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Post by Kristofor on Jan 18, 2023 23:04:58 GMT -6
Quest #22
Standing beside the quest board was an older fae with wild green hair. As you approach the quest board, they wave at you and shout. "Hey there, you, yea you!" They point right at you, which removes all doubt as to who they were talking to.
"I need help, and an old friend of mine said this quest business was the way to go. Think you're up to it?" Should you agree, they go on to explain the situation.
"I have a garden out near the edge of town and it's been overrun with dangerous plants! I just don't know how it happened!" That part sounded like a rather unconvincing lie. Regardless, they did genuinely need help sorting it out.
"I need someone to go in there and grab a big handful of special flowers for me. I've got a picture here," they held out a photo of the flowers for you to take. "If you find 'em for me, I can hopefully fix up this mess, and I'll give you something nice from the garden in return."
"I recommend bringing some weapons if you have 'em, or a big critter or something. Trust me, you'll need it!"
The Quest
Go into the Fae's garden and fight your way through to the special flowers they mentioned. The garden is overrun with poisonous, carnivorous, and all-around dangerous plants and plant monsters. Good luck!
Posts Required: 30
Prizes
First Completion: 4 QP and a special flower
2-3 Completions: another special flower
3+ Completions: no prize
**1st COMPLETION OF THIS QUEST**
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 18, 2023 23:14:58 GMT -6
  Lv 36/72, Lv 1/2 | Dawson and Sarama Wintertime is a slow period in the world of groomers. People don't go out with their animals. If he doesn't get work soon, what little amount of money he has will go towards food. So when the wild-haired person (who dyes their hair green like that, it looks like a pompom) comes in, he automatically believed them to be a client. But not once, but twice, he'd had paper shoved in his face. One is a clearly copied version of a flyer he'd seen in the past on the quest board, and the other is a picture of dead flowers. To him, they look dead. No flowers are "brown". "You there, fox. A friend of mine told me you were the fox who got things DONE." A long finger jabbed at their request, and the picture. "I need help. Getting these flowers, from my garden." Before he could ask why though, "My garden is overrun by dangerous plants and I consider it a personal hazard to go in there myself." So that meant to get some sucker to get to do it for them. Right. The fox's ears flatten. Why him again? 1 |
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 18, 2023 23:25:19 GMT -6
"Trust me on this boy, its worth your while to do this sort of job." The long fingered person glances around the empty salon. "Your shop needs a boost of patronage, right? Like advertisement by others?" His posture betrays what goes on in his head. Yes, he desperately needed customers. It was his livelihood. "If you do this job for me, I can promise a line of customers out that door for a solid week. And a special plant on top." His scraggly white-furred brow creases. Really. "I know folks, and they could do with a good trim. Or their creatures. You do hair, right?" nod.
"What do you mean by dangerous plants." Kristofor is skeptical of this. He can hear his houlou pack upstairs romping. Like, the rotten berries kind of dangerous that can make you drunker then a skunk? Or what.
"Uh, just what I said. "dangerous plants"." the instructions are clear enough, right? Or is he just dense? I mean... what sort of stylist looks like he rolled out of bed.
The fox growls, standing straighter. He doesn't like being underestimated.
"Fine, I'll do it."
"Excellent." They hash out to meet up in two days. What a turnaround.
So here he is, looking for dead flowers.
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 18, 2023 23:36:02 GMT -6
The silver fox prides himself on having a pretty photographic memory of what he's read before. He knows of that request. The one now in his satchel, along with the picture of dead flowers. That specific request mentions needing "large creatures and weapons". Now that's plain unreasonable for a rotten berries kind of dangerous quest. He's no gardener, so the pompom head's warning goes unphasing.
So he took along Dawson, in much desire for a run. Halfway down the road though, he found Sarama cantering along behind him. How-... ugh.
You are a troublemaker. He tells the pup, glowering at her. She's all happy wiggles and wags, bouncing left and right with happy little yips. She's so simple at a young age. Back to the apartment.
When he finally gets back up the road, opening the trapdoor on the stairs enough for her to squeeze through, he thought that was enough. Dawson waited at the door for him, tail wagging.
Not five minutes later, again, black and spots darting after them. What...?
What is this, the door is shut. I locked it myself! I backed down the steps backwards to make sure she didn't follow me. The patio gate is locked. I double checked it. How is this happening?
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 19, 2023 12:54:09 GMT -6
The answer came from a a chuckling passerby, right past his garden fence in the backyard. Dawson darts to the fence to bark at the other's dog, who looks very much longer-haired then other dogs. Was it also a houlou?
Just as Sarama LITERALLY JUMPS OVER THE FENCE AND LANDS ON THE STAIRS! what is this?!
'I didn't think many blessed breeds start fighting gravity that early in life.' the passerby is shaking with suppressed chuckles. At the fox's shocked reaction... 'Uh, is this your first blessed houlou? When they get older, then learn to walk on air. No fence will keep them out, or in.'
Oh no... Kristofor slaps his face with a frustrated huff. Now he has no choice but to take her everywhere, just to make sure she doesn't escape further. Just blessed...longhairs?
'Yeah, far as I've seen. I've got a shorthair pup and they've not shown any signs of learning to fight gravity.' and they took their animal to keep walking with a wave. Well, thanks for the tip, stranger.
His fox's distress makes Dawson confused, being it pointed towards the rambunctious pup who is flat out set on following them. Pouncing on his paws. Back off. Shoo.
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 19, 2023 14:53:35 GMT -6
As the stranger walks off, their longhaired canine trotting alongside, enjoying the feeling of cool and sun on their fur... they consider. By the lingering scent of green... the fox was approached by the same fae as he had been last year. A huff of frustration; there's a reason to turn around and tell the fox not to take the request.
But they remember it was a smooth-talking individual, almost as much as that fox who works at the newspaper in the city. They look similar... hm... He can take care of himself.
Well now he was stuck with taking both puppy and Dawson along. He trusted his grown companion to follow him and be able to defend himself, or at least escape if needed. It was Sarama who made him worry. He'd only taken her to the river and that was a very brief trip. However, that long hair, how would she even figure out swimming. Maybe he's being too paranoid. Dawson joined him on city outings. He had at least manners. She doesn't. Nor a sense of listening to her alpha fox. Perhaps because she doesn't understand it by being too young?
He watches Dawson put his head in her face, growling to back off. He wasn't interested.
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 19, 2023 20:46:28 GMT -6
Play? She licks the bigger dog's nose and bounces away, seeking him to chase her. Grrr snap. Flashy white teeth bite air just short of her nose, snorting in her face, blowing back her bangs. Arrrm? The surprise sits her back on her butt for a moment to process what just happened.
You're not a fan of her antics, are you... the fox asked his hound companion. Reasoning. Questioning. Unsure.
Although hounds don't speak common, they do have animal language. Huff. Grrr snort. No. Too bouncy. Two puppies. One fine. He gives her a flat stare of a grumpy animal. Annoyed. Patience waning.
He remembers an unpleasant memory from cubdom, being briefly cornered by a rabid beagle. So out of its mind it wasn't even comprehensible with rage and hunting instinct. Last thing Kristofor wanted was to have Dawson go crazy from rage of bothered by a pup. At least Darwin found everything ELSE interesting but them. This female had all the attentions on him. Perhaps as a parent?
Sarama doesn't get it. She wants to play, and play with big dog. Bigger dog with fluffy tail is big. His tail is fluffy. Her tail is fluffy, but not THAT FLUFFY.
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 19, 2023 21:24:44 GMT -6
So he had a slight break of sanity before setting off, and grabbed a leash and collar to keep Sarama from running away. Or Flying away. Seriously, a flying hound. Grand. Wait till the family back home hears that this place has dogs that fly. Or walk on air. Or whatever. The collar fits her easily enough, clipping the lead on. This isn't a leash that she can chew through without doing some work. Those puppy teeth are sharp but not scissor sharp.
In the back of the fox's mind, he's weighing the pros and cons of having three dogs in his home. He's already outnumbered by hounds. Dawson stays. Mira thankfully has ways of escaping rambunctious puppies. He'd reach his answer by the time this was finished up. If they all got out of there in one piece. After all, why wasn't that request torn down...?
The address on the slip of paper given to him by the wild haired client wasn't that far away. This wasn't even in the direction of garden plots... was it someone's property otherwise? Like a pasture? Clearly he didn't get out as much as he should.
But for some reason, when he follows the address, it leads back to the mansion? What?
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 26, 2023 12:03:55 GMT -6
Now wait just a minute. He's keenly aware on what lives in that mansion grounds; a colony of killer jackalopes and murderous geese. And those fences around the grounds aren't tall enough to stop something that big from just stepping right over and coming after him on one whiff of his fox-scent. If possible, no being chased today. Today, he would be doing the chasing himself.
After all, his ancestry is known for being a sneaky, stealthy trickster.
Something clamps onto his tail while he's paused at the beginning of the lane towards the address. It takes all his power to not yelp in pain as he turns. Ah forget it. AAAAAAAAAH!
Clam-happy, that pain in the rear puppy who can fly over fences, has his tail, in her mouth.
YOU he lunges forward and snags the longhaired pain in the tail by her scruff. She and his tail come up to eye level. Beneath her dangling paws, Dawson is circling them both, growling. He doesn't feel the pain of his fox friend, but the surprise, the anger, the frustration bleeds through his bond. YOU ARE NOTHING BUT TROUBLE. Through a mouthful of scraggly white and black fur, she's all wiggles and wags.
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 26, 2023 12:25:59 GMT -6
He isn't aware of walking forward down the lane as he is fox-yelling at Sarama. But he is slowly walking down the street...towards the mansion. And Dawson didn't even recognize the danger impending either, keeping up with his fox.
FIRST YOU SCARE THE CUSS OUT OF ME BY ESCAPING A CLEARLY LOCKED ROOM AND NOW WON'T STOP FOLLOWING ME EVERYWHERE. MY TAIL IS NOT A CHEW TOY AND YOU KNOW THIS! There is no malice in his voice, he's just upset and angry and in pain and reaching his patience limit. There's very little to rile him up, so the stress of running a threadbare budget too is there. He's stuck doing this because he didn't say no.
I ADOPTED YOU SO YOU COULD BE A PLAYMATE FOR DARWIN, NOT A SOURCE OF MORE STRESS FOR ME. The 'angel fox on his shoulder' tells him she's just a baby and doesn't know any better. Its like taking care of his baby cousin who couldn't keep anything out of his mouth, including his own cousin's limbs and tail. The 'bad fox on his shoulder' tells him that the runt isn't worth the time he has to put into working with her. She's no runt, but right now.... I AM STARTING TO WISH THAT I HAD NEVER MET YOU!!!
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 26, 2023 12:32:09 GMT -6
Oh if only he hasn't finished saying that as his paws 'just' touch the edge of the mansion's gateway, because something leaps out of NO PLACE and grabs onto him and the puppy in his fist both.
Its COLD, and has bright red eyes. Half hidden by a dark mist that is obscuring his nightvision, the creature hisses into his large ear.
"wissssssh granted" and literally rips Sarama out of his grip. She drops his tail in shock with a fur filled yelp as the creature pushes him hard in the chest and lands him on his butt outside the mansion gateway. The mist fades as Dawson stands next to him, barking at...nothing?
Uh, what just happened?
Confused, Kristofor looks at his empty paw-hands. There's a small amount of black hairs that don't belong to him clinging to the beginning to crack edges of his pawpads, the hairs are too long for that, and the wrong black.
Dawson's alarm is from seeing something grab his fox, and then grab something else, push his fox away, and vanish. There's a fear smell in the air and its not his or his fox. He's doing what hounds do best, smelling. Smelling around to see if he can find it, but the smell just 'ends' right at the edge of that scary place full of killer bunnies.
10
-exit Sarama, +2 levels-
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 26, 2023 12:50:49 GMT -6
It bothers his canine companion more then the fox when he gets up and walks past the mansion without... without trying to figure out what just happened! As if he just...there's kind of a confusing 'haze' between the bond until they get past the big fence that smells odd and suddenly its water clear again. And there's no alarm, no worry, just a 'focus' back on the task at hand. What's a task? Dawson doesn't know... is it a job? It is his 'job' to be with his fox when he needs him. A companion.
He doesn't have any magical senses so the lack of alarm and such that doesn't kick in immediately from finding himself on the road, its a bit confusing because he doesn't remember tripping on his own feet. If there's anything Kristofor is, its 'not clumsy'.
and the address for the wild haired client's task is a few fences away from that big house that... has a big fence.
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 26, 2023 13:00:43 GMT -6
Dawson keeps looking back down the road as he follows his companion fox along, nipping at the back of his instincts that they shouldn't LEAVE the place with scary big bunnies and such. Well, the place itself isn't scary anymore. He's grown up and brave now. Shaking his head so his ears flap, the hound focuses on the job of being with his fox. Don't focus back, go forward.
Something is watching the fox leave the vicinity of the mansion's magical space, and it does extend out a teeny bit into the road, but there's a barrier there to avoid it going forward further. Good, looks like the memory charm took to him, and dogs are short of memory, so they'll forget the scare soon enough. Don't make wishes like that, hm?
Kristofor pulls the address slip out of his satchel again, glancing at it. The fence is very 'green' for the time of year as he approaches the address.
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 26, 2023 13:07:28 GMT -6
Wait... His paw-hand drifts into his satchel again, and finds his leash and collar, for Dawson, coiled up at the bottom of his bag. Huh. Guess he did remember to pack it. Just in case someone calls him out on having a wild dog loose in the city. Not around here, the houses are much too far away from the road to see a single fox and a hound walking down the street. He's been told off for it previously. Granted, he'd also seen someone riding a LIZARD WITH WINGS down the street like it was nobody's business with no leash, but a chain around its neck like reins. Nothing like Cabernet, who is half feathers, half bone, all needs. Flying giant lizards. Wonderful.
The fence that makes up the wild haired client's property isn't actually green at all, but covered in a thick layer of moss. Its not northward... but a certain feel of 'damp' in the air that clings to everything.
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 26, 2023 13:15:29 GMT -6
It's... uh... humidity. When clouds drift low and the water inside dampens all that it covers. And its true, there seems to be more cloud cover then there was a few fences ago. Wonder why... The air feels damp and cold, but not 'rain imminent' kind of cold. A cautious poke of the moss... and nothing happens. Nothing jumps up to bite him, it doesn't make him feel instantly ill from being poisoned... nothing. Just squishy, springy mush of plant. Huh. Interesting... and its so small and close to the 'ground'.
'almost should've packed a poncho to keep my fur dry' he considers, but the white scraggle of his winter coat growing in falls out easier when its wet. Part of the reason when he takes baths, there's a human make rubber 'trap' to catch his fur when he's rinsing off. It'll wreck the plumbing otherwise. Not a replacement he'd like to do. And Dawson is lucky, he didn't get much winter coat!
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