[More writing fun times with Massani, my D&D character.]<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Whispers of a standing lion spread through the towns as a baseless rumor. It spun through the ears of travelers, who spun the tale with greater exaggerations, with ten foot claws, with fangs dripping in blood. So great did the tale grow, that by the time it reached the ears of those who took it seriously, it was not one lion hunting along the roads. It was an entire tribe, with numbers that fluctuated depending on who whispered around the campfire, who pointed to the distant reflection of an animal\u2019s eyes in the woods. It was here that a man of great importance, with a wealth and love for exotic wares, took pause as the guests at his dinner table told him of the story. It is here, that this man of money looked to the large bhastan pelt hung up on his wall like a tapestry.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Bhastan, he was well aware, were the lions who walked on two feet. They were the lions who spoke, who crafted weapons. Who were as sentient as he was, who rarely left their home of Moravia far to the North. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Who were hunted for their pelts and sold to the highest bidder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhere,\u201d he asked, his dark voice cutting through the talk that cluttered his table like the spread of wild boar and farm-fresh carrots and vegetables laid out before him, \u201cpray tell, was this group headed?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Though his table stretched to take up the majority of the dining hall, all fell silent upon hearing him. The man at his left cleared his throat. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWest, my lord. But I would not put much stock in tales such as these. They are traveler stories, and are often exaggerated.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cQuite,\u201d said the woman several seats down on the lord\u2019s right. Her red hair spilled down her shoulders and her vibrant robes identified her as a mage of the Chalice. She bit into one of the carrots. \u201cI would not worry, my lord. As a member of the Chalice, I will ensure your safety this night.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThank you, Lady Sabine,\u201d the lord said. \u201cI am certain there is nothing to be concerned over. But I look to you and your\u2026 companions<\/em> to do an acceptable job.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt will be our honor to serve, my lord,\u201d Sabine chimed, dipping her head pleasantly with a smile. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Dinner concluded nearly an hour later. Those that were not human from Sabine\u2019s strange band of hired swords – which were many – ate in a separate room, but were then beckoned to do their job. They were to protect the mansion while the lord slept, and while his guards aided in the patrol of the grounds. As Sabine and her comrades bid him a good night, he stopped the woman and allowed her companions to leave. He lingered in the dining hall, before the dark pelt of a bhastan, the mane splayed out and beautifully tended to. The fur had hardly a scar on it, which truly was a rare sight to see. The pelt of sunset sand with a mane of blackened earth drew the eye, and as he reached out, he ran his fingertips across the soft hairs on what was once this creature\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDo you know much about the bhastan?\u201d he asked, looking to the mage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cLittle, sire,\u201d she replied, her eyes shifting from the pelt to him. \u201cI know they are a hardy race from Moravia, but I\u2019m not aware of many that travel South. I would not worry much about these rumors.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt is\u2026 concerning, however,\u201d the man murmured. \u201cTo have these rumors spread while I hold in my house a pelt of one of that kind. Are they smart enough to hold grudges? To try and hunt me down?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThey are a smart race, sire, but why would they hunt you, and not the people who took the pelts originally?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The man scoffed. \u201cThat brute? He\u2019s been doing this for years, mage. I do not believe he will be caught now. I would be an easier target. Maybe a warning to future buyers?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou met those who sold you the pelt?\u201d Sabine asked, her brows furrowing. \u201cForgive me, sire, but I believed\u2026 well, the black market is not something\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The man laughed. \u201cYou did not see me buying such a prize myself? I had to be assured of its quality. It\u2019s a young bhastan, you know. You can tell from its size.\u201d He gestured to the pelt. \u201cI\u2019ve seen a few in my time. I\u2019ve owned a few. But eventually age and use will deteriorate them. I\u2019m always glad to see a new one hung up on my wall.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cQuite,\u201d Sabine said, her voice a little more curt. \u201cAnd the people who sold you this\u2026 you\u2019re familiar with them?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cOh, yes. We\u2019ve done business a few times before. I really <\/em>wanted the white pelt one – it had a few scars, sure, but a white <\/em>bhastan is truly a sight to see! But the mage among them had taken its eyes and teeth and claws. Not much good with that.\u201d He shook his head, frowning. \u201cThe mage was new, actually. Certainly damaged the price they\u2019d get on the white pelt without any of the cool features a bhastan holds. I think the pelt went off to some other bidder in another city. I\u2019m not sure. They mentioned a delivery.\u201d He sighed. \u201cSaints was that pelt gorgeous, though. I am curious, though, do bhastan parts make good materials for–?\u201d He turned. Inches from him, a bhastan loomed at just over six feet tall. The smell of water-soaked earth and pine spilled from her fur and a dark mane just started to grow out around her ears and jawline. Scars laced her body, cut across her left cheek, dug into her left side, bit into her arms and neck. Her yellow eyes did not look to him. Instead, they remained tearfully on the pelt he had mounted.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBy the–Lady Sabine!\u201d the lord cried, scrambling back. The bhastan stepped forward, tears spilling down her cheeks. \u201cLady Sabine, stop this–\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The bhastan opened her mouth and from it, a mournful, horrifying cry crashed through strained vocal chords, a cross between a dying animal, a scream, and some sort of strangled roar. Fear stabbed into the lord\u2019s chest and he scrambled out of the way, rushing from the room, fleeing his mansion, and running head-long into one of Sabine\u2019s companions. A monster of a man with horns bursting from his skull, scars across his flesh, and a gaze that dripped with murder. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The bhastan\u2019s cries echoed twice through the mansion. With careful hands, she pulled the pelt of her brother free. She held him in her arms, the formless pelt limp in her arms as she carried him from the room and to the outside where the others waited, gathered around a growing fire. Flames danced across the forlorn expression that haunted bhastan\u2019s face. She bent her head down and rubbed her cheek against the shapeless one in her arms before, with a breath, she tossed him into the fire so his soul would be free to join their family in the afterlife. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Over the crackling of the wood, no one heard the lord screaming for mercy.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The pelt of sunset sand with a mane of blackened earth drew the eye, and as he reached out, he ran his fingertips across the soft hairs on what was once this creature\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2122,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[5],"tags":[617,696,699,695,618,616,694,636,693,158,157,12,698,720,132,97],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/02\/pexels-photo-2220337.jpeg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p27tjX-yd","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2121"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2121"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2121\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2177,"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2121\/revisions\/2177"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2122"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2121"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2121"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2121"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}