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Finn padded through the quiet street. Rain fell in a light drizzle, showering gently on the hard-packed but rapidly softening soil. The mountainous former-man enjoyed the smell of the rain, and tonight it helped cover up the powerful stink of stagnant barrel water, pungent leather work and the metallic twinge of tools used throughout the small town. He'd made this walk several times before, stepping as quietly as possible around buildings and squeezing through narrow (for him) side alleys on the way to his destination. It had been a long time since his last visit, but the way was simple and very little had changed. Not much ever changed in Rockview.

Finn enjoyed the silence and encountered only a single soul on his way. Despite hugging the wall of a nearby building as much as his bulk would allow, the approaching figure swayed slightly in the road and they nearly collided. The man looked up in time to sidestep and called out roughly.

"Oi, watch'it! Ye big… uh." He lifted his head with a ready-made obscenity on his lips but stopped when his eyes met an ursine snout. The bear offered a quick tooth-less smile and a wave of his large paw.

"Hello, Jacob." He said.

The man grinned back and tipped his hat quickly before placing it back on his balding head to cut the rain. He made no apology, but simply carried on as if they had been engaged in friendly conversation.

"Evenin' Finn! You gonna go help that old bearded curmudgeon reach the high shelves again?" He chuckled and shifted his weight. Jacob didn't wait for a full response and backpedaled slightly before turning his hips and continuing in his original direction. Finn knew it wasn't necessarily out of rudeness that Jacob kept his stride. The werebear attempted to be friendly but he wasn't exactly a common face in town. A handful of the locals knew him, such as Jacob, but there was lingering alcohol on the man's breath. In his hand was also the faint glimmer one of Madame Maia's key's. He had other things on his mind.

Finn replied quietly as Jacob walked away: "More than likely." He continued on his way and quickly reached a small building with a small sign that stated it was the Bleeding Rock Tavern. He slid back behind the building. The rain had picked up slightly and was more than a drizzle now. The edges of his fur began to dampen, but Finn felt no cold. His fur coat was thick enough that he was mostly shielded from the elements.

His paw rapped against the back door with a "THUNK THUNK THUNK". After a moment of silence and continued pitter-patter falling from the sky, the door opened a crack. Finn crouched down in anticipation. Instead of emerging nose first, a large bushy beard won the race over the threshold. It was followed by a grunt.

"Whaddya want, Woodsnout? I got custermers in 'ere and no one ta tend bar." The dwarf spoke with a thick accent, but Finn had no idea where it might be from. He didn't worry about such things.

"I was hoping you might have a pint or two of your honey mead, Mister Rorik. And you wouldn't have come to the back door if Lydelia wasn't at the bar for ya." Finn smiled.

Rorik wiped his stubby hands on a dirty apron across his chest and grunted. Finn knew he hit the nail on the head.

"I'm happy to stay out here. Wouldn't want to disturb your visitors." Finn offered. "And I'll come help ya move your new stock that you get shipped in two days for those pints, if you'll take that as payment."

The dwarf glanced up toward the heavens and grunted again before turning around, but leaving the door open.

"Come, Finn. Seat yerself in the back corner. It's jus' the regerlers tonight. I'll boot ye if it gets busy."

The large werebear ducked his head under the casing and attempted to gently close the door behind him with paws that engulfed the handle. He made his way over to the corner the dwarven bartender had indicated and moved several of the chairs out of the way, creating a space where he could sit down on the mostly clean floor. He was still easily able to use the human sized table.

While the bar was not busy per-se, there were enough patrons to keep both Rorik and Lydelia, his young daughter, busy with orders. Mugs were filled with liquid that varied in color from clear to amber brown.

While Finn watched them work, a young human man with a large tankard turned, raised his glass to Finn, and slid away from the bar. The man walked over to the corner that Finn had situated himself and pulled up a chair.

"How's it goin' Finn? Haven't seen ya in a while. You get tired of living out in the woods?" He lifted the mug to his lips and drank deeply. The man's clothing was simple and smelled earthy. Bits of grain and powder clung to his clothes. Finn had never learned the man's last name, but knew he was the son of the local miller. One of the few members of town who initially approached Finn of his own accord, Ezekiel was more curious than afraid in the presence of an uncommon beast.

"I have a fine home, Ezekiel, and I have been busy training. Is your father still doing well?"

At that moment, a young dwarf made her way over with two pints and set them on the table in front of the werebear with a thud, stopping the conversation. A small amount splashed from the lip of both mugs, leaving a frothy trail sliding down the edge.

"Pa says ye be expected here in two days time fer movin' the delivery. If ye drink more, he'll have ye collecting lumber to replace some o' the beams in 'ere." She didn't wait for a response and turned away quickly.

"Sounds fair, Lydelia." He responded. He looked back to Zeke and wrapped a paw around one of the mugs, lifting it up without using the handle. The two clinked their beverages together and drank deeply.

Zeke let out a breathy sigh and picked up where they had left off. "I told you before to call me Zeke." He jabbed. "Pa's doing well. He gets tired a little quicker nowadays, but we can't complain." Finn nodded at the comment and continued to drink.

"What have you been training, Finn? Climbing trees and fishin' not enough for you anymore?" The young man smirked and turned to face the bar. He set his drink down and began to mime out the casting of a fishing rod. He waited until Lydelia turned back to their table and then began to "reel in" his catch. She scowled from across the bar and turned away. Several other patrons scowled as well, but Finn wasn't sure if it was due to Ezekiel's antics or his own presence.

"Ah, well. You can't catch 'em all." The man was oblivious to the other looks they had received and laughed, returning to his brew.

Finn sipped quietly at his brew. Despite his friend's cordial nature, he was not welcome by all in town, and he was intent on not causing trouble for Rorik. The old Dwarf had never been overly friendly, but he offered drink and occasional company in exchange for work. Despite Finn's preference and desire to live outside of any local township, companionship was always welcome.

As he began to answer the young, drunk man's question, the front door opened and a slim, darkened figure walked through the door. He wore an overcoat and a wide brimmed hat that covered most of his face, and he carried very little with him. While Finn couldn't really throw stones, the man did not appear to be from Rockview. The door was open only briefly, but it was enough time for an errant gust of wind to blow through and carry with it… something that Finn couldn't recognize. The man appeared human, but smelled differently. It was the scent of earth, sweat, and.. rot. Finn shook his head and scrunched up his nose, but the scent was gone. Maybe he was wrong.

The man made his way to the bar and ordered a small drink: it was clear and simple. He turned his eyes to a young woman waiting near the corner, seemingly bored. Finn presumed her night had been slow, but he recognized one of Mistress Maia's keys attached to her waist. The werebear drank heavily and turned his attention back to Ezekiel. It was none of his business.

"I met a man, here in town actually, and he…" Finn started but was unable to finish before Ezekiel interrupted.

"You met someone! Finn, you dog! ….er, bear." Ezekiel whooped. Rorik and several other guests turned their heads with a look of disapproval.

Finn held up a paw. "Hold on, hold on." He tried to quiet the man down.

"He's been teaching me to… do some things that had been difficult for me. I've been practicing centering myself, finding control, and staying balanced." Ezekiel seemed confused.

"I've been practicing discipline and meditation. He's a monk, Ezekiel, and I'm not looking for anyone. He stayed with me for a long time, but he's recently moved on. I've been working on continuing in his steps and I'm making progress, but it's slow."

Ezekiel stared over the rim of his mug that was nearly halfway empty. Finn took a large gulp of his own and polished it off while waiting.

"So you're… a monk now?" He asked.

Finn laughed gently. "I don't know if I would describe myself as such, but it helps you to think of it that way… sure."

Ezekiel took another long sip. "Does that mean you have to be celibate too?"

Finn reached a long furry arm over and cuffed the man gently. "Why? You lookin to sleep with a bear since you can't get any from the barmaid?"

Ezekiel held out his hands in defense and nearly dropped his mug.

"Hey, no! I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" He protested. Ezekiel slid his chair backward and stood up with a slight wobble. He grinned at Finn and held up a finger.

"Hold on, I'll be right back." He said.

As Ezekiel moved away, Finn quaffed the remaining drink in his second mug and set it down. The oddly scented man had the rapt attention of the young woman from before. His hand was around her waist tightly and she was practically grinding in his lap, putting on quite a show for the other guests. Finn didn't mind. At least it kept their attention elsewhere.

Suddenly the man stood up and the young lady at his hip grinned wildly. Some coin was left on the counter for the Dwarven family's drink and the two stepped out the front door. Finn noted the rain had stopped, but a peal of lighting shot across the sky as they left, illuminating the floor with an odd shadow. For some reason it seemed bigger than it should have on the man, wider in a way.

While Finn was pondering what he had or hadn't seen, Ezekiel returned with several shot glasses and a small bottle.

"Oh, no Zeke, I can't accept that. I have no coin and am already in debt to Rorik." He said.

Ezekial shook his head, dismissing the bear. "This is on me, Woodsnout. Everyone else here is so dreadfully boring. Drink with me."

Finn watched carefully as the man poured two shots and slid one across the table. Ezekiel held up his small glass and waited. Finn eventually raised his paw to meet the other man's. There was a small 'clink' and they both downed the strong drink.

---

Finn stepped out of the back door to the Bleeding Rock Tavern. He turned to wave to his companion, only to find Ezekiel had laid his head down on one arm and appeared to be sleeping at the table. Rorik wouldn't like that, Finn thought. He chuckled to himself; the boy would be fine.

He stepped out into the dark night, feeling warm and slightly flushed from the drink (had Ezekiel been buying the good stuff?) and began to follow the same path he had taken into town. It would be a long walk back in the late night hours, but it would help him sober up, and he was certain there would be no beds available for him. Having a drink in exchange for labor was one thing. Bedding down was different entirely.

Finn shuffled through the alleys, ducked his head under awnings, and made sure to remain visible as much as possible despite his chosen path. He didn't want to frighten someone and cause a scene. Luckily, the only ones out at this hour would most likely be the drunks or drifters.

While his step was even and steady, his head was light, but Finn eventually made it back to the main thoroughfare that would take him out of town. He recognized the space where Jacob had been either too focused on his task or too drunk to hold conversation. As he had noticed before, the rain had stopped but the air was thick with humidity and electric lights danced across the sky on occasion, lighting up the path for the briefest moments.

When Finn was almost out of town, he passed by a sign for Madame Maia's. It was not labeled as such, in fact the sign simply showed the image of a rose with no writing to designate it's purpose, but everyone knew it's use. The smells were overwhelming. Sex, sweat, perfume, cum, heat and rot emanated from the building. Finn's nose twitched. Rot?

He looked back at the sign. There was that smell again. The one that had passed over his senses from the man at the tavern. It smelled wrong and misguided. Something that he couldn't place. As he stood there, the scent began to grow until it was overflowing.

Finn looked up to a second story window that was slightly cracked. A muffled scream cried out, and his senses burned. It was a sound of passion he rationalized. It came with the push and pull of sex, with the sweat and perfume and…

The sound occurred again, but more strained. It wasn't pleasure this time, if it had even been so before. It was unmistakably terror. There was something wrong.

Finn's senses screamed at him. He knew the sound of that terror, and his brain finally clicked on the rot, that stench that flowed with it. It was similar to the stench that hung in the air the day he had been sentenced to living in this body.

His paws began to move before his brain. He threw open the door and careened inside the building, slamming his shoulder into the door jamb as he moved, unconcerned as it cracked against his frame. He pushed through a small living area where there were two petite women and one older gentleman. The three screamed, including the man, but Finn ignored them. He followed his nose, tracing the scent of that rot as it carried him up a set of stairs that groaned under his weight. Shouts began to rang out, sounds of those who had previously been lost to passion now throwing on clothes and attempting to find out what was happening.

Finn followed his nose to the door of a room. It was the same one that he had been standing below not a few moments before. He crashed through the door and it burst off it's hinges, splintering inward from the force.

In front of him stood another beast. It was dark furred and sinewy. It's claws were long and sharp with flecks of blood coating the tips while it's hanging gut heaved. Finn immediately felt nauseous as he realized the belly was full of something. As his eyes pulled upward he saw the face, with blood dripping from the fur, teeth that were yellowed and discolored as they gnashed in front of the window. Flecks of tissue flung from the mouth as it growled at Finn. It's paw pressed against the window that was already ajar.

There was a shout from behind Finn. His ears swiveled to the sound but his eyes rested on the bed. He stopped mid-turn and ignored the sound. In front of him was the same woman from the Tavern. She was no longer whole, with only pieces left scattered and dripping across the bed. There was a gurgle from her throat at the life left her eyes and Finn was left with a corpse. She had been chewed on and swallowed in the same way he had seen before in his past, just by a different creature. The canid nature didn't matter to Finn. Ursid, canid, he didn't care. The evil that he had just witnessed had torn this young woman's life from her ruthlessly and he was left for the second time in his life staring at the wreckage.

There was a scream behind him and a thud as a body fainted in the door way. Finn turned, numb to the sound and discovered Jacob standing there next to an unconscious woman, pants halfway up around his ankles, shaking in fear. To the man's credit he didn't faint. Instead, he screamed exactly what Finn expected.

"MURDERER!".

He disappeared, retreating to safety and Finn heard a door slam shut, locking behind him.

The resounding sound of cries stretched out into the night as lamps were lit and voices began to gather. Finn turned to see the window open and empty.

He sat in the room, knowing he could say nothing. They would not believe him.

He calmed his feelings but was unable to remove the sense of numbness that he felt in this trapped body. Finn sat down on the floor next to the window and placed his paws in his lap. He thought back to his teacher and hoped he was making the right choice.

It didn't matter. Armed men were already at the door. Finn let them approach.