Outlaw Planet

A wolf yelled out from the back alleys. The town of Brin, although relatively small, had quickly increased its populace due to a boom in trade and the town itself made for an excellent middle stop for passing merchants from the East to the West and vice versa. And with the increase of populace, came the increase of the undesirables.

Case in point, we have here a typical Brinamite who, while on a late afternoon stroll through the busy streets, a few hours before his shift as a bouncer at the local, underground, gay bar “Black mask", had decided to treat himself to a nice fresh lemonade from the lemonade stand. During the purchase, he had slipped his hand into his pocket and had grazed over the hand of a little sly pickpocket who had just managed to take out the big wolf's velvet wallet. Both criminal and criminal-e met their eyes for instant. Sadly for the criminal-e, the criminal had been the first to act, dashing off.

Raeder had followed suit, jumping behind the marmot, who had managed to maneuver in between the legs of the passers-by, while the big wolf had to push every person aside, barely managing to follow the marmot. In the nick of time, Raeder had seen him dash in one of the alleyways between a pastry shop and the local butcher's.

And just as Raeder had thought that he had managed to corner the little bugger, rocketing straight into the alley, he found himself in a tight situation, he had been oh so familiar with.

And this is where we began. A wolf yelling out from the back alleys. The moment of impact was quick and the impact itself lasted for about an estimated 3 seconds. However, for our dear wolf the subjective experience of the impact felt less like it spanned 3 seconds and more like it was nicely located somewhere inside the timeframe between infinity and timelessness.

Although the marmot's fist was small and his overall strength was comparably limited, he was a mighty fine jumper. Fairly competent at that. So much so that he managed to burrow his little marmot fist straight into the wolf's gut with the layers of fat reaching the little critter's elbow.

Raeder, well learnt in the art of receiving jabs in the stomach mind you, never really mastered anything beyond the theoretical aspect of the procedur, so he simply bent forward. In a flash, every single technique, move and style in regards to his fighting prowess simply disappeared, vanished in a puff of smoke, scattered to the wind, most likely following the airflow of the wolf himself. With his cheeks puffed and his eyes slowly crossing, the possibility of an ocular one eighty strengthening ever so slightly with each moment, Raeder stumbled back, the assailant's fist still in the wolf's belly, and his mouth opened slightly in the form a small, tiny “o", from which a steady stream of air egressed skyward with a faint whistling sound. Then the “o" became larger, the stream became stronger and the whistling lowered to more of a bassoon sound. And finally, the “o" turned to a proper, upper-case “O" as the sound shifted, lowered and rearranged itself into a tuba.

The marmot, slightly confused as to what was transpiring in front of him, remained undeterred and with a confusedly spiteful voice announced.

“I'm taking your vest."

                                                            #

Guerrilla, Guerrilla

Sometime later, the now shirtless and broke wolf had somehow managed to drag himself to the “Black mask" tavern with his dignity intact. Naturally the first thing that would happen to him was his boss getting on his case.

“Raeder. My office. Now." Lelana spoke.

“But…"

“What did I just say?"

Raeder reluctantly followed the fox in her office. A tall, serious fox around the forty years of age, dressed in the latest of the high fashions, something she called a “cobalt blazer and dress pants combo". To Raeder they pants seemed rather ordinary. He had seen dresses. They didn't look like these pants, so he didn't really understand her.

What he did understand though was the display of power and provocation and the hierarchical dynamics in the workplace. On an intuitive level that is. He didn't truly grasp concepts pertaining to sociology and anthropology. That was something that came easier to his boyfriend, Zhei. Well, ex-boyfriend.  Well, it didn't exactly come easier to him, more like he understood some aspects of it conceptually. Otherwise, he was just a shambling, neurotic mess. God, Raeder missed him sometimes.

“The Hell is this?" Lelana asked, sitting behind her massive mahogany desk, her hand violently waving at the half naked wolf.

With a heavy exhale Raeder answered the rhetoric question.

“I got robbed."

“Yeah. No shit."

Raeder shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he waited for his boss to crash down on him. She did that from time to time. Lelana claimed that what they were running was a business first and a family second. Raeder didn't really understand the family part. He personally had an odd relationship with his father, who obviously loved the boy, but in his own distant and cold way, preferring to dispense cryptic words of wisdom and symbolic riddles, explaining the importance of hard work as well as good abs routine. For Raeder's entire youth, the old man didn't really understand that the Raeder couldn't grasp what the fuck he had been saying. Just like Zhei.

Lelana took a deep breath, her hands positioned in the pyramid of power pose. She tried to put on a friendly and understanding smile, but sadly she didn't really have the proper complexion to smile. She was more of a scowler than a smiler.

“Listen…Raeder. Here, we are a business first and a family second. And a good business should run like a well oiled machine…"

Raeder didn't also understand that part. Why would anyone put oil in a machine? Oil was for cooking.

“…and being a well oiled machine, we all have to function properly and adequately in our work environment."

“I don't follow."

“You are half naked. You are not a stripper and you are half naked."

“I got robbed."

“So you've said. What is your job here?"

“Umm…bouncer?"

“Bounder, exactly, yes." Lelana leaned back in her chair. “Tell me…why have I employed you as a bouncer if someone, somehow has managed to steal the shirt off your back?"

“Well…"

“One reason." Lelana cut him off. “One good reason, Raeder."

“…I wasn't on the job?"

#

“Well, Raed, I can't say that it fits you, but it definitely suits you." The rabbit snickered as Raeder stepped out of the backrooms.

“Oh, fuck off, Jackie."

“Don't be like that. Come on now. The place is getting packed. We've got a job to do."

With a heavy step, Raeder walked behind his colleague, adjusting the collar of the newly found, despicably flamboyant pink shirt, which just so happened to be a few sizes too small and, as it was the usual for any and all clothing found laying around “Black Mask", had a somewhat embarrassing message embroidered on the back, which read “wolf daddies welcome", positioned right on top of an arrow pointed at Raeder's posterior.

“I'm thinking of dying today, Jackie. What do you think?"

“You'll be missing out." Jackie answered as they passed the people. “That guy on the bar's been staring at you."

Raeder glanced around, his eyes quickly scanning through all the patrons, masked and dancing, the band, who's music got louder with every beat and the other bouncers, strategically positioned around the club. He quickly eyed all the three bars, his gaze stopping on an ocelot, sitting alone at the far edge, whose eyes quickly shifted down at his drink the moment Raeder saw him.

“He seems quite." The wolf said, unconsciously dragging his tongue over his back teeth.

“I'm guessing you're in need of some after Zhei."

“Mmm…" Raeder murmured beneath his nose.

“But…" Jackie began with a heavy tone. “…I don't think it will work out with that guy."

“Why's that?"

“He doesn't really look like a wolf daddy to me."

“Jackie, I will bust your jaw." Raeder declared.

“Oh, you can try!" Jackie laughed.  

#

The night continued to roll as more of the usual clientele entered, as well as some oddballs that weren't from around and through the haze of alcohol, the sounds of drums, duduks and hurdy-gurdys, almost everybody had entered the mystical trance of the dace, with which the club had been popular, which meant less people noticed Raeder's stupid shirt.

While the clients were dancing, masked and spilling drinks, which unbeknownst to them had been spiced up with mild hallucinogens, Jackie jabbed Raeder in the ribs and nodding at a gnoll, who seemed a little off.

“Go check it out. I've got your back." Jackie said and smacked Raeder on the ass to hurry him up.

 Raeder reluctantly stepped towards the gnoll, while rubbing his ass, and gently tapped his shoulder, cutting him off from the story he was telling about how he saved a wizard and defeated an ice bird.

“Can I help you?" the gnoll turned around, eyes narrowed and his talking partner quickly skittered away.

“I'm sorry, sir, but I believe you've had enough to drink and you're disturbing the customers."

“Pshh…" the gnoll waved him off and took another swing of his beer.

“Sir, I'm going to ask you to leave."

“I ain't no “sir"" the gnoll interrupted him. “Name's Riki. Pleasure meeting you hot stuff."

Raeder eyed the gnoll. Heavy build. Fat gut. Manly jaw.

“You sure about that?"

“I'm sure I know my name, tough guy." She snarled.

“I mean about the “sir" part."

“Wow…ain't you narrow minded for a queer." Riki snickered and downed the rest of her beer. “Hey, barkeep! I'm getting pretty dry here. Keep 'em coming. And one for my friend here."

“I don't drink on the job."

“It ain't for you, hot shot." She slurred and nodded to a little, blue kobold sitting beside her. He didn't seem very much here.

Raeder clicked his tongue. An odd feeling crept up his spine, telling him that this was going to be a long night, filled with pity and disappointment.

“Listen…ma'am…in either case I am going to have to ask you to leave. You are a disturbing the customers."

“Oh, I'm pretty sure they want what I have to offer."

“I'm pretty sure they don't."

“I'm pretty sure you would." She said, giving the wolf a wink.

“I'm pretty sure I won't. You ain't my type."

“Ah. You're more into the small and girly ones, aren't ya?"

“Not necessarily. Hygiene is a must, so it won't work out between us. Now get your shit together and fuck off."

In an instant, Riki swung her fist at the wolf's jaw, but being the inebriated mess she was, she missed by a meter or so. Raeder, confident in his abilities as always, simply stepped forward and plowed his fist into the gnoll's gut. For a moment, he got scared, when he noticed how his arm was engulfed by Riki's body mass up to his elbow. He tried pulling it out, but the process seemed sluggish and his fist felt like it was stuck in between the layers of fur and fat. He looked at the gnoll's face, which had deformed into a complete caricature of what it was, with her eyes swollen and her jaw hanging wide, Raeder felt her breath and spit on his arm as she lost control of her central nervous system and collapsed completely onto his arm.

The second had passed. Raeder managed take his fist out and Riki fell face first to the floor. The wolf turned towards the kobold, but it had disappeared amidst the mass of masked dancers.

“Good job, Raed." Jackie patted him on the back. “I'll take it from here. You go ahead and grab yourself something to drink."

Jackie grabbed the unconscious gnoll and got lost amidst the crowd. Raeder took a look at his arm, rubbing it up and down.

It was going to be a long night.

                                                         #

Frightening creatures and hyper freaks

“First throw of the night." Jackie laughed and slapped Raeder on the back. “Here's to a prosperous night!"

The pair moved through the forest of bending flesh which were the intoxicated dancers, swinging back and forth to the hypnotic drones of the band. Both bouncers sat at the bar and each ordered a beverage – mango juice for Raeder and non-alcoholic peppermint for Jackie. Lelanda did not allow drinking on the job, except for the musicians, who in turn garnered the antipathy of their co-workers for the first few weeks. After that, the effects of the psychotropic brew had had their effects on the bards which quickly turned off the rest of the staff.

Some of the workers had expressed their concerns about the drugged alcohol and the question of its ethicacy and legality to Lelanda. She had countered that people were, first and foremost, looking for an experience and she provided them was the greatest experience they could get in a miserable, little town like Brin. She offered them, without their knowledge, a spiritual journey and awakening, fueled by sacred plants and divine music and spiritual dances. She offered them a connection to their inner psyche, to the bestial origins and shamanic ancestors and to a primal concept of self, so unstable, ego-death would occur nightly and the patrons would be forever changed for the better.

Each time Lelanda had been asked, the asker had been left awestruck, with a certain sense of respect and admiration for their boss. And each time Lelanda had managed to successfully outmaneuver the question.

She figured that all the spiritual mumbo-jumbo might be true. But what was an even more iron truth was the fact that most clients became regulars and were willing to pay two dreyguns standard entrance fee and even more if there were events and special guests. Legality on the other hand was a problem for future Lelanda. And future Lelanda always had you covered.

Raeder sipped his non-psychotropic mango juice and took a quick glance at the ocelot standing at the corner of the bar. Once again, the little fellow shifted his gaze to his drink. Raeder smirked.

“I just might go and talk to him…" he said, gulping down his juice.

“Just remember. Lelanda said that we are not to participate in any orgies, if they occur."

“I know the rules, Jack." Raeder growled.

“It's my duty, as your colleague and friend, to remind you of these little things." Jackie pushed the cup to his lips, gently gulping the juice, savoring its taste.

“I know the rules Jack! What's the point, really? We lock the doors if orgies start. I don't get why we can't have some fun."

“Because you should get too attached to anyone you might have to throw out." Jackie scratched his chin and looked around. There were still a fair bit off from the orgy. “It'd be very awkward if you're sucking someone off and he decides to ape shit. Or the other way around. The second one seems scarier."

Raeder thought about the idea of someone going ape shit like his dick was in said person's mouth. It did seem scarier.

As Raeder was pondering the thought of masticationary genital mutilation, Jackie turned around once again. The orgy wasn't going to start soon, judging by the way things looked. At least an hour, give or take. Jackie had developed a sense of these things. But as he looked over the grooving bodies, two big figures managed to catch his attention.

“Ei! Raed! Check those two out!"

Raeder peered over his shoulder, seeing an orc and minotaur by the entrance. They had just walked in and looked like they didn't belong here. It wasn't anything specific, but their overall vibe and energy just seemed not mesh well with those around them.

“You think they're narcs?" Raeder asked.

“Nah. Don't really look the part. I guess they are just a confused gay couple. Old timers trying to be hip."

“Mm…can you imagine that minotaur going up that orc's butt? Poor guy. Hate to be his rectum."

“I know what you mean. I'm gonna split. Go and see if I can bum a cigarette from someone."

“Sure, sure. I'll keep watch till you get back. Gonna talk to that ocelot fella."

“Just remember…"

“Yeah, yeah…"

And with that Jackie stepped off to find himself a ciggie. Raeder finished what little he had left of his drink, stood up, fixed the collar of his pink shirt and confidentially stepped forward towards the ocelot.

The first step was the hardest. That's what his pappy had told him at least in one of his moments of pure lucidity. Raeder had internalized it to mean that the hardest part of anything is to actually start it, since one might have built themselves and unrealistic idea of the results and methods.

Turned out, his pappy might had been a bit more literal, since after making a first step, he was violently spun around and met with the grinning face of the orc.

Next thing he knew, he was bent over with a fist stuck in his belly. The pain from hits like these had somehow managed to dampen itself, considering how many times he had experienced them. It did feel good to not always have to be in pain when hit, although the rest of the experience remained the same. The wind shot up from his lungs and out his mouth, with it strands of saliva spilling on the orc's arm. Raeder's eyes, as had become a tradition at this point, almost jumped out of their sockets, bulging with the increase of pressure. His air supply, now gone, was followed by a irregular syncopated burps, varying in length, octave and timbre. And when there was nothing left of him to give and the world started growing dark, the orc decided to threw the wolf on the ground.

His lungs slowly expanded, but the darkness still grew with the last thing he saw being a small blue kobold telling him something along the lines of “how you like that?" and spitting on him.

#

Bardcore hara-kiri

It was a bit shameful, the way Raeder simply had splattered on the ground after one punch. The perps were long gone by the time Jackie came back after his smoke break. Lelana had both their asses on a platter with a side of mashed potatoes.

“You get beat up off work. You get beat up on work. Why do I have you?"

Raeder stood quiet. Everytime Jackie tried to add something, she simply looked at him expectantly and his words simply failed him.

“Why do I have the both of you actually? Do I pay you to go on smoke breaks, Jackson?"

“No, ma'am."

Raeder was relieved for the rest of the night. He had 2 off days after that one, but Lelana didn't mention anything about them when he left. The was a sinking feeling in his gut, completely unrelated to the previous trauma that night, that he just might get fired. He decided to just hit up a bar and try to drown his sorrows.

They weren't much of sorrows. More like low to medium annoyances. Still, they were there and they needed a thorough drowning.

He headed to the “Golden Heart" bar and diner. It said bar and diner, but it was mostly a bar.  The shabby, old sign hung down on a pole, the chains slightly rusted. It seemed pretty lively inside. Maybe he could have some fun. It had been some time since he was last here.

He pushed the door and the familiar atmosphere of cigarette smoke, cheap brandy and spicy, tripe soup hit his nostrils.

He used to come here after work with his buddies, where they would drink and gamble their wages away. They were fun years. A slight sting of nostalgia managed to drill into his heart and he smiled. Maybe one of these days he just might get in touch with some of the guys and see how they were doing.

Raeder sat down confidently at the bar and ordered.

“Cold brew. And keep them coming."

The bartender took one look at the wolf.

“Raeder. I love you. I've missed you. But pink really isn't your color."

#

After roughly an hour of catching up, thirty minutes of attire explanations and ten minutes of trying to convince the bartender that he should definitely allow Raeder to drink on a tab, the wolf was completely wasted. His troubles forgotten and the possibility of a stomach ulcer not even recognized, he ordered himself another beer and gulped it down. And as things couldn't get any better, reaching that precise level of drunkenness, which was just enough to make of you feel on top of the world, but not enough for you to regret every single decision of your life in the morning, just then he heard a familiar voice echo in the pub.

“Ei! Raeder!"

Raeder sluggishly turned around to see Tugg, who eagerly, and just drunkenly, waved at the wolf, after which he mimicked the act of fellatio using a sausage on a fork.

Raeder narrowed his eyes, mostly trying to focus and less so because he was upset. But he was upset non the less. He quickly drank the rest of his beer, slammed the pint and tried walking over to the ram, straight-lines being recommendation, not a necessity.

 He stood in front of the ram, both men barely standing on their feet.

Raeder lifted his hand. He extended his finger. He opened his mouth. And everything went dark.

It happened from time to time when he went drinking. He understood is a normal phenomenon for every person sometimes to black out. Of course, the moment he blacked in, he noticed something wasn't exactly right. Namely, he had a ram's foot lodged into his abdominal region.

With the gift of sight and consciousness the flood gates had opened. He now could feel the ram's foot inside his abdominal region. It wasn't a nice feeling. Next thing he felt was the fact that he couldn't breathe in. Mostly because he was breathing out. With the influence of booze, there came a certain self-awareness of all of your body parts and every sensation you experienced, if only you decide to notice them. Case in point, right now, for the first time in his entire career of getting hit in the guy, he noticed the air leaving his mouth, passing between his teeth and gliding over his tongue. He felt his cheeks, puffed and stretched, the skin hurting. He took notice of what he saw even. He was seeing double, but it wasn't because of the alcohol, well not purely at least. He eyes had somehow managed to cross, the entire world turning into a kaleidoscope of images and colors.

And then he felt himself step back. Not on purpose. The ram had retracted his leg and Raeder tried not to fall over. But his legs couldn't really hold him up. He fell on his knees. And then came an all too familiar feeling, from his partying days. His stomach turned, the acids burning the back of his throat. His mouth filled with saliva. He fell forward and vomited the night's worth of beer. He fell over into the pile, everything once again going black. The sounds slowly disappeared, the last thing being something about his fox friend and maybe an ulcer.

#

Dark Sun

Raeder woke up in an alleyway a few blocks down from the bar. Some hours had passed since his scuffle, judging by position of the moon, although he wasn't very good at it. He managed to get up, the pain in his stomach as sharp as ever and he dragged his body through the streets, the pounding in his head drowning out the oppressive silence of an empty town. Weird how the populace seemed to be lacking completely, but there was a high chance that most people were sleeping at their homes.

Raeder continued down the long and twisting roads, headed straight to his home. He was tired. Tired of the pain and the humiliation and the defeat. He just wanted to fall in his bed and sleep forever. Infinity seemed like an adequate amount of time to sleep.

He passed down the main street and into the marketplace, where his troubles that day began. Strangely enough, just as he passed by the alleyway that had blighted his entire day, he noticed something odd.

Beyond the sound of marching war bands lodged into his skull, he heard something that can be described as squirming. He peered into the alleyway, just to make sure. And naturally there stood the marmot from earlier, hand shoved into the pocket of the ocelot from earlier. Heh. Small world.

Raeder watched the mugging take place. He could jump into the alleyway, yell something about justice, break the marmot's jaw and win the heart of the small ocelot boy.

But what would be the point?

So he decided to sneak into the alleyway and take down the marmot commando style and then win the heart of the small ocelot boy. He wasn't really in any condition to fight, so this seemed like the better approach.

The thought of leaving the small ocelot boy had crossed his mind for a brief second, but he was a sucker for small cute boys. But a bigger motivator was breaking the marmot's jaw.

He snuck into the alley, sticking to the shadows, quickly and quietly stepping side to side. He positioned himself behind the marmot. The ocelot lifted his eyes and they went wide with hope and the thought of salvation.

Raeder tightened up. He lifted his arm up, grabbed the marmot by the shoulder, spun him around and...the circle had been completed.

Raeder bent over, the marmot's hand inside of him once again. Even though he had tensed up as much as he could to prevent this from happening, it still happened. The marmot twisting his fist inside the wolf's gut, dragging out every single whit of air he just might so happened to have. Raeder's eyes, again bulged and crossed and his cheeks puffed up as he exhaled what he had left.

After the fourth time, he had almost gotten used to the sensations and pains of being punched in the gut. Almost. He was familiar with the pain, the discomfort, the lack of air, but not so much that he could do something while they happened.

The marmot retracted his arm and Raeder fell to the ground, noticing, as the marmot ran away, that he had brass knuckles on. Figures.

#

Crystal Arachnid

“A-are you okay?" the small ocelot boy whimpered out.

Raeder was not okay, but he wasn't ready to say it. Although he was practically showing it, being positioned on his knees and grasping his stomach with both hands, trying to grab a breath that somehow always seemed to allude him.

“Yeah. Fantastic." He managed to blurt out before falling on his back, arms and legs spread in all directions.

Well, at the very least things couldn't get any worse. Sure, he was almost killed four times in one night. And he couldn't seduce the small ocelot boy. And he might lose his job in a couple of days. But at least it was all over. He could just get up, go back home and sleep. There won't be any more fights. Any more angry bosses. And anymore embarrassments.

And just as he smiled to himself at the thought of reaching the bottom and only going up, he found out that the bottom didn't really have a bedrock.

He looked down at his torso, to see the small ocelot boy massaging his belly. Raeder just slammed his head against the street, partly from exhaustion and partly hoping that his skull might crack in two.

“D-don't worry. I-I know what I'm doing." He said with a high, tentative voice. “I'm a masseuse. I know what to do."

He wasn't lying. It did feel nice. Raeder's eyes slowly closed. He could just about drift off there and then.

“I-I'm Scippio by the way…" the small ocelot boy said, his tone wavering.

Raeder slowly stood up, now that he wasn't being massaged, his belly started aching once again.

“I'm Scippio…but you can call me Skip…" the small ocelot boy repeated in a quieter tone of voice.

“Um…Raeder…thanks for…the massage, I guess."

'Oh! It was no problem…thank you for saving me…" Skip blushed. “I'm sure it hurt…you know…getting hit for a second time…after the bar…"

“Yeah…a second time…" Raeder's reply was low, trying to save some face.

Raeder got up and dusted his pants off. He took a look at the small ocelot boy. So cute, so innocent, with big staring eyes, ravaging the wolf hungrily. That last part didn't exactly sound right to Raeder, but he was still up for it. He kind of reminded him of Zhei, but less catatonic and less cold.

“Um…considering I saw you at the “Black mask"…" Skip began to speak shyly. “…is there a chance that…you might…want to go…out…with me…some time…"

Raeder rubbed his belly one final time, the pain now gone and turned towards the small ocelot boy.

“Sure. How does now sound?"

Skip almost jumped at the sound of those words, his heart about to break through his small rib cage and fly off.

“R-r-r-right now?"

“Sure! My place is close by. I have some good wine. We can get to know each other over a drink. How does it sound?"

Skip didn't really reply and he opted for shaking his head violently as sign of acceptance.

“Alright. After you."

The pair exited the alleyway and headed towards the wolf's humble abode. This was most definitely a rebound, but Raeder didn't care. Right now he just wanted to feel a bit better.