bakerstreet | A not so monstrous monster?

A not so monstrous monster?

A not so monstrous monster?

A meme for everyone.

The giant, the dragon, the werewolf, even the evil looking creature that lurks in the shadows... They're horrible monsters that just want to destroy, kill, infect others, and spread evil... right?

Wrong.

The giant is gentle, the dragon just wants a friend, the werewolf only wants to sleep by a warm fire and the so called evil creature? It just wants to try and help others...

Whether they are just misunderstood, reclusive or even feared, they are not as 'monstrous' as one would think.

How to play:

It's simple. The 'monster' isn't as terrible as one might think, so that can lead to all kinds of situations.
Are you the monster? Maybe someone meeting the monster for the first time? Someone coming to try and kill the monster? I'm sure you can think of a few ideas.

1. Do Not Leave Your Top Comment Blank!
Be sure to list your preferences in your top post. Monster types, situations that you'd like to try, do you want gen, angst, fluff or something else? Plus add whatever else you may think is important.

1a. This is not a smut meme, but if you want that option be sure to note that you're open to it, and include what your preferences are.
1b. Do NOT post NSFW pictures in this meme please.

2. Monsters do not have to be 'monsters' in the classic sense. Be it werewolves, dragons, demons, cat people, fairies, mermaids or even the big guy up the street with scars and a bad reputation... They just have to be scary to someone else.

3. Have fun and respect others!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Of course Jack didn't make promises, and he didn't interfere with whatever Jim's agenda was whether he understood the goals or not. The professor was ultimately concerned that supporting the joking mood now would make it more difficult to focus on the potential ugliness ahead.

But Jack had been a military man, and a damn good one by all accounts. He knew exactly how to approach a situation where sudden deadly carnage was guaranteed to greet him. More so, Jack had been high ranking officer whose first instinct was to protect his men rather than himself. Maybe Jim was the one missing something important here.

He turned to pull Jack into an embrace, tucking his head under his hunter's chin in search of quiet comfort.

Forward momentum came to an abrupt halt. His free hand - for defensive reasons he always had one free and unburdened hand that could pull a weapon or grab another and pull them down - slipped around Jim. Jack must have snapped and snarled back his displeasure at the serious reminders, just as though he were an inexperienced boy about to go into a meeting with his father's business partners. 'Children should be seen and not heard.' How easily his cheek turned to rest against the top of Jim's head.

"You alright?" Better question, "Are we alright?"

It took several moments for Jim to realize that no, he wasn't actually alright, and why.

"It takes an immense amount of concentration for me to 'get into character,' especially a temporary one. I need to sort through everything I know, everything I've ever learned, and 'forget' most of it. If the wrong Old English term slips in, or I try a quip that only makes sense with a dry Russian sense of humor, everything goes to hell."

And Jack was attempting to provoke a reaction. Had. Not one he had wanted. Now he knew why. Jim needed quiet. Jack needed to talk, but he could do that in his own head.

Rolled his cheek so he could kiss the top of Jim's head before settling back. "Shut up, Jack," voice soft, no harshness in the blunt instruction. It was direction he gave to himself on a regular basis.

"... Or you could help me get into character. You're the general contractor CEO of a multi-million pound business that you built from scratch, have several successful contracts all over Europe, and are looking to expand into a developing market. I work out of Delhi with an accounting consulting firm, helping European entrepreneurs navigate the perplexing local laws and acting as a language interpreter."

He switched to Hindi. "How is my accent? Bad, but not too bad, I hope?"

"Bad, but understandable."

Sounded like Jack was a miniature Bechtel. Bechtel was a several billion pound company, but it was how they started. Had done some courier errands for them when he was a kid, safe because he was a diplomat's son. He secretly helped move millions of pounds of bonds for the US's former Secretary of State Shultz, then president of the company. The associations helped him be able to picture it, what his goals might be. To become a big enough of a concern to receive a buyout offer, frankly. A man who did that would be rough around the edges, someone who at one time operated a bulldozer, but had slowly gotten out of hands on and was trying to be a manager.

Jim switched to English that would be much more at home in America than Britain, and put on a pleasantly formal expression.

"I'm sure it's obvious by now, Sir, that I'm much more at home in the city streets than the less populated areas. Perhaps I should have followed your example and found myself a sturdy pair of boots for the site visit?" Jim was still wearing his sandals, after all, and though he was quite adept navigating all manner of terrain while wearing them, a bean counter would be much clumsier.

Finally, he let go, but was still standing way too close and looking at Jack way too fondly to match the character. "It shouldn't be much further, I would think?"

"The myth over toe amputations while wearing steel-toe boots probably stopped you, no doubt," gruffly.

Rubbed his nose against Jim's and then the contact between them ended as he straightened. Consulted his inner clock and senses, an hour was not a far distance, especially not at the pace they had set. "Never is with you."

"I'm sorry? Toe amputations?" Jim's character had never heard the myth, and his broad smile wavered a little with naive trepidation.

Pretending to be a little lost, Jim had the two of them circling around the tiny village to approach the house from the side of the cow pasture. The fence was rope through holes drilled in wooden posts, three across each section going up to shoulder height, though at the far edge the bottom two ropes had been torn apart. No cows were in the pasture at the moment, they had been ushered into the earthen cow shelter until the fence had been repaired.

What was left of the tawny cow's carcass had been dragged to a corner of the enclosure. A middle-aged man and two boys were working on digging a hole to bury it, wiping their foreheads in the midday sun.

"They're not expecting us until supper," Jim whispered, skulking while trying not to look like he was skulking. He watched his hunter, waiting for the initial evaluation of the scene.

Inhaled. The sweet scent of cattle was overcome by the scent of fear expressed in released urine. Not uncommon for herd animals to empty their bladders in preparation for running, lightening the load as it were. A tiger could have easily leapt the fence, a child could have climbed it or slipped through. Why eat the cow here and risk getting caught? From what he could see, the carcass was torn apart like an animal had done it.

"Were the owners away?" If so, the dog must have been killed or locked up to prevent it from making a fuss. Doubted the feral children would have done the second.

Edited 2016-07-18 20:39 (UTC)

"We'll have to ask." Jim waved, walked up, and greeted the man in his accented Hindi, ascertaining that yes, this was the Sengupta house. Having met under these circumstances, it was only natural that Jim show concern about the scene in front of him even before making formal introductions.

Jim held out a hand to indicate Jack. "Mr. Olmstead is a professional builder, he has a good way of doing this sort of thing. Maybe we can ask about the best way to mend the fence? Do you see how he's already looking it over?"

Switching to English, which the natives understood but only vaguely, Jim addressed Jack. "Mr. Olmstead? I was just telling this fine gentleman here that you might be able to help with repairing the fence. I'm sure they will be grateful to you, and we could get to business in a better mood?"

The fiber rope had been shredded clumsily, likely with some combination of claws and fingers. There were small tiger prints and small human prints trampled all over the ground, it would take some close scrutiny to sort them all out.

Often times a child, usually a boy, was assigned to guard animals, with or without a dog. The shifters would not have spared him either.

"Of course. Many hands, light work," the polish that could shine on his RP accent was faded and lazy. Splice in a section with knots on either side of the posts. Could reproduce the already existing technique. The repair would give him a chance to look closer at the prints before too many others trampled over them. Inquiring, "Provided you have the rope?"

Jim managed to shepherd both boys over to the fence, one section away from the damage, to help with the rope splicing. Jack should be able to get a good look at their feet if he wanted to. While the father was off rummaging around for more rope, Jim started chatting with the boys obliquely about the events of last night.

The most Jim managed to get out of them was that the incident was definitely not their fault. There was no noise last night, that cow must have died suddenly and the other cows must have kicked the ropes until they broke in their agitation, then some swarm of scavengers came in through the hole to eat the cow and vanished before dawn. That must have been it.

If any human or dog had gone missing, or been found injured or dead, no one on the scene seemed to know about it. All of the talk was about how sad it was to lose a cow.

Yes, a cow was worth much more than a human or a dog combined, a fact not lost on him. Gear was set down out of the way and gloves pulled on. Jack bent, hands on the rope, unthreading it from the post as he examined the ends. To have the hemp caught in his teeth was not something he would wish for. The sensation of it drug across a tongue or even his fingers would be rough and likely to braid against flesh unused to such a thing. The dusty footprints of feet and paws were considered, and where they led away behind him. Turned to glance over his shoulder, to note bent grass that told of their careless passage.

Pulled a blade and cut the rope back from the broken section, leaving enough to be knotted off from the post prior.

"Who was guarding the cattle?" asking bluntly.

The two boys, startled at being addressed directly, pointed at each other and started to argue strenuously about whose turn it had been.

Jim, who was standing behind them, shrugged minutely. As far as he could tell there was nothing more to it, but Jack was really the one who had a chance to examine the physical evidence.

"Pax." Italian, which Jim would a high probability of understanding, but no one else around them, came out of his mouth, "Neither of them are dead. That is all I wished to know."

Really wanted a closer look at the cow. Wild creatures would find a way to dig it back up. Perhaps another tiger that evening would be cooperative.

Jim stayed out of the way and kept his hands clean. Four working on the fence, especially with two of them squabbling, was more than enough.

"I'm sure they'd like help digging, too." The professor spoke English, being helpful by being unhelpful. It would give Jack a chance to examine the scene a little more thoroughly.

Smelled them here, which meant that Jim could too. Felt it in his bones, or perhaps that was the tiger's bones, either way, the discomfort was real.

English: "Yeah? Sure."
Switched back to Italian: You just want to see me with my shirt off again.

Grabbed a roll of duct tape from his pack and reached for the end of the rope, wrapping it with the tape like the tip of a lacing. Threaded it through the bottom hole. A little difficult because of the rope from the other side was already in there, but better managed that if the end had not been taped.

In Italian, "You'll take such a flimsy excuse to strip." Back to English, the accent morphing smoothly as if he was just continuing in the same language. "I hate this hot weather."

Then a switch to Hindi, and a polite offer to go find everyone something to drink. Let the locals think that Jim was hiding nothing more suspicious than whining.

Off he went towards the modest main street of the village, to see what he could find out in the pursuit of refreshments.

In the meantime, the farmer gamely tried to thank Jack for all his help in his halting English.

From finishing the repairs to the fence they moved to digging the hole. Kept his English simple, pigeon, as it were. Said that he was happy to help. A few yeses and other simple phrases. The trouble with a cow, muscle stripped from it or not, it was still a large thing. Wondered that the bones and hooves were not being boiled down, but as that was beyond his supposed conversational Hindi and definitely beyond the farmer's English. Perhaps it had been a favorite beast. And yes, the three tigers had been all over it.

By the time Jim got back with a half-dozen (rather expensive) bottles of Coca Cola, everyone else was inside and talking over fresh tea and light lunch. Jack was a big hit with the whole family, including the shy four-year-old girl. The professor immediately, and subtly, took over the conversation. The pretext of casual business was easily and quickly dispatched, and when Jim started making excuses for cutting their meeting short and heading back to the city early the family wished them well. After all, feeding extra people would be more of a burden than the coldly official business attitude warranted.

After saying their goodbyes Jim turned to Jack and muttered, "I've got all the information we can get, here. Let's go." He led Jack directly to the main road, smiling and waving at the people he'd spoken to that happened to be outside, and ducked off into the woods at the first safe opportunity.

Although aimed for younger children when done in one language, Jack and the girl had played a simple game of name that body part. Eye, aankh, mouth, munh, ear, kaan, etcetera. She would tell him what it was in Hindi and he would repeat what she said then tell her the English word. She was reluctant to cease the game as they had moved on to other objects, much like Eye-Spy.

Gear hefted and settled on his shoulders, Jack dogged after Jim. Looked for the signs of the tigers and children. Had the rains been more recent it would have been an easier task. Dust told clear enough tales. If the edges of a print, sharp or crumbled, indicated how long passage had been made.

"Anything odd in town?"

Edited (words) 2016-07-19 19:37 (UTC)

"Naked children spotted in the woods, ran like hell when humans approached or they wouldn't have been noticed at all. A few dogs whining excessively two nights ago, villagers investigating found nothing amiss. Speculation about wild animals, no deep concern. Someone says there's definitely tigers living nearby but they don't come near the village."

He glanced further into the woods. "This is several kilometers away from the earlier 'incident' a few days ago. They may or may not have cleared out of the area by now."

"Being smaller, they're semi-full. Left as long as they were with the cow, they ate much it." Inhaling to catch their scent. "They would be tired and napping, but not sleeping in the stuffed to the gills manner.

Hadn't expected the 4-legged shapes to run through the village. Even the shifters knew that tigers would stand out in a village. Young naked children, on the other hand, would be a near common sight. Feral children on the other-other hand -
you counting on additional limbs now?
- would be and had been noted.

"Looking at a map, are they headed towards something? Or are we looking at a random wandering pattern? Just following wildlife corridors?" Not that the corridors were as formal as some he had observed, overpass greenbelts or an underpass trail alongside a stream or river. If they kept heading north, they would run into the drylands that were nothing like the jungles they were raised in.

That was a question Jim didn't know how to answer. "Let me show you." Pulling out his mobile, he called up a Google Earth map of the immediate area. The screen was way too small for this purpose, and even though they had the fully-charged laptop with them Jim tried anyway.

"Here's the Tomb of Kali's Kitten, here's the direction we took the older ones and where you stopped with them. The first known incident was close to this village, here's where we are now, and here's the path where the naked children were seen."

Random. Completely random, they must have crossed a major road at some point and might have followed a small river for part of the journey, but there was no regard for steering clear of, or gravitating towards, humans or prey animals or existing habitat.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject