Lone Wulven No More

The streets had always been like a second home to Kodiak. As unwelcoming as they were to most-- it was exactly how he liked it. Some would even say that he preferred to keep it that way.

The sidewalks lay mostly dead at this time of night-- the club-goers had stumbled off home to god knows where after their fun, leaving the city’s scum to stir and prowl the streets undisturbed.

Fliers, promotional ads, and all manner of other posters cluttered the nearby telephone poles and storefront walls that he passed, overlapping each other so thick in some areas that they obscured one another completely— years of built up competitive slop that was never fully removed.

The neon signs dotting the collections of bars and seedy night clubs cast an eerie glow across his scarred face as he made his way down the side roads, each step radiating a sense of arrogant purpose. A distant siren wailed, but Kodiak barely even registered the sound, just another instrument playing it's tune amidst the concrete jungle of Burrowgatory.

Vaguely zoned out as he made his way toward his apartment complex, a flicker of movement caught his eye from one of the darkened alleyways-- something that didn't quite fit the usual patterns of inanimate shadow he'd grown accustomed to in the area. Kodiak's hand instinctively settled on the grip of his concealed knife, tucked between the crossed belts at his hip, muscles tensing beneath his worn leather vest. The night was young, and if this was what his mind began to drift towards ideas of, he had a feeling it was about to get a lot more interesting.

A low growl echoed from the depths of the shadowy passage between the looming buildings as he approached the entrance, hand still resting idly on the weapon's hilt in preparation for an attack.

The sound sent a chill down his spine, though his face remained stoic as ever, clearly unphased by the pathetic attempt at eliciting a reaction out of him. Whatever was making that noise wasn't your average street dweller, and the way the sound reverberated off the brick walls suggested something much larger than the usual small stray imps scampering around finding their meals in the nearby restaurants dumpsters.

Drawing his blade with an amused flick, Kodiak edged closer to the alley's mouth, eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement with mild intrigue.

A guttural snarl pierced through the dim light, followed by the distinct sound of claws scraping against concrete. The noise grew closer as Kodiak approached in turn, accompanied by the heavy thud of massive paws hitting the ground in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Whatever lurked in those shadows was clearly no ordinary beast, and Kodiak's grip tightened around his weapon as a pair of luminous eyes emerged from the gloom, fixed squarely upon him.

What approached him was neither a stray impup or even a large remil, but something far more intimidating, and most strikingly… not very common to the inner city. Or supposedly there at all.

Standing staunch in the back of the alley was an imp he’d only ever personally heard of talked about in song or in metaphor of some kind, with a build much larger than he expected. A wulven, if his mind recalled correctly. What in the hells it was doing so deep in the city was anybody’s guess, but in this moment in time, now happened to be Kodiak’s problem.

Despite the dangerous seeming situation, standing just mere feet away from the creature in it’s stalemate, the pride bun could sense that it’s only intention was to defend itself from a potential threat, which— despite the knife —Kodiak clearly wasn't deemed to be. Taking note of this, the wulven stepped back slowly, almost hesitantly, making it’s way behind a dumpster to retrieve something before it reemerged.

In front of it now, being nudged forward as gentle as the large beast could with it’s paws, was a scrawny, trembling impup.

The wulven's protective stance over the small imp was unmistakable, and Kodiak found himself lowering his blade instinctively, sheathing it back into it’s housing on his hip. The impup's wide, fearful eyes darted between the two larger beings, its tiny form shivering not just from the cold night air, but from what Kodiak could only assume was days of wandering these unforgiving streets with the larger imp, surviving off nothing but scraps. Despite himself, he felt an entirely unfamiliar twinge of sympathy stir in his chest.

The wulven's gaze met his own, and in that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them. With a deep sigh, Kodiak gestured flippantly for them to follow him, knowing full well his apartment wasn't far and that he had enough leftover takeout to at least get some meat on the impup's bones. The smaller of the two imps wagged it’s tail as it toddled off towards him, followed by the heavy footfalls of it’s protector behind it.

He wouldn’t have called himself a pet person in any sense of the title, but as they fell in step behind him, trotting along rather happily, he couldn't help but wonder what twist of fate had brought these unlikely pets to cross his path tonight, pondering the irony of the situation. A hardened street bun like himself, a lone wulven you could even say, now playing guardian to two lost puppies, for lack of a better term.

Looks like hell’s imp distribution system had found him, one way or another.