Snippet #1448698

Jasper grinned and scratched Kujo behind the ears when the hound leaned against his leg, making those small whuffling noises that Mabari were inclined towards. When they weren't busy mauling their enemies, of course. The dog's short fur was course; he could tell that much even beneath his gloves. It was a good thing; the mark of a beast that made his fortune by his own merits, like callused hands on a person.

It did not last, though; even as his mistress finished the first part of what was doubtless a larger explanation, Kujo stiffened beneath his fingers and warned them of an impending problem. Well, perhaps problem was not the right word; a confrontation need not be a problem, not to someone of his persuasion. "Walk with me as I speak?" she asked, and he simply nodded, for once choosing to stay his tongue and only listen. It was something he would have had the world believe he had no proclivity for, but he truthfully could have claimed to be a more contemplative man than even he had come to expect sometimes, and that he was willing to accept.

His tread made little noise over the soft turf, and he matched his stride to Sev's, listening with passive thoughtfulness etched over his features, for once uncovered. She described a familiar struggle, one he too knew and understood. He had encountered much the same thing, and still did. It was, he had discovered, all a matter of perspective. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he scarcely noticed, trying to formulate his response in a way that would make just as much sense to her as to him.

He made his living, his very style of combat, from the delicate balance between adrenaline and sadism. Sometimes, he wondered if he had not crossed the line, but then he always managed to bring himself back. A fierce joy, a fighter's rush, that was what enabled him to fight longer, harder, faster than another might. A duelist such as himself thrived on challenge, and the scarcely-tempered euphoria of overcoming it. This made that line even thinner, in all honesty, since identifying where his rush came from was not always the simplest thing to do. He had come to believe that as long as that feeling was limited to the scope of actual combat, it made little practical difference.

Severia wasn't him, though. She still held fast to notions of honor and justice that he had tried long ago to bury within himself, seeing as they were stubbornly difficult to destroy or abandon entirely. They surfaced occasionally, and he willingly considered them now. Of course, his manner was less serious than his thoughts, and he scratched absently at the stubble on his chin before glancing at her askance, self-assured smirk playing on his face as it tended to. "It is not so unusual for the just to take succor in justice, is it?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Sensing that flippant was perhaps not the best tack to take, though, he elaborated a bit in the silence that followed. "It... is not an unfamiliar struggle. I have found that a fight itself, a good match... few things feel quite that exquisite. However, the act of killing itself... that is something that brings me no joy. Understand though that these two things are inextricably linked. A good duel ends in death, this is simply the way of it. So you did not sicken yourself; perhaps this is unnerving. The joy, though... very few people enjoy ending life. For what little it might be worth, I do not believe you are such a soul." He lifted his shoulders in affected nonchalance, and if he might have said more, it was interrupted by the appearance of the dwarf from the party.

"He is not alone," the pirate remarked in a low tone to the lady knight, sharp eyes scanning the trees and ground nearby for any sign of the others he knew were there. Even if he hadn't sensed it outright, he knew too much of the art of pursuit (and the even more subtle art of avoiding pursuit) to know that there was simply no way the man had come by himself. Jasper adjusted his footing, but did not draw his weapon. He was fairly sure he had spotted a couple of archers, but he would not move unless he needed to; such actions would provoke aggression. His instincts kicked in though, and the adrenaline floodgates opened, setting his every nerve abuzz and ready to act at a moment's notice.

---

There were strangers in his forest.

Tal'Vashoth was not a territorial individual, but he was a cautious one, and he was intent on discovering why the animals were so unsettled. He was fairly certain there were two separate groups of people moving through his home, and an odd trio of animals also. The oddity of it led him to suspect that there was intervention there as well, and it was this group that he chose to investigate first.

For a form so large, he moved with consideration for the environment, much more quietly than whomever he was following, crashing through the undergrowth as this person was. A human, he had managed to ascertain, following the group of animals. His head, crowned with a sweeping pair of horns, shook from one side to the other, the only indication of his thoughts on the absurdity of it all.

The crashing stopped, the human having evidently reached a clearing of some kind, and the snarl of a wolf replaced it as the most predominant sound to reach his hearing. Tired of guessing, Tal'Vashoth entered the clearing himself, taking in the scene with an appraising violet glare before truning the weight of his gaze to the human man. Not as puny as most of them, but still small compared to himself. "Explain your presence here, human," he requested, though it carried the tone of an order.

There was something... off about that wolf, and he wondered if the human had been hunting it or something. It seemed a reasonable explanation for what was going on, though the beast was as yet uninjured.