Pruning
Tenebrae - Sunday, February 09, 2014, 8:43 AM
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* W03: The Deep Woods *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The woods here are thick, with the trees' branches virtually blocking out the light of the sun shining above. A barely managed trail is available to pick one's way through the undergrowth, but it's easy to find oneself stepping into a bramble patch nonetheless.
Further along the track, a wooden lodge house stands in the shadows of the trees around it. Closer inspection reveals the symbols of Gilead and Dana carved above the door.
Further still, the trail becomes virtually choked close, leading into and through a massive hedge.
Munch buzzes cheerfully to himself, seated next to the path beside a rather thorny bush. A bush that extended into the path a great deal more the last time someone came by this way.
Bushes do that. They grow. They move. Like the other bush up the path a ways. On the other side. It it wobbles and waves some before a nose pops out of it. Then another nose. They're followed by two faces. Once's long, brown, and furred. The other's smaller, rounder, but still pretty brown. Once the rest of them pops into view, there's fur all around. It makes wolf and the wolfling on his back hard to tell apart.
Munch has met moving bush. They're typically not very friendly, at least not to him. So it's not too susprising the golem picks up his axe, eyeing the moving plant with no small bit of caution, though he relaxes a fair bit when faces pop out. "Mornin."
Rhar sniffs the air and looks down the trail. The wolf's head turns just after. Both freeze with a start when they see ... what is that?! The wolfling sniffs again, warily, while the wolf shifts his weight back and lower on his paws.
Munch pops softly, and shrugs his shoulders. "May as well come out. Already seen ya, anything you care to try is just gonna get hamper by the bush. Unless your trying to get tangled up."
Maybe talking is a good sign. Not chopping things up with a giant axe is probably a good sign. The pair now approach. Well, the woolf pads cautiously. The wolfling leans forward to get better sniffs as they get closer. "Look lizard. Not smell lizard. Wings! No face!"
Munch fehs. "Dragon, not lizard. Important diffrence. And I got's a face. Eyes, mouth, whole bit." He doesn't comment on the smell; sort of leathery, sort of warm rubber, with a strong dash of sharp acid scent. And of course, no small bit of metal.
"Are dragon? Metal dragon?" Rhar hasn't seen any dragons. Or any metal people. Not like that. Just the strange furless green wolfling with a metal trap eating him. When they get close enough for the wolf, he stops. The wolfling just continues to stare and sniff curiously. "Have pack? Where pack?"
Munch buzzes a few moments, translating that one. "Eh, no. Only one like me. Don't think world's ready for two."
The metal dragon seems harmless enough, now. To the wolfling. The wolf is still suspicious. "Pack better. Rhar!" She thumps her chest and hops off the wolf. "Gurr." She ruffles his fur. "Are pack." Since Gurr seems perfectly happy standing where he is and eyeing the metal dragon, Rhar walks up on her own. That way she can sniff at the metal dragon from up close, from all sides. After a sniff or three, she starts poking and prodding, too.
Munch is fine with being approached, pretty okay with being sniffed. Though lacking a proper nose of his own, does find it a touch odd. Prodding however, earns a swift snap of metal jaws, the sort of jaws that could cut off an arm with very little trouble. The motion, however, is tiny, and quite distant from it's target. A warning, not a true threat. "Munch. Munch TerrorMaw." More slowly now, the jaws open again, splitting the face along both the vertical and horizontal axis, in interor looking like the nightmare child of a chainsaw and a food processor, all covered with adamanite teeth.
The snapping makes Rhar flinch and curl her fingers in as she pulls her paw back. Losing them isn't good. Once the paw is safe, though, she just stares into the strange open maw. "Many teeth! Good hunter!" Rhar pads around to the front of Munch the Metal Dragon. Just in time to calm the growing low growl from Gurr. He doesn't think losing paws is good, either. "Out hunt now?" she asks in her broken Tradespeak.
Munch shakes his head. He's articulate enough in his own way, but has a pretty simplistic view on life; he follows just fine. "Not now. Clearing the path." He gestures a bit, and snaps off a reaching branch of the thorny bush which until recently blocked part of the path. A toss, a snap, and the branch disappears with a soft grinding. The pointed thorns may offer a danger to skin and flesh, but are no match for the TerrorMaw. A second look shows other branches to have been well pruned, not enough to harm the bush, just keep it back and out of the way.
Rhar can understand that, and she nods. Three times, just to be sure. "Easy walk path. Rhar, Gurr walk path. Walk not path. Munc Munch TerrowMaw keep safe path? Rhar, Gurr keep wagon safe. On path."
Munch blinks with a soft click. "What wagon?"
"Wagon," Rhar points east-ish, off the path. "Go other place. Rhar, Gurr, others protect. Mean furless wolfling, hungry hyena attack. All protect!"
Munch nods, and stands slowly, idly licking the edge of his axe with a long, thin black tongue. Faint trails of saliva trace across the metal surface. "Think I heard about that. Anycase, I best head back into the city. Have some people I'm supposed to meet. Nice meeting you Rhar, Gurr."