Cliff had spent the last week feeling out of place.
For the better part of the last half of a year, he'd been having to adjust to the new shit he'd learned since being found on the doorstep of Oscar's house. Witches, ghosts, giant....whatevers, all of it. But he'd been managing because there'd been some semblance of normalcy, and he realized now that that was what had kept him sane through it all. This place? This place was his home on crack, where there was no facade of normal, just...
This. All out in the open. It was a lot.
And they knew. They knew about what he could do, and he was pretty sure they were considering him something that could be helpful, maybe, to their cause, but the warnings from Eliza of 'do not bite humans' echoed in his head. If he was to do whatever the hell they were going to ask of him, he knew he needed to figure out more than just shifting into a wolf to be helpful, since it sounded like they were dealing with more than just monsters he could sink his teeth into. Cliff wasn't big on cooperation, but he also wasn't big on getting thrown out on his ass and left to fend for himself.
It was why he was in the sparring area, eying the weaponry. He had seen more of this shit over the last week than he had all his life, and admittedly it was the one thing that felt like it might be interesting. Picking up a shortsword, he tested the blade in his hand and, after checking no one was near him, took a swipe, trying to mimic the shit he'd seen in movies.
His stance and technique were, unsurprisingly, terrible. That didn't stop him from trying again, because, honestly? This was more fun than he expected.
III. Questing
It'd been meant to be an easy job. A training job. Go out with the group, gather supplies, return. Cliff hadn't even kicked up much of a fuss about having to trudge along to do it, because Kirkwall? Kirkwall was so big he was legitimately starting to feel like it was stifling a bit. Fuck, if you told him he'd miss Podunk a few weeks ago, he would've called you nuts.
He felt more at home on the road. He made it crystal clear what he could do with the people he was traveling so they didn't go after him in fear if he needed to do it, and honestly, it felt weirdly good that it felt like most of them were more curious than anything.
(It probably helped that this place had...he guessed some magic users could shift into animals, so he's honestly been explaining it like than instead of being a werewolf. From what he read in the books in the library, they had the same reputation in this world as they did in his. Saying he could use magic somehow made things easier.)
And he did shift, in fact, as they got near the area they were gunning for. Walked along side them as his wolf form (which still startled some of them, much to his amusement, and he just casually kept the conversation going as he walked), because he knew his senses were sharper this way. Being a guard also meant while people did shit, all the heavy lifting and picking through remains or whatever, he could get away with literally only keeping eyes and ears on the perimeter for anything that might come at them from the treeline.
Clifford Norman | Wilde Life
Cliff had spent the last week feeling out of place.
For the better part of the last half of a year, he'd been having to adjust to the new shit he'd learned since being found on the doorstep of Oscar's house. Witches, ghosts, giant....whatevers, all of it. But he'd been managing because there'd been some semblance of normalcy, and he realized now that that was what had kept him sane through it all. This place? This place was his home on crack, where there was no facade of normal, just...
This. All out in the open. It was a lot.
And they knew. They knew about what he could do, and he was pretty sure they were considering him something that could be helpful, maybe, to their cause, but the warnings from Eliza of 'do not bite humans' echoed in his head. If he was to do whatever the hell they were going to ask of him, he knew he needed to figure out more than just shifting into a wolf to be helpful, since it sounded like they were dealing with more than just monsters he could sink his teeth into. Cliff wasn't big on cooperation, but he also wasn't big on getting thrown out on his ass and left to fend for himself.
It was why he was in the sparring area, eying the weaponry. He had seen more of this shit over the last week than he had all his life, and admittedly it was the one thing that felt like it might be interesting. Picking up a shortsword, he tested the blade in his hand and, after checking no one was near him, took a swipe, trying to mimic the shit he'd seen in movies.
His stance and technique were, unsurprisingly, terrible. That didn't stop him from trying again, because, honestly? This was more fun than he expected.
III. Questing
It'd been meant to be an easy job. A training job. Go out with the group, gather supplies, return. Cliff hadn't even kicked up much of a fuss about having to trudge along to do it, because Kirkwall? Kirkwall was so big he was legitimately starting to feel like it was stifling a bit. Fuck, if you told him he'd miss Podunk a few weeks ago, he would've called you nuts.
He felt more at home on the road. He made it crystal clear what he could do with the people he was traveling so they didn't go after him in fear if he needed to do it, and honestly, it felt weirdly good that it felt like most of them were more curious than anything.
(It probably helped that this place had...he guessed some magic users could shift into animals, so he's honestly been explaining it like than instead of being a werewolf. From what he read in the books in the library, they had the same reputation in this world as they did in his. Saying he could use magic somehow made things easier.)
And he did shift, in fact, as they got near the area they were gunning for. Walked along side them as his wolf form (which still startled some of them, much to his amusement, and he just casually kept the conversation going as he walked), because he knew his senses were sharper this way. Being a guard also meant while people did shit, all the heavy lifting and picking through remains or whatever, he could get away with literally only keeping eyes and ears on the perimeter for anything that might come at them from the treeline.
Not a bad gig, honestly.
V. Wildcard
[want this big red wolf somewhere? go for it]