#and what it's like for ed's half of the crew to coexist with him after everything that happened in the first 3 episodes

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

see the thing about ofmd is that i love me a good long rambling meta post, but i have kind of a hard time making them for this show because i went into it knowing i'm not really the target audience — i'm queer but in a romance-indifferent aroace way and while i occasionally enjoy comedies, they're not my preferred genre — and so most of the time when i start analyzing the writing or the character arcs or whatever my conclusion is that i can't reliably tell what was or wasn't a good narrative choice because i, like season 1 izzy hands, would have preferred ofmd if it was in a different genre. (which isn't to say it should have been in a different genre, just that i'm not the best at assessing comedies on their own terms)

[hollowpages]

Tyr the Wanderer (Commission)

The following is a commission of a client’s OC and his friend’s OC. Some swearing is within and veeery mild sexual stuff.

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Tyr the Wanderer

It was a cool morning - clouds covered the sky entirely, and the air was chilled by a soft wind, but it didn’t look like rain. Not yet, at least, to the eyes of Tyr, as he strode through the woods alone, dressed in a dark cloak that covered his hulking form. Cold weather didn’t bother him TOO much, but, he wanted to be smart and prepared given the nature of everything that had happened recently to him and his people. His tribe…

Tyr sighed to himself. He was a large man, a giant standing at 6’7, with a build worthy of someone so tall. A beast of a being, with a hulking greatsword on his back, all of which together cast the image of someone your average person would think twice - perhaps even thrice - before messing with. That suited him just fine, since he wasn’t looking for trouble right now anyways. He was looking for work, a means to help his family and the remnants of his tribe, the friends and extended family he felt obligated to work for.

Tyr kept on going, silent and focused. He was heading to a town named Siriene, where he hoped to find some work.

Siriene was a decent-sized town, a community town where traders would go through rather frequently from what Tyr had heard of the place. On one side, it was a farming community, with cattle, horses, sheep, pigs, and so on, while on the other side was a mining community with several large caves within walking distance. And of course, there was a mountain region relatively close by - Siriene sat in the perfect spot for two different types of towns to coexist together without a problem.

Tyr knew more about the surrounding areas, in fact: the Darkstone Mountains, a large, rugged set of peaks, sat near Siriene, an oddly lush location filled to the brim with gems, iron, and other resources that the miners could go to safely, with several cave-like pathways that led to different locations around the mountain. And on the other end of Siriene, a series of flat, fertile land, a nameless place that stretched on rather far until it reached two intersecting rivers, so it made sense to use for farming purposes.

Tyr hoped either side of this bustling town would hold some work for him, enough to make coin and perhaps even get some food and other supplies for his family.

It was necessary, now more than ever, after his tribe and home had been attacked. So many of his friends, and even his poor father, had been slain during that attack…

Tyr came from a tribe called the Eternal Sun, a mixed race tribe that lived together in peace and harmony, rarely causing a fuss with surrounding towns or cities, and blessed, so was the legend, by the the God of the Sun HImself, Pelor, who oversaw the construction of their village, Tyr’s parents had always taught him and his siblings.

But having Pelor’s alleged favor did not protect them forever. Tyr had come to see that the hard way when the Black Bear Ravagers, a ‘tribe’ not unlike theirs, came to their village one day, seeking out dragon scales, something Tyr’s people had been collecting for ages. At first, it seemed like a simple negotiation, a trading of goods - this tribe, led by a Tiefling named Desdayne, wished to trade for the scales to utilize them for crafting purposes. But…

Tyr’s lips pursed as he remembered it all.

Desdayne had smiled when the trade started, all friendly and affable, but the moment the scales were brought out, when he saw WHERE the dragon scales were kept, he lashed out a blade with his tail and impaled the man bringing the scales to him through the throat with a dagger. That man had been Tyr’s father. From there, chaos.

Desdayne’s ‘tribe’ attacked. Men and women armed to the teeth and prepared for an assault. Tyr fought, as did his sisters, his mother, and many of his friends, but they were no match for the combined might of Desdayne’s forces. Their village was set ablaze, Tyr and his friends and family were wounded, and many of their own were killed. They fled, escaping while Desdayne stood triumphant, laughing with his murderous crew.

Tyr stopped walking for a moment and closed his eyes. How long ago had that been? Weeks? Months? It felt longer, but he could not quite recall, not fully.

He lost his father. Countless friends. And he lost a brother, too, from injuries after they had managed to escape. Tyr’s tribe - his family - was cut down to size. Only a handful of them had survived the attack, and those who survived had scattered into the wind to recover. Tyr and his sisters had done the same - one went north, another went southeast, while he went west, the goal being to meet up soon when they had money, enough money to put their funds together and buy some land or a house, something.

Tyr shook his head and cleared his mind of this, then continued on. Siriene wasn’t far.

When he got there, he was greeted by, to no surprise, a bustling town. People were out and about, businesses were open, shops had lines, and there were plenty of people casually chatting with one another. Tyr paid them no mind, even when some paused to eye him - he was used to that, so it didn’t bother him much at all.

He considered looking for work now, but instead opted to find the local park - he knew they had one from the rumors - and eat first. Then, off to look for actual work.

Mercenary work was often the easiest for a man of Tyr’s stature. He and his sisters were giants, each standing over 6’5, and with their burly physiques and skill sets all leaning toward warrior work, it was just easier that way to fight for a living. Tyr didn’t enjoy it as much as his sisters did - one loved the challenge and the thrill of it, while the other had a bloodthirsty streak that she thankfully put toward good uses rather than outright slaughtering. Tyr, though, preferred to finish things off without needless violence. He was good at that, though he knew how to fight just as well.

Tyr soon found the park, a beautiful place that seemed oddly where the farmland and the stoneland came together, with enough space for people and families to sit together and eat or for children to play.

“This is quite a nice park,” Tyr said to himself, noting all the families and friends having picnics throughout the area. He cracked the smallest of smiles. “...seems like a great place for a rest.”

He sat down and removed his cloak, letting it fall onto the grass behind him, then lowered his hulking greatsword so it sat beside him. Beneath his cloak, he’d been carrying a large sack of provisions, which he let fall to the other side. In it was water and food. He mused to himself that he hoped he’d be able to find something to do for coin in this town as he began to quietly eat - though he was large, he was very careful and deft when it came to all things mannerly. He took small bites, and he was always aware of everything he did. It was hard not to be when you were so damned big.

He sat there for a little while, eating and just taking in the sights. He tried not to think about the doom and gloom he’d felt for a long time now after the attack on his tribe, nor did he try to linger on the pain of those he lost. Those the others lost.

However, his placid musing was interrupted when he heard something - movement - behind him. And then, he felt someone’s hand creeping toward him, reaching for his coin purse. He was no fool, and though he was only half-elf, that was enough for his hearing to be strong enough. He reacted swiftly, shooting his hand out to grab onto the smaller hand trying to rob him.

“Trying to steal the gold of a poor man?” Tyr said, nonchalant despite the attempt of theft. “I have next to nothing on me. I’m a bit insulted.” He tsk-ed, then turned while holding the hand firmly, curious to get a look at the person who had decided to be brazen enough to steal from someone HIS size. “Let’s see…”

He turned and was greeted by the sight of an attractive Tiefling woman with deep-red skin - a gorgeous shade, if he said so himself - with long white hair. She was toned and, while short compared to someone Tyr’s size, not ‘tiny’ in any regard for a normal-sized humanoid being. She was also decked out in numerous bits of gold - her horns had gold covers on the tips and gold rings on them, and her ears, nose, and tail were pierced with gold jewelry. That, and she was dressed in black armor that fit her figure rather well.

A rogue, Tyr saw.

“Do you mind unhanding me?” the woman asked, looking only slightly irked by the fact Tyr had her wrist in one hand. “I would very much like my hand back, please.”

Tyr cracked the smallest of grins and let go. “Well, I must say, you’re quite the attractive thief. Or would-be thief, as it were.” He folded his arms. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to sneak up on me so easily, my dear. Dare I ask what your name is?”

She wriggled her wrist, eyeing him with a confident expression. One eyebrow rose. “Complimenting me after I tried to steal from you? You’re either a charmer or you’re wise to the tricks of my trade.”

“I suppose the answer depends on how you look at it,” Tyr replied, shrugging.

She snorted. “So you say.” She folded her arms, her expression remaining the same. “The name’s Claret, by the by. Not sure it’s any business of yours, but, there you have it.”

“And you wished to rob me, Claret?” Tyr asked.

“Obviously,” Claret replied. She rolled her eyes and waved a hand at him dismissively. “I mean, no offense, but usually bear-sized men like you tend to be lumbering oafs with little to no sense when it comes to speedy fingers like mine. I suppose I should give you props for being perceptive, so,” she gave him a small clap, “I applaud you.”

Tyr just arched one eyebrow at the woman.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Claret said. “I mean it - I do feel you’re worthy of some applause for catching me.” She smirked. “Ah, but, to the point - since you were skilled enough to keep me from picking your pocket, would you be willing to give me a hand?”

Tyr’s eyebrows knitted together now. “You want me to help you? Truly?”

“Yup,” Claret said.

“And how do I know you won’t take another attempt at pickpocketing me, hmm?” Tyr asked.

Claret’s smirk didn’t fade one bit. “You have my word as a lady.” She bowed then, with at least some air of respect and meaning.

Tyr squinted somewhat. “Hmm.”

He was not the sort of man to be fooled so easily by a woman, no matter how attractive or skilled or whatever she may or may not be. His sisters were proof enough, the two giant brutish women possessing skills he did not, and they knew it as well as he did. Still, he supposed it wasn’t like she could cause him TOO much trouble. Nothing compared to the trouble he’d already dealt with, anyways.

Tyr stood up. “I don’t know if I can trust that, in truth.”

Claret’s smirk seemed to grow. “Oh, you wound me, good sir. I assure you, I am highly trustworthy when I’ve got no reason to steal from you.”

“Uh huh.” Tyr shook his head, then reached into his coin pouch. “You know, here.” He handed her fifty gold pieces. “Take this, and leave me be, please. I don’t want any trouble.”

Claret eyed the gold, a look of surprise forming on her face. She frowned and folded her arms without taking the pieces. “Now, why would you give me gold after I tried to steal it from your pocket in the first place?”

“Well, were I a typical ‘big oaf,’ you would’ve succeeded,” Tyr said.

Claret’s smirk returned. “And I was so sure you wouldn’t hear me.”

Tyr cracked a small grin. “Well, if you’d rather not accept the gold…”

“Oh, I shall.” She snatched the gold from his hand and put it into her pocket. “I would say a fool and his gold were parted, but, you DID offer it to me. Still, next time, if I decide to give it another shot, I ASSURE you, you won’t hear me.”

Tyr gave a little laugh. “Gorgeous AND cocky, I see.”

“It’s only cockiness if it’s false,” Claret said. “I’m one of the best at what I do - that’s no boast, my giant friend, that’s the fucking truth.”

“Yes, well, anyways,” Tyr said. “I’m sure you have other things to do right now than entertain someone like me. Places to go, people to rob, and so on.” He sat back down, seeing no reason to be standing before someone her size.

Claret snickered. “That I do, handsome. Perhaps I’ll see you later, Tyr.”

She patted his forearm, then vanished when Tyr blinked.

“...did I tell her my name?” Tyr asked himself, frowning. “I don’t think I did. Curious…”

Tyr sat there for a moment thinking - he did not recognize this Claret, nor did her name sound familiar, nor did he recall ever hearing about a red-skinned Tiefling thief with long white hair. The fact she was a Tiefling did not bother him, though, despite the pain caused upon him by the man named Desdayne. His lips twitched when he thought of the Tiefling warrior, recalling the scars, the glint in the yellow eyes…

‘No,’ he thought, shoving this away. Now was not the time.

Instead, he went back to eating. The weather was still nice despite the cloud coverage, and though it was still a tad windy, it was a nice wind. Still no rain, nor did it appear to be raining any time soon from what Tyr could see. He didn’t mind either way and finished his meal before retrieving his things and standing once more. Now that he’d eaten, it was time to look through the town in full for some paying work. There ought to have been something.

Of course, as he began to search, his thoughts returned to the strange Tiefling woman. She knew his name, and she’d attempted to steal from him, HIM, of all people, despite his size and the fact he did not look like your average simple-minded person. He wondered if she was a member of Desdayne’s group. A relative? He did not know, and he didn’t want to assume that much simply because both were Tieflings.

‘Mother always told us that judging others was wrong,’ Tyr thought, glancing around at townspeople doing their own thing around him.

It helped that he had been belittled and bullied, along with his sisters, for their towering size when they were children. And their mother wasn’t tiny, either - Tyr recalled a story his mother told him of how, when she was young, she had always been fairly tall compared to many of the elves in her community, and there were some who sneered at her, some who picked on her, some who thought her stupid or freakish for her size. Oh, she had her strength and her muscle, enough to keep physical threats practically non-existent. But the emotional threats and the insults, they stung her, until one day.

One day, Tyr’s mother had enough and lashed out, using her strength and the rage one would expect from a giant of an elf, and she made them suffer for their barbs and their mockery. But she overdid it, causing more harm needlessly than was necessary. It was only after, upon being scolded for her actions - and the other elven children the same for their cruelty - that his mother had decided to never raise a hand in rage again, not against petty ire or childish teasing.

She set about to prove the other elven children she was not some giant bully nor some slow-witted fool, and this, in turn, mended the wounds inflicted. Many of the children grew remorseful for their treatment of her, and they apologized, as she did for hurting them. Friendships grew from the seeds of mean-spiritedness, and it showed both her and the others that there was no sense in judging based on looks.

Tyr kept this in mind, for he did not feel hatred or resentment toward Tieflings in general - no, he despised only the man known as Desdayne and his cruel ‘gang,’ of which there had been humans, elves, orcs, dwarves, and more.

The only thing that surprised Tyr was how Desdayne had such a diverse gang of bullies, and how he seemed to actually care about their well-being, since any who had been injured during the fight with Tyr’s tribe, Desdayne had personally interfered to save and allow them to retreat. How odd it was that a man who killed his kin was capable of caring like that. It bothered Tyr, but, he again pushed this aside. Now was time for seeking work, not for dwelling on painful - or confusing - thoughts.

Tyr wandered about Siriene for a few minutes. He pondered his possibilities as he took in the town. There was a local tavern, and multiple shops and stalls, which presented the possibility for varying sorts of work. Tyr was about to head into the tavern to start with when he heard something - it was distant, but his ears picked it up.

“Oi! Watch where you’re going, demonspawn!”

Tyr frowned. He turned toward the source of the voice, which was deeper into town, down an alley of all things. He walked down the alley without a shred of fear for his own safety and soon stumbled across a scene he knew all too well - five thuggish looking people, three men and two women, surrounding a Tiefling woman and her little child.

“Please, we meant no disrespect,” the Tiefling woman said. She held the little boy close to her, protectively, her tail swishing around. Though her tone was calm and held a note of fear in it, her eyes were dark and cold, and she looked ready to fight if she needed to.

“Then you bloody well ought to watch yourself,” one of the women said. “Fucking hornscum.”

Tyr’s frown deepened. Two of the thugs were human, the other three were elves. None of them looked like the type of people who would leave something alone, and they were all glowering at the Tiefling woman and her boy like fresh meat in needed of being cut into pieces. Tyr knew those types - natural born thugs, not a speck of morality or mercy in their fetid bodies. He was no saint, but, if he could help…

Tyr sauntered up to them, casually. “Excuse me, ma’am.” He addressed the Tiefling woman, whose eyes shot to him. “Are these petty thugs bothering you?”

The centermost thug, an elf, snorted. “And what the fuck are you going to…” He turned and actually got a look at Tyr, his words trailing off somewhat. “...do about it…”

The others noticed Tyr as well. Their reactions were similar to the man before him.

Tyr shrugged. “Well, I’m sure you have enough of a functioning brain to see I’m not without the means of fighting you. I’m sure there’s no need for that, though, is there?” He glanced around at the five rattled individuals. “I mean, I COULD just toss you around for a while, if it really has to come to that. But I don’t think it needs to, does it?”

The five of them glanced around at one another. Clearly, they were considering it, but Tyr could tell they weren’t entirely convinced. He imagined if they had the guts to do it, they’d gang up on him, five on one. Of course, such odds weren’t pleasant to consider, yet Tyr could tell from a cursory look that the Tiefling mother would jump in as well - she gave him that look, her body poised to leap to action if such a thing happened.

‘Just like Mom said,’ Tyr thought, smiling inwardly, though on the outside, his expression was stoic and collected.

“Who are you supposed to be?” the elf male before him asked. “Protector of the weak?”

“He don’t look like no guard,” another male said, one of the humans.

“Sure as shit don’t look like anyone around here,” the second woman added, another elf.

Tyr shrugged again. “I’m just passing through. But when I see cretins harassing people for no good reason, that tends to catch my attention.”

“Fucking wanker,” the first woman said. “You think you can scare us with your size?”

She leapt at him, drawing a weapon as she did. Tyr, though, reacted by grabbing her by the shirt and throwing her behind him like a sack of feathers. She smacked into a wall and collapsed to the ground, groaning as she did. Tyr hardly reacted to this, and, for good measure, grabbed the elf man in front of him and did the same - he landed smack on top of her. The other three froze up. Three against one was much better odds in favor of Tyr, and they seemed to be aware of this.

“Shit,” one of the males cursed.

Tyr cracked his neck side to side. “Wll you lot trouble this lady and her child any longer?”

The three of them scurried over to their two fallen comrades, hoisting them both up.

“No, no trouble here, friend,” the elf male leader, who seemed dazed, said.

“N-n-no! No trouble!” the female he’d flung said.

“Good,” Tyr said. “Now, be good and don’t let me catch you doing this again, to ANYONE. I won’t be so nice the next time, you can believe me on that much.”

“Let’s, uh, get on our way, gang,” the main elf said. “Lest this giant halfbreed get angrier…”

Tyr arched one eyebrow at the slur, but the five of them fled before another word could be said. Tyr watched them go, kicking up dust as they ran out of the alley and booked it right out of town. He listened for a moment before he cracked a wry grin and turned back to the Tiefling woman and her child.

“Are you two alright?” Tyr asked, slowly walking over to them.

“Stinking bastards,” the Tiefling woman said, growling under her breath. She checked her son, hugging the little boy close to her, before she stood and relaxed. “Yes, I’m alright. Thank you, sir.” She bowed to him. “You didn’t have to do that for us.”

“Ah, but, I did,” Tyr said. “What’s the use in having this size if I can’t put it to good use helping others?”

She smiled at this. “Thank you.” She looked down at her son. “Say ‘thank you’ to the nice man, sweetie.”

The boy looked up at him with big eyes. “Th-thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, lad,” Tyr said, bowing to both the boy and his mother.

“You’re so big,” the boy whispered. “And so strong.”

Tyr smiled and knelt down so he was closer to the boy’s eye level. “Maybe someday you’ll be big and strong like me, eh? But you know, you don’t need to be tall or have muscles to be strong, lad.” He reached out and pointed at the boy’s chest. “That in there, that’s where strength comes from. Be good, to yourself and to those around you, and you’ll be just as strong as me. Even stronger, maybe.”

“Okay,” the boy said softly.

The Tiefling mother chuckled. “Until then, you’re my cute little babe.” She scooped the boy into her arms and smiled warmly at Tyr. “My thanks again, sir. Now, I ought to find my wife. She’ll be worried sick if we don’t get home soon, I’m sure.”

Tyr nodded and stood up. “That’s quite fine. I should be going as well.”

“Thank you,” the Tiefling woman said once more. “It’s wonderful when my wife is proven right, that we shouldn’t assume things based on one’s race. Of course, seeing as how she’s human, that speaks for itself.” She sighed fondly as her boy snuggled up to her. “Please, if you see me again, feel free to come say ‘hello.’ And do say ‘hello’ if you see me with my wife and children. I’m sure she’ll want to thank you, too.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Tyr said.

He watched the Tiefling woman carry her son away. It was a bit strange to hear that a Tiefling and a human were together, but he chuckled to himself for thinking that when he and his siblings were half-human, half-elf in the first place. It warmed his heart to know there were other pairs out there like that - he was happy he’d helped her.

“Well, aren’t you the sweet one, Tyr?”

Tyr was startled by the voice and turned to see Claret a few feet away, sitting on some sort of ledge, a bottle of beer in her tail. She was smirking as she eyed him from the shadows - Tyr wondered how long she’d been there.

“You again,” Tyr said neutrally.

“Me again,” Claret replied. She downed the bottle, then tossed it to the ground before leaping from where she was perched to land before him. “I must admit, I’m surprised to see you standing up for strangers. I’m equally surprised you didn’t smash those shitheads’ faces in.” Her smirk turned dangerous. “I would’ve if I were your size. Granted, my style is more about speed and finesse. Dagger in the throat or the belly, get nice and bloody while I watch the life drain from their scummy eyes.”

Tyr shrugged. “I saw no need for violence. I figured a show of strength would be enough, though I admit, the fact none of them were bright enough to use their numbers against me did wonders. For one to attack without provocation, and without even thinking, showed me how little a threat they truly were.”

“I still wanted to shank each of them,” Claret said. She paused and belched, then grinned. “Ahhh. Much better. And excuse me.”

“How ladylike,” Tyr said playfully.

She snorted. “Coming from a man who just tossed a woman like that? You ought to be ashamed, putting your hands on a lady.” Her smirk returned full force.

Tyr rolled his eyes. “You know, I grew up with two sisters. They were both as big and strong as I was, and we roughhoused and fought all the time. While I would never go and strike a lady without reason, I know better than to not defend myself against a woman who intends to do me harm or worse, regardless of her size.” He shrugged once more. “Besides, I have seen plenty of women smaller than I who could have killed me. Quite a few of them tried. Some even came rather close…”

“I’m mostly giving you shit,” Claret said. “Far be it from a woman like me who robs and backtabs almost religiously to try and pull the ‘gender’ card on someone.”

Silence fell. Claret studied him for a long moment, an odd look in her eyes.

“As much as it pains me, I do have to be sincere in offering you some praise,” she said after that moment passed. “For you to defend a Tiefling and her child like that… I don’t usually expect non-Tieflings to give a fuck. I’ve seen it far too often in the past.”

“I see no reason not to,” Tyr said. “One’s race does not signify whether they are worth being helped in my book. Besides, I’m a by-product of the union between an elf warrior and a human healer, as are my siblings. And, if that weren’t enough, one of my sisters has a female Tiefling for a lover, while the other has a human male. So, there was no reason for me NOT to help.”

Claret folded her arms. “I heard that woman say she was married to a human, too. Strange. I don’t know that I like it. But, I suppose I shouldn’t judge.” She sighed. “Here.”

She dug into her pocket and pulled out the fifty gold pieces, extending her hand out to Tyr.

“Take your stinking gold,” Claret said. Her tone softened. “After seeing that display of kindness toward a Tiefling you didn’t know, I have to painfully admit I feel a bit bad for attempting to steal from you. I assumed you were just a sweaty oaf, and now, I’ve had to eat crow twice over. My ego is displeased, but, I’d rather you take your gold back.”

Tyr looked at the gold coins in her outstretched hand and considered for a moment, then shook his head and gently pushed her hand back. “Keep it. I can always earn more gold by getting work, which is the reason I came here anyways.”

Claret furrowed her brow. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Tyr said. He offered her a warm smile. “I insist. Take it for yourself. Perhaps then you won’t need to rob from anyone for a while, hm?”

Claret stared at him for a minute or so before she put the gold away. “Well, aren’t you the charitable sort?” She shook her head, then reached out to touch his forearm. “You’ve been quite kind to me, big guy. I’m not used to that sort of thing, so I do appreciate it. I’ll see you around, Tyr.”

Tyr was able to ask how she knew his name, but she vanished the instant he blinked, leaving him alone in the alley.

“How the hell does she do that?” Tyr muttered to himself, before the answer presented itself rather obviously. “Hmph. Of course. Bloody rogues.”

That always seemed to be the way with rogues - one with the shadows, skilled in speed, stealth, and popping up when you least expected them to, then vanishing all the same. It was annoying to fight, but, he supposed he was thankful she wasn’t trying to kill him. Rogues were difficult to deal with when your skills were primarily focused on strength and endurance. Rogues were faster, smarter, and far more cunning, after all.

But for now, Tyr was left to his own devices, and left the alley, heading back to the tavern to ask around for work. And he was in luck - Tyr was able to strike up a negotiation with a farmer currently at the tavern to relax. The man was looking for someone to assist him, and Tyr was both capable and eager to work for some coin.

A few hours later, Tyr was heading to the local inn - he’d stopped there to book a room for himself with the coin given to him by the farmer, a down payment for the work Tyr promised to do for the man - when Tyr spotted none other than Claret once again.

Only this time, instead of the crafty Tiefling sneaking up on him, she was running from several guards. Tyr blinked a few times, surprised by the sight, but without thinking, he moved forward and slipped into an alley - the very same alley he’d helped the Tiefling woman and her son, then seen Claret previously.

Tyr waited, biding his time until Claret’s footsteps grew louder. With a burst of raw speed one would not expect from a man of his size, Tyr reached out and snagged Claret, then briskly brought her deeper into the alley to hide. Of course, Claret did not know it was him, as she bit down into his hand and used her tail to wrap tightly around his arm.

Tyr shrugged the pain off and stopped once he was certain they were hidden, at which point he lowered the hood of his cloak. Claret saw this, recognized his face, and released both her teeth from his knuckles and her tail from crushing his other arm.

“Thank you,” Tyr said. He shook his hand off and rubbed the other arm with it.

Claret spat to the side. “Your hands stink.”

“I was at a farm earlier, demonstrating my skills to a farmer,” Tyr said plainly. “I intended to wash them at the inn I’m staying at.” He blinked. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”

She scowled at him. “I could’ve handled those louts, you know.”

“I don’t DOUBT that,” Tyr said. “But even so, this is much simpler, don’t you agree? What’d you do to them, by the way?” He chuckled. “Try to rob one and got caught?”

“Please,” Claret said. “You catching me is a once in a long, LONG time event, my friend, and you’d best not forget it. Though it sounds like something I would do, I wasn’t trying to rob them, at least not at that moment.” She folded her arms and scowled. “No, I was walking along, minding my own business when they began making jeers at me. One in particular was rather nasty with his tone and his tongue. I think he was drunk.”

“Mm.” Tyr frowned. “A guard drunk on the job? Never a good thing.”

“No, especially when the drink reveals him to be a racist piece of shit,” Claret said. “I can take sexist remarks in stride because I know I’m often better than the fuckwads who use them. But racial remarks? No. Any who derides my Tiefling blood, or any Tiefling, will be met with my full ire. Of course, being guards, I couldn’t exactly threaten the assholes. So I flipped them off.” She shrugged. “You see how that ended.”

“Strange,” Tyr said. “That many guards acting so despicably?”

Claret sneered. “Oh, sweet Tyr. You must not have much experience in this rotten, stinking world we live in. Plenty of people in power are disgusting creatures. These guards aren’t outliers in the slightest, TRUST me on that one.”

“Surely there are just guards here,” Tyr said. “Men and women who value Tiefling lives as much as any other, who would defend you or stand by your side.”

“Some,” Claret said, her tone semi-reluctant. “I have met and spoken to friendly guards in this town, and others. And while I hate to say it, not EVERY rich person or upper class person is vile. Hell, I’ve met plenty of rich Tieflings who were racist toward others - I thought I would be fine with that, but I quickly learned it pisses me off even more.”

Tyr smiled a little at this. “So what did they say?”

“The one that started the fuss called me… well. Let’s just say the end word rhymes with ‘runt,’ and we’ll leave it at that,” Claret replied. She waved a hand. “It’s done now.”

Tyr’s smile dropped. He was about to speak when he heard the guards finally run by the alley, running down the street, likely thinking Claret had gone and turned a corner.

Tyr sighed. “It’s done, for now.”

“I suppose,” Claret said. “But, uh. Thank you, again. You’ve helped me twice today.”

“Twice indeed,” Tyr said with a chuckle. “Not that I’m counting. Rather than run off, though, perhaps you’d be willing to come with me to the tavern? Surely a single drink with me wouldn’t be such a bad way to repay my ‘charitable’ acts as you call them. And I, in return, would get to share a drink with a gorgeous woman like yourself.”

Claret giggled. “Such a charmer.”

“When I wish to be,” Tyr said.

“You flatter me too much,” Caret said. “Very well. A drink sounds lovely. Though perhaps you’d like to wash your hands first before touching anything else, hm?”

Tyr chortled. “Of course.”

The two walked together toward the tavern, linking arms like a cute couple would despite being relative strangers. It was quite the sight to see, naturally, such a big man and a Tiefling together like that, but besides a few stray glances, most people didn’t bat an eye at it, and once they entered the tavern, they received hardly any attention.

Claret found them a table in the corner that was out of sight from a good chunk of the tavern patrons. Tyr first washed his hands, as he’d intended to, then ordered six large beers for each of them - twelve altogether, which he could drink without any trouble.

When he returned to the table where Claret was, she whistled at the amount of booze Tyr was carrying. “Hot damn, that’s a lot of beer for just one person. I do hope you’re planning to share all those?”

He nodded. “Of course, I’m not THAT big a drinker.”

She folded her arms. “How’s about we make this more fun, then? A drinking match? Granted, I’ll wipe the floor with your sorry ass, handsome, so if you opt to back out, I understand why.” She gave a hearty laugh. “What do you say?”

“Stop right there,” Tyr said. “It’ll be me that stands as the victor for that, Claret.”

“Ha!” She snorted. “Please. As if someone like you could out-drink ME. Just because you’re big doesn’t mean you’ve got a bigger or stronger stomach, my man.”

“You’re on, then,” Tyr said. “But, let’s take our time, why don’t we? After all, what’s the point in having a drink at all if we don’t at least get to know one another a little better.”

“Very well,” Claret said, gesturing for him to pass the booze.

The two clanged glasses and began their first drink each. Tyr drank slow, feeling no pressure to win a simple contest, especially when he was, though quiet about it, confident in his ablities to drink more beer than Claret. Their size difference was part of the reason for this reassurance, but the other was that he was already used to drinking heavy amounts - he and his family had done it all the damned time!

His mother once said that she had grown up drinking ale, mead, and beer like normal beings drank water - she was so good at it that she could drink almost half a brewery’s worth of alcohol and still be awake and aware. This apparently was passed onto her children.

Claret downed half of her mug in a few gulps, then belched with pride. She wiped her mouth, then noticed some of the scars Tyr had on his face, arms, and his chest through the black fur vest he was wearing.

“So,” Claret said. “How’d you end up with all those scars?” She gestured to all the scars Tyr had on display. “And that vest. Is that bear fur?”

Tyr nodded. “It is. Years ago, when I was a bit younger, there was this nasty little bastard who liked to kill some of my tribe’s cattle. A few tried to chase it off, but they wound up injured because this was no ordinary bear - it was a Murkscale Bear, if you’ve heard of those before.”

Claret made a face. “Murk… scale? That sounds like you just pulled it out of your ass.”

“Trust me, they’re very real,” Tyr said, his tone serious for a moment. “They’re a very rare breed, born from magic about five hundred years ago according to what I’ve researched. Seems there was once a sorceror who accidentally wound up using magic to merge a bear and a crocodile into a single creature. The murkscale was the end result, though the name was chosen much later on, when that creature bred with normal bears.”

“Strange,” Claret said. “What does this so-called murkscale look like?”

“Murkscale bears are named such because they are very dark-furred,” Tyr said. “Theirs is more of a murky gray color, with hints of green, but there is also the fact it has scales. Its stomach is covered in dark scales, while its backside is all fur. They’re large and brutish creatures, bigger and hungrier than normal bears. That’s what makes them more aggressive, that and their big jaws. Suffice to say, not an easy beast to deal with.”

“You had one near your tribe?” Claret asked.

“There was a den of them, but, until this time, they’d left us alone,” Tyr said. “This fella was the first to be a bother because he ventured too far, ended up close to where we were staying at the time. And after the damage he caused, I stepped in to deal with him.”

Claret frowned. “Okay, I call bullshit. You’re pulling my leg.”

Tyr laughed jovially. “Maybe a tiny bit.”

“The truth, then?”

“It was a murkscale bear, that much is true,” Tyr said. “And I did deal with it. It was just, it took time because every time a group of us went to its den, it was long gone, as if it knew when to expect us. The only reason I was able to deal with it is because I actually went out one night when it was alone, hunting. We fought, and the end result is these scars and the vest you see before you.”

“It’s just fur, though,” Claret said, giving the vest a glance over. “I see no scales.”

Tyr grinned and removed the vest, opening it so she could see - the inside was indeed made of scales, very smooth, dark scales. Claret looked utterly boggled by the sight.

“Holy shit,” Claret said. “These things exist?!”

Tyr laughed again. “They do! I’m not fibbing about that, I assure you.”

“Seems you’ve got a badass streak in you, don’t you?” Claret asked. “But you aren’t alone there.”

She grinned and removed the armor covering her left forearm, revealing slash-like scars, three in fact. She then removed the glove from her right hand, revealing a single, very large scar in the center on both the back of her hand and her palm.

“Damn,” Tyr said. “How’d those happen?”

“The first few years of my trade were rough,” Claret said. “These,” she gestured to the scars on her left arm, “came about because I got careless during a break-in I was performing with an accomplice. We both got sloppy, made mistakes, and when we were caught, there was a fight. And this?” She gestured to her right hand. “When I was a child, I got a sword through the hand by an asshole guard captain because he believed I had stolen something I didn’t.”

Tyr winced. “Ouch…”

“I lost feeling in my hand,” Claret said. “Had to train myself to use my left hand for everything. My hand eventually recovered after several years, but the scar remained. Fortunately, it’s given me a few perks, like being completely ambidextrous. Though, between you and I, my left-handed fighting skills are far sharper, far faster, and far deadlier.”

“Then it’s a good thing we aren’t fighting each other,” Tyr said, chuckling. “I have to say, you’re quite a tough lady.” He winked. “Now then. Would you like to start our match, officially?”

Claret blinked a few times, glancing at the half-drunk mug in front of her and the one in front of Tyr. Tyr chortled and waved a hand over to the barkeeper, who had a woman come over to refill both mugs without a word. Once she walked off, Tyr smiled.

“Smart,” Claret. “And sure.” She cracked her knuckles. “Like I said, Tyr. I’m going to wipe the floor with your hulking ass. You don’t stand a chance of winning.”

“Such a cocky lady,” Tyr said, laughing to himself. “I love. Well, ladies first.”

“Ha. Not only big, strong, and charitable, but chivalrous? Adorable.”

Claret grabbed the newly filled mug and downed the beer inside with barely any trouble, guzzling it down in a matter of seconds. Tyr was impressed, but not enough for a big reaction - he’d seen quicker drinkers in his time. Claret then set the mug down, sighing.

“There,” Claret said, and she burped once, giggling to herself. “Your turn, handsome.”

Tyr didn’t waste any time in throwing his drink down his throat, then set the empty mug down, gently. He dabbed his face with a napkin and grabbed the next. “Your turn.”

Claret snorted. “It appears I’m going to need to up my game. Very well then.”

She grabbed both of her remaining mugs and proceeded to drink one after the other, not even bothering to stop to breathe. Tyr was finally taken aback by the display, staring in disbelief at the fact a woman of her size could drink so much alcohol in such a short amount of time. Claret then slammed the two empty mugs down and let another burp rip from her mouth, loud enough that it rang throughout the bar.

Some of the patrons, men and women, either laughed or raised their mugs to her, or both at once. Claret took a bow, then smirked at the befuddled Tyr.

“Bloody hell,” Tyr said. “Seems you’re more than just a gorgeous woman with an ego and an earnest supply of skill, but you can hold your liquor, too. And an impressive set of vocal cords, it would appear.”

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” Claret said.

Tyr laughed and proceeded to up the ante by doing the same, only with a bit more speed. He had been surprised, sure, but he wasn’t SLOW at drinking. Oh no, not when you had a mother and two sisters who drank like it was going out of style the next day.

Claret scowled, but nodded nonetheless. “Seems we’re at a bit of a draw, then. I’d say we should stop there. No need to get so shitfaced we spend all our gold. Or worse.”

“Agreed,” Tyr said. “I think we should call it quits, like you said. I’d rather not end this night wasted and poor, or thrown in jail.” He laughed heartily. “I’m actually fairly placid and aware when I drink too much, though, so I doubt I’d be TOO much of a problem.”

“I’m worse,” Claret said, giggling. “I lose the filter on my mouth AND my ego.”

“Funny, I’m not surprised,” Tyr said.

Claret scoffed and flipped him off. “Don’t get cute with me, big man.”

“Never!” Tyr said, grinning wide. “But, on a more serious note.” His expression softened. “Tell me something, Claret. It’s already night. If I may be so bold as to ask, would you like to come up with me to my room?”

Claret’s eyes widened, and she stared at the giant half-elf for a long moment of genuine silence - well, silence between them, not the tavern as a whole. Slowly, her features smoothed over, though her cheeks seemed to grow darker. It was hard to tell given her red skin, but it looked like from her eyes that she was blushing, much to Tyr’s amusement.

“My, my, Tyr. That’s mighty forward of you,” Claret said with a giggle.

Tyr smiled. “You know, I’ve come to see that in many cases, it’s better to take the initiative where it presents itself - so long as WHEN it presents itself is at the right time. Had we met any other way, or perhaps if you had a different personality, I would not be so bold in asking such a question. And really, when I say ‘my room,’ it means whatever we decide it to mean. The answer is entirely up to you, my dear, not me.”

“I appreciate that you would give me such a choice,” Claret said. “Some would assume, and from those assumptions, make a fool of themselves. I’ve seen it. I’ve… done it, too.”

Tyr waved a hand. “It’s your decision, on all fronts.”

“Very well,” Claret said. “I would be happy to share a room with a man such as you. Though I admit,” she leaned forward, grinning, “I’m not sure I’d be able to conquer a mountain of a man without some trouble. Do you promise you’ll be gentle?”

He smiled. “There’s no need to fear, Claret. Though I am large, I tend to prefer giving the reins to whomever I bed. Dominance is not my forte, and it has never been, unless it deals with the matter of protecting, defending, or surviving.”

Claret laughed. “Well, then. That suits me just fine. Shall we?”

The two left the table of the tavern and went to the inn, fortunately located right beside the tavern as an almost-but-not-quite separate building. They went up to Tyr’s room, and after some simple bonding, they made love. It was a passionate act between them, not perfect by any means, but pleasant enough for both individuals.

Tyr gave Claret control, as he had said, and she took full advantage of this. Yet she was a genuinely good lover, gentle, if firm, in most ways. Afterwards, they fell asleep together, ending the night on a high, soothing note.

Night soon came to an end, and morning was around the corner.

The sun peered through the curtains of the room. Claret was the first to stir of the pair, the Tiefling rogue slowly coming to. Her first thought when her mind woke up was that she was next to someone else. The second, more aware thought, was one of sheer panic when she realized she was still in bed with Tyr. That was… different.

Claret was the type of woman who sought what she wanted and GOT what she wanted in most cases, and that included the subject of sex as well. Sexual encounters were common for her, often with men, but every now and then, a woman if she were in the mood. Yet the one thing that never changed was the fact Claret always left when the deed was done, usually early in the morning. She would leave, often with a note that she wrote the night before, in most cases, her being genuine in sincerely thanking them for a good night, for treating her well, and wishing them all the luck in the world.

It was a preference, of course. A lifetime of trust issues made growing attached difficult to anyone, so when she chose someone to give her body to, she felt it was only right she give a tiny piece of her heart to that person. But this… this time, she had forgotten to write a note, forgotten to wake herself up early in the morning. Now here she was.

“Well, shit,” she muttered to herself.

Tyr wasn’t like the others. True, she had met and made love with some fabulous, decent, well-rounded people. She could not deny it, nor would she, even with her pride disliking the notion. Yet Tyr… Tyr went above and beyond those people. There was just something about him that compelled her not to freak out and just leave here and now.

She sighed and peeled herself out of the bed. Tyr’s big arms were, well, big, but not hard to break from. Claret shrugged out of her nightwear and instead got into her armor, taking her time rather than rushing as she might’ve otherwise.

Tyr stirred at that point, the big man yawning and stretching. Claret was amazed at how oddly dainty he was in his actions. For such a bear of a person, he was very soft-spoken, very gentle, very… careful, she supposed.

Tyr sat up very gradually, at the moment Claret was dressed. He rubbed his eyes. “Leaving so soon, Claret?”

“Something of that nature,” Claret said, casually.

“And here I thought we had something special.” He laughed at this, a soft, flirtatious laugh, though his face was still sleepy, and hs eyes half-closed.

Claret hid her smile. “We do, I suppose. But I’m not ready yet, not for anything serious.” Her smile faded somewhat. “I don’t know when I will be. If I will be.” She shook this off and walked over to kiss Tyr on the cheek. “You are a… surprisingly splendid man, Tyr.”

Tyr eyed her for a long moment. “I never did ask how you knew my name, you know.”

She chuckled. “Ah, that. Well, one of the few beings in this world I trust, one of my very few friends, is a Tiefling. And she happens to be the betrothed of your sister, Freya.”

“Ahhh. You know Korva.”

“I do,” Claret said. “But, maybe next time, we can talk more. I have to go. There’s just so much stuff to steal out there. So many gems and jewels and riches galore - I can’t get filthy stinking rich if I don’t get them, now can I?” She giggled, then, agan grew somber and turned away from him. “Please, don’t try finding me. I’ll find you first, big guy.”

He blushed a little. “I mean, I’m sure you will. I’m hard to miss.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Claret said, giggling again. “Take care of yourself. And…”

Silence fell.

“And…?” Tyr said.

Claret sighed. “Don’t wait for me. If you find someone else… don’t wait for me.” She turned back to smile at him. “Until next time, Tyr. If there is a next time.”

Tyr blinked, and she was gone in a flash. He frowned and glanced around, yet there was no sign of her. The door was untouched, the windows in the room untouched, and Tyr could not sense or see any trace of magic.

He laid back onto the bed. “Until next time indeed, you gorgeous rogue.”

---