Hitting On The Moonshine (Murphy)

[Syllke Skyglow]

Fall 5, 511 A.V. The watchtowers had flared only a few days before, and already Syllke felt the tang of fall in the air of the soft, late afternoon sunshine. He had been in Denval almost two months, and he had learned much about its environs, which attracted him more even than the little town itself. With Murphy by his side, in whichever form the kelvic favored for that day, the Vantha would wander about, exploring every niche, every glade, every foot of shoreline accessible by foot. He had quickly discovered that the isolated hamlet was indeed sorely in need of the road that they were working on steadily but slowly. There really weren’t any places reachable by foot that didn’t lay within a day or less walk. This fact didn’t make Syllke feel penned in exactly. There was certainly enough to see and discover to keep him occupied, for a while. But he found it odd, after the great expanses of ice and tundra of the far north, where he had grown up. There was no more hitching up dogs to a sled and going out for a week’s run. A sled would have been of no use in Denval, that was sure, as it was surrounded by huge, towering heaps of slag. So, on this particular day, as on many previous, once Syllke’s caretaking and gardening and administrative tasks at the Lyceum were done, he had hailed Murphy, and they had set out on yet another trek. The two friends had meandered along to the docks, then down the coast, to a far headland beyond which walking was fairly difficult. Syllke had then challenged Murphy to a scramble up the cliffs, and they had reached the top blown but laughing. As Syna dipped lower over the ocean, they had begun to gather some kindling, small sticks and a couple of relatively dry stout branches. With flint and steel in hand, Syllke crouched over the little pile of starting material. With a two or three strikes, he had generated a few sparks, some of which caught in the dry material and began to glow. Murphy was ready, kneeling and crouched low down, to blow gently and coax a flame from the burning strands of grass. Syllke knelt back, waiting, and once the flame had caught, he carefully added a bit more of the kindling, then built a small open tent of the smallest stick over the little burning pile. Today, as Murphy was in human form, Syllke wouldn’t ask him to go fetch some dinner on the hoof – or paw. But the young artist had brought along a small metal pot, to heat water in and make some tea, to go along with the leftover bread and cheese from breakfast. He had stuffed all that in his satchel, along with a few apples they had found the day before. Rustling about in the leather bag, dislodging a few shells he had picked up in their ramble along the beach, he pulled out the pot and held it out to Murphy. “There’s a stream about a hundred meters that way.” He pointed back into the woods which lay behind them. “If you go fetch the water, I’ll get the fire going. Or I can get the water and you tend the fire. Your choice.” He smiled. There were many days when he would wander about on his own – Murphy would be off doing something of his own design. But Syllke always enjoyed the other boy’s company – or wolf’s, if it was one of those kind of days. For months now, the two had been together, the bond between Kelvic and human growing stronger with each passing day. Syllke was glad that Murphy seemed content to hang out with him – he seemed far more relaxed now that they were in Denval. The specter of Murphy’s old master was that much more removed than it had been in Avanthal. There, it has been a remote possibility that the man would return and make inquiries after his run away slave. Here, the possibility seemed to be pretty much laughable. How would the guy ever trace the kelvic to this tiny out of the way port? And why would he? Murphy was just one of thousands of kelvics in Mizahar. His old owner could easily obtain another. If he came after Murphy it would only be out of pure spite. In Syllke’s mind, that was never going to happen. “But this time,” he added, “If you see a moose pissing in the stream, go a bit upstream, OK? I’m not really picky, but I’m not a wolf either.”

[Daroes Murphy]

At the top of the hills where the two had started a fire, Syllke stretched out his arm with the small pot in his hand. You or I go fetch water for the pot. "I'll go, after all you look a bit tired," The Kelvic took a moment, ""besides you usually do it." The Kelvic stood and grabbed the small pot and lid from his friend's hands. Murphy took the lid and placed it accordingly to fit, he then spun on his heel and headed for the stream in which Syllke pointed out a moment before, "don't worry I'll make sure not to get any pee in the water," he tried to remember the look he had received from Syllke a moment before he had mentioned the moose and the stream, "Oh, and don't worry I'll be careful!" The Kelvic yelled back while waving and not looking back.

He wandered off toward the stream counting the steps it took him, he occasionally would look up to check for anybody then as fast as would look up he looked down again. He stared at what seemed forever at the ground, "Hmm, I wonder where this stream is." He finished the thought and looked up "Aha!" He thought again as the triumph from finding the stream was his. He looked around for any animals using the stream as a "reliever" from their bladder problems. Nothing. "And it only took me 132 steps to get here." He said proud of himself.

He took the lid off by switching the little leather latch keeping them connected for travel. He bent down and started to fill the pot to the invisible designated mark he had in his brain. He then washed his hand to a nicer clean and stuck his hand in the pot getting the few rocks out. "There," Murphy said proud. He grabbed the lid and put it back on top of the pot then securing the leather to make sure the lid stayed on.

He stood stretching his legs. He held the pot in his left hand and turned around to see a man standing there, with a sword pointed at his throat, "I don't mean no trouble, sir," Murphy said fear striking his voice faster than a stealthy fox on a rabbit. He held his hands up above his head showing he was no threat. "Of coarse you aren't, after all I'm the one with the sword," His voice was scratchy, like a sharp dagger on a rock. "Ah, but that's what you think, you don't know what I have up my sleeve, I am no human." Murphy says anger creeping in on him. "Well boy, are you gonna do something or just stand there with a pot full of measly water in it?" He finished a cough like laugh escaped his pale and cracked lips. "He does have a small advantage, with my clothes on I won't be able to shift easily, and he has a pretty long sword, I need to remember what I was taught in the mountains. Murphy thought. Murphy dropped the pot and it clattered to the rocky ground as he pulled out his kriss, a sharp curvy dagger that was around 8 to 12 inches long overall. The man laughed "How are you dispatch me never the less defend yourself with a little blade like that?"

"I wouldn't underestimate me, old man." Murphy snarled at him. "Your blade will not protect you from mine, that I promise you, boy." He bitterly spits back. Murphy takes a defensive stance putting his blade close to him yet if the bandit were to strike it Murphy would not be hurt. The man took a swing at Murphy and he jumped back. "SYLLKE! I NEED YOU!" Murphy screamed over the distance which separated the two. "You fool, do you really believe your friend can save you? Trust me You'll be dead before he gets here." The bandit mocks Murphy and takes another swing horizontally trying to if he hit decapitate Murphy. The Kelvic boy ducked and lunged forward which then man blocked Murphy's blade to the side. The Kelvic turned his head to look behind him and jumped over the narrow stream to see how long he could out evade his attacker.

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke grinned as Murphy took the little pot and made his reassurance about the water quality. “I have great faith in you, Murphy – to be both careful and on the look out for moose.” He watched the boy with the oddly brindled hair disappear into the trees and turned his attention to building up the fire. His thoughts as he did so were here, there and everywhere, and he wasn’t particularly paying attention to how long Murphy had been gone. But suddenly the air was rent with the boy’s cry for help, though it was faint, as the stream wasn’t that close by. Puzzled but having no clue what was up, Syllke could only leap to his feet and tear off into the trees himself. Whatever the problem was, he could hear the alarm in his friend’s voice. It took several minutes to reach the stream and, not knowing exactly where Murphy had got to on its bank, Syllke at first hit it too far downstream. He hadn’t heard any more yells for help – and that had him more worried than if Murphy had been hollering the whole time. The silence seemed ominous. Several times, Syllke called out the kelvic’s name, but go no response. For that reason, Syllke slowed and thought it best to try to move more quietly, letting his ears listen for any out of the ordinary sounds. His mind was working, trying to guess what trouble might have befallen the kelvic. It might have been a wild animal. Murphy might have shifted to evade it, and that would explain the silence. If the boy had been caught in a game trap – which was unlikely but not impossible – he’d still be squawking no doubt. Same if he had fallen or had some other mishap – he had called out once so it seemed unlikely that he had knocked himself silly and blacked out or anything like that. Syllke even considered the possibility that Murphy was playing a joke on him. But he discounted that as kelvics were notoriously simple creatures who generally did not understand humor too well. Beside that, Murphy was a very honest, straightforward guy. He wasn’t the type to pull a stupid, pointless prank. His voice too, when he had yelled, had seemed very genuinely fearful. So Syllke pressed on, moving upstream as quietly as he could, wondering how in the heck he was going to find Murphy if he wasn’t at the stream. He moved along for a few minutes, and then came across a clue, though he wasn’t sure what to make of it. The little metal pot lay discarded on the ground, water seeping from under the latched lid. And all about the underbrush was trompled and crushed down – one or more somethings had been moving about with great force and little consideration. Closer to the stream, in a patch of mud, Syllke saw one boot print – too large to be Murphy’s, but very, very fresh. Syllke frowned. He wanted to call for his friend again, but something held him back. His eyes scanned the far bank. Stepping across the narrow waterway, Syllke bent slightly, plucking at a few hairs stuck to a low branch. Holding them up, he scrutinized them closely – their grey-brown motley making his heart beat faster. Why would Murphy’s hair be caught on a bramble that was only knee high? Peering about, Syllke saw more and more clearly that there had been some sort of a struggle, and there was definitely a trail of such signs leading off away from the stream. Without hesitation, but with a great deal of caution, Syllke followed the signs as they led him farther away from Denval.

[Daroes Murphy]

Murphy landed across the stream, with a grunt. The man bent down and grabbed a sturdy branch with one arm and his sword with the other. "Hey! That's cheating!" Murphy yelled. "No such thing my boy, in a fight everything is legal." The raspy man said with a smile. The man jumped over and swung his branch at Murphy's feet, Murphy jumped just in time. The man was expecting that and swung upward catching Murphy between the legs. Murphy fell out of the air very ungracefully and landed on his stomach. Murphy stayed on the ground half crying half moaning. "This," Murphy gasped for breath, "This will not end like the wolverine and the wolf, I won't allow it!" Murphy stood up despite the pain. Sprinting at the man just about to strike he felt a sharp pain just above the kidney. Murphy dropped his grandfather's kriss and looked down. "You," Murphy's vision wen't black.

"No this story will not end like the wolverine and the wolf, in this version, just the wolf dies." The man said with a grin. The man grabbed Murphy, pulled out the small dagger was jabbed, and flipped him over his shoulder and started to carry him off. Making sure no blood was dripping off his back onto the ground the man stuck his finger in the wound Murphy had. Murphy screamed in his black out state to the pain. "Oh, it will be over soon my boy." The man said with a laugh.

It seemed forever before Murphy woke up, but when he did it was night and he was tied to a post by chains. The wound was done bleeding but it still was tender to the touch. Murphy stood with his arms behind him, he surveyed the small camp seeing nobody not even the man but he knew that he was near, he could smell him. "I smell you old man, where are you." He stated coldly. Murphy waited and watched always turning his head slowly and planned, he never moved his head drastically. "I know you know where I am, the real question is where are you." hatred in every once of vocals that left the Kelvic's lips.

After along time the man still hadn't appeared so Murphy sat and waited and waited and waited, but no man showed. Slowly Murphy got tired, to tired that his eye lids couldn't stay open and Murphy once again fell asleep. When Murphy woke again it was around midday and the man was there with a fire going and everything. Murphy sniffed the air and could smell it, his mouth watered uncontrollably and he started fighting the chains that kept him where he lay. "It's good you've waken up." He said tauntingly in Murphy's face. You are lucky you strapped me to this post or else I would tear you apart." The Kelvic spit.

"I'm actually surprised of you Kelvic, not screaming your master's name last night, it was a pity, I was looking forward into killing him." He said sadly.

[Legion]

Moderator Intervention Good evening, Denvali. Here’s the deal. Murphy, you need be aware that it is considered extremely rude to hijack a thread; and by hijack I mean to twist a thread into wild, dangerous and poorly constructed tangents without prior discussion with the other player involved. Fortunately for you, Syllke is incredibly patient. I, however, am not. It is also very much against the rules to self moderate highly skilled NPCs without express permission from a moderator. As no self moderation request was issued, I am going on the assumption that the NPC bandit is of middling to lackluster ability. However, your CS would not support defense against any breathing bandit for more than maybe a minute. Your play must reflect the skill levels on your CS and remember that trying and failing is perfectly acceptable. Syllke's CS would also not support a defense against this NPC, which brings us back to why hijacking threads is heavily frowned upon. You have dragged a PC into a situation that they are not capable of handling and would very likely result in their death. You have done all of this with no fair play conversations with the other player. We understand that you are a new player and new players will unintentionally break rules sometimes. For that reason, I have given you the benefit of the doubt. Please review the Rules, especially the section on Moderation as well as the NPC article before continuing. Syllke, in the future, you need to contact the appropriate moderator for your domain when issues such as these first arise. Please give heed to the chain of command. AS or DS of Domain, RS of Region, Founder. Bypassing the AS or DS of a domain can cause problems as well as result in tasking an already busy moderator with unnecessary assessment and delegation. Ruling Due to the extreme inability of the bandit, he trips over a rock and falls into the fire. Having hit his head in the process, he proceeds to burn to death without a sound. The stench of cooking flesh fills the air with every billow of smoke which, combined with Murphy's screams can easily lead Sylke to the scene if he so chooses. Murphy, you are still tied up. There is nothing worthy of looting. Feel free to contact me with any questions. Defend yourself and write on.

[Syllke Skyglow]

As Murphy yelled out for the fourth or fifth time, Syllke eased a bit further out from under the scrubby undergrowth towards the make shift camp. Warily, he stepped out fully into the cleared space, keeping an eye on the prone figure, whose head continued to spit and sizzle in the camp fire. The stench was appalling, but Syllke ventured close enough to prod at the man with his boot. He saw the charred gash in the temple, which confirmed what the Vantha has seen transpire a chime before. From his vantage point, hidden back amongst the trees, he hadn’t been able to tell if the accident was going to be a lethal one. He was afraid that the man might come to and get up, though the burn would have been an awful one in any case. That he had fallen over the rock and tumbled head first into the fire had been an unexpected blessing for both Syllke and Murphy. Since the evening before, Syllke had been in an agony of indecision. He had followed the trail of the unknown captor who had appeared so unexpectedly to snatch up Syllke’s Kelvic friend, and seen the villain tie the boy up and make camp for the night. Syllke had then been torn between running for help of some sort, and staying put, in case the man tried to hurt Murphy. There wouldn’t have been much the young artist could have done to intervene - he didn’t even have a weapon, other than his eating knife. But he could not have just stood by and let Murphy come to harm. So, he had stayed, all the time thinking that he should fly back to Denval as fast as his legs could carry him, and tell the guard and beg them to come help. Now, it being obvious that if the man had not already breathed his last, he soon would, Syllke turned quickly to his friend. It took a moment to get Murphy loose, and a longer few minutes for Murphy to get enough feeling back in his numb limbs to be comfortable with walking. Soon enough, though, the two had left the camp behind, Syllke anxious to get the Kelvic to a healer for a look to make sure there were no serious injuries. Along the way, there would be non-stop speculation about who the mysterious abductor was and why he had been after Murphy – a simple wolf Kelvic with no money, no valuables, and nothing that would be of any great worth to anyone. FINISHED