Downtown in Fantasyland

[Katrielle Layton]

Continued from here.

Hunter had to admit, his wolf friend had made an interesting point. The fact that their lives seemed so... parallel in various ways made him wonder if they were destined to meet. One was a human, happily married, living peacefully, and empathetic, the other a wolf whom died fighting and can keep a cool head in even the most dangerous of times. The fact that they played off each other like that couldn't be a coincidence.

And so when Sylvan suggested teaming up to discover a way to return home, the apotropaist was in agreement. "Oh, of course! I'd be honored to have you by my side! But I suppose the first order of business would be to find somewhere to call home, in case our goal is impossible. I hope we can go back to our homes, but I'd be a lunatic to just assume that we can even do so."

The gate drew closer, and the duo passed through. Blankness was replaced with earth and sky, and now the mechanical equines dashed along a well-trodden dirt road. After almost an hour of traveling through the white, lifeless landscape of the Nexus, the change was very much welcomed. The brunet glanced around, taking in the sights-- there was some mountains off in the distance, as well as a bunch of trees surrounding the fields that they were currently trekking through.

"Looks like we picked a good place," the orphanage owner chimed in. "So let's see if we can find a town."

[Sylvan Ravenhead]

The wolf gave a small, but sincere smile. Finding a comrade at the beginning of an absolutely new journey in the afterlife was something he would never even hope for. The wolf thought that this event might well define his future. Never being a loner, he was forced into adapting a self-sufficient and self-reliant attitude. As a warpack leader, he was to be the one that was looked up to by those under his command, and the war was not something that allowed for levity. - It looks like this road is well trodden and leads to the east. There is bound to be at least a tavern along the road for travelers to rest. I think that would work out best for us, to get more information on this world. I hope it differs from mine. While my race is mostly tolerating others, except for the Baalan, our neighbors, the cat-kind, are not. That was the reason for war. Sometimes diversity brings forth not understanding but fear. I saw mostly humans and human-like creatures while we were back at...the human I met while you were creating this carriage called that place Nexus. So not sure what reaction others might have to seeing someone of my kind, even in a company of human. I would prefer not to venture into cities myself, until it is clear that there are no prejudices against otherworlders. – The thought was something the wolf was used to, from his prewar days of traveling through felinid lands. He would rather seek out small settlements that could not threaten his wellbeing, instead of more or less well populated towns and villages with constant military presence of some form. – I hope we can ask for an advice when we meet someone on the road. – And with those words, Sylvan took some time to take a more comfortable position on the carriage.
He needed to think and assess the situation he found himself in with a clear mind, now that the wolf was in full charge of his mental capacity, the pain tormenting him earlier, gone. The wolf was far from his homeland, away from people who knew of him and away from places where his look was something to be jealous of, not hate. Again. The situation reeked uncomfortably of the episode when he tried to understand the deepness and reason for resentment of catkind towards his race, long before the war. Judging from that experience, his previous life meant nothing. He was no longer a noble with distinguished career in the art of war. Rather a nobody with no purpose and sense in current existence. As such, his first objective should be to gain understanding of the world around him. See where and how he could reassert his status in society. Parallel to this, he would be looking for all and any information available on the being known as Omni. The only question that would answer was whether or not it was possible to return back to his initial world. And for Hunter to return to his. Sylvan doubted that it would be possible for him, seeing as he was whisked here after death. But even than, Omni might have some more definite answers, rather than a simple “you interest me” bullshit he gave at the very beginning. Or not. Either way, the end result would not matter too much for the wolf. He would accept the turn of fate with the same acceptance as he accepted death.
But what was imperative for him now is not to attract too much attention. Which mean his previous behavior, that he showed when first meeting Hunter was off limits. While expected in his world, this one would probably misunderstand respect and upholding of traditions for arrogance and disdain. Until proven wrong, Sylvan would pose this world same expectations that he posed to the felinid-populated lands. Aside from that, the wolf would not actively seek to antagonize population, unless of course they would do something that might grant his intrusion into their lives. He would not stand for bullying and outright robbery in the plain day light. But he would not do the job of this world’s law enforcers. Without being acknowledged and payed, that is. Being a mercenary was a way for any warrior without obligation (or simply without honor) to gain resources, renown and status. This way should probably be considered.
– Hey, Hunter. A question. – The wolf went out of his stupor, slowly stretching his back, hands and long legs. Making sure he got his human companion’s attention, Sylvan continued. – What do you think about being a mercenary?

[Katrielle Layton]

"Mercenary?" Hunter repeated, his voice tinged with uneasiness. Back home, mercs weren't necessarily appreciated-- in fact, working outside of Britain in that line of work was outright illegal. And even if it was legal, the very word seemed to indicate a person lacking moral fiber; Hayes wasn't really that kind of person. ...Then again, this wasn't Britain. Plus, he always had the option to deny jobs if they felt out of line. "I suppose I wouldn't be against it. Mostly depends on our clientele, I guess. I mean, I wouldn't take jobs that went against my standards unless absolutely necessary. ...Although I'm not much of a fighter, and that's kind of a prerequisite for being a mercenary. I'll see if the next town we find has a training field or something."


They continued for quite some time along the road, until eventually the road split into two, with a wooden sign pole indicating where the paths led. ...At least, that's what the brunet assumed, because when they drew closer, he realized that the directions were etched in a language he didn't understand. The symbols didn't appear to be alphabetical, but rather pictoral, like hieroglyphics. However, Hunter couldn't recognize any similarities to any of the other languages he knew existed. Slightly embarrassed, he turned toward the warchief. "Uh, Sylvan? Don't suppose you know this language?"

"Unfortunately, no. It's unfamiliar to me in every way," was the reply. "Looks like we'll have to guess."

"...Wait, how is it you and I both know English and yet neither of us can read this? Is English literally the universal language?"

"Well, it might be because it's written."

"So it's basically that stage in learning a language when you can speak it but not read or write it."

"Probably. Now let's decide which path to take."

Normally in this sort of scenario, one would use visual clues, but in this case there were none to consult-- neither road revealed wear and tear from travel, the population of trees remained about the same wherever they looked, and from the way the signs were written on, the two destinations were similar in importance (if it was in English, a similar version would resemble something like "Carlton" and "Hammington" instead of the more helpful "Carlton" and "Village of Death"). In the end, they took the path on the right.

Things stayed mostly unchanged until twenty minutes or so along the road, where the plains started to resemble a forest. The path began to fade out, forcing the two to slow down and scan the area for it whenever they lost sights of it. "This... doesn't seem to be the right path," the wolf murmured, glancing around at all of the foliage that had encroached on them.

The apotropaist slowed to a stop. "We should probably turn around, then."

"Wait," announced the lupine, pointing out of the carriage. "Other travelers are approaching from the other direction." And indeed they were; a wooden carriage painted red rolled along on rickety wheels. It had a bunch of spikes on it, but the more interesting and probably more urgent detail was that the vehicle was being pulled along by a massive scorpion (and by massive, it was about horse-sized). its pincers clipping through the overgrowth like a pair of scissors.

"What." The concept of a scorpion large enough to lug around a carriage left the orphanage-owner's brain spinning in surprise, although in hindsight that was probably one of more normal things to have happened that day. "Oh, no arthropod should ever be that big..." Silently, he hoped the newcomers would pass by, but Sylvan had other plans.

The warchief waved down the other vehicle, and it stopped right in front of them. The bronze horses shuffled in their reins, both afraid of and curious about the giant scorpion. The giant scorpion, on the other hand, couldn't have cared less, plopping down on the ground and wrapping its stinger around itself as it watched the strangers warily. The door of the red carriage opened, and deciding it was best to remain polite, Hunter opened his own door in turn.

"Lok'tar!" greeted the stranger, although he wasn't visible from where the human was standing.

"Ah, hello," Hunter managed, and Sylvan did the same. "I'm Hunter and this is Sylvan. We were wondering where this road lea--" And at that moment, the former priest could see the stranger in full detail; the humanoid's burly body was green, and tusks were visible on its lower set of teeth. Its clothing was primitive-- leather armor and metal shoulder pads. Involuntarily, his fists clenched, which might've been seen as an act of aggression if his face wasn't wearing the expression of a man whom had just realized he forgot to lock the doors back home while on vacation.

Even though his previous experience confirmed that the residents in The Omniverse were rarely what he thought they were, the creatures in front of him looked alarmingly demonlike. Hesitantly, he leaned over to whisper in his friend's ear. "...Maybe you should take the lead here."

[Sylvan Ravenhead]

Sylvan carefully assessed his companions reaction and tucked it away fr further reference. Despite the fact that both of them kicked off right from the start, the wolf still knew not a thing about humans, their preferences, moral standing, thoughts on the world surrounding them and so on. It was hard to predict behavior of someone you don't have the privilege of knowing for at least several months, provided that you you share conversations pertaining to personal issues and not simply something bounding, like work or same interest. In any case, it seemed like Hunter was, at least at some point, reluctant of the idea, but was not against keeping an open mind due to their peculiar situation. That was more than enough for the wolf. Despite the fact that he was sure of his abilities to survive in the wilderness, provided there was enough livestock to hunt in these woods, the same might not have been the same for Hunter. The structure of the human's teeth supposed he was more of herbivorous type of creature. Though he did have smallish fangs... but way to little to suggest his diet was mostly meat. Anyways, that would have to wait for a more opportune time and place for him to research. Since this world seemed rather densely populated with humans , there was bound to be some sort of a storage for knowledge and history. All in due time.
Speaking of due time. Looks like he would first need to learn how to read. They somehow made to a T-section of a road with no visual guide as to where they should go, aside from a wooden sign. Which really begged the question of how were they able to understand each other? Was it the same language that was spoken in Lupus Empire and Hunter's homeland? Or was it once again Omni's doing? So many question and not a single answer. Of course, one could speculate and try to reason their situation, but Sylvan doubted any of the supposed answers they might come up with would significantly influence their situation or prove to be the true one. These questions were supposed to be answered either through empirical experiment or by the one who made this place. Maybe once they stopped, somewhere safe, they could compare the written forms of their respective languages. As for the one used on the sign, it was unfamiliar to the wolf, which he confessed to his human companion. In the end it was a simple choice: either left or right. Subconsciously, both of them were sure about the right way. Which is why they ended up going right without much discussion.
But the forest they ended up almost going into... didn't sit right with the wolf. He grew up in a world where forests were aplenty, but they never were this foreboding and dark in the middle of the day of what looked like... spring? Another question to add to the ever growing list of things to be looked up would be the seasons of this world. Back to the topic, the feeling this forest gave off was not something he was used to. Like being watched from all sides and this made his hackles stand. The wolf voiced his concern to Hunter, who suggested turning around and trying out another road. But before they could continue with the plan, they encountered another traveler.

---

The creature they encountered was probably something neither he, nor Hunter have met before, judging by the reaction of the latter. The greenskin was standing at six feet seven inches, with shoulders almost twice as broad as his own. Massive head, two large tusks, coming from the lower jaw and giving the creature a fierce expression. They (for the wolf did not know the sex of this specimen without firstly consulting someone knowledgeable) were wearing a simple, but proved to be efficient in many a battle, light armor with reinforced shoulder pads. Which was an interesting thing, since they usually restricted ones movements. Probably the creature was not expecting to be fighting anyone taller or was simply much more comfortable with having a smaller range of movement in exchange for additional protection of its upper torso and neck. Or it was just a scare tactics, to deter simpleminded idiots, who usually made up the larger part of any bandit crew. In any case, the axe resting near the exit, just a second away from the greenskin's grasp, was a much bigger giveaway of the fact, that this specimen was no pushover. The axe's smile was in the form of a crescent moon, its handle of some hard wood draped in leather and cloth. And while the smile was freshly sharpened and oiled, the handle told a story of many a use. Whoever this creature was, it was best not to trifle with it.
At first, Sylvan fully expected his companion to lead the conversation, but then he was asked to interfere. There was probably nothing strange about it. Wolf's world, judging by the small tale Hunter shared of his life, was much less prone to being apprehensive of new lifeforms. Still, the black wolf had to quickly redirect his thinking from assessing the newcomer not as a threat but a possible source of information. Once again, Sylvan wished he had taken some time to rearrange himself before setting out. His mind right now was still reeling from all the psychological pressure of killing other Elaimet, battle state and also his own death. But by the looks of it, the sun would not be setting for a bit, and there really was no need to waste time. Well, he needed to get a grip of himself and push all those worthless feelings back into their little black pit of his mind once more.
Taking a small step forth, indicating that he would be the one to do the talking, while not exactly shutting out Hunter away from the conversation or diminishing him (at least according to wolf culture, and he hoped it would not be misinterpreted by neither his companion, nor the greenskin in front of them), Sylvan made his entrance.
- Greeted be once more. We are travelers seeking shelter and provision, and do not wish to find or cause trouble. - The wolf's speech was a bit more complicated when he was apprehensive, almost relapsing back to the old-speak of his people. - What would your name be? - he addressed the stranger.
- I'm Kargh, orc if ya zee. Ya worgen, o' zom'thin'? Ah can zee he be humie ove' zer'. Nevahzseen yah kind ove' hea'. - The greenskin's speech was excruciatingly difficult to understand, but the wolf managed. Apparently, the orc Kargh, as the creature named itself, was a male (unless this race's females spoke in a low guttural voice), and lacking some of his teeth. Cataloguing those details, Sylvan hastened to correct any misconceptions before the creature could stick to them.
- I am a wolf, not a worgen. I hail from another world, just as my companion. This is why... - but he was never allowed to finish.
- Aha, ye be primez zen, boyz. Zat be good for ole Kargh. Ye can fix hiz weaponz problemz. - Somehow, the orc's expression changed from guarded and warily aggressive, to enthusiastic and welcoming in a heartbeat. - Ye zaid ye be looking fe' a stay. I can give ya zome advize, and share a map, if ye want. Or, wez could go ta Minaz'Tirit togeza. I'm heading zat way myzelf. No betta place fer ye kind zen zee capital of Camelot. No humie triez to kick an orc or a wolf or a mage outa zere. Acceptin' of uz non-humiez and freekz zey are. Ozer placez be not so welcoming, if ye know wha' I'm talkin' abou't. O'cource if ye can help me out fi'zt. - the orc conversationally finished.
Sylvan attentively listened to what the strange greenskin was saying. - Well, I don't actually mind helping out a fellow warrior with a weaponm though you will have to be a bit more specific about that part. As for where to go... - the wolf threw a glance at Hunter, - me and my companion will be willing to look at your map and hear a bit more on what you have to say of this land and its people before deciding. - Seeing the human's nod, Sylvan addressed the orc. - What exactly do you need help with?
While the wolf and orc were distracted by their conversation about a supply of weaponry that might be good to have, a much smaller version of Kargh, a child apparently, left the carriage. Its attention focused quickly on the Hunter. - Are you a mage too? - An exited orc's girly voice could be heard, probably, a mile away, but was blocked out by a wolf in the process of summoning, and a much more happier looking Kargh, leaving poor human to his own devices and the mercy of a little orc child.

[Katrielle Layton]

Hunter breathed a mental sigh of relief once Sylvan started to lead the conversation. While the apotropaist considered himself somewhat diplomatic, he was aware that his biases might make discussion difficult with the newcomer; given that Kargh apparently wielded a giant axe, the brunet really didn't want to get on his bad side. ...Well, he didn't want to get on anyone's bad side, period. In a world this expansive, friends were more valuable than ever.

As the two conversed, Hayes turned to watch the mounts of the two carriages. The mechanical equines had finally gotten used to the giant scorpion that was staring them down; maybe a little too used to it, because one of the horses pulled forward and dared to place a bronze hoof on the arthropod's bony carapace. The venomous creature immediately lashed out with a stinger, the tail glancing off the steed's steely skin. The stallion reared back and whinnied, steam barreling out of its nostrils in thick clouds as it flailed its front hooves in the air.

Seeing the fight that might possibly break out, he rushed over to place a soothing hand on the horse's side. The equine, while hot due to its inner workings, was not uncomfortably so, and Hunter pressed firmly against it as he hushed and comforted the automoton. Slowly but surely, the steed stopped bucking, and the orphanage owner led it and the other horse further away from the scorpion.

When he returned to the conversation, he found that his wolf friend and the orc were busy working on the latter's weapon. At first he wondered what they could be trying to fix-- when the human saw it, he was under the impression that the axe was in good condition due to the wicked grin of the metal portion. Upon further review, he realized that the handle was made out of wood and was probably starting to wear weak.

He was about to see if there was anything he could do to help when he felt something tugging at his trenchcoat. Glancing down, he saw a little orc girl, dressed in red and yellow robes that were several sizes too big for her. Hunter couldn't help but smile at this-- after all, he worked with children every day back home, so this felt fairly familiar. "Are you a mage too?" she asked, curiously lacking the older orc's excruciating accent.

"Maybe. Depends on what you mean by mage," he replied, kneeling down so they could look eye to eye.

"You don't know what a mage is?" Her tone was that of a stubborn kid who had just been told that Santa Claus didn't exist.

"Back in my world, such a term was found only in fiction. Our interpretations may be different."

"Well, mages use magic to beat the bad guys!" She thrust her hands forward before raising them up and trying to mimic the sound of an explosion, seemingly attempting to demonstrate the use of a magical projectile.

Hunter chuckled at the little display. "I'm that case, yes, I'm a mage. ...Although my methods are less explosive than most, it seems."

"...No explosions?" she asked, disappointed.

"No explosions. I erect magic barriers to protect people from demons."

And with that answer, the little girl returned to being excited. "Like The Legion?"

Those three words caught the apotropaist entirely off-guard. This kid looked so young-- maybe eight at most. Why on Earth would she know that name? He remained silent for a moment, but when he noticed the child staring at him, he recollected himself. "Y-you could say that. If I may ask, how did you learn that name?"

"Daddy fought them back home! They appeared in Azeroth and tried taking over."

Demon slayers? In that moment, his respect for the orc caravan doubled. Sure, he protected people against them, but he had never fought them face to face. An ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure in his mind, but he could still admire those who fought when prevention wasn't enough. "Did The Legion lose?"

"Uh... what's the word... you know when things aren't moving towards either side?"

"Stalemate?"

"Yeah, stalemate! It's like that. But they destroyed a bunch of other worlds before us, so I guess we're doing better than those other places."

The thought of such a force sent a shiver down his spine. Other universes... entire worlds... decimated by a legion of demonic warriors. Was that what he saw that fateful day on All Hallow's Eve? He hoped it wasn't so-- he felt that Earth was unprepared for such an attack, physically and spiritually. For all he knew, his world might not exist when he came back.

And that terrified him.

Thankfully his cohort and Kargh returned, having repaired the giant axe. The orc, upon noticing Hunter's face, chuckled. "'av zeen 'oo've meht mah daghturr. Dun' wurre, Vari wun' baight."

"It's not her I'm scared of," the human replied simply, wringing his hands together. "Say, is it alright if you elaborate on your days fighting The Legion?"

"'s ahdd reeqhuast. Bu' zur. Cahm eentah mah raide 'n' 'e cahn goh ovahr dat 'n' da map."

[Sylvan Ravenhead]

This was much more... complex than it seemed from the outside. The materializing of things, that is. Yet somehow, it felt completely natural. As if the wolf was born with a third hand, but only now realized its presence. If willed, that third hand moved and even could realize some simple tasks, otherwise staying limp and useless. A short question to Kargh has clarified the notion that only primes were able to "zummon thingz from omnilium". It was undoubtedly one of the most prominent of abilities in the afterlife. Especially considering the fact that he lacked his usual grooming kit and other necessities for his daily care of himself and his blades.
The black canine simply needed to focus and envisage what he wanted to achieve. And since he knew the secrets behind steel, intimately guarded by blacksmiths, it was possible for the wolf to produce a much more decent blade for the ork. Not just well polished an shiny, but actually structured in a way, that actually allowed for the new axe to be battleworthy, and not just crack after the first two collisions with much more massive metal shields or steel blades of higher quality. The handle was also of the finest hardwood of his lands. All in all, the weapon lost of its flourish, but judging by the many scars and cuts on the orks face, he would not cry about that loss. Much. He hoped.
The process took almost six minutes, during which Sylvan was concentrating on the visual of the weapon, internal structure of the steel, the quality of the wood for the handle and the process it would take to craft such a weapon. It was especially important for the smile of the axe. But, when finished, the wolf warrior was surprised to hold something he would have never could dream of forging with his own hands. Maybe, even most of the blacksmiths of their fiefdom could not hope to accomplish such and undertaking given the finest materials and a month. This gave way to his thoughts running in the direction of him being able to supply his own warpack with weapons of such great quality... But the wolf abruptly stopped them and threw away. Such thoughts were meaningless here and now. He would dream when he is weak and useless.
- Your axe Kargh. I hope it serves you well and spills blood of those walking the paths of darkness. - With these words, the black canine presented the summoned axe to its new owner.

---

When they got back to Hunter and a new arrival in the form of a little ork girl, Sylvan got to notice something strange with his companion. Somehow his facial color changed, which was an interesting observation to conduct. Not just that, but his features were changing, but in a very subtle way. The wolf might have missed them, or dismissed them as inconsequential if not for his paying attention to details and Kargh's comment. Apparently, the furless creatures like humans had much more subdued expressions compared to the furcovered Elaimet of his own homeworld. That would be logical, since they would not need to drastically change their facial expressions to express their feelings, as they were not hidden under a layer of highly inert cover. Sylvan made a note to observe Hunter even closer from now on, and if needed to ask him about his expressions and their connection to his feelings. The ork seemed to be just as expressive with his facial features as any other wolf Sylvan knew.
His line of thought was cut off when Kargh invited them into his carriage to go over a map and also talk about something known as "legion". Apparently, it was the thing that drew such a strong negative reaction out of his human companion. Meaning, it had a certain darker meaning, that was lost on the wolf. Not wanting to butt into something that he had no idea about, being a bit more eager to get to understand where they were located, and seeing Hunter being more at ease around the ork after that once said that his ancestors has fought the Legion, Sylvan left the talk to his human companion. After all, someone had to memorize the map. Just in case something went awry and they would not be able to summon it later.