Knapp

Created 9/22/16. Akis Werewolf. Main forms he takes are a somewhat small wolf, an average yet monster-y looking wolf, and a giant freaky wolf (pretty much a quad were). He dislikes having a bipedal were form for the most part, but will use it if he really needs to. Once his forms start to look more monster-ish, his mouth often turns into a jagged line, but he can keep his face regular if he wishes. Every blue moon, Knapp will meet up with a small group of other weres to talk about...well, pretty much nothing. They just sort of confirm that they all still exist. He mainly doesn't care about going, as some of the weres are pushier about "what needs to be done". He just will tune out the busier and grumpier ones, as, although he does do his part to convert Roamers, he's not going to drop everything to treck the globe for it. Unless he wants to, of course. He mainly goes to these meetings to see a (currently unnamed) vixen were, converted from a Roamer. The two of them very often act like more than friends and quite enjoy doing so simply to annoy those that hate such behavoir. However, whenever someone cracks and says they should get together (like weres really aren't supposed to do) they...meh...don't really feel like it today. Anyway, gotta go. So, they kind of have a weird relationship, but they work well together. Knapp flips between irritable, stubborn, snarky, and perky in unpredictable ways. He's pretty much a loner and enjoys spending his time just wandering about, going anywhere he pleases. He won't hesitate to kill and has a burning hatred for dog puns. Any other pun is fine. Just not. dog. puns.

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At some point in time, Knapp had been visiting a certain area too much. He and the vixen had started to meet up there, getting used to each other's company. It was a secluded spot by a pond, willow trees hanging all around, swishing quietly in the breeze. Despite how hidden it was, someone had taken notice. It was never really a big deal for either of the weres to drink from the pond, as they did that sort of thing all the time. One night, as he waited to see if the vixen would show, he did. He quickly found that it had been poisoned when he started to cough up blood shortly after drinking it. There was a rustle nearby and he glanced up to see the hunter, leaving their hiding place as if they thought they were safe to move in. Enraged and confused, he charged at them, only to find that they'd thought ahead. The shore was riddled with traps. Ropes grabbed at his limbs, knives and darts shot from the darkness, and huge toothed traps snapped at his legs. Despite all that, he made it to the person and killed them on the spot. Terribly injured, he fled the area. It was half for his own saftey, half so the vixen wouldn't enter the now deadly clearing. Of course, he was limping horribly, bleeding everywhere, and struggling to breathe. It was obvious he wasn't going to make it. Still, he went as far as he could, getting slower and slower. Finally, miles away, he sunk to the ground. Just before darkness closed in on him, he thought he saw a figure.

When Knapp woke up again, he wasn't dead in the middle of nowhere. Instead, he was very near dead in an abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere. Well, it wasn't totally abandoned... Inside with him was a young satyr, but he clearly didn't live here. It was dusty and sparsely furnished. Some of the windows were boared up and the others were almost too dirty to see though. Also, they were somewhat higher than they should have been with grass poking around the panes. The house was partially underground, a rugged hollow (more of a ditch, really) dug out so the door was accessible. This left it very dim. Overhead, the roof slanted sharply inwards, forming into a tall triangle. Knapp lay on an old yellow couch that looked like it was on its last legs, pink floral patterns hardly visible anymore. Across the room, there was a small, circular table with one intact chair and one destroyed one on the ground. Besides that, he couldn't see anything. There seemed to be only one other room, an entry space to seperate the door from this area. There were a couple of small items scattered about, but they likely all belonged to the satyr.

Burning with fever and hardly able to move, Knapp couldn't do much of anything to hide the fact that he was a were from this kid. In fact, he seemed to already know, without anyone saying anything. There was a strange look in his eyes... His automatic assumption was that he was going to be turned in as proof that weres exist, but nothing about the satyr's behavior hinted at this. Instead, he seemed to be trying to...help...? An array of leaves, bottles, and charms were spread across the tabel and floor. Occasionally, the satyr would pick something up and shove it towards him. Most of the time, he was trying to get him to eat some gunk he had mashed up. Knapp did his best to shrink and shove away, but in his half-there state, some things ended up in his mouth anyway, much to his disgust. After a while of this, he started to feel too violently sick to consume anything else. Luckily, the satyr changed focus, almost knowing somehow, and instead worked on his injuries. Very shortly afterwards, this made Knapp pass out again.

He had no idea how long this went on, but it felt like forever. Days must have passed because there was occasionally rain outside or it would be darker or lighter. At some point, he must have gotten a tad better since he could stay awake for longer than twenty minutes. During his small gaps of consciousness, he noticed the satyr seemed to be increasingly worried or focused. Or both. Mostly both. He didn't say it out loud (as he couldn't), but he was pretty sure the kid's best efforts were only prolonging his suffering. There was blood all over the couch and he could hardly keep anything in his stomach. If nothing else, he was going to get too dehydrated eventually.

Despite his pessimism, he did start to get better. Something was done right somewhere (although he had no idea what). While he still couldn't really sit up or move much, he could at least feel a little bit more alive. He could stay awake for most of the day, but chose not to since he felt awful and was trapped on a bloody couch. This seemed to cheer the satyr, who had started talking to him. Knapp didn't hear most of it, but occasionally listened out of sheer boredom. Sometimes, he would even work up to a one or two word reply. This made the kid very excited. It was dumb.

Soon, the main problem became less focused on risk of infections and bleeding to death, more towards the fact Knapp was too disgusted by anything close to edible to eat. No matter what the satyr (who he now knew as Alder) tried, nothing worked. Although he would drink whatever water given to him, intollerant of the thirst, food was a whole different beast. The were was simply in too much pain - one more type of hurt was hardly noticable. It just made him all the more miserable. Now confused all over again, Alder was back to the grindstone. But, what really worked was the quiet tapping on one of the dusty windows one night.

Knapp was awake, wearily staring at the sleeping satyr who hunched over the table and judging him for his life choices when he heard the noise. He wasn't sure what he expected to see, but it wasn't the bright orange pelt of a fox. He watched, confused, as it beat its tiny paws against the window until it was sure it had gotten his attention. He was telling himself that it couldn't be the vixen were, but then it started to dig the lip of dirt away from the glass. Using oddly sharp claws and an insistant nose, the window hissed angrily as the small creature pried it open. This was too smart to be just any fox. Gracefully, the vixen leapt down to the floor and trotted up to him. He hadn't really thought about missing her, but realized how happy he was to see her when she jumped onto the couch and curled up near his neck. Being careful, she stayed in the low profile form, liking his hair and face until he was too worn out to stay awake anymore.

In the following days, Alder was pleased to see the typically disheveled creature alert. He was constantly glancing up at the windows, ears perked. Although he couldn't figure out why, he wasn't going to complain. He wasn't aware of the fox that would occasionally pry the windows open to comfort his patient. Constantly trying to get the were to eat was a waste of time, so he resorted to leaving food within reach and then leaving to gather suppiles and go about his day to day things. For a little while, it just sat there. Eventually, though, he retured to find a few nibbles out of it, which was more than he had hoped for. Not wanting to ruin what was working, he kept this up for a bit, Knapp making progress slowly, but surley. Soon, though, he grew too curious about what was happening. He needed to know to see if he could help further. So, he looked into the were's dreams and thoughts, searching quietly for answers. He found memories of a strange little animal sneaking in and sitting with him, whispering reassuring words that distracted him from his hurt. Alder came out more confused than he went in. Although he tried not to think about it, he ended up asking Knapp about the fox. The were said he didn't know what he was talking about, but Alder could tell he was lying easily by flicking through his thoughts. So, on a mission that he didn't really understand, the satyr started to keep careful watch at night, pretending to be asleep or lurking outside. At some point, he managed to catch the vixen before she snuck inside. Assuring he that he only wanted to help, the two of them made a deal.

Knapp was a bit disappointed that she hadn't shown up. She'd been coming consistently over the last few nights, so he'd expected to see her again. Instead, he was surprised to see her, strutting in next to Alder as the two of them entered the building. He tried not to show any of the emotions that had sprung up, lying quietly until the vixen jumped up next to him. The satyr briefly explained that she was here to help him in a way that made him feel like he was surrouned by strict parents. Apparently, she would leave and not come back until he ate from now on. He hated this. Very much. But still, he grudgingly did as he was told. With the fox curled up next to him or hanging nearby, there was a spike in his recovery. Over the next few days, Alder had to worry less and less about the were dying on him. It finally seemed like he'd be okay.

Because of how bad his injuries had been, it took Knapp much longer to recover from them than his episode with the poison. After he could finally sit up and hold his own weight, he'd pace the floor for as long as he could before he had to lie down again. With the fox and satyr both nagging him about it, though, he improved steadily. Eventually, he was able to go outside for the first time in ages, joining Alder on his walks or just resting in the grass. That seemed the be the final thing needed to cheer him up. After being outside, he didn't miss a day of moving around unless he had to. It still took a long time, but by this point, he'd grown quite used to Alder. The two of them talked much more often now. They could even be considered friends.

It couldn't last forever, though. Knapp needed to get on the move. He had healed almost completely and didn't really have a reason to be sticking around anymore. Alder didn't say, but he also needed to make tracks. All three of them were running a huge risk in staying in one place for so long. Before they parted ways, Knapp put a huge hand on Alder's chest, an action that caused strange lights the blur in the air. Eyes fixed on the satyr, he had said that he owed him his life. Although he wasn't sure he'd get the chance, he said he would be there to return the favor if ever needed. Then, with a final goodbye, both mysterious canine creatures disappeared into the forest. Alder later found a strange symbol had been burned into his chest: the mark of the werewolf.