FSE

Furry search engine

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It took Chiaria almost half of an hour to work up the nerve to ask the merchant - her new master - the question that had been burning in her mind since they had gotten into the wagons.

"W...where are we going, my lord...?" She trailed off, hesitant to continue - afraid to offend the merchant.

"Ah! I was wondering if you were ever going to ask!" The merchant smiled widely, seeming genuinely pleased that she had asked the question. "Would you like to tell her, perhaps, Kenneth?" He asked in a rather sly voice, glancing sidelong at the massive armoured giant - Coldheart - seated next to him.

With apparently no response incoming from the warrior, the merchant spoke again. "No, of course you wouldn't, you still hate her kind, don't you?" He chuckled, as though the answer had been expected all along, and then continued in the tone of a friend. "Well, then, since our friend is apparently not in a talkative mood, I will simply have to tell you myself!"

He paused for a moment after this, no doubt to catch his breath and collect his thoughts, and then went on in the voice of an instructor.

"For you and the others, it may as well just be a change of scenery - we are going to my estate for the time being, where we will rest, recuperate, and plan our next trip. And, you will meet some of my servants and staff!" He paused another time. "We will not remain there for long, of course. A day or two at most. We must be prepared to leave quickly. The life of a merchant - or the servant of a merchant - offers no time for dallying."

Chiaria nodded slowly and began to sit back, but then another question occurred that she felt it would be better to ask now, rather than later.

"How long do you suppose it will take us to arrive at your estate, my lord?"

"Hmm..." He seemed to ponder this for a moment, glancing around the wilderness. "Assuming we do not get caught up by anything, it shouldn't be more than a few hours longer from here. So relax, my dear! Enjoy the scenery - it is quite beautiful in this area, is it not?" He smiled at her.

"It is indeed, my lord..."

Evidently, the merchant - a man named Gardin Chenin, she had learned along the way - knew the area quite well. It took only another hour and a half for them to arrive at the magnificent estate.

The main building was a massive, sprawling affair built in the style of a castle, reaching up into the sky above with massive spires and grand towers. Fountains, statues, and flowers artfully littered the area in front of the manse, creating an open courtyard of extraordinary beauty. A lake spread out to the east, glittering brightly in the midday summer sun.

The only thing detracting from the overall beauty of the place was a strange little building sitting next to the castle.

It was no more than six or seven feet tall, and perhaps five feet of flooring on the inside. It was made of some strange, rough material, painted or dyed a bright blue-green colour and trimmed in pale grey, with a rounded roof - from the same material - and an inset door of the same grey shade. There was a small crescent moon shape thrown sidelong on the door, something made of a paper-substance painted bright, lime green resting within the hollow shape. Perhaps it was a sign of some sort?

As the wagons pulled up to a stop in front of the great castle, Gardin jumped out, headed towards the odd little structure. After a moment's hesitation and exchanged nervous glances, most of the others followed him towards it. The others, of course, simply lurked awkwardly by the wagons to wait for them.

"What in the hells is this thing?" Gardin demanded angrily, circling the building with his hands clasped tightly behind him. "This was not here when I left. So what is it doing on my property?"

Now that they were much closer, Chiaria could, in fact, see that the crescent moon symbol was indeed some manner of sign. The green material within bore the simple legend of "Unoccupied" in plain white text. What could that possibly mean? Was this structure abandoned? Was it empty? Or did it mean something else entirely? Perhaps it was a false cognate of some form, from an arcane or foreign language.

Kenneth - Coldheart, that was what she felt fit him much better than his given name - simply stomped up to the door, slammed it open, and walked into the interior - an interior which, Chiaria could see, did not match the size of the building.

The inside was larger than the outside.

How was that possible? Was it even possible? Was she seeing some sort of optical illusion? Or was it an actual illusion? Magic. That was the only possible answer she could give for this disturbing turn of events.

She realised with a start that all of the others had already stepped into the impossible room, and the door was slowly closing. She darted forward, managing to slip in before it shut completely.

The room was a massive place, almost thirty feet by thirty feet, and furnished with old stone tiles on the walls and ceiling. The ground bore, surprisingly, lush green carpeting. Despite the impossibility of it, she had an intense feeling of being deep underground.

There were various shelves and counters running the walls of the room, and numerous stone tables had been arranged on the open section of the room. What seemed to be a bar or merchant's counter - almost a miniature stall, really - occupied the area around a large curtained-off alcove, and a pedestal holding a book was stuffed into one corner.

Almost every flat surface in the room, with the notable exception of the floor, was covered with piles of arcane devices and technological devices, with mundane-looking items of normal life occupying space next to artifacts and relics the likes of which Chiaria had never seen. Overall, the room was a very hectic space, and, so it seemed, the home of another merchant.

The others - except, seemingly, Kenneth, but she supposed that, given his terrifying nature, he probably didn't have a soul, so it didn't come as a surprise - were equally awestruck by the rather ridiculous interior of the unassuming building.

A man appeared out of the alcove, pushing aside the curtain to do so, grumbling all the while. He wore strange blue pants, a black vest, and a white shirt, with a piece of cloth tied around his head. His hair, which was pure white, was tall and came to a strange, flat top.

"Hrn? Oh! Customers. Huh. First ones of the day, then." He spoke in a gruff, raspy voice that suited his ragged appearance rather well.

"Who in the hells are you and why are you on my land?" Gardin demanded of the strange man.

"Who? Me? I, sir, am Ralph, fine vendor of better goods!" The (apparent?) merchant proclaimed.

"Well what is your store doing on my lands?"

"What? I didn't know that the trade square was owned by anyone." He paused. "I am in the trade square, right?"

"No, you're not! You're on my estate!"

"I am? Am I? Well. Another thing gone wrong, it seems. I see. I'll offer you a discount on my goods until I can get this fixed, then! Anything in particular you're looking for?"

"I'm looking to get you off of my land! How can you not know where you are, anyway?"

"Why, I teleport my store, of course. Admittedly, I sometimes go off course and end up somewhere unintended. Like in the mountains. Surrounded by Orcs. Bloodthirsty Orcs. With axes. That was unpleasant. Aaaand sometimes there is a hitch in the spell's weave. And something bad happens. Such as that poor fellow who lost his eyes."

"He went blind?" Chiaria gasped.

"What? Blind? No! I said he lost his eyes. There's a difference."

"If he lost his eyes, he's still blind!"

"No, he could still see perfectly fine. His eyes just weren't attached. That's all." The merchant (and mage, apparently) smiled cheerily at her.

"So, what do you have here, anyway? Looks like a lotta junk." Makaz looked around critically.

"I assure you, good sir, that I have plenty of fine merchandise that would appeal even to one such as yourself!" The man nodded firmly.

"Oh? Like?"

"Like this!" He announced proudly, pulling forth a large bone from beneath the counter. "Quality wares, as I have said! I have said that, right? I think I did."

"...You patronising bastard!" Makaz leapt over the counter and tackled the merchant, and though Chiaria couldn't see most of the fight, it sounded like a violent scuffle.

Eventually, Makaz returned to the others, grumbling, and Ralph the Merchant straightened up, seeming completely unbothered by the fact that he had recently been abused by an irate customer.

"Well! Feel free to look around, customers! I'm absolutely positive you'll find something you enjoy! Well. Mostly sure. But still! Have a look. Just be a little careful about what you pick up."

"Why, do your items bite?" Makaz asked sarcastically.

"Only some of them! That's why I simply advised caution. Most of them are perfectly harmless. If it has teeth, it may not be a good idea to pick it up. Like the cannibal clock."

"...Riiight."

With Gardin's reluctant approval, the group scattered, looking around the strange building eagerly. Makaz and Zakam lurked near a set of weapons, while Des'kava wandered off to examine some finely-crafted jewelry. Toryc and Neyin wandered about together, chatting quietly and occasionally stopping as something caught their attention, and Chiaria did the same on her own, as Shaga headed unerringly for a single corner of the store.

Chiaria browsed along one of the counters, noting all manner of odd trinkets both traditional and mechanical. Soon, however, something caught her eye and she stopped dead in her tracks to look at it.

It was a long, smooth object, perhaps seven or eight inches long and three inches wide, with a strange, blunt arrow-like tip on one end and a series of buttons and cogs at the other end.

Oh gods is that what I think it is?

It was indeed. She eyed the device uncomfortably, remembering a strange experience with a similar device stolen from a certain noblewoman who had come to visit. It had been relatively pleasant, but...

"Ah! I knew one of you females would find that!" Ralph popped up beside her.

"Gah! Where did you come from?"

He looked at her oddly. "If you know what that is, and I believe you do, I'm sure you know where I come from. Humans and non-humans alike, we all have mothers, whether we appreciate them or not. But still! From your expression before, I'm willing to bet you're interested in the item on display?"

"I... uhm... I..." She stammered nervously, uncertain of what to say.

"Great! You can have it for free. I've been trying to get rid of that for some time now. Before that strange Baroness finds it again. I wonder if she ever noticed it missing... Ah well! Take it, then, take it." He nodded quickly and shuffled along, looking for someone else to "assist".

She hesitantly picked the item up and looked at it for a moment.

Are you really sure you want to keep a creepy, probably stolen sex toy lying around somewhere?

She slowly tucked it away in a pocket, glancing around as she ignored her inner reasoning. She nearly fell over, startled, as she realised that Kyarn was standing before her. He was simply staring at her, head tilted ever-so-slightly to the left.

"That was a-" He began.

"Yes! Yes. It was." She cut him off quickly.

"You are... planning on using it?"

"I... uhm, well. Yes. That's an uncomfortable question, but yes. I am planning on using it. Why?"

"After you are finished with it, might I take it?"

She stared at him hard for a moment. He didn't seem to be joking. Did that make it better or worse?

"...That offers two possibilities as to why. Either you're one of 'those' types of males, or you're obsessed with me. Neither one really offers me any comfort, to be completely honest."

"...And... neither of those possibilities are true." He paused for a moment. "I have a... mate, back home. I am sure that she would appreciate such a... device... when I am not around."

A shout interrupted the awkward conversation, stopping it before it spiraled into something worse.

"Can't you read, you big dragon-y oaf? The sign distinctly says not to touch the trophy!" Ralph announced as he hustled over towards Shaga.

The strange bronze trophy had caught Shaga's eye the moment he had entered the store. It was a carved image of the back half of a panther or other great cat, and it looked fascinating as it glinted in the half-light.

There was a sign set in front of it, which he had read. In letters that were very close together, it had spelled out a warning.

"Do not touch, or invite catasstrophy!"

_ _

He had assumed, in some dusty part of his little-used mind, that the writer of the sign had simply misspelled "catastrophe".

They had not.

As soon as his fingers brushed the shiny surface of the trophy, there was a puff of dust, and a strange mist gathered around him. From the mist emerged a very strange entity.

The back half of a panther. And it was apparently alive.

He stared at it in disbelief as Ralph continued to scold him.

"Well you'll just have to take the bloody trophy then! I can't keep a cat ass in here! Go on! Take it! Leave the store and take that damned panther with you! I always hated that thing anyway..."

He left the store, still lost in a fog of confusion, the creature following him, footsteps somehow clicking on the carpet.

Tap, tap, tap.

_ _

Chiaria shook her head, trying not to laugh as Shaga left the store with a rather disturbed expression. It was priceless, seeing something like that. This was one of the best - if, admittedly, one of the only - stores she had ever been inside, even with some of the creepy items that Ralph had on display. She hoped she would see him again.

But for now, they had to go.

The estate awaited.