A Whole New World, tag: OPEN

[Bruk]

This was much different than the Southlands already. More people for starters, more to keep aware of, and he wasn't sure he liked it at all. Except he knew his mission and he was going to keep to it. At least he would if he didn't end up getting thrown in prison for attacking someone. It wasn't that he was a violent person, because he wasn't, but everyone was staring at him. Yes he realized he must be a strange sight to their eyes, but give him a break.

Frowning, he rubbed a hand over his bald head and stooped through the door and into the tavern. The Dancing Mermaid it was called, an odd name he thought but perhaps typical of the culture. He found it amusing simply because a mermaid, if one existed, couldn't exactly dance. They had no legs. He moved further into the tavern and up to the bar, and he spoke to the bartender, but his accent was thick, and it might give the impression he was slow or thick but he was simply speaking that way to make sure he spoke the words right. He hadn't had much of an opportunity to practice and he didn't want to mess up and make a bad impression.

"Inkeep I would like a room for the night and some food. A mug of ale too." He pointed to a corner table as the man in front of him looked as if he'd swallowed a lemon. "At that table please." His voice was deep, like a velvet landslide, and heads turned at the tone, whispers starting as he paid the man and made his way to the empty table.

He had only a large pack with him, his axes hanging one on each side, but he HAD conceded to what appeared to be the culture and had on a full, loose linen shirt. Normally he went without, but people looked at him a little less strangely lately and also he was cold. He recognized it was summer here, but it was like winter in the Southlands and he did not wish to chant. He imagined that would really have people look at him strangely. yet no matter what happened he needed to remember his mission. He was going to reach the Slayers in the main city and he was going to learn from them, to help his people back home.

Knuckles rapped on the wood right in front of him, and he was startled from his thoughts, looking up to see a rather burly man that would have looked at home anywhere, but especially a port. He had the look of a dock worker, not that Bruk planned on asking. It was none of his business really.

"Hey boy where's your master?"

Bruk looked at the man and arched a brow. The man was obviously drunk, the main reason he didn't take the comment seriously, and oh yes he knew full well what the man was referring to.

"I have no master," he said, his eyes flicking to either side of the man and then relaxing when he realized the male was alone, "none but myself. Can you say the same?" The man looked poleaxed, and Bruk suppressed a grin, keeping his face impassive. "You are indentured on the docks right?" The man looked as if he was getting angry, and Bruk shook his head. "I am sorry I mean nothing by it. Just pointing out that skin color has nothing to do with servitude."

The drunk male looked at him, and Bruk sighed internally. He thought that had probably just gone over the male's head.

"Look just don't make trouble, we don't like you coons here."

Yeah, it had definately gone over his head. As the man walked away Bruk shot him a mocking salute and reached for his mead, which must have been deposited sometime during the conversation, and wondered how many more times he was going to be asked where his master was this evening.

[Craven]

Craven, if he could, avoided taverns.

It wasn't that he was uncomfortable around humans; after 487 years, he had perfected his human charade. Walk heavier, move clumsier, and pretend you can't hear their whispered conversations, and you were fine. Anything more and you attracted attention, something that the big wolf did not want. He was here on a dangerous trip, anyway; the last thing Craven wanted was for a rogue to follow him... he really didn't feel like having to hide a murder this week.

His dislike of taverns, though, seemed ironic this eve. He couldn't exactly sleep outside like he would've liked; if he was to keep up his facade, he needed all his clothes, and if he slept outside he was going to do so in his wolf skin. Thus, he'd finally found a inn that seemed promising, one he hadn't visited in nearly a century, and with a deep, frustrated sigh he pushed open the door into the Dancing Mermaid.

Immediately most eyes turned to him, and the wolf appraised them all from behind Craven's eyes with a confident gaze. No other Kin here tonight, he noted, and as his gaze roamed over the room Craven's lips pulled up slightly in a satisfied smile - no obvious slayers here, either. That didn't mean they weren't here, necessarily, but nevertheless Craven relaxed his posture the tiniest of bits.

Moving slower than he would've had he been at home, Craven maneuvered through the tables and made his way up to the bar, taking note of all the faces he passed as he did so. He liked to file away all the faces in his mind for future reference, and as an effect facial recognition was one of his strengths.

Resisting the urge to cringe as he did so Craven allowed one of his short swords to bang against a chair, eliciting an angry outburst from the chair's occupant. Of course, Craven just muttered an apology, the words seeming like the practiced lines of a talented actor. Without looking back at the mocking gesture the human sent him he continued on to the bar, leaning his forearm on the counter as he asked,

"I need a room for the evening, if you will, and some food. Don't worry, I'll pay before I leave in the morning..."

He'd only added that last part as he noticed the fear that crept into the innkeeper's eyes. Every once in a while Craven would find a human that listened to his insticts, instincts that screamed DANGER! whenever a human happened to meet his eyes. He knew the innkeeper wouldn't be a problem, though. If he was, surely he had children ready to take over his business, because it'd be hard for him to work when he was floating facedown in the ocean.

As the heavier man nodded, Craven flashed him a wolfish grin before turning back to look over the room. No where to sit..... wait. Over in the corner, there was a relatively empty table, it's only occupant being a large, muscled dark-skinned man. Obviously not from around here... Craven noted wryly before deciding to pay him a visit. After all, he wasn't going to stand all night....

Striding through the crowd again, Craven moved over to the table that contained the burly man, noting the odd looks everyone was giving him. Craven had seen many a dark-skin in his 487 years, but apparently they had not.

Sitting down across from him, Craven settled his big frame and adjusted his swords before stating, his smooth tones amused,

"Don't worry, they'll stop staring after a while. You're just the new shiny object, and their attention is so easily claimed."

[Bruk]

Sipping his mead slowly, savoring the taste, he met the eyes of the serving girl who brought his plate over. She looked quickly away, and he could almost smell the fear on her when she looked at him which was quite a shame. He had no intentions of harming her, but then again he imagined that she had no way of knowing that. He must look pretty fearsome though, because she scurried away like the hounds of Hell were after her.

Bruk picked a piece from his plate with a neat, measured grip and brought it to his lips. It was rabbit he thought, and not bad either. Tasted pretty good for that matter. He kept his eyes on the room though, noticed when another walked into the tavern. He seemed the typical mercenary, or perhaps a guard down at the docks. Simple clothing, a bit clumsy, but seemed like a decent fellow at a glance. Which was why he didn't mind when the other man came his way and sat down across from him.

"Don't worry, they'll stop staring after a while. You're just the new shiny object, and their attention is so easily claimed."

He smiled, exposing teeth that seemed almost too white against his dark skin, a chuckle escaping him. This man was not as simple as he appeared.

"You are not as simple as you appear." he didn't realize it could be taken as in insult, hell, he meant it as a compliment. "And yes, I imagine they will stop," he rumbled. "They remind me of the steppe mongoose back home. They always like the shiny objects, the different ones."

Tilting his head he kept the smile.

"My name is Bruk. What is yours stranger?"

[Craven]

"You are not as simple as you appear."

Raising his brow in question, Craven gave no hint of the slight shock that ran through him. Not as simple as he appeared? Craven had to admit; this human was sharper than most. Grinning back, masking his curiousity, Craven told the dark man,

"The same could be said of you, sir."

His gold-flecked eyes sparkling with mirth as he replied, Craven felt the wolf rise high within him; the beast was interested in this man, this two-legged creature who caught something others did not. Those with Kin blood would've sensed the presence of the mighty Alpha, but humans were oblivious to the change.

"And yes, I imagine they will stop. They remind me of the steppe mongoose back home. They always like the shiny objects, the different ones."

Chuckling low in his chest, Craven grinned again before looking down and picking at his food. Not much of the meat served here appealed to him; after hunting for years and feasting on fresh kills, cooked food just didn't really do it for him.

At the man's intake of breath before he spoke, Craven looked up sharply. Maybe, even a little too quickly. Hopefully the traveler would just chalk it up to quick reactions, not something else.

"My name is Bruk. What is yours, stranger?"

His lips once more pulling up into a hint of a smile, Craven relied,

"Craven. Good to meet you, Bruk."

The big wolf only hoped the stories from a few centuries ago had not reached wherever this man lived. He was taking a risk by giving his name out, but hell. He hadn't been to this particular tavern in a hundred years, and it was likely he'd stop visiting after maybe a decade. The whole unaging thing seemed to unnerve the pitiful humans.

Fom within the confines of his mind, the wolf watched his interactions with this dark-skinned man. He was different, yes, but not one of their kind. Not one to be trusted, at all. The wolf could sense he was a amiable fellow, but still. Humans would sell their soul for any amount of money, and so the less personal information he gave out the better.

Without thinking much of it, Craven was looking rather hard at the man infront of him, studying his eyes as if he could catch a glimpse of the man's soul. It was rumored amoung Craven's enemies that his stare could hold you frozen while he cut you down, and that he saw into your thoughts if he locked eyes with you. Merely rumors, of course, but his gaze was unnerving, nonetheless.

Cocking his head to the side, Craven asked,

"What business have you here, Bruk?"

[Bruk]

Bruk grinned at the raised eyebrow. He knew it for a question, and he would answer.

"The same could be said of you, sir."

"Thank you," he smiled, "and I only mean you use bigger words than most I have heard here, yet dress simply. It makes me think you have a higher station." It was habit for Bruk to watch people and evaluate them, and to be honest he was quite good at it. He was glad that this one didn't take offense to his words though. Some did, but it seemed to amuse this one.

He watched as the man picked at his food curiously. Did he not like the meat? Bruk found it decent, if a little bland and over-cooked. He drew in a breath to ask, and when the male looked up so sharply his eyes widened a bit. That was fast. Very fast, almost too fast and it made him study the male a little more closely. It was possible the other man had extraordinarily fast reactions but there were also other possibilities. Ones he didn't really like to think about given the fact he liked this one so far.

"Craven. Good to meet you, Bruk."

Craven? The name was familiar, and his eyes widened when he placed it, but he made an effort to school his face again. Not likely the same Craven right? It was amusing to him slightly that the man in front of him might be the Great Wolf of the stories. What were the chances of meeting such a man on his first visit to this continent? It didn't cross his mind to draw a blade though. He was in Arcadia to learn how to hunt dragons better, the beasts didn't really bother them, and there was one particularly well-kept secret of his Order that made him far more amiable to the idea.

"And you as well," he said, lips twitching in a smile. "Are you related to the Great Wolf by chance?" He met the intent stare of the male in front of him but didn't look away. He would not lie, there was something in them that unnerved him slightly, but he had met a similar gaze before.

"What business have you here, Bruk?"]

The dark male chuckled slightly, giving no hint of his slight unease as he still refused to look away from Craven.

"I am here by the bidding of my Order to join the Slayers, and learn of new ways to drive off and hunt dragons. We have many problems with them in the Southlands, they are either going feral there or the population is growing."

[Craven]

"And you as well... Are you related to the Great Wolf by chance?"

So that was what they were calling him nowadays? Craven, not bothered at all by the man's honest question, replied, his voice amused,

"One might say that."

There were lots of answers Bruk could garner frm his statement. The Great Wolf might be a relative of his, they're just related in the sense that they share the same name, or, he might even guess that Craven was the man of the legends. Any of those were acceptable to the big wolf.. after all, unless the man wanted to be considered a loon he wouldn't tell anyone about meeting one of the warriors from centuries ago, one who was now just a story told to children to keep them out of the woods at night.

All in all though, Craven rather admired this man; at least, as much as one of his kind could respect a human. Bruk was holding his gaze and could actually think coherently enough to continue the conversation, a feat only a handful of the humans Craven had met in his lifetime could claim.

As Bruk chuckled in response to his question and replied, Craven had to work hard to keep his face impassive.

"I am here by the bidding of my Order to join the Slayers, and learn of new ways to drive off and hunt dragons. We have many problems with them in the Southlands, they are either going feral there or the population is growing."

Well, at least he wasn't hunting his kind... but the wolf protested with a sharp snarl within his thoughts. Dragons lived on his lands, therefore they were his charges, and any sent to hunt those were at his mercy. Before the wolf's emotions could overrun his mind, though, Craven slammed down a mental wall and pushed the beast back down, something that made the dark wolf even angrier.

His voice was cool and collected as he replied, but his eyes were about to give up his heritage, bubbling a brilliant gold as the wolf fought for control.

"A Slayer, eh? Well, you've come to the right continent. We're knee-deep in them here."

He had many ideas as to why the dragons were getting out of control, but he could not voice them, lest he give himself away.

[Bruk]

"One might say that."

So the male was amused? The only thing he could think of as to why the man would be that way was that... well maybe he was just trying to fuck with his head. He could be related, in which case he was staring at a Beast Kin right now. He could share just the name, in which case the Craven in front of him was being quite an... Well he didn't know the term exactly but it had something to do with an 'ass' and a 'hole'. He knew the word, but he thought it crude. Or he could be the Craven from the legends. Any way he looked at it the most likely was that he was staring at a Beast Kin.

Though... as the male reacted to his words his muscles tightened warily. Yes, he was staring at a Kin alright. The bubbling gold of his eyes gave him away and Bruk sighed, actually leaning closer as he spoke to the other man. It said something about him that he didn't seem shocked or afraid, and his tone was deep and purposefully pitched to be soothing to man and beast alike.

"Relax Craven," he said softly, "I hunt only those who kill first. That is the way of things in the Southlands. We do not typically have problems with your kind so it is extremely rare we have to even hunt one. Dragons are a different story, but only lately. We do not seek them out and we are not indiscriminate about it."

He rubbed a hand over the top of his bald head and heaved a sigh. "So please, don't let your wolf eat me." It wasn't exactly a guess, because he was pretty sure the man was a wolf by the color of his eyes. They weren't feline like the ones he knew so well, and this man was either the Craven or related to him so... Still, a smile twitched at his lips as he kept his voice very quiet. He knew Craven could hear him though other humans weren't likely to be able to. "I mean the Great Wolf no harm unless he harms me or mine first."

[Craven]

"Relax Craven... I hunt only those who kill first. That is the way of things in the Southlands. We do not typically have problems with your kind so it is extremely rare we have to even hunt one. Dragons are a different story, but only lately. We do not seek them out and we are not indiscriminate about it."

Craven the man only nodded, but the wolf was not so easily appeased. The dark beast narrowed his eyes as he looked out through Craven's senses, causing the man to try and soothe his suspicions. Anything that might happen would be dealt with swiftly, no need to dwell over the "what ifs". Craven wasn't expecting anything to occur, but... you never knew with humans.

"So please, don't let your wolf eat me."

Even with humans who seemed exceptionally attuned to the presence of the Alpha Wolf. Especially with humans who were extremely observant.

"I mean the Great Wolf no harm unless he harms me or mine first."

Looking down again at his plate, Craven smiled lightly, the easy, confident grin of the hunter. So, was this Bruk expecting Craven to be threatened by the statement? Reassured? Soothed? Well, whatever his intent, Craven knew he wouldn't be fooling around wih this man, his family, or his people. Of course, it wasn't because Craven was scared of his threat, it just wasn't his way. Unless, of course, the Slayer-to-be struck within his territory. Looking back up, Craven met Bruk's eyes steadily.

"As I intend you no harm, unless you strike against my people."

Obviously, he'd just given away his true identity, but Craven really didn't mind. If the traveler was going to make a big scene, he would've done it already. His brimming topaz gaze glinting with the underlying current of danger, Craven added softly,

"Be warned, though. My charges consist of many races.

Of course he was't going to say he looked after dragons as well; anyone overhearing that comment in a place like that meant immediate unwanted attantion. Craven could only hope that this man was as intelligent as he seemed.

[Bruk]

"As I intend you no harm, unless you strike against my people."

The big black man nodded. That was fair enough. He had no plans to strike against any Beastkin unless they attacked him first. It just wasn't his way, not the way he'd been taught for most of his life. Of course he didn't exactly realize that the Slayers here were so overzealous. He knew of them, knew the basics of what they did, but if he'd known of their general philosophy on the other species he may not have been so quick to to say what he was doing.

Of course the other male had also given away his identity, but it didn't really phase Bruk. Instead he smiled slightly at the admission along with his nod.

"Be warned, though. My charges consist of many races."

Now that part was unexpected, but not necessarily strange. Bruk gathered it meant he counted himself responsible for more than just the wolves, and if he made a wild guess it would be that he protected any on his territory. Territorial animals were funny that way, and when they had a bit of humanity to them even more so.

"I understand," he rumbled softly, "and I do hope we are not forced to fight at some point. I respect you Craven. I would not want to have to kill you." It wasn't a threat in the slightest. It was a simple statement by someone who was extremely confident in their own skills. "Now is there anything I should be aware of? This continent is so different from the Southlands. A lot colder." As if to illustrate his point he shivered slightly.

[Craven]

"I understand... and I do hope we are not forced to fight at some point. I respect you Craven. I would not want to have to kill you."

The leader of Geddon Cavel chuckled lightly, his eyes lighting with amusement. He didn't take is as a threat; how could he? When you led one of the fiercest groups of Beast Kin, how could a human really worry you? "As I would not want to kill you either, Bruk. I've always held a respect for your people, and my short experience with you has been pleasant. It would be a waste of life, should I ever have to." He, too, spoke with confidence, but where Bruk was confident in his human strength and maybe... 30 years of experience, Craven spoke with the confidence aquired over at least 450 years of fighting with his fangs and claws.

"Now is there anything I should be aware of? This continent is so different from the Southlands. A lot colder."

Craven nodded slightly, and after a quick glance around him he forced a piece of the meat into his mouth, hoping to show that he wasn't anything suspicious. He chewed for a minute, letting his gaze wander about the room, before swallowing and replying. "Well, for starters, you'll have to get used to the attention you'll attract. There aren't many with your... complexion here, so you'll have attention wherever you travel." Craven's lips pulled up into a slight smile, the friendly sort that he thought might reassure the human. Those kind were easily alarmed or soothed by expressions, and he was always trying to figure out the best ones to use. Like fashion, they changed with the generations, and Craven felt like he was always having to stay on his toes in order to stay unnoticed.

After another long moment, during which the wolf studiously watched the man before them, Craven spoke yet again. "You'll need more clothes, because, like you said, it's colder here. I think I can get you some, if you'd like.... And... you need to know all of my kind aren't as... amiable as I am. Don't expect hospitality from everyone you meet, mortals included. Your people here aren't very... accepting of differences, whatever they may be." His golden gaze was brilliant in it's intensity, and his voice was low, muted, just so that none but the man before him would hear it.

[Bruk]

The wolf was amused... He did not blame the man. If this was truly the one he thought any fight would most likely go in his favor. But it would be honorable, he knew that much. As long as he himself kept honor in mind it would be returned. Then again... he might die at the end but he was almost positive he would surprise the wolf.

"As I would not want to kill you either, Bruk. I've always held a respect for your people, and my short experience with you has been pleasant. It would be a waste of life, should I ever have to. Well, for starters, you'll have to get used to the attention you'll attract. There aren't many with your... complexion here, so you'll have attention wherever you travel."

Bruk laughed softly at the smile. It wasn't threatening, but not exactly reassuring either. "Yes I understand. Those of your complexion are rare at home. However we try our best not to stare..." He frowned. "These ones do not try. I was assumed a slave earlier. That was fun," he ended dryly.

"You'll need more clothes, because, like you said, it's colder here. I think I can get you some, if you'd like.... And... you need to know all of my kind aren't as... amiable as I am. Don't expect hospitality from everyone you meet, mortals included. Your people here aren't very... accepting of differences, whatever they may be."

He nodded sagely. "I would appreciate it. I also have items to trade in payment. And do not worry. Things in the South are different but I am not so naive as to believe they are the same here." He was talking a lot, far more than usual. He was comfortable around the wolf to be honest. He sensed a fellow warrior in the male. Smiling, he gestured at one of the bolder barmaids to bring them a round, and was rewarded with a flirty (though hesitant) smile. Maybe the night was looking up... He made sure to smile warmly at the woman when she brought them their ale, and she giggled when she walked away.

His eyes followed the woman as she walked, noting the sway of her hips with a smirk. He turned to Craven with an arched brow. "Mmm, what do you think of that one? Cute.." He looked in the woman's direction again, laughing richly as she flushed and turned away. "Shy though," he murmured.