It's late night in the hedge, which isn't always the best time to go poking around in there. But when you're able to turn invisible on a whim things are sometimes just a little easier. The night is warm and the stars above are just bright enough to illuminate the path along the well-traveled trod. It's mostly wooded area around these parts, with the sound of the odd Hob or Hedgebeast kicking around out beyond the trod itself.
This may be one of the more dangerous times in the hedge, but it does nothing to perturb the dragon. Weaver's dressed in jeans, a bullet proof vest with out as much padding in the back to allow room for his wings, and boots on his feet. His trudging around on foot only lasts so long before he takes off into the air. Shadows pool around him as he readies his feet, and with a rush of glamour he goes vertical. As he reaches the apex of his jump his wings shoot out, gaze going this way and that as he scans the area for a would-be prize of a hedge beast.
Not too far off the path, off in the distance it's easy for dragon to spot the familiar circling of carrion birds. Vulture-like hobs caw at each other, their noises sharp and fierce to try to threaten off any other creature that might come to steal their bounty. It's hard to tell through the tall grass what is going on, but some of the birds have already landed on something wooden in the area, their beaks pull back up with bits of skin and tissue.
Weaver's gaze focuses in on the carrion-feeders as best it can. He dives down, wings tucking in bit by bit until he nears the ground. He comes to a halt just above, and hits the ground with a bit of a run a few yards away from the creatures. He skulks low to the ground, looking over each of them and then tries to get a peek at their quarry.
Some of the birds have noticed the approach, squawking their discontent and flapping their large wings. But he hasn't approached beyond that far, as far as they can tell, so their attention turns back on each other, warring over the good bits. As Weaver stalks closer, he start to make out what looks like an overturned wagon of some sort. Perhaps a slaver merchant from the look of the cages that are spilled along the ground. There are arrows protruding out of the side of the wagon, along with two half eaten bodies of hobs that look like they'd been the ones driving. There are bodies in the scattered cages, some hob, one human, a couple of hedge beasts, most look like they've been pecked apart for at least a couple of days. It's hard to say if anything could have survived, but on the edge of Weaver's vision, he catches sight of movement. Metal bars shifting in the starlight.
The look from the birds is met with a full display of his teeth. Smoke barely passes through, but he catches himself before responding like the predator he his. Having those wings back may have brough back more memories and instincts of what he once was. He shakes his head, and continues to skulk along and around the vultures. His gaze stays on the birds until he gets into a better position to catch sight of what else is moving in the area.
The birds seem to be avoiding the area where the ruffling is coming from, glancing that way every now and then, but giving the area wide berth. It's easy to see why when Weaver shifts into position to catch sight of that area. It's another cage, the the cage looks like it's been through hell, teeth and claw marks sheering through parts of the metal. Not enough to break through, but it looks like it's getting close. The cage is upside down, the chain strapping it to the wagon keeping it in place.
There's a creature inside the cage, and it appears to be the only one that's still living. The reason the vulture-beasts are avoiding it becomes obvious as ripped apart pieces of vulture-bones can be spotted littering the cage and just outside of it. Anything that got too close got eaten. It's also probably how the creature inside is still alive. It's been eating. The creature is large, the size of a fully grown mastiff from snout to tail. It's fur is a sharp red, and it's claws are bloody and sharp, but obviously silver beneath. There are dragon-like spikes along the side of its head and back down along the spine, leading to a long red tail at the back. The tail appears to be caught underneath the case, bits of it caked in dried blood. It's probably the reason the creature hasn't been able to fully free itself from the cage.
Some time ago Weaver would've simply left the creature to die, and moved on about his business. However, thanks to Velvet he doesn't seem as apathetic and ambivalent about the matter. No, the dragon rises fully to his feet, unafraid of the creature and the mess it's left behind. He raises his left arm, eyeing the creature for a beat. Then he swings his hand down, fingers extended as he draws his claws through metal as his Mantle flares around him.
There's a low rumbling coming from the beast as Weaver starts moving closer to the cage. The noise is enough to send some of the closer vultures shifting to the other side of the wreckage, not wanting to get caught up in the crossfire. Weaver manages to slice easily through the cage, sending the lock clattering to the ground in two pieces. The door pops open, allowing the beast to launch itself forward in an attempt at escape. It yelps and rowls a moment later as it gets tugged back thanks to the trapped cage. Chances are if it keeps moving the way it is, it's going to end up severing its own tail trying to get free. Despite the occasional meal it's managed, Weaver can tell that the creature is underweight. It probably needs a few solid meals and that tail is going to need some attention if it doesn't end up ripping it free by accident.
Right about now would've been the best time to listen to the sagacious advice to always have some meat on him. He doesn't so Weaver trudges forward. He grumbles, "If this thing kills me Velvet'll kill my fucking ghost." He growls himself, standing to his full height as he looks over the beast. "Calm down, and I can try to get you out of this. If you bite me I /will/ bite you back." More a fact than a threat as it comes from his lips. His own growling lowers, and his voice more soothing despite his predatory visage. "Do you understand me?"
There's meat from the other cages and from the birds, of course, but first things first. Weaver stands up and lowers his voice, the pitch of it causing the ears of the beast to fold back against its head. It's body lowers itself slightly, the rumbling continuing from the base of its throat even as the body settles back. Without the tail moving, it's hard to use it to figure out the creature's body language, but as far as Weaver can tell, it seems to understand it's current place in this situation.
Weaver's growling completely stops as the beast calms itself. He moves beside it, gaze cast low before looking upon the mess of the cage. Then the wagon atop it, and he growls again. "Not you," he says without putting his eyes on the beast right away. "This is likely gonna hurt, so you can bite into me if I bring you any kinda harm." As he says this he brings both hands to the sides of the cage, and lowers his left wing down to the beast.
The low rumbling hasn't stop, but it seems like a nervous sort of noise, rather than a warning. Red eyes follow Weaver's motions, unwilling to let the apex predator get to a point where the beast can no longer track the movements. The wing drops towards it, it's nose huffing a breath out as it shrinks away as much as it can, pressing further back into the cage. Weaver shifts his weight and pulls at the cage, giving a moment of rocking that almost managed to get the tail loose but not quite. The metal grinds against the tail, causing a whining noise from the creature. It's teeth snap, but like a dog that doesn't actually want to hurt the person helping it, they don't pierce all the way in. Something clicks on those burning red eyes as it seems to figure out what he's trying to do.
The beast may not want to hurt Weaver, but sharp teeth are sharp teeth. He grunts a bit, not worrying as much about appearances when away from people. Instead he redoubles his efforts, and grabs tighter. "Fucking hell," he grumbles. Then he starts the old-fashioned way with a simple countdown from three. As he does so his mantle flares heavily as he puts everything he has into getting the beast free.
The counting seems to help. Once the creature has realized what's going on, it waits, shifting it's body as Weaver begins to flex and lift the cage. It works in unison and whips its tail up and out from under the cage the moment the chance arises. As soon as the tail is free it goes skidding out of the cage, fumbling and shaking on its legs. The cage becomes quite a lot lighter once the beast is out, meaning Weaver can probably drop it without issue. The creature shuffles, taking a couple of steps before it's shakey legs send it back to a flop. The tail is in bad shape, but the wobbling just seems to be from being stuck in a cage for who knows how long.
An ogre is an ogre, with nothing gentle about it. When the beast is free Weaver chucks the cage out of sight. Weaver looks upon the thing, frowning briefly as it tries to gain its bearing. "Fucking shit, how long were you trapped in there?" He doesn't wait for an answer, and moves to stand by the hedge beast. He crouches down low, palms facing the creature. He reaches out for its tail, and then checks its legs. "Come with me. I can fix you up, and give you something to eat. You just gotta promise not to make a lotta noise. I can carry you, or we can walk outta here. I got some birds that taste a million times better than those shits, and it's crunchy on the outside. We got enough of it to feed a small family, too."
There's a whine mixed with a growl at the tail is touched, clearly the limb is still causing the creature pain. But the noise is more warning and pain than an actual trigger for more biting. From the state of the bodies around the area it's at least been a few days. Maybe a week. The vultures, ironically, kept it alive for this long. It sniffs and huffs at Weaver as he speaks, trying to push up onto its feet again to catch its bearings. There's more wobbling, but with a little guidance it's able to stay on its feet. The creature may be a predator. But even a predator knows that sometimes you need an alpha to watch your back. Right now, it's following the alpha. It snorts through its nostrils and shakes its head, standing and waiting for Weaver to lead the way. The tail? It hangs limp, dragging behind.
Weaver doesn't growl back this time, but its growling does get a pointed look. When it's clear that the beast can and will move on its own he stands back up. He stretches his wings out, and winces a bit at where the beast chomped lightly. At least it won't hurt that badly while walking. "I can order some steaks too, but that may not go over so well. I guess I can explain it away by some type of event coming up for the family." He nods to that, as if it all makes sense to beast. "Also, when you the lady with the pointy ears. Don't touch or tear up her dresses. She doesn't technically take too kindly to that."
It's hard to tell if the creature understands, but it's clearly listening either way. It follows along behind Weaver with slow, careful movements, clearly trusting him enough to tackle whatever may lay on the road ahead. But the scent of two predators moving along the trod seems to keep the road mostly cleared for the pair, making it an easy trip back to the gate that leads home.
|
