. After all her body still belonged to her soul, whereas the soul of the crown was trapped within a lifeless object. She became convinced that the thing was envious of the living. And as she grew older, she almost began to pity it. 

Her humbleness and patience gave her strength to live with her burden to a ripe old age. On the day she was to die, just moments before the death itself came to reap her, she told the crown: "I feel sorry for you. When I pass, you will find someone else, but torment them as much as you want, you will always have just a pretend-life." The crown glowed red and hot against her skin and then she heard a horrible scream and sound of tearing metal. 

Later that day her pack mates found the dead body of a very old she-wolf and broken remains of rusty, metal crown," she finished the story. 

"I think that we did a decent job today. The world has become a richer place," Wraen smiled at her story-telling partner. 

I think that we can conclude this thread. Thank you a lot for helping me out!