Besnik // In which Besnik encounters a pathetic hunter.
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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]
It was even easier this time; the morphing aspect, anyway. He found a deserted tree up toward the mountains from the city, hid his clothes under a rock, and shifted his skin to feathers, his fingers to talons, his face into a beak. He had a model in mind for a bearded vulture, a lammergeier. He had studied Ethan long enough, learned all the complexities of the form over a year of time, and so it didn't take long before he had assumed that form, though his plumage was black, shot through with a strange blue like his hair since the djed storm struck him in Avanthal. And his eyes remained a too pale blue.
He shuffled his feet, mantled his wings, and clacked his beak, getting comfortable with this form. It remained too large, too massive. But he hadn't yet mastered the ability to morph away weight and mass. With ungainly flapping of his huge wings, he managed to get himself up on a strong branch, and rest.
The reason for being here was to hunt, to put fresh meat on the table for the orphans, the better to keep them healthy during pox-time. But the best he would be able to do was fall upon something unaware enough to pass beneath him. He knew no deer would come to this clearing with the smell of human there, and so he made the most of his horrible flying to flop from tree to tree, very nearly breaking some of the weaker branches, until he had worked his way to the next clearing over, panting at the heat his body had created despite the cold.
While he waited, he looked around, wondering if he might see some other raptor, and find a way to make himself more compact, more light, which would make flying more possible, or, at least, more elegant.
With being a Kelvic came an innate ability to hunt prey. That was particularly useful when it came to travelling, as the often looked down upon race frequently found seeking shelter and good food impossible. As such, the sight of a predator with above average intelligence for the species was not such a rare thing as one might think, especially outside the cities. As it was, the Kelvic currently heading out to hunt was in fact only planning on going just beyond the Zeltivan borders, not wishing to go for too long. Though still a fresh bond, he had no desire to leave Valo unprotected despite the need to fetch food.
Due to the need to travel until finally finding a place to settle down, most Kelvics were pretty well adapt to making their way through the wilderness. Besnik had learnt quickly what it took to survive and as such was able to make it almost a week without actively needed help of a settlements or passing group of travellers. He was loathe to approach strangers off the beaten track, worried about illegal goings on that would have him captured as a pet, or worse, a slave. The idea of a collar being slipped around his neck, permanently trapping him in his favoured animal form, was terrifying.
Red fur shifted as the slender body of the dhole, sized like a large dog, moved through the woods, browns and oranges gliding over each other in an endless dance over his coat. His colouring was much like a fox, though he was much to big to be one, often causing confusion in the eyes of strangers; not many had heard of his animal form. Acting as though he were simply another part of the environment was fairly simple, though he still stood out as an animal; he held his head level and his fluffy tail swayed behind him as he follow the scents of various prey animals that had crossed his path.
Besnik halted, nimble paw raised and head cocked ever so slightly to the side as he heard a branch crack far above his head, to the left. His ears pulled back a little, tail that until now was moving much like a dog’s stopping its contented wagging. The hunt had been interrupted by a possible threat. The Kelvic raised his nose and scented the air, catching a strange mix of animal and man. His brow drew together and he looked up, limbs poised and ready to scamper away if the strange shifting sound turned out to be a danger to him. Ever the inquisitive type, he let out a high pitched, whistle like bark, a sound very different to one you’d expect a canine to make but perfectly natural nonetheless, and deep brown eyes darted across the canopy to see if they could spot the disturbance.
The strange, whistling bark brought Hadrian's head around, sharp eyes searching the ground. In the end, it was more auristics than anything that helped him find the source. His eyes were sharper, but he didn't know how to focus them properly. But he could sense the creature, and he knew the familiar feel of a Kelvic. That made him somewhat calmer. Kelvics tended to like him, though none had ever bonded to him. He wondered if that were some strange deficiency in himself; whether they could, like many claimed dogs could, smell evil.
Or something. He didn't think he was evil. In fact, he was outright kind to a great many people: the orphans of the Farson Home, various Kelvics lost without some form of guidance, and anyone interested in learning.
In an attempt to call down a welcome, it sounded less like a raptor's cry and more like a raven's croak, which meant he probably didn't have the vocal apparatus just right. His beak clacked inefficiently, too. He probably sounded like a bird that had been hit on the head and was never the same after that.
But he had just morphed and didn't want to morph back just yet if he didn't have to. At least his feathers would keep him warm. But he didn't know if he would be able to communicate properly otherwise. Well, he would have to give it a shot. He spread his wings, attempting to cup as much air in them as possible, and stepped off the branch flailing inelegantly, but landing without hurting himself.
What the strange -- was that a dhole? -- Kelvic would make of a dire-sized raptor fumbling out of the tree and trying to act intelligently, he didn't know. At least he had landed far enough away so as not to startle the Kelvic into fleeing, but he folded his wings, trying not to look intimidating, and made a series of croaking noises with a great deal of beak-clacking. It most likely sounded comical.
Besnik’s delicate paw lifted higher, displaying a flash of white fur underneath, as a strange crashing sound came from above. He tilted his head to the side, curious about whatever had interrupted his hunt. Suddenly a shrill call sounded out, causing his ears to flatten against his head to shut out the painful pitch. It sounded much like a wounded cat crossed with an irritated crow. Perhaps the two animals had crossed paths and were fighting it out within the canopy above his head…though that didn’t seem likely.
A figure above him caught his eye, slightly away from where he stood. It seemed to be falling, or flailing and struggling to stay afloat in the air. It landed ungracefully just as the Kelvic managed to suss out what the creature was; a vulture, though far bigger than any he’d seen before. Fright was the first thing that came into the dhole’s mind, instinct causing the skittish creature to jump any easy three feet into the air and scamper back a few strides, before his mind caught up with him. From what he’d seen so far around Zeltiva and the forest surrounding it, there were no vultures this size flying around freely.
Narrowing his eyes, Besnik scented the air with his twitching nose, barely there whiskers moving back and forth as his instincts battled it out between curiosity and safety. His inquisitive side won through as he took a few small steps forward, getting the scent of the strange creature. The scent of man and beast swirling together that he had sensed earlier was back, only both seemed to be coming form the vulture. Magic, the animal able to take on a man’s form realised as he halted; the only explanation had to be magic.
By the fact that the giant bird’s wings were now folded, Besnik could only assume that it meant him no harm, and so he hesitantly sat down and watched as the other creature made an amusing attempt at communicating with him. Several high pitched, whistle like barks came from the dhole’s maw at the sight of this, his laughter at the animal who thought he could communicate with a canine. Besnik shook his head and looked the other in the eye, sure that this was one of those rare men who had mastered the ability to morph their bodies. Well, judging by the feeble attempt at flight and giant size, at least was good enough to change his body structure.
The Kelvic tilted his head to the size, trying to convey the message of wondering what the other was doing out here. He could always make the change into a man to speak in the tongue of men, yet there were two problems with that. Firstly, his hunt had been interrupted and he needed food before he was able to change back again without completely wearing himself out. Secondly, if the one before him was indeed a man he doubted being confronted by a naked Kelvic man with little respect for boundaries would help the problem. Besides, if the odd creature wasn’t actually a man after all there’d be no need for him to attempt to speak that tongue anyway.
Just in case you were wondering, this is what Hadrian looks like, only much bigger and all black: Lammergeier.
Hadrian understood from Ethan and other Kelvics he had spent time with that there was a significant expenditure of energy to shift shapes, even more so than it cost him to take on this shape now he had the model memorized, it seemed. And so he could understand why he wanted to speak in charades. Hadrian considered for a moment, then nodded to the dhole, nodding his understanding. Then he waited for a moment before spreading his great wings and flapping them somewhat, because he was trying to learn to fly without Ethan being with him every minute. He didn't want to be a slow learner!
Then, wings still mantled, he mimed picking at a corpse. Food. He needed to bring food back to the little ones. Just as he was about to leave it at food, he renewed his vicious attack on the air, miming a feeding, and then cupped his wing as best he could, administering tidbits to imagined chicks. Then he folded his wings again, pale blue eyes staring at the dhole expectantly, wondering if he had made himself clear.
A dhole couldn't teach him to fly, but perhaps they could work some strategy whereby they caught more and larger game, and then both the Kelvic and Hadrian's children would have fresh meat for supper.
The Kelvic watched with interest as the giant, mostly sandy coloured bird began to do a mime. His head of multiple reds shimmered as he tilted his head sideways, strands of silky fur gliding past one another as they readjusted position. Wide brown eyes hinted at his amusement as the bird fumbled around, attempting to convey a message. Glad that the other did seem to be a man, whether Kelvic or a magic user he was still unsure, his bushy tail brushed the dirt behind him as it wagged slowly.
The message the other sent was clear enough, relaying the common acts of those within the forest; a hunt. Then the bird’s wing bent at a peculiar angle for a flyer as another action was shown. The dhole’s head tilted the other way, brow lowering in confusion as he tried to figure through the action and work out what the stranger meant. Perhaps, he concluded, there was some sort of ulterior motive over getting food that had him out on a hunt. He couldn’t be sure what the stranger wanted to convey, yet nodded his head once in a precise movement as he looked into pale blue eyes, to show that he had understood the gist of the mime.
It was then Besnik’s turn to respond in this strange dance of a conversation. One nimble paw lifted and brushed against the dirt in front of him. Three long scraping actions, claw digging up mud, as the canine tried to turn attention to him. He stood and, with another glance at the giant bird, turned his head to a fairly large stick nearby. He gestured with his head in that direction, then bent over in a position not unlike a play bow, before leaping into the air and landing firmly on the stick. He quickly dug his teeth into it, thrashing his head back and forth with his tail raised as he mimicked how he would kill a smaller prey animal.
Besnik then raised his head once more with a snort and looked over the vulture, sitting himself back down. A pink tongue darted out to lick around his maw as brown orbs met blue, conveying that his own mime was over. He, too, was out in the forest to hunt.
Hadrian was still for a moment after that, then nodded. He thought they seemed to be on the same page. Black wings unfurled and flapped, causing a good deal of wind, but he was careful not to smack the dhole. There were a few false starts as he tried to get his bulk airborne, but then he managed to get his claws a few feet up the truck of a tree, and with a push off he managed to flap his way up and up to his branch. There he paused to recuperate a bit. His shoulders were going to ache like nothing when he went to his bed tonight.
For the time being, his beak fell open and he panted. But blue eyes shot down to the dhole to make sure they were still good to go. Until he learned how to fly, which might depend on him learning how to make his bones hollower and reduce his mass, his best bet was going to be dropping out of a tree on some passing beast. But he could manage from here to fly to another clearing if need be.
The thing was, he didn't have much in the way of hunting instincts, so he hoped the dhole would take the lead a bit here.
As the vulture spread its huge wings, Besnik skittered back with a few jumpy steps. His eyes shone with amusement at the false starts as the other attempted to get into the air. Obviously this was a man who’d only recently started changing into a vulture, for had he been another Kelvic or a real vulture there would be more grace in his actions. He looked up to watch as the giant bird flew to a high branch and stood panting, before turning to meet the canine’s eyes. In response, the dhole dipped his head in a short nod to signal that he was still good to hunt. Though not so coordinated as the Kelvic, the other’s size could be of an advantage. If he could somehow find a doe and run it near the bird’s tree they could take it down together and have plenty of meat for the both of them. The only problem was whether or not the bird would figure out his plan.
Besnik fell into a natural crouch, back arched so that his weight was equally distributed on the toes of four paws. His black tipped tail swung behind him in low semi-circles as he focused his senses on the task. Red ears perked, swivelling to listen for sounds that could indicate prey nearby, whilst his small black nose twitched as it picked up the scents surrounding them. The rustling in a bush nearby was all it took for the Kelvic’s attention to be turned, as a rabbit burst from between the leaves.
Immediately Besnik leapt forwards, excitement alight in his eyes. He landed a few paces before the startle animal and barked in a high pitched yelp. His front legs buckled as he bowed, before taking off after the rabbit as it recovered. His pads touched upon the dirt of the ground lightly with little sound as he sprang in great leaps after the terrified prey. A few metres along, the rabbit had reached its warren and it ducked into the ground just as the canine pounced. Besnik’s face half followed it down the hole, paws scrabbling at the dirt in an attempt to reach in further, but the rabbit was gone.
Giving up, he retreated and backed up a few steps, tail high and wagging in the air. His heart raced, adrenaline pumping throughout his body, and his eyes turned back to the vulture. Though he’d missed out on the rabbit, he remembered he’d been planning to track down a doe in hopes the vulture could use strength and size to kill it. Turning back to the ground, Besnik returned to the previous task of finding the scent before he’d been distracted. He trotted in a couple of large circles around the area he’d communicated with the vulture, before a fairly recent trail came to his nose. His head lifted in a sudden jolt and his front paw raised, body stiff and tense. He readied himself to give chase and steer it towards the vulture.
Hadrian watched carefully as the dhole did its thing, tracking a rabbit but not quite catching it. He could only hope that this was one of the smarter Kelvics, who could strategize something. When he took off, Hadrian decided to wait it out. Getting back into the tree was difficult, so he wasn't going to jump out for a rabbit or anything that wouldn't feed a few of his children back at the orphanage.
So while he waited, he tried to engage all of his senses to see if any of them were any the sharper for his transformation. At the same time, he opened his auristic sense to track the general direction in which the dhole had gone. If he felt his aura come racing his way, he would be ready just in case he was driving prey in his direction. He could certainly take out something larger than the dhole if he could manage to land on its back.
Though usually one to hunt for rabbits to eat himself, the Kelvic wasn’t the sort to give up on a good opportunity. Here he had a companion on the hunt and though they didn’t know each other beyond a strange meeting in animal forms, Besnik was ready to take advantage of the vulture’s larger than average size in capturing prey. He slunk along a path down wind of the direction of the trail, scents of deer growing ever stronger as he moved. The rustling of leaves or occasional stamp up ahead alerted him of the presence of a small herd near enough to him for him to be able to steer one under the vulture’s tree.
Besnik slowed as he approached, each leg placed carefully so as to make little noise. Large ears perked, head tilted as he stilled. Hidden half in a bush and out of the way, he was unnoticed by the large stag that strutted past. Its head was lifted to display its impressive antlers as it walked with confidence, checking on the does grazing peacefully. Backing away, the canine trotted along the perimeter of their grazing area, not brave enough to attempt to control the direction of a stag. Eye narrowed, he crept closer as he moved to observe the does to find an old or injured animal, perhaps one another had recently tried and failed to take down.
Brown eyes peeking out from the shrubbery spotted the perfect prey animal. She was fairly old and given the scars dotting her fur, a frequent target to inexperienced hunters. Tensing his muscles, he waited for her to move closer. He shifted his paws with anticipation, before judging the moment right and leaping out into the midst of the grazing deer. He let out a loud yip, staring into the eyes of the doe he’d selected as she turned to look at the disturbance. Frozen in fear, she did nothing in the few bounds he took towards her, until instinct spurred her on and she ran in the direction he wanted her to.
She leapt through the forest as her herd startled in all directions, the stag not noticing the dog sized figure as he looked for a larger threat. Besnik followed the old doe closely, her movements slightly stiff with age, but made no move to attack. He wasn’t strong enough to bring down a full sized doe, nor experienced enough in a hunt to know where to start. Instead he snapped at her heels, switching sides as the doe diverted from the direction the Kelvic wanted to head. In a few moments they were within sight of the tree Besnik had left the vulture in, the deer being lead straight towards it.
