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    1. wierdw 4 yrs ago

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Cedar timidly forced a smirk, before snatching another of the green fruits from the fence and snacking on it.

"These'l do nicely!' He quipped between crunches.

Continuing his snacking on the produce, he examined the leather harness and the barrel more closely. The barrel had been modified to have fasteners attached to it, and had a pour spout put on. 'dis aint no ord'nry barrel.. who dun gone an' work'd it up like 'at?'

Regardless of who, or how, the barrel looked fit for use, and the leather harness as well....

Without speaking further, he snatched another bit of produce from the fence, shoved it in his face, then began running straps through eyelets on the barrel, before adjusting it for his girth. It would make a fine backpackable water source this way.

Speaking of... this was a stable, there would HAVE to be a well to keep the horses watered.

Shouldering the empty barrel, he stood upright, leaned on his staff, then looked this way and that, sniffing at the air, trying to locate the necessary water source.
Cedar marveled silently at the small man.

Henri had no true discernible odor-- Only the scents his clothing had picked up-- (Old water, a dusty smell, like from a store room, leaves of old parchment, hints of some fancy perfume...) A kaleidoscope of scents, but none that identified him personally. This unnerved Cedar, but maybe he was just really good at getting clean? No.. that couldn't be, just moving about and doing things would set his skin working, and there would be a scent.. What WAS Henri?...

Suddenly, while he was in the process of handing Cedar a small pouch, the small man's motions suddenly lurched, and bits of the back of his hand became visible, revealing a very artificial surface covered in small needles. Henri seemed to realize what he was reacting to, and muttered a curse, as Solomon sauntered into view.

Now, there was ANOTHER strange smelling person.

Solomon smelled like a well preserved corpse. The unmistakable dry hints of leathery flesh, dusty hair, and bits of grave soil, blended smoothly with the pressed linen, treated leather, and wool of his clothes. Another person who intrinsically smelled inherently wrong.

He knew it was 'rude', but he couldn't help himself as he very carefully (and as discretely as he could muster) cast a weak version of detect magic, and allowed it to gently fall over the two "Gentlemen", while he collected the small pouch from Henri. He would try to play it off as if he were examining the seeds, and not the two of them instead.

The seeds were intrinsically 'nonmagical'; in as much as they did not react in any unexpected ways that plant seeds don't normally. Henri however, was a blur of more magical auras than Cedar knew how to interpret, tightly wound into a humanoid shape. Solomon likewise, was just one enormous magical aura, with a very powerful knot of it centered around an inconspicuous tome at his hip. Reaching the limits of what could be earnestly passed off as just a 'wash' from examining the seeds, he dispelled it just as discretely as he had deployed it, and the awareness of magical potentials faded from his mind as suddenly as it had bloomed there, leaving him figuratively and metaphorically holding the bag.

"Aight-- Thankya Mr' Henri" said Cedar in his thick brassy hick accent. "An' ya gots me a barrel tuh! Thank ya!"

Cedar left the two gentlemen to their awkward appraisals of each other, as he collected the barrel and harness out from under where Henri had been sitting, then wandered a short distance to the far side of the stable's outer wall, to see what all he had to work with. He sniffed the pouch-- It had a blend of scents, some familiar, some not. ... An aging gentleman that smelled like compost and flowers... dried grapes.. Something subtle and vegetal... something sweet and perfumy he couldnt place.. .. That dusty cellar room Henri had been in...

He sniffed the barrel. It positively reeked of old stagnant water, and the now all too familiar scent of dusty room. The leather harness straps smelled like the stable itself. Cedar surmised that Henri had gotten the seeds from an old man in the same place he had gotten the barrel, and that the harness had come from the stable's tack room.

His attentions returned to the seed pouch. Carefully dipping two fingers inside (which was difficult, given the small size of the bag, and the hugeness of his fingers), he extracted a pinch of seeds, placed them on his open palm, and examined them more closely. One kind he recognized immediately, though not the cultivar-- Grape seeds. Those would be very useful indeed, as they served a wide array of uses, not the least of which, was getting potable water where there was none else to get to. The vines themselves produced a copious, steady flow of thin watery sap that was perfectly fit for drinking, if you cut them the right way, and put a vessel where it could catch the dripping. The other two types of seeds though?

He collected the lighter colored, and sweeter smelling one of the two options, and gingerly pressed it into the closest patch of appropriately moist and sunlit soil, then gently coaxed it into germinating-- getting a feel for how it behaved and wanted to do what all seeds did, to try and establish not only 'what' it was, but also a nice baseline for its growth habits.

A tiny seedling poked its little green leaves and stem from the soil and welcomed the sun's light, as it drank in Cedar's magic, and grew at a rate far faster than it would have, if left to its own accord. The central stem became lanky, produced branches as it lengthened and sprouted trifoil leaf clusters at regular intervals, and sought out structure to support itself against, revealing itself to be a stately vine of some kind. Guiding it to the sunlit side of the stable house, he continued his ministrations to it, feeling its roots spread and work themselves into the warm, moist soil-- Feeling the spreading vine as it engulfed the side of the stable... Lovely and exotic purple and yellow flowers erupted from fine little buds all over the vine, and filled the air with a rich perfume. It was a very lovely vine indeed-- He would need to take this home to papa-- so he thought to himself. The vine continued to grow under his influence, filling out with a thick carpet of green leaves as the flowers matured, then started to set fruits-- LOTS of fruits... It was hard for Cedar to restrain his excitement, as the powerful floral scent gave way to something tangier and more fruity as they ripened. He was starving from his stay in the dungeon, and these things smelled HEAVENLY!

Without realizing it, and only acknowledging how foolish it was to try eating something he had never encountered before only after the fact-- he soon found himself face-first inside the now very well grown and stately fine canopy of leaves, chomping down on one of the small yellow fruits.

It was squishy, with a soft but bitter tasting skin--The inside was pure joy. It tasted like nothing he had eaten before. The texture leaved something to be desired-- a watery, gelatinous flesh surrounding more of the tiny light colored seeds-- but the juice? Sweet and floral, with a tangy hit. He found himself practically inhaling the contents, seeds and all, before moving to another one. He had bitten and slurpled 3 of them before he really realized just what he was doing, and embarrassedly pulled himself away, only to look longingly at the still very plentiful fruit hanging from the side of the stable. He very strongly wanted to just keep greedily inhailing the fruit like an excited cub, but knew he needed to stop.

He licked the juice off his muzzle, then leaned on his staff in bewilderment. He was far hungrier than he realized, and his stomach rumbled angrily at him. The instinct to just go back to eating like an ordinary bear was profound, poignant and feral in the back of mind, and it took a great deal of effort to suppress. His mom would LOVE these-- he remarked to himself. He was sure that something this delightful would surely give him the shits though, if he over-indulged, especially on an otherwise empty stomach.

He pried himself away from the intoxicating scent of the ripe fruit, and back to the seeds in the palm of his hand. He would try the other mystery seed. It was dark, flat, and oblong, with a pointed end. It did not smell as amazing as the first one, but you never knew with such things. He decided to grow this one near the fence.

Much as before, a tiny seedling emerged from the moist, sunlit soil and began its journey towards the light and through the soil under his care and ministrations. This one was faster growing than the prior one, and more 'clingy'-- sending tiny anchor coils of green vine around the fence as it enveloped it. Yellow blossoms with a vegetable smell bloomed among the green, and soon, long green fruits about as wide as two of his fingers began to hang long and heavy from the greenery. He sniffed at them-- Vegetable scented.. Not nearly as appetizing as the small yellow spheres adorning the stable wall though, but probably healthier to eat in quantity. He plucked one off and took a bite.

It was watery, crisp, and cool. Very mild flavor, with only the most subtle hint of sweetness. Something you could enjoy on a summer afternoon when you needed something refreshing and simple. He crunched down the remainder of the long, green fruit, then contemplated growing one of the grape seeds, before realizing he had eyes on him. Apparently, his little exploration had drawn the attention of his companions.
Cedar was still feeling anxious about having at least some kind of seeds to work with, while he and Mme. Matilda walked to the stables. The stench of the city was overpowering, and the stable did not smell much prettier.

At least both were better than the dungeons, he crossly thought to himself-- but it didn't really help much. He would be very glad once they were out of the city-- Not only would the smell be significantly less, but the risk of his being seen and causing rumor (and maybe panic-- He'd noted that humans sometimes became uncontrollably afraid upon seeing him for the first time) would also be substantially less.

Maybe there would be an opportunity to get really, truly, and properly clean too?

He really hoped it would pan out-- the lingering reek of the dungeon clung to him like a fat bloated tick. Sure, the others probably couldn't smell it, but human noses were next to useless-- he knew he stank like the dungeon, and the stink was not a good one.

After more hurried shuffles through back alleys and side streets, they came to the stables at long last.
"Bout time sumbody 'gets it'---" he grumbled under his breath, before leaning over to the short but smart girl.

"Hey uh--- I needs seeds... an a water barrel-- in case it's dry.... "

he fumbles around in the front of his robes, then withdraws 3 gold coins, and holds them out for her on extended fingers, arched like he was picking cherries. (the coins being very small compared to his hands)

"I don care WHO gets em, but I needs all the seeds- Like, all kinds o em-- 's many as ya can get-- ain't got time ta be stoppin, lookin at matur'ty, pickin-- and all that dumb stuff, if we's in a hurry-- Specially if ya dont wan' people talkin' bout seeing a big assed bear in a robe a rummagin on the roadside-- If'n ya caint get seeds-- gets me ripe whole fruit an' nuts and stuff. All kinds. "
Cedar looked up at the tall woman with the pointed ears, and picked up that he was being mentioned.

Something about designing a venue, or something. Sounded like she was being needlessly cryptic-- but then the notion of being 'discrete' about their activities 'clicked', and he got it-- she was subtly trying to suggest that everyone should keep their yaps shut.

"Guess we'll pick this up la'er, when we aint in town.." he gruffed at the small lady without looking at her.

He frowned again.

He still hadn't gotten the stuff he needed... who did he have to bite to get the point across, without causing a scene by simply shouting it?
Cedar's face seemed to become rather sad and withdrawn.

"Aww... Dat's a shame... Lotsa people seems ta think critters is just simple things as just does whatever likes they don' gots feelin's nor wants, nor dreams a dere own or nuthin... But they does.. They does... "

His expression became a little sterner, and cheekier shortly after though.

"People's a diffren' story though. Lots a people is right assholes at gots 'der heads jammed up betwix der damn legs, smellin' there own farts all day. I's has had ta deal with more an' muh fair share o-em muhself, but is usually them darn logger fellas as thinks I's dumb or summat. Might be young, but not born yest'rday-- thinkin theys can pull a fast-one on me. Paps says not to bean em in the head with muh stick, as that'd knock em dead as hell-- just wrap em up real good and remind em that we's aint playin' no games with em, and that they's needs ta stay on their side an' such..."

He scratched his chin, and looked up at the ceiling again.

"Though, I s'ppose em fellers 'd be willin' ta pay a person like yaself ta try an' do a feller like me in, now's I think about it...."

He looked at her with a sparkle in his eyes, and a bit of a wry smirk.

"If'n I's ya, I'd be a bit more keen on askin' questions, afore sayin' "yes" on some o' dem jobs people's wants done, if'n ya knows what I mean. I's can fuck a kid up what good, if'n they tryin' ta cut up muh hide--- A fair bit more dang'rous than yer normal bear, if'n ya gets muh drift."
Cedar turned his head the other way, and his ears went forward, with a bewildered expression on his eyes.

He looked down at her. Appraised her size. Looked again.

"Ya know-- Some critters is pretty durn big... I don't doubt ya, but fer the most parts, critters jus' wants ta bluff ya into thinkin' twicet-- Dont really proper want ta start up a fight unless yer messin' em up, or screwin' round wit' der kids or summat... --Then you better watch out-- Mama'll fuck ya up... Why you go around killin' critters fer nohow? They usually ain't doin' nuttin' ta nobody anyhoo..."
Cedar scratched his head at the tiny woman's anxious questions, looking up at the ceiling with his head cocked to one side absently.

"OH---Well... Miss uh.... Whass-yername?.... "

He looked at her and scratched harder, as if stumbling over some half-remembered lesson in interpersonal etiquette, before his ears popped forward as if remembering something suddenly.

"Oh, er-- Right-- Muh name's Cedar, and I's is half-bear-- and I's can talk ta lil' woodlan' critters, and get plants ta grow real big, real fast an' such. Got a good nose too. Paps says I's a good tracker, an' has me help 'im hunt down sick an' injured critters to help makes em better again-- OH-- yeah-- I's can help fix up cuts an scratches an stuffs like 'at there."

He made a friendly motion toward the woman less than half his posture for her to introduce herself, and her skills.

"An, You are, Miss?...."

Cedar frowned. (An expression that those not accustomed to his face might not have found noticeable, but a subtle alteration of the posture of his bottom and top lips curled subtly in response to his consternation. The posture of his ears were probably more discernible, but likely not easily told apart from anger or vexation.)

He turned to Matilda, and muttered almost inaudibly--

"I uh.. Hmm... I need some things firs', unless you're wantin' ta be waitin' round all day while I rustle em up.. an'... Well... 'his majesty' says he would rather I be discreets.. and well...."

He motioned at himself, nonverbally pointing out how "discrete" his appearance was.

"Could ya help a feller out?"
Cedar was well and truly flummoxed. Not just confused, or bewildered, but outright flummoxed.

He had just gone from what had been the worst possible treatment in his life, to being scurried via cramped back allies and byways into the single most auspicious 'human home' he had seen since his dad had taken him past the ruins of 'that damned #%@&ing tower'. His dad had not really wanted to say anything about it, except that it was a monument to the hubris of 'civilized' races, was a 'gaudy death trap', and 'no-one sensible would get caught dead in it.'

Unlike that tower though, which had practically glowed from top (it stretched up higher than seemed possible, and the actual top could not even be seen) to bottom with arcane magics, this place was just fancy wood and plaster set inside ornate but common stone masonry.

Lots of stone masonry. More than he ever had seen in a single dwelling before, and the shere size of it? There couldn't be a rational explanation for a single man to need a house like this.

It was a confusing and jarring mix of long hallways, high and low ceilings, doors that must have taken whole trees to fashion, and others that did everything imaginable to try and blend into the walls. Hallway, after hallway, after hallway, after hallway, and more stairs than he wanted to see in his life ever again. He literally had no idea how to even get back out again, yet all the people he was with seemed just fine with it.

No wonder dad cursed like he did about 'rich #%$&ers'.

At least he had some idea of where all the wood the loggers insisted they needed likely ended up. He silently agreed with his dad, this was just shamelessly and brutally wasteful, for not readily discernable reason.

Anything that wasn't made of a dozen hills worth of quarried and shaped stone, at least a square mile of forest's timber, or enough plaster to coat every surface in mystville 3 times over, was swaddled in the most brightly colored fabrics, garish of paints, or gaudy of metal foils. He recalled that his dad had compared that tightly and magically sealed tower's interior to a 'castle' like this when he had asked about it. 'Gaudier than a #%&$ing castle! Glowing jewels and gold encrusted like SH*T in an outhouse on every %#&$ing surface!' An' the stairs! Don' get me started on them %#&$ing stairs!'

He remembered asking what a castle was, and was told 'a big assed house for people with more money than they has sense, built ta keep people out, and ta make emselves look more fancy 'an theys needs ta. Noplace for nobody decent, 'ats fer sure.'

Looking at the insides of this one, he could not help but agree. WHY WOULD somebody actually NEED a house like this? The king, he had been told, was 'like a mayor, only for an entire nation of people,' and could command thousands of people with weapons and magics to march on small settlements like mystville, burn them to the ground, and kill everyone there with ease, if they felt it wss needed. That's what the villagers had described as 'war' to him. it was shortly thereafter that he had agreed it was for the best that such a thing not come about, now nor anytime soon, and had impressed upon him how important it was to prevent.

And it was why he was here, now. In this house that nobody sensible could possibly want to live in.

His thoughts momentarily reflected memories of his own place; a simple one-roomed wooden structure, where the floor gave way to a nice, big cozy hole stuffed full of cottonwood fluff, and in the rest of the room, just a single wooden bench, a wide flat table, a fireplace, some shelves, and some hooks to hang things on. It was far more sensible to a single person's needs than this place, that's for sure.

He really felt very, very out of place, and that he simply did not belong.

Being too big for any of the furnishings only magnified this feeling. He very much wanted to sit down to digest these thoughts, and to reflect on the mission this 'king' fellow had given him, but he could tell just by looking that not a single one of them was anywhere near strong enough nor wide enough for his ass. The comedic and tragic death of a chair would certainly be the only plausible result from such an attempt.

Somehow, that only made the 'lack of usefulness' of the place more poignant.

He was interrupted from these thoughts and observations by the oddly tall and quiet woman who had done NONE of the things miss Matilda had strongly impressed upon him were 'required honors and protocols when meeting the soveriegn', (such as calling him 'your highness', or 'your majesty' (despite being neither tall, nor majestic..), kneeling when in his presence, and other silliness, and had remained oddly quiet the entire meeting), who was now standing up tall, boldly asserting a loudish 'Greetings', and blasting him with some kind of magic that made him feel more naked than he did in just his fur-- somehow.

He couldn't tell if the glow in her eyes was blue or purple, but there was a definite glow.

He timidly leaned on his staff in leu of finding a chair, looked at the woman (who had pointed ears and smelled... different...), and then gruffed back

"Is there .. something I can help you with, Miss? You seem to be.... looking... for something."

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