Treat Yourself (Open)

[Nefarious]

Everyone he had ever known always described the city of Zikhsot as a beautiful wonderland of marble and stone, surrounded by tall walls, patrolled by the most ruthless of knights, it was no place to commit a crime, that was for sure. But Nefarious had never seen it. Though he’d been to the city more than several times, selling his wares and showing off for the locals, he saw it as less of a wonderland and more of a shithole. Homeless people littered the streets like trash, poor and beaten down, some of them blind, some of them barely covered in enough rags to be decent, it was no paradise for them. They still starved while the king sat on his fancy chair and grew fat, his people withered away in his shadow and it was a terrible shame.

The basset hound knew some of that life- when he had first escaped the torture chamber that he had been born in, he had no skills, no money, not even clothes- fortunately no one seemed to mind seeing a naked dog. In fact, they seemed to prefer it. Either way, he knew the struggles and hardships of a person, of a child even, thrust into this big wide world with no idea of where to go or what to do. He’d been there, down there on the ground in the dirt with a pathetic wooden bowl in which people occasionally dropped some change. If he was lucky, it was enough at the end of the day that he could buy a sandwich from the butcher’s stall.

But that was then. Now, he has his own set of armor, his own wagon with two horses, guns custom painted red at his request. Though even starving and homeless, he was no one to mess with, now he was as solid and secure as the walls that surrounded the city. He’d moved beyond begging, had lifted himself from the dirt and with sheer grit had made a name for himself. But he could still remember those days when his pockets were empty and he’d slept cold on cobblestone roads. Anyone who really wanted to could pick themselves up out of the dirt, but not all of the homeless had the tenacity, the willpower to not let society rule them, to not let the cruel and powerful kick dust into their eyes or steal change from their bowls. Some of them just had to stand up, puff out their chests, and go.

Nefarious thought about this as he weaved through the crowded streets of the market, his pockets noisy with gold, the bag that he carried over his back nearly empty of goods. It had been a solid productive day, with this much gold he could finally get the front axle on his wagon replaced, the wheels wobbled, made it hard to turn left, even for his two powerful draft horses. Pleased, he hummed quietly to himself as he walked, black and tan fur tinted orange by the sinking sun. He had to kind of push and shove his way through the crowd- he was much shorter than humans and they had a tendency to ignore him, to look completely over him like he was nothing, it made pushing his way through their legs a bit difficult but he managed, the late hour was driving people into their favorite taverns and inns to have one last drink before bed. He should’ve followed them, nothing like a glass of brandy to finish off a good day of selling junk. But Nefarious was not the kind of dog to pause and enjoy a drink, he was all ambition- there was a bandit camp just outside of town, crammed up against the city walls in a desperate attempt to keep away the cold. He planned to visit them to sell the rest of his trinkets and gold pieces. Maybe, as thanks, they’d let him chase away some of the animals that hunted around bandit camps- raccoons and coyotes, or even sometimes wolves. Though he always told the story that he had hunted the beasts, killed them with a shot in the head from one of the revolvers dangling around his waist, but truthfully he would just tell them to fuck off. He was a dog after all, talking to a coyote was like talking to his cousin, it was just a much easier way to handle things.

Just before he could wander his way clear of the crowd, a stall caught his attention. It was manned by a hunter, his little table simply drowning in furs of all kinds- scarves, gloves, cloaks. Nefarious had always felt a little under dressed- he tended to lean toward more practical purchases. But it was cold, winter was still hanging around, and after having such success selling his own wares, he decided maybe it was time to treat himself. He ran a handpaw over the fox fur neckline of a dark colored cloak. The hunter was saying something to him but he wasn’t listening, he didn’t need a sales pitch to help make up his mind so the hunter might as well have been talking to a brick wall. Distracted by the furs, he set his sack down on the ground beside him, freeing up his handpaws so that he could hold the cloak up. It was way too big for him so he inquired about some smaller, shorter items for citizens less than four feet tall. His sack, still somewhat heavy with trinkets, sat at his feet, unattended.

[Magnus Einson]

Magnus wasn’t usually one to shop for furs or anything.

He scrounged what he could - and he’d been working odd jobs in the city long enough to buy a few new things. Which he honestly was a little more than excited about. Was it a little strange moving through the marketplace? Sure. But at the same time he didn’t mind as he carefully began to look over the wears. He didn’t have much but perhaps he could at least get himself a cloak for the winter so he wasn’t as cold - or so he hoped.

The hunter was busy with the... Dog? To pay much attention as the young street urchin approached.

As his hands went over some of the soft furs he could only silently wish he could afford some of the finer, softer items. But as a street urchin, he knew he was lucky to even get a chance at any. He needed to get what he wanted, and leave or he knew things could get bad. He found the simplest item of the lot: a small deerskin cloak that would at the very least keep him as warm as possible - something he could only hope would be servicable.

“How much for the cloak?” He asked finally and as calmly as he could. Hoping he wouldn’t be shooed off as he had from some other stalls.

[Nefarious]

The basset hound only mildly noticed when another customer wandered up beside him, looking at the cheaper side of the table. Even without looking at him, Nefarious could tell that the boy was young, perhaps just hitting puberty, whatever that meant. He read about it in a book one time- apparently humans didn’t become sexually mature until they were like 18, which was utter madness to the three year old basset hound. He was already a year beyond his sexual maturity, why did humans take so long? He held the thought in his mind for a moment, eying the stranger thoughtfully before returning to the task at hand.

He ran his handpaw over the plush furs of a coat but decided it would be way too expensive, not to mention big and heavy. He was a nomad, a wanderer, he needed to be free and mobile. A whole coat made of mink tails was just too much heavy fur for his lifestyle. As he paused at each item, the hunter would explain what it was and what animals it was made out of, which was unnecessary. He was talking to a bandit and hunter, a drifter and land pirate, he could recognize a fox pelt when he saw one. Still, the anthro let the man talk of his wares, let him boast proudly about the wolverine skin he had hanging on the wall behind him. Nefarious pretended to be impressed.

The dog crossed his arms and nodded to one of the cloaks hanging on the wall. It was smaller than the others, shorter and more lightly colored- black and tan with what looked like coyote fur around the neck. Coyote fur was not the best material to wear against bare skin, it was harsh, itchy and scratchy like sand paper. So he asked if the man did alterations, if he would make him a cloak that was the right length but with softer fur. It’d be more expensive and he’d have to wait for the hunter to gain the correct materials but he was willing to dig into his pockets to avoid frostbite. The man nodded and said ‘One moment please’, as he turned to the young boy that had just walked up. Nefarious loathed waiting, he was very impatient and he was clearly the more valuable costumer with deep pockets and plenty to trade. The boy probably had chump change at best.

But the dog did not interrupt, he let the hunter turn away from him and waited patiently as he helped the boy. He reached out for the cloak and Nefarious noticed suddenly that the man was super pale, despite standing outside in direct sunlight. His nails were also long, pointed, black in color. He was not human, in fact from the smell that wafted from his body, he wasn’t even alive. That explained the pale sickly covered skin, but he must’ve been trying to hide it because his body was wrapped in leather garb- a long sleeved tunic, long pants, and a cloak. But when he smiled at the boy’s choice in cloak, he flashed a pair of pointed teeth. Nefarious knew then that he was either a vampire or a wendigo, neither of which was a positive thing. He waited for the hunter to finish up with the boy, hoped he would be quick about it, so the dog could grab a cloak and leave. Arms still crossed to not show his alarm at the hunter’s species, he started looking through the cloaks on the table again, willing to end up with a long one if it would speed up the transaction at all.

‘Ah,’ The old hunter said, reaching out to touch the cloak himself. It was made out of old leather that had been weakened over time so there were a few small holes, even a patch where he had sewn in new leather to replace the old. It looked like a jigsaw puzzle of deer skins, but that’s what made it so cheap to sell. He studied the leather for a moment before coming to a conclusion. ‘I’ll give it to you for… sixty silver.’ The basset hound scoffed, drawing attention to himself.

“Are you outta your mind? I wouldn’t pay 35 silver for that rag.”

[Magnus Einson]

Magnus flinched at the price.

At this point, he barely had any silver - let alone that much. But he had another though, especially as he noticed the same thing that the hound did. He felt uneasy as he definitely recognized a vampire given he had once worked as a blood doner to one.

On one hand, he didn’t want to be fed from again. But on the other hand it was freezing and he desperately needed a cloak.

So after a moment, he rolled up his sleeve calmly. “I can’t afford it. And I suppose I can’t afford much here if so,” he explained as he exposed an older scar of two bite marks. “But I have another thing to barter. My blood. You cannot turn me, but I’ve been fed from before for much worse. I’ll give as much as you wish if you’ll take it as payment for any of the cloaks.”

He swallowed a bit, sweat lowering down his forehead as he turned to the dog. “Apologies for holding you up. If you wish to ring him up first. You can,” he explained. “I know these things take time...”

[Nefarious]

Both the vampire and the basset hound eyed the two scars on the boy’s arm, their eyes widening simultaneously. The hunter licked his lips, looking up and down the boy hungrily, as though thinking. But the hound dog would have none of it. He reached over with a handpaw and rested it on the boy’s shoulder.

“No need for that.” He said, sounding somewhat impressed. He was, he’d never seen someone so eager to give themselves as a blood bag for a monstrous beast. It was giving him… ideas, and he smirked, his smile wide and crooked, full of teeth of his own. “I’ll give you the sixty silver but the boy comes with me.”

The hunter paused, a little downtrodden, looking between the hound dog and the boy with those hungry red eyes. As his head moved, straight white hair fell against his slightly oversized nose and he reached up with a clawed hand to tuck it back behind his ear, under the hood of the cloak that he was wearing. He gave the deal a little thought and then his eyes focused on the hound dog. ‘And what about you and the deal that we made?’

Nefarious patted the boy on the shoulder before crossing his arms again, head tilted up confidently.

“I’ll take the wolverine skin, how’s that? I’m sure you’re desperate to sell it.”

Indeed, the hunter looked surprised again, but he nervously fidgeted with his hands as his eyes drifted back to the boy. He thought for a long time, he obviously wanted- perhaps needed- that blood badly, or maybe he was just imagining the taste. From what he had heard, children were the common targets of cannibalistic species, supposedly their meat was sweeter than an adult’s, more tender with more fat and padding. Supposedly, their small intestines were super sweet. But Nefarious had no interest in testing this out. He reached down suddenly, into the burlap sack that he had rested on the ground and came back up with a golden goblet, complete with priceless gems and an ivory ornamented base. The vampire’s attention was immediately drawn to it as the dog placed it on the table.

“This’ll be enough right?”

The hunter nodded dumbly. A treasure of that size with that much detail was worth close to 100 gold, a cloak would have to be made of unicorn hair to be worth that much. Still clearly mystified, the hunter took the goblet in his hands and studied it. He tapped it against the edge of his table, checking the solidity of it, to try and determine if it was fake, but it held firm, solid metal. ‘Where did you get this? It’s not…cursed or anything…?’

“Ha! While that would be funny,” The basset hound laughed, arms returning to a smug looking crossed position. “No, it’s not. At least, not a fast acting curse, I’ve had it maybe two weeks and, as you can see, I am very much alive and not cursed. I stole it from a temple in the mountains.”

The vampire thought some more, tapping his claws against the goblet. The dog took this moment to look over at the boy, his snarky smile softening a bit as he gave the boy a knowing wink. It was pretty apparent that he was sure that this deal would go through, sure that he was right and this vampire was wrong, that this boy must have some hella big balls to offer his body up like that. Nefarious had a use for people like that. Buy the boy a cloak and let him work off the debt, it was the perfect set up, and his confidence in his plan showed when he looked back at the hunter with raised eyebrows.

‘Yes, this will… do nicely.’ The hunter turned and fetched the wolverine skin, folding it up and handing it delicately to the dog, who immediately unfolded it and draped it across his shoulders, tying the front legs together like a scarf. It was thick and a little heavy but he’d never freeze to death in it, that was for sure. Plus, the reddish color went with the rest of his armor. He nodded to the hunter in thanks, and started to move away from the creepy old man, ushering the boy to follow him.

[Magnus Einson]

Magnus was a little stunned.

No one really offered to buy anything - even if he was very nervous. He didn’t like giving over his blood obviously and unlike his former employer he hardly looked like the type to hypnotize him through it. Rather he figured that he was in for a lot of pain.

Yet he watched the two converse quietly. Trying to avert the gaze of the hunter as best as he honestly could - he knew better than anyone of hypnotism.

The only thing he offered was. “Even if it were cursed. Aren’t you already technically cursed?” He said in a bit of jest - needless to say. “Unless it’s blessed with holy water you should have no issue.”

When the dog had collected and started to motion for him. He was quick to walk away. “I greatly appreciate that, sir. As much as I am willing to help a... Mostly kind vampire like my former employer. That one gave me the right old creeps,” he gave a quiet shudder. “kinder” sounded right given no vampire who willingly fed off the young was a very good person. “If you’d like I can pay you back. I recently left my recent employer because of the dirt he was paying me. But I’m working on it.” He Noted calmly.

[Nefarious]

"Oh you will be paying me back for this, my boy, rest assured." The basset hound said with a huff of a laugh. He turned around, walking backward casually to converse with the street rat face to face, and to of course show his raw confidence that he could walk blindly through a crowd and would not trip or fall or anything, he was incredibly sure footed. His ears swayed as he spun around, dangling from his head like hair might on a woman, slightly pushed back by the red bandanna he wore around his head. It kept his spotted bangs out of his hauntingly gold eyes. "Just not with your blood, you should keep that, very valuable stuff."

He turned back around again, swinging his sack like it weighed nothing, his steps deceptively cheerful and candid. Perhaps it was because his legs were still very canine and seemed to want him to be on all fours, but his back was straight and his arms were almost normal, his hands were still paws but longer with finger-like dexterity. They didn't belong on the ground anymore. Either way, he lead the boy out of the market square and into the less densely populated city streets, clearly taking them somewhere, but he didn't say where.

"I'll have to admit," He started as he lead them away from the crowds. "The pay might still be dirt, at least at first, it really depends on how fast you are. More seasoned veterans can gather enough loot to fetch them a couple of hundred gold. But, ya gotta start small, right? Walk before you crawl and what not, right?"

He laughed again, clearly just mindlessly pleased about whatever he had planned for the boy. But he still didn't say, was still being a little cryptic, but he was friendly enough, even slung a strong arm over the boy's shoulders. The hound dog was shorter than the human so he kind of pulled him into a stooped position.

"My name's Nefarious." He said with a crooked smirk full of teeth. "I earned that name. From hard work and lots of dedication. You gonna work hard enough for me boy? To earn your own name?"

[Magnus Einson]

Magnus had a feeling he knew where this was going.

On one hand, he knew the dog was a smooth talker. But on the other hand, he had just saved him from becoming a vampires snack. So he had to listen to his spiel at least. Especially when he mentioned he had to pay him back for it and then....

Well and then money.

His stomach growled a little as if to clarify how hungry he was and how little money he had. So while his name sent off red flags in his head he still gave a smal voiced response. “I mean... I could use any sort of money. I haven’t even seen proper food in weeks,” he managed very honestly. “But what kind of work would we be speaking of?”

He then questioned. “Would looting be like thieving?”

[Nefarious]

The basset hound made a face, his long toothy grin wavering a bit as he waggled his head and used a paw to demonstrate shaky ground. He hissed through his teeth, remaining a little light hearted in the way that he was exaggerating his emotion at the moment. He was a pretty animated guy, it wasn't really an intentional front, but he did not want to scare the boy away and he really did not want to be skimped out on his payment just because the little street rat was afraid of him. He clapped the boy on the shoulder with one handpaw, leaning into him.

"Thieving has always been such a negative term." He started quietly, as though sharing a secret. But his almost jovial loudness returned as he spoke. "I prefer to call it 're-purposing'. Thieves have no honor, no direction, they just take and take and take and take without a moment's thought as to what they were taking or why. Me, I'm more of a bandit. Me and my guys, we pick the ritzier neighborhoods and steal stuff from the fat cats and lazy men who do nothing but step over us little people, too busy choking to death on the king's cock."

He released the boy, doing his little walk ahead and then turn around gag again, walking backwards with the confidence of a cat with eyes on the back of its head.

"You see boy, we steal from the people who have stolen from us first. And we give back, dropping money and treasures at the feet of old ladies, at the derelict camps of the homeless, near the walls. We pay to have the sick cured, we pay to have the injured made whole again, hell it paid for that cloak you have now."

He came to a stop, again patting the taller human on the shoulder.

"We are bandits, not thieves."

He allowed that statement to hang in the air for a moment, giving the boy one last long look with his dark eyes, irises of pure gold swimming in a lake of blackness. The light of a nearby torch gave it a certain shine, a certain sparkle, as though his eye color had been stolen from somewhere else, like all of the treasures in his sack were. As the pause became awkward, the dog suddenly licked his whiskers with a long, flat, pink tongue, and then he grinned again, a wide pointed thing, like the business end of a shark.

"Now." He eventually said, apparently satisfied, taking a few steps out of the boy's personal space, reaching out and grabbing a door handle. When they had come up alongside this small tavern was not really clear to either of them. But to Nefarious, it didn't matter. He swung the heavy wood door open with a bang, revealing men of all shapes and sizes singing and drinking and carrying on. The dog motioned for the boy to go inside. "Let me introduce you to some of your new friends."


((I think we shall call this the end for now, yes? pick back up at the thread of Magnus in Ein's house.))