A Bad day to take a stroll (Open)

[Nimiane Aragon]

Peace. Tranquility. The sound of birds chirped harmlessly above the canopy of tree's, swooping in and out of view to settle on tall standing branches to blurt out their calming songs at the tops of their voices. A gentle breeze intertwined between settlers, ruffling the hair of anyone who got caught in the chilling wind. It was days like these that really brought the parkland around Camelot alive and it was sods law that not many people got to enjoy it. Being infatuated with work and with money meant that during this period of the day places like these became a wasteland, with nothing but the odd straggler who walked across it's tranquil plains.

It was eerie in a way, that the vibrant day was not being enjoyed and instead people chose to shut themselves inside to carry out their endless duties and tasks to be paid pennies, and housewives obsessed themselves with the maintaining of their small yet homely abodes which reconcilied the little thing they had to their name. Yet Beauty did not crave an audience, and performed regarding if there was anyone there to marvel it or not. That was what was so great about mother nature, she did not boast her beauty or intricacy - that was why Nimiane had a deep adoration for her surroundings seeing deeper into detail than most would.

Gently placing a padded foot into the ground, she lingered on the feel of the soil beneath her feet, extending and retracting black deadly claws as she unintentionally tore the grass from their frail roots. Seeing things from this level made her all the more appreciative of what she saw; it was almost a crime that not everyone stopped to take in all that nature provided instead taking it foregranted. Regardless of her surroundings though, it never failed to make her look out of place, for she did not belong in such a peacefull settlement at this.

Her shiny black fur stood up on end, fluttering in the steady wind going with the motion of her swishing tail. She stood proud, reaching almost the same height as any human trespassers who walked her way. Thanks to the long grass though, she managed to stay hidden, staying out of view to anyone who happened to walk by. Of course should anyone see her she would have to tear them limb from limb, for such a creature in Camelot would cause such a stir there would be armed hunts in an effort to retrieve her body. Burning torches and sharpened forks was something she could do without; there were already talks of ruthless wolves who walked these parts and she didn't want to confirm such a rumour.

Not wanting to return to her human form just yet, she relinquished the opportunity to be able to sit and think for a second. Scanning her sharp red eyes over the atmosphere, she let a sly snarl slip from her lips as a bunch of careless guards trudged through the gardens smothering and cutting down the budding plantlife with their swords, giggling infuriously before disppearing back to duty finishing their daily patrols through the land. It was just as well that she was purging herself of unncessarily confrontation and combat or else she would have taught them a lesson herself.

Raising her hind quarters out of the grass and shaking her fur, she stretched and dug her claws into the ground before throwing her head back in an undignified yawn. Drawing herself out of her tired thoughts, she stopped dead, staring straight ahead of her seeing someone stare back. Now came the decision of whether to run and risk being found out or breaking her pact and 'dealing' with the situation to tarnish the ground with spilt blood she would have no other choice than doing. A difficult decision when it was based on your survival and the slightest chance of being discovered. What was it to be, fight or flight?

[Picture of Nimiane in her Dire wolf form.]

[Archer Cadby]

People might have thought it odd for a young man to be sitting in the grass in the same place that hangings were carried out, and the same place that a giant wolf was deciding to stalk, though he didn't know the last part. Cross-legged on the ground, Archer had yet to do anything. His head was craned back to stare at the clear blue sky, and his hands rested in his lap. After a moment, he stretched out on the ground, looking as if someone had just shoved him off his feet and sent him sprawling. A small smile never left his face.

Camelot. Who would have ever guessed that he would end up here? Of all the places he could have stopped, of all the wonderful and exciting environments... And he had stopped here. This city that seemed to work on a time schedule, where nothing seemed to change. How mind numbingly boring.

He had arrived only two days prior, and his close examination of the goings-on had made bystanders curious, but not curious enough to step out and greet him. And that was something that this town did get a plus one for. No one seemed to want to socialize outside their little circle of friends and family. Archer was completely fine with that, being anti-social himself. Even still... The lack of a friendly and open attitude bewildered the young man, and as he thought about it, his green eyes narrowed on the sky. Most places had people who jumped at the chance to meet a new face. Maybe he just hadn't come across those people yet. And he hoped he never would.

Sitting up suddenly, Archer reached for his lute that he had carried with him into the Green. Before he had even strummed once, he heard a rustle in the grass, then a sound he could not identify. His head snapped around quickly, and he carefully set the lute to the side before crawling on his hands and knees towards the sound. Reaching out to brush aside a tall, thick patch of grass, he found himself staring up into the gaping jaws of a beast of nightmares, a beast with huge teeth that could undoubtedly shred a soldier's armor. It was so big that his heart quite literally stopped. The beast was yawning, and as the mouth slowly closed, it saw him too. His reaction was to jump up - in which he realized that the beast was still taller than himself - and stumble backwards a few paces. It was now that wished he knew how to fight. He was good enough with his fists, but fists would do nothing against this thing, this monster. Slowly, his head cocked sideways as he studied the beast, which, he decided, was some sort of giant wolf.

His small, crooked smile returned. "My, oh my," he said quietly. "Aren't you an interesting being?" Even as he said it, he plopped back onto the ground. He knew that trying to protect himself from this wolf would do no help. So his next best option was to seem as none-threatening as possible. His hand reached toward the lute. Would magic calm or charm something like this? It had worked on frightened horses, dogs, and even a few cattle or oxen, but the wolf was probably not going to be amused by soft music and a gentle voice. Though Archer looked, for the most part, to be calm, fear was obvious in his eyes and the way his hands trembled. His gut and mind screamed that he had but moments left to live, and yet his heart clung to a sliver of hope. Maybe it wouldn't be interested in him, and would just pass on by. His hope might get him killed, here and now. But there was nothing he could do about it; his life was in the hands, or paws, of this huge wolf.