I think I've gained a new best friend and protector.
Determined now to ward off any poachers or dangers, Demos stalks ahead of me with the power and strength of the bear. In many cultures, especially Native American, First Nations, and Russian cultural beliefs, the bear is everything. California's state symbol is also the bear. In W City, we have a bear mascot. And then there's the Chicago Bears.
Of course, tigers aren't slouches either. The Flying Tigers. Tony the Tiger on Frosted Flakes. "Put a Tiger In Your Tank" from that gas station slogan, I forget which one. Tiger Moms in Asia. If we're talking baseball, Detroit Tigers. Year of the Tiger. That song "Eye of the Tiger". The list goes on.
The game displays our stats, speaking of baseball. We've both been healed and gained +5 XP.
[Name: [Blaze]
[Class: [Novice]
[Race: [Common Tiger]
[Level: 2/10 [XP 25/100 STATUS: Full
[HP: 6/6 [MP: 0/0 [Stamina 100/100
[Strength: 6
[Defense: 8
[Magic: 5
[Resistance: 6
[Speed: 8
[Charisma: 16
[Luck: 6
[Skills: [Bite (Attack Skill] [Pounce (Attack Skill)] [Sprint (Skill)] [Camouflage (Skilll) [Escape Power (Skill) [Telepathy(Skill Not Yet Acquired)]
____________
[Name: [Demos]
[Class: [Journeyman]
[Race: [Common Brown Bear]
[Level: 3/10 [XP 35/100 STATUS: Full
[HP: 6/6 [MP: 0/0 [Stamina 100/100
[Strength: 10
[Defense: 14
[Magic: 10
[Resistance: 10
[Speed: 12
[Charisma: 18
[Luck: 10
[Skills: [Bite (Attack Skill] [Pounce (Attack Skill)] [Sprint (Skill)] [Camouflage (Skilll) [Escape Power (Skill) [Telepathy(Skill)]
My skills aren't too shabby, but Demos is crushing it. And his stats are right in line with where Damon's bear was in our gameplay.
Fortunately, Demos seems oblivious to my thoughts when he scouts ahead. Or maybe it's just the constant tape loop of Survivor's class 1980s hit "Eye of the Tiger" that's blocking him. He can't hear my thoughts over the music in my head.
[Partridge directly to the east.] He points with his nose toward the east, where I can see a long stretch of vine-draped jungle that goes on forever.
[I thought partridge was usually in forests and lowland fields and on moors, and even rocks?]
He snorts. [Mostly, but they migrate into the jungle for the winter. It's winter in the north.]
[Oh. That makes sense. They went south for the winter.]
While a fantasy video game doesn't have to obey petty details like habitat or biology, I'm relieved that the creators of the game decided to make the world building as real as possible. Geeks and nerds will be forgiving of some inconsistencies and implausibilities in out-and-out fantasy, but nitpick real life elements to death if they're not done right.
Sniffing the ground, Demos points to a clump of vines. [In there.]
[Hold up. Do you smell any poachers?]
He huffs. [No, but I didn't smell the rude Queenie woman. How can we be sure?]
I pause, thinking, scratching the ground with my claws. [Hmmm. If the humans go in there, we'll lose our only hunting lead. On the other hand, if there's another poacher--]
Demos makes himself look as big as possible. For his size, he looks intimidating. How do I know, The birds and rodents all flee. A flapping of feathers and the sound of tiny feet scampering telegraph the general unease and the need to escape this predator in their midst. A brilliantly colored bird like a parrot zooms right toward us, and we veer off to either side to avoid a collision. The pink, orange, and red bird, which has a tall bouffant crest, flaps in front of us, facing off against us.
I wonder if we can communicate with the parrot.
[Demos, can we talk to this parrot?] I ask.
[Why? Whatever for?]
I try logic. [Because maybe the parrot knows whether or not there are poachers in the vines.]
[And why would one bird betray another?]
Stumped, I contemplate that for several minutes. [Well, the parrot doesn't know we're hunting partridge. I'm guessing parrots don't taste very good.]
Demos makes a gagging noise.
[That's what I thought. But partridges taste good.]
With a dreamy sigh, Demos concedes. [I've been dreaming of partridge...]
[Okay. So maybe we get the parrot to squawk about whether or not there are poachers in those vines. We don't have to say anything about hunting partridge and make the parrot betray the bird brotherhood.]
Demos' shoulders relax. [You know, you're as intelligent as Mistress said.]
[I hope that's a compliment.]
A swipe of his claws has me backpedaling. [Right. Forget I said anything. Let's talk to the parrot.]
We growl and roar, low, to attract the parrot's attention. Hovering in front of us, the bird regards us with wide eyes.
[Please, oh parrot, might you aid us?] I am as polite as possible. [We just narrowly escaped a poacher's net. We are tamed beasts practicing hunting, pouncing, camouflage, that sort of thing. But we don't want to run afoul of another poacher. You can understand.]
I punctuate my words with pleasing purrs. Truthfully, purring feels good!
The crimson, orange, and pink bird continues to flap and hover in front of us.
[We would be indebted to you.] Now Demos pours on the charm. [We would owe you a boon.]
[A boon?]
The parrot's interest is piqued, and she flutters animatedly in front of us.
[Yes.] I follow Demos' lead and run with it. [Whatever is within our power to grant. Name it.]
Her next words surprise us.
[Please, there is a nasty poacher around here, the very one that caught you, no doubt. She wants to sell me to some cruel owner. Will you take me with you to live in your household?]
Exchanging glances with Demos, I say, [There's just one little problem. We are hunting game, possibly your fellow birds. Nothing personal.]
[What is the problem?]
The parrot's voice is so innocent and direct that I almost don't believe my ears.
Demos also flicks his ears, as if to shake loose ear wax. [You don't mind if we hunt other birds?]
[Every creature has to eat. I'm Gussie, by the way.]
Demos growls, pleased. [Gussie, I am Demos and this is Blaze of the House of Riddlehoeven. Now, are there poachers in those vines?]
[None! Now, will you take me with you?] Gussie presses her luck. [And can I be a tamed beast along with you?]