Dog Days (Open)

[Bloody]

(Okay! Bronwyn's a bodyguard for hire, so it could be interestin' if someone decided to try and steal something off the cart. Or if someone tried to pet her it would be fun to see her react.)

It was hot.

It was hotter than hot in fact; it was the kind of heat that drove all sane people indoors or at least into the shade. The market district of Silvermoon was one of the least sane places on the planet however, as such the merchants, buyers, and stalls were lined up as always. People moved slow and languid. Their sweaty bodies drifting aimlessly between booths as overheated merchants sang out their deals; they were exuberant as always despite the tiring heat.

Bronwyn lay, her head resting on her paws, under a jewelry stand. The wooden structure was draped in a black velvet cloth to make the fine silver chains, pearls, and golden rings pop out and draw the eyes of passerbys. The black cloths hung a foot off each corner of the stand, but not to the ground where she lay. Jareem, the fat prissy man who had hired her called out in his singsong voice; "Pretty rings for pretty ladies! Necklace for your lover, your daughter, your cousin?!" She was surprised the aging man, with his excess weight and impeccable dress hadn't passed out under the eye of the sun. Still, she would speak no ill of her benefactor. After all, the man had paid handsomely to get her to guard his stall from the characteristic Silvermoon riffraff. It wasn't the best job, but she made some money off of it and work from her normal sources had been scarce as of late. The royalty was getting less paranoid it seems, so she hadn't been needed by her bosses with the biggest coinpurses.

So far the day had been slow and uneventful. Plump noblewomen with plumper coin-purses dragging their plump children behind them. They were the only ones who could afford it. Jareem sold pretty things at ridiculous prices. The nobles were stupid enough to pay him for his fool's gold and fake diamonds. Not that he was entirely dishonest, there were real gems worth their price stowed among the junk.

Bronwyn lay under the stand, appearing for all the world to be the jewelry merchant's hound who lazily napped under the stand. Not an intelligent and mouthy guard who despite her lazy appearance was very much awake and very much alert. She couldn't afford to doze off, no matter how much she wanted to. Dozing off meant she wouldn't get paid. Pink nose resting on pink paws, Bronwyn's warm brown 'puppy dog' eyes watched the feet of passing people.

The dull murmur of the marketplace forming the harmony to a endless tune. Her employers voice ringing out above it clearly, "Buy a silver brooch for the broad in your life! Dazzling diamonds, shining gold!" Days like this were supposed to boil the seas, turn wine sours, make dogs grow mad.

Far more likely, that fat prick would drive her mad first.

[Locke (DP)]

Seeing a fel’asar walking around in broad daylight seemed a bit strange. The people around young Ilvyn Daleroth confirmed this. The boy could pull his hood up, but that would not cover the obnoxiously long horns that jutted out of his face; he could have nailed a sign to his face that said “I’m a fel’asar! Look at me!” and gotten the same effect. People were definitely looking at him, and glaring, and hiding their goods and their children when they saw him. Surely they were all wondering how so many offensive and demonic traits could fit on one hideous young body. Vyn was ignoring their reactions. The fault was his for walking about in broad daylight, but Silveryeye was his home (as much of a home as a rogue could have) and today was a very extraordinary day.

I never thought I would see sunlight in Silvereye.

It was remarkably beautiful in the city when the sun dared to show its face. It was also insufferably humid and the boy was sweating through his clothes. Vyn imagined the only way to make this day better was with a nice cool bottle of wine straight from the cellar. The rogue could afford no such wine as he had been out of work here for a while and his latest stunt failed. Water here was free and it was also filthy and drinking it would leave him vomiting on the streets. Wine was preferred. If only he could filch a few coins off of a lucky noble. If only, if only…

The promise of diamonds and gold brought Vyn to the jewelers stand. On second thought, what the hell was he going to do with a necklace? Wine couldn’t be bought with jewelry, although he wished it otherwise. Unfortunately the merchant was quick to see Ilvyn and realize exactly what he was. The man threw his entire body over the stand in such a theatrical manner that Vyn could only stare at him wide-eyed in shock. “Don’t you dare touch my beautiful wares, you dirty scoundrel!” He snarled and Ilvyn. “I know exactly what you are!”

Ilvyn looked around, feigning cluelessness. “Who? Me?”

“Yes, you! You stupid uneducated filthy….demon!” The man spat. “I know what you’re up to, thief!”

Vyn cringed, “Uneducated? My feelings…they’re hurt. Usually people don’t call me a thief unless I’ve actually stolen something.” Ilvyn then snatched a fistful of jewelry, yanking it from under the man’s incredible girth. “I guess we’ll have to fix this.” The fel’asar then spun about and fled. From behind him he could hear the man bellowing like a pregnant cow, as merchants are wont to do when someone steals from under their noses.

Idiot. I wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t just begging for it.

[Bloody]

Watching people go by in Silvereye was often like buying a ticket to a poorly managed freakshow. All sorts of people would go by, some more interesting than others: here was a lady with a mustache, there a outrageously tall man with wings, over there a talking llama. Such things were common place here, Bronwyn herself stuck out in the primarily human population of the city. Yet she was nothing compare to what strutted up to the stand next.

Her first impression was just that he had a bad sunburn, then she realized that he was pink. Not just flushed or blushing or whatever but truly truly pink, he was pink as a pansy. Before she could get over the shock of seeing a pink man walking up to the stand, he was too close to see his face from under the wooden counter of the stand. Her ears perked when Jahreem's familiar and dramatic voice cried out "Don’t you dare touch my beautiful wares, you dirty scoundrel! I know exactly what you are!" Bronwyn was on her feet under the table in a matter of seconds.

“Who? Me?” The...pink man replied.

Bronwyn tilted her head to the side in a characteristic dog expression of confusion. Jahreem was likely over reacting to some guy with a big bushy beard or an eyepatch or something similarly stupid and...pink skin. She returned her gaze to the offending man's feet, promptly noticing where there should have been a pair of boots or sandals there were in fact a pair of cloven goat hooves. She was dumbfounded. “Yes, you! You stupid uneducated filthy….demon!” Jahreem sure sounded angry... “I know what you’re up to, thief!”

She stood motionless, the word thief tripping off something in her brain. She was supposed to stop thieves...“Uneducated? My feelings…they’re hurt. Usually people don’t call me a thief unless I’ve actually stolen something.” There was brief pause, “I guess we’ll have to fix this.” A horrified gasp sounded from her employer's large bulk, then she saw the cloven hooves in front of her turn to run. Bronwyn had to stop herself from laughing; Jahreem had just been begging for that! Predjudiced old cow. Despite the humor of the situation, Bronwyn was moving after the thief before you could say "scoundrel".

Her short stubby legs carried her body surprisingly quickly over the cobbled streets of Silvermoon. Once she saw the thief's face she understood the fat man's dismay and predjudice. He was of a slighter build, with a rakish pointed chin and a fistful of gold chains. He could barely be considered an adult. This all however was overshadowed by the rather large horns poking out of his forehead. Bronwyn didn't have time to oogle at him though; Paws pounding after the boy in front of her, the pink...cloven hoofed...horned boy in front of her.

"Drop it!" She growled loudly; it was the only warning he'd get.

If the boy didn't obey immediately there were consequences of course. Bronwyn was faster than most bipeds, and though small she was dangerous. She'd lunge for his leg, disregarding his digigrade hooves to sink her teeth into his calf muscle like she would any man. Once there the momentum of her charge would crash into the back of his legs, knocking him over. She knew few people who could take ninety pounds of angry dog to the back of the knees and still keep their footing. This all was dependent on the fact she could get close enough to bite at him; he was surprisingly fast. Those hooves weren't there to just look goofy after all.

For some reason; her heart wasn't really in it.

[Locke (DP)]

Vyn failed to notice the dog, so her act at appearing to be a completely normal and oblivious animal had been a fruitless effort. How was a reckless young fel’asar like him supposed to notice a lazy white dot lying on the ground? When he ran, he didn’t have any thoughts to look back when he heard the authoritative growl to drop the goods. The sound was strangely animalistic, but that could mean anything. The boy was oblivious to the fact that a dog was chasing him and he would have rethought his tactics had he known.

Something clamped onto the back of his calf like steel jaws of a bear trap. Ilvyn knew then he was going down, so he had best go down in style. Pitching his weight backwards and throwing his arms back, the fel’asar let the momentum of whatever had hit him carry through. The boy would land on his hands and a bit of his rump/tail and would recover much more quickly from being knocked over. Vyn was no master of agility, but being a criminal he had been in many, many street fights, and he had a few tricks up his sleeve.

That was when he noticed it was a dog. “Fucking fuck. Go…piss on a tree!” Vyn shouted and delivered a kick towards the dog’s face, hoping the sock the white little beastie in the eye. Ilvyn didn’t care much for animals unless they were the kind that he could sit his arse on and be hauled around. Canines were always trying to kill him and Vyn had no qualms about returning the favor. “Leave me alone you stinkin’ mutt!”

The fel’asar moved quickly to get onto his feet. Ilvyn was still more concerned with the thought of being captured by human hands than he was of the dog. Dog bites were something he could recover from, imprisonment might take a little more time. In panic the boy reached over and grabbed the nearest lady, who struggled fruitlessly in Vyn’s strong arms, and flung her towards the dog. Hopefully that would keep the beast busy for a couple of seconds while the fel’asar ran. Vyn already had an idea that would work, if he could keep the dog off of his heels for two seconds.

Bolting towards the nearest alleyway, Ilvyn found exactly what he was looking for. On a merchant street like this many crates and boxes were used to haul goods back and forth. Many people set these off to the side, usually stacked against the walls of the buildings. Of course, the boxes would be moved by night, but in the middle of the day, they made a handy makeshift ladder for a thief looking for a quick escape. The boy leapt onto a decent sized stack that wobbled a bit under his weight. Hands fumbling for the roof, Vyn only hoped he could climb up in time before the dog decided to pull him down and cause a mess of his perfect escape.

“Stupid animals…ruining everything…SHIT!”

[Bloody]

Bronwyn growled triumphantly when her blow hit home; it did precisely what it was meant to do. Her weight knocking the thief over and sending him sprawling. “Fucking fuck. Go…piss on a tree!” Bronwyn barely had time to let go of his leg before a heavy hoof collided with the side of her face, sending her reeling back in pain and momentarily stunning her. As the big bull terrier tried to blink the stars out of her vision she barely registered the movement of figures in front of her. "Fuck that hurt..." Goat boy was up and on his feet, she knew that much however where he had gone would have to wait for her eyes to catch up to the fact they were supposed to be seeing. “Leave me alone you stinkin’ mutt!”

Her ear quirked in the direction of the voice, and she tried valiantly to leap to her feet. It ended up being less of a leap and more of a stumble; still reeling from the kick to the head. She heard a lady scream and her head turned toward it. Growling to herself Come on, legs. Work! It was clear the thief didn't know what he was dealing with; being that she was an intelligent and capable assailant rather than a stupid dog who could be disengaged with such tactics. She ducked through the legs of the lady he had thrown into the way, and completely ignored her cry of dismay at some scoundrel grabbing her and a dog muddy-ing up her dress all within a few seconds of each other. "Sorry lady..." she'd murmur, still reeling a little from the kick.

The darkness that clouded her eyes from the blow to the head had faded just in time for her to catch her pink man ducking into an alleyway. Then she was after him. Unfortunately, those short legs could only corner so well and by the time she got around the corner he was perching on top of a teetering pile of crates trying desperately to get up on the roof. How very clever, she stopped for a second: brown eyes looking the situation up and down before she charged.

Bronwyn snarled dangerously not slowing as she approached. She suddenly twisted, and brought the hardest part of her shoulder down against the bottom crate. She could've jumped up and on top of them with him, but there was too much risk of her just sailing harmlessly off the top or suffering another nasty kick from pink boy up there.

She felt the thick wood connect with her shoulder painfully. Yet also felt the entire stack shudder when her weight hit it. She drew back to ram it again; assuming her mark had not already fallen off or made it to the roof.

"No hard feelings...goat boy. It's just business." She grunted between blows.

[Locke (DP)]

Between flinging himself at the roof in one last effort to stay on top of things (quite literally) and the dog throwing all of her weight at his makeshift ladder, Vyn heard a voice behind him. Then he was hit with an airship-sized epiphany; the dog was one of the folk. Ilvyn would have laughed, but he feared doing such would cause him to lose the precarious grip he had on the edge of the roof. Instead he braced his legs and tail against the side of the building and gave himself a push. The boy managed a small chuckle once he had gotten his upper body onto the roof.

“Awr, no hard feelings, folk dog,” Vyn responded. “I just don’t want to end up executed over some petty jewelry. I like my head where it is, thank you very much.”

Ilvyn pulled the rest of his body onto the roof with much difficulty. Once fully steady on the roof, as steady as a hooved being could be on an inclined surface, Vyn glanced down at the little white dog. The dog was a short shit with a face that consisted mainly of nose- and she had been marveling at Vyn’s less-than-attractive looks! At least he was safe from her bite for now, but he would have other things to worry about soon.

“As long as you’re down there and I’m up here we’re at a truce,” Ilvyn remarked. “Heh, you better learn how to climb, little doggy, or you’ll be out of a job soon.”

Ilvyn knew he couldn’t hang around for long, not that he would regret having to leave, and he was looking forward to getting this dog off his tail and downing a cool bottle of wine. From the corner of his eyes he could already see guards shoving their way through the crowd. If they got a clear shot at Ilvyn, they would take it, and the fel’asar was not as resistant to bullets and arrows as he was dog bites. Speaking of which his calf and back were aching, but he was still alive and free, so he had a reason to remain optimistic.

“I guess this is goodbye, little doggy,” Vyn said with a curt salute. “At least until I touch ground once more. Good luck to you in keeping up.”

Ilvyn dashed the opposite direction across the roof without looking back. The fel’asar vaguely wondered if the dog would follow him. Dogs were known to be…annoyingly persistent. A voice in the back of his head assured him he had nothing to worry about.

I have a head start.

---

((OoC: Sorry if I just made things stupid complicated- I obviously don’t want the RP to end here, but I thought I’d give my character a little love and not have him completely eff up everything. xD So I was thinking either Bronwyn could somehow get on the roof and TACKLE HIM OFF but if you have better ideas you can obv. go ahead.))

[Mycroft]

Shit just got serious.

Rafael had received orders from his father to take a good long look at his schedule for the week and make damn sure that he follow it closely, or else he would have to feed the cats in the stables. Those cats downright detested him, and he always left with some sort of mortal wound, so he had no choice but to go on patrol in the marketplace of Silvereye.

Of course, it was on the hottest day of the season. It was a curse that Mister Sunshine was boiling the peasants below. Why the hell did he have to wear full uniform when patrolling the streets, the slums of the city? It didn't let his skin breathe. What a fan-fucking-tastic day.

But, wearing the stifling-hot uniform did have its perks. He turned the pretty heads of pretty ladies, and the not-so-pretty heads of downright disgusting ladies as well. Some of them even said a nice little "hello," but Rafael dismissed them. He wouldn't disgrace his family name. But hey, at least he would have something to think about later that night.

Now, Rafael was there, leaning on the cleanest section of a brick storefront he could find, arms crossed in front of him. His white cape fluttered lightly in the slight breeze, which did little to stir the stagnant, sticky air that hung around the city streets. His family sword sat in its sheath, just for show, and the man's flintlock pistols were concealed, as always, behind his back and under his cloak. Rafael adjusted the broach and surveyed the marketplace before him, bored and quite possibly lethargic.

He checked his pocket watch after sweating through what could have been five sets of clothes, and saw that there was half an hour left of his watch before he could go right on home and take a nice cold bath. He sighed and let his head roll back with a thunk! on the hard surface behind him. Fucking...

The knight's thoughts were stopped in their tracks, however, when he noticed a quick-moving horned character clutching some shiny belongings come barreling through the crowd and dashing into the alleyway directly next to the building he was leaning on, followed on his heels by a small but hefty white terrier. He would have to go and sort this stupid conflict out, or else he would be bashed by the local gazette, which wasn't particularly tolerant when it came to dealing with the royals and their personal business.

Seeing the guards already hustling to the situation, Rafael held up a hand and they halted immediately, upon seeing his white cape and sash. A knight to command them? Oh, please. This was his job. He was good at it.

And he hated it.

Anyways, Rafael stuffed his pocket watch back in his pocket and strolled nonchalantly into the alleyway, whistling a little tune. The chubby white terrier was throwing itself against a stack of crates, but the vandal was nowhere to be seen. He had heard two voices, so the knight assumed that the canine was of the Folk. He stooped down, set his hands on his knees, and grinned warmly.

"Good afternoon, madam," he cooed, looking directly into the terrier's brown eyes. "Rafael Benito, Knight of Caedere and everyone's favorite lothario, at your service." He straightened himself up and adjusted his cloak, making sure it billowed behind him to give him a positively heroic composure. He even puffed out his chest a little. "I saw where your pet went. Would you like me to help you get up there so you can call him down? I don't know if I can lift you completely, but I could give you a boost."

I fucking hate this job.

{ IT'S NEVER A PARTY WITHOUT RAFAEL ~ }

[Bloody]

(THIS IS THE SECOND TIME I'M POSTING THIS AND I FEEL LIKE MY RAGE WORE OFF ON BRONWYN SO YEAH)

As soon as the thief's weight left the top of the weight than they crashed over from Bronwyn's assault, one bursting open and showering the street with it's contents and wooden splinters. Bronwyn thought for one brief excited moment that she had sent the pink scoundrel sprawling as well as the crates, but she quickly realized he had made it up onto the roof when his taunting voice called down.

“Awr, no hard feelings, folk dog, I just don’t want to end up executed over some petty jewelry. I like my head where it is, thank you very much.”

She backed away from the toppled crates, head held low and growling loudly. Stupid...pink...goat-boy. Eyeing him, the wall, the crates, and the roof with the same cold stare. Bronwyn stood there stock still, silently fumeing.

“As long as you’re down there and I’m up here we’re at a truce, Heh, you better learn how to climb, little doggy, or you’ll be out of a job soon.”

"YEAH?! Well if I do you'll be out of a LIFE!"

Well...not so silently.

There was no possible way for her to pursue him to the roof from here, she mildly entertained the possibility of dashing around madly look for another route to the roof tops, but by the time she found one Pinky would be long gone. She could attempt to climb up there, but she'd likely just make a fool of herself, her stubby bull terrier legs were certainly not meant for jumping and the much taller humanoid had some difficulty getting up there and he had fingers and about four feet on her. So without further adu Bronwyn sat back on her haunches and performed her only real opition: scream incomprehensible threats at Pinky for her own amusement.

"If I ever see your ugly goat-face again I'll tear it off! Yeah! Then I'll - I'll rip it into little bits! Then I'll jump on them! I'll jump and I'll jump till I get blisters! Then I'll..."
Bronwyn shut her fat mouth when a silky voice from behind her sounded "Good afternoon, madam, Rafael Benito, Knight of Caedere and everyone's favorite lothario, at your service." she jerked her head around to check out this chump. She knew he was a knight before he even opened his mouth. Bronwyn knew the type, pretentious pricks who would rather die than get their hands dirty. This one...this Rafael was no different, in fact he could be the picture in the dictionary that went beside it. Over-privileged noble shithead who likely wanted to whine about his uniform being to hot. She watched in slight disgust as he struck what he must have thought to be a heroic pose. In reality it just made him look fat, she mused as he puffed himself up like a blowfish.

"I saw where your pet went. Would you like me to help you get up there so you can call him down? I don't know if I can lift you completely, but I could give you a boost." She opened her mouth to shoot him down. Growl in his stupid face and tell him to run back to his rich daddy and leave the streets to the real soldiers. Then she held her tongue when her stomach grumbled weakly.

She needed some goddamn money... this was the only job she'd had in weeks. While she hated that fat prissy dickhead and the jewelry he sold she was not about to throw away his gold by being a shitty guard. So Bronwyn looked the overgrown brat right in the eye. Then growled lowly the tone of her voice communicating that she was not impressed by him, his conceited attitude, his spiffy white uniform, or his goddamn big brown eyes: " Alright. Boost me. But be quick about it, and don't get involved."

She knew the last bit was wasted upon him. It was in his job description, the dictionary said Knight: Noun. Annoying prat who gets in the way and acts like a asshole. Regardless, Bronwyn sat and waited for the knight to boost her 90lbs bulk up so she could get to the roof so she could tear after Pinky and hopefully get paid extra for putting up with all of this shit.

[Locke (DP)]

Skip me this round. XP

[Bloody]

bumpy?

[Mycroft]

"If I ever see your ugly goat-face again I'll tear it off! Yeah! Then I'll - I'll rip it into little bits! Then I'll jump on them! I'll jump and I'll jump till I get blisters! Then I'll..." Rafael recoiled a bit, his chest deflating. She wasn't directing this slander towards him directly, but... ugh. This dog was definitely of the Folk. If not the often-seen Rude Folk. She appeared to scrunch up her face in contempt, scrutinizing Rafael... wait, her face was supposed to be like that. Never mind.

"Alright. Boost me. But be quick about it, and don't get involved." The knight gave the dog a once-over. Short. Stout. Hefty. These kinds of terriers were supposed to be bricks. Stop getting involved, you little...

"It's my job to get involved, Porky," he said, interrupting his own thoughts. Rafael managed to make his voice sound airy, and that was because he had barely been able to stop the statement from turning into a sigh. "And do you remember that time when I said I could give you a boost? I lied." Rafael cracked a smile, albeit a forced one. "Why don't you... climb those boxes or something? Oh wait, if you already did, you would be... hold on."

Pushing his cape over his shoulders, Rafael arranged the crates into a sort of pyramid. If any of them had anything in them, then it wasn't anything very heavy. After he was finished, the knight stepped back and admired his (shitty) handiwork. As soon as he did so, one of the crates at the bottom cracked in half, sending the entire structure crashing down.

"NOOOOOOOO!"

Rafael allowed his cries of anguish to carry well over the sound of the crowds. He fell to his knees, disgusted with himself. Now he'd have to carry that smelly, stinky, fatass terrier up that ladder over there, just to catch some hooligan running across the rooftops of Silvereye. Fuck, fuck, fuck a duck.

He pulled himself up off the ground, dusted his uniform off, and dragged his feet over to the ladder that jutted out of the brick wall. "Come on, short, squat, and ugly," he sighed, not bothering to hide his attitude now. He opened his arms as an invitation for the terrier to jump in his arms, not to maul his face off.

{ It's been so long, SORRY TO KEEP YOU GUYS WAITING :C }