milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Shephard's out for a run behind the Bar, looping around the lake and through part of the Milliways woods for a little extra footwork challenge. This is not very unusual.

The pack of yellow-and-blue alien eyeball dog creatures loping along at his heels, now, that's gonna be a bit on the unusual side even for Bar. Especially when he finishes the run and heads in for a drink and the things follow him in.

Feel free to inquire or confront either outside or in. He's flexible.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Inside the bar, an ibis-headed gentleman tilts his head and looks at the houndeyes. "Those are some remarkable monsters that you have! They are under your command?"

Shephard glances up from his drink (he's not sure what it is, but it's the kind of lurid blue you just don't see in his world's food any more and it smells a little like berries, so okay) and blinks exactly once. Then he says, "Ain't got magic or psychic power over 'em, if that's what you're askin', but they're trained to do as I say'n they're right good at it. Reckon that probably counts. Chester, up."

One of the creatures immediately hops up to stand on its hind leg- yes, leg; they're all three-legged, with two in the front and one in the back. It turns its eyeball-covered end to peer at the ibis-headed fellow and blinks once, an action that involves a ring of muscle or skin suddenly contracting over all of the eyes at once from the outer edge, then sliding back out of sight.

"Good boy, Chester."

Three legs, a face full of eyes--it's not anything he's seen in the afterlife before, but still, they wouldn't be too far out of place at first glance. And yes, the human certainly has command over them! "Chester. Are they all chesters, or is that a personal name?"

"Naw, that's his name- down, Chester," says Shephard, and the creature drops to all threes and trots back to the others. "Named 'em all after admirals back in my world. This one's Chester, that big one over there's Bull, the one scratchin' her forward stripe is Grace, 'n Horatio's tryin' to git under the couch there. Folks back home call the species houndeyes."

"Chester, Bull, Grace, Horatio. They are common where you live?" They really are remarkable monsters! Djehuty absently pulls up a writing-tablet and pen and begins to draw them for future reference.

Shephard nods. "Ain't from my world originally," he says, "but they're common there nowadays. They're from a world name of Xen. We got a whole lot of Xen critters livin' on my version of Earth now. I reckoned I might as well try'n tame some of 'em, make 'em useful."

"Xen," he says carefully. "I do not know of Xen. Now, would you consider them to be magical, these houndeyes?"

Djehuty stretches his neck a bit to get a better look at the complicated eye(s).

"Naw, not so far as I c'n tell," says Shephard. "I mean, they c'n do some freaky shit, but it ain't magic, it's just fucked-up anatomy. You git 'em to bark proper and the sound'll hit you like a fist. Git a couple of 'em to bark together and you could git enough sound to break bone. Far as we c'n tell that's just the shape of the throat, not magic or nothin'."

One of the houndeyes looks back at Djehuty, and gets up and trots over towards the being for a better look of its own. The eyes are so compound they give the impression of a wet blackberry.

"I ain't got nothin' against critters that are magical, y'understand. Wouldn't have my right arm without magic. It just don't seem to be the kind of thing you git with most of the Xen critters runnin' around on Earth far as I c'n tell."

Ah, that's useful. He begins a more detailed sketch of the eye anatomy. What a monster!

"Yes, I noticed your arm--it is a very interesting creation! Whose work is it, may I ask?"

"Master Smith of the Fair Folk of Elysium," Shephard responds promptly. "Fella didn't give his name'n I didn't ask for it. The dragon who helped me find him said it ain't a wise idea to ask folk like him for an actual name. Had me hunt down'n kill a she-pig twice my size before he'd do the work- she'd killed some of his dogs'n damn near killed his son."

"Say, you ain't the first I've met hereabouts who's got a different sort of head from what you'd expect by lookin' at their bodies. You know anythin' about a wish-sellin' fella name of Brimstone, or am I barkin' up the wrong tree entirely? If you don't mind my askin', anyways."

Djehuty nods. Honestly, he can understand wanting to stick to titles. It's...not a problem, being on a names basis with people here, but still. "Master Smith is an honorable title. And indeed, clearly he is--a great master. And your deed was worthy of such a powerful work. A pig is a chaotic animal." Good ritual magic there, slaying giant troublesome beasts.

"But, hm, Brimstone? It is not a name that I know. --Oh, but I have been impolite. I am Djehuty, the Scribe of Ma'at, and you may use either name, I do not mind."

Shephard nods. "Pleasure to meet you, Scribe of Ma'at," he says. "Sergeant-Major Adrian Shephard, United States Marine Corps. Most folks call me either Shephard or Sergeant."

He's not familiar with Egyptian mythology- he's not familiar with most mythology- but if a person has a title, there's a good chance it's best to use it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only