faderift | I Got Better

WHO: Merrill, Wysteria, Coupe & YOU
WHAT: Let's turn into some animals.
WHEN: Don't make me look up what month this is.
WHERE: Wildervale, the Free Marches.
NOTES: Full OOC info. Please feel free to make your own top-levels.

Something strange is afoot in Wildervale.

Those who venture into the forest will sprout fur and scales, transforming into animals. The locals believe a witch to blame, but it may have something to do with the rift at the heart of the woods.

OOC NOTES:

You can choose an animal, or randomly generate one.

Animals must be native to the area (no pokemon, no dragons).

Leaving the area will return characters to human form. Re-entering will transform them into a different animal.

Characters will keep their minds, but gain new senses and instincts.

Clothes will rip or fall off.

They can't talk.

They can't use magic.

Anchors will still function in their cute, itty-wittle paws.

Please feel free to make your own top-levels for whatever you, personally, want to do.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

paw patrol

Thing is, right, that Yngvi should probably know better. And likely does. Run with a mercenary crew for the better part of your life thus far and listening to some of the locals when they refuse to go places turns out to be a wise choice. Sure it's maybe a detour out of your way but when you've nearly had your legs chomped off by lurkers that time we aren't talking about again Liadan thanks then it's better to go with it; what's three days if you get to keep your shins, ankles, even the toes?

At the end of the day though Yngvi doesn't tend to listen to whatever thing that sits on his shoulder to whisper in his ear (if indeed that thing has ever existed, he probably put it in the communal pot as a child) which is why the prophecies of childhood have come true.

Namely he is a raccoon. Stepped clean out of the clothes as a raccoon, patting himself down with hands that put him in mind of the nugs, honestly.

Speaking of nugs—is that a flash of pink? Did he have one in the pockets of the coat he wandered out of that is now roaming free of the strange creature that's no longer a dwarf?

He's off to the races, figuring out this whole legs business but you know he's not really too far from the ground than he'd usually be on a given day and the hands (paws?) seem about the same (even better if he were an honest dwarf and fortunately for all he's not that honest) as ever for feeling things out.

misc
There was a nug. Or a squirrel. Maybe it was a weasel.

If Yngvi had the words or voice to protest he would but for once he does not and instead has found leaves, the kind that are soft and wet, full of woodlice all rolled into little balls, fat juicy worms burrowing away at top speed (which isn't fast, they're worms even here) and a spider that he does shy away from because he doesn't know what that means for raccoons but this is smaller even if it's not the usual sort of spider but the small kind. Probably big enough in the face parts to do damage.

Anyway, a pile of leaves. A raccoon. No he hasn't left he's a raccoon, this is glorious, this is all he's ever wanted apparently, he can roll in the leaves, in the dirt, racing between them with the grace of a chunky raccoon with his pelt glistening, tail streaming behind him. Can't you hear that sweet siren song in the distance?

You can run with us. We've got everything you need…

In the distance, but surely gaining, there is a second raccoon.

She is somewhat slowed down by trying to get out of her own trouserleg, her clothes falling to the forest floor when she is suddenly a good deal smaller than she was a moment ago, but she is soon enough off and chasing after Yngvi with her little raccoon hands out, identifiable by the dull green glow that remains in the left. An attempt had been made to drag along one of the knives, but it had occurred to her in her determination to do so that she hadn't really considered how a raccoon would wield it when she was having such difficulty dragging it, so it remains where she left it, a foot and a half or so away from her boots.

As much as she's chasing down Yngvi, she is also sort of interested to see what happens if she blasts something with her anchor-shard out of a much smaller hand. Is it a smaller blast? Is it not? Should she definitely find out.

Turns out that these ears are even better than his own.

(Is this how it is for the nugs? For Saucisse? No wonder the kitten leaps a foot in the air then dives under the bed if he drops a trap on the floor.)

Yngvi turns and-- well that's a hand that glows because these are certainly still hands really, they're very good hands, and he's as unkempt as ever because this is Yngvi in his determination to undo any possibility of lingering Guilfoyle on his person. The leaves burst as if the blast fired but no, that's him, investigating the company; some people you'd always just know, doesn't matter what happens you'll know them even if they were aged twenty years or grew horns or turned into the same sort of forest thief as you.

Can raccoons bounce? The hand wiggles out in the direction of a dying tree that'd be of a height with a regular sized Yngvi and not this extra special fun-sized edition. Do it.

I Got Better | OTA

yngvi ota

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