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Constellations (Worm/Okami)

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Vindictus said:
I know bits and pieces of native stuff that I've picked up here and there? Books about native folklore and stuff, some of it sticks and some does not.

The Inuit, for example, have a sort of spirit that is basically a shapeshifting orca that gains wolflike characteristics to walk on land and hunt those who stray too far onto the ice floes. They call it the Akhlut.

... That's the only one I remember offhand, actually, but you can find more if you search.
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...that sounds like something you'd find in Monster Hunter, to be honest.
 
While i was reading this a big white blue eyed wolf looking dog wandered into my tax office for about 45 minutes before wandering back out again.

Update: the dog's name is Isa, and her owner is looking for her.
 
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The Kanontsistonties and the Skudakumooch are proper terrifying creatures that would show up in Brockton Bay to threaten people in response to Good Dog.
 
I somehow sense this may turn into some psuedo Okami/American gods/Worm crossover with adding immigrant myths as well as native ones. what next will we be seeing a mad sweeny a chernabog a mr. wednesday? anansi? honestly wouldn't even be mad I enjoyed watching american gods. and listening to it.
 
I kinda giggled the first time I saw Anansi's name in American God's, cuz the Xhosa name for him is Raboobee. Not only is the name kinda funny sounding, but there was a Xhosa dub of the original animated Spiderman with the theme song starting "Raboobee, Raboobee.... (Xhosa bits i didn't understand) Raboobee!"
 
Puck McSnuggins said:
I kinda giggled the first time I saw Anansi's name in American God's, cuz the Xhosa name for him is Raboobee. Not only is the name kinda funny sounding, but there was a Xhosa dub of the original animated Spiderman with the theme song starting "Raboobee, Raboobee.... (Xhosa bits i didn't understand) Raboobee!"
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Lemme make that funnier for you:
- In Setswana, we have a similar word, Rrabubi, which is a fancier way of saying spider (or Segokgo)...until you translate it literally, Rra (Mister / Sir) Bubi (Web). Spiderman, is known as Mr. (or Sir) Web in Setswana.
 
I'm not surprised this thread won't die. Have you ever tried killing a constellation? Shit ain't easy; they're made of stars!:V
 
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Chapter 48
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    November was honestly one of Taylor's favorite months, at least in theory: cool breezes filled with fallen leaves, the crisp taste of far-off snow in the air, the early darkness that provided the perfect excuse to bury oneself under a blanket with a book... it was a very romanticized time of year. Sadly, Brockton Bay tended to make the days gray and rainy as often as not, but this year was actually managing to live up to Taylor's standards. The cold autumn rains mostly came at night, leaving the days brighter and a little warmer, and letting the unburdened clouds drift freely. The shadows of the clouds raced each other over the sunlit grass of the Pawprint Shrine.

    The fourth Thursday of the month was Thanksgiving, which had been Taylor's favorite holiday back when her mother was still alive (every holiday had been Taylor's favorite in those years), and this year found Taylor outside at the Shrine, with Sunny wrapped carefully around her feet and an easel in front of her. The drier, brighter days were perfect for working on her art project, a painting of the Wishing Tree in every season, and Sunny had been relegated to canine space heater duty until Taylor forgave her for the snow currently covering the Shrine's grounds and nowhere else.

    Somewhere just past noon, Sunny glanced up at the sky for a moment before tugging at the bottom edge of Taylor's coat. Taylor finished the puff of leaves she was painting before replying, "Time already? Okay, let me get this put away and we'll go."

    Sunshine wuffed, her tail immediately beginning a continuous wag that sent bits of snow flying every which way. The wolf carefully uncurled her furry bulk from around Taylor's legs, then bounded off towards the little office the pair had started to call home. Taylor packed up her paints and easel as quickly as she carefully could before she followed Sunny's trail. Maybe this November seemed so much warmer because she was spending it with friends.

    * * *

    Danny Hebert received what he considered one of the most important phone calls of his life on November 24, 2010. It wasn't from the PRT, or the police, or his old friends from the Dockworker's Union: it was from his elderly neighbors, inviting him over to celebrate Thanksgiving dinner with them. As Old Mrs Henrick assured, before he could refuse, Taylor had agreed to be there already. The prospect of seeing his daughter and spending some time with her made patrolling the quickly-dwindling Merchant territory seem much less critical, so he agreed.

    Danny was the last to arrive, which didn't surprise him, but he was greeted no less warmly for it. Martha Henrick was still preparing for the meal, her wrinkled face alight at the unusual hustle and bustle taking place in her kitchen. Danny spotted a pot full of potatoes still boiling in preparation to be mashed, alongside a smaller saucepan full of gravy simmering on the stove. The oven itself was currently eclipsed by the furry body of his daughter's power, the wolf's face pressed against the viewing glass in order to watch the turkey roasting within. A small puddle of drool was collecting between its front paws.

    "Oh, Sunny, clean that up! Seriously... oh! Hi Dad!"

    Taylor's face lit up when she noticed him standing on the entry mat near the kitchen door, and she hurried to take his coat and bundle it away somewhere. "I wasn't sure you could make it! Happy Thanksgiving!"

    There was no reproach or disappointment in her voice at all. Danny felt a hand around his heart loosen its grip. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, honey."

    It was a lie, if a soft one, and she knew it; he'd sacrificed a lot of holidays on the altar of the Protectorate and likely would in the future. That was his job, a hero's job. But maybe it made the ones he did manage to share all the more special. Any further reflection on the dichotomy of duty versus devotion was derailed when Danny noticed his daughter's power obeying her command to clean up after itself, the wolf tugging a dishcloth down from a counter and pushing it with its paws to wipe up the drool puddle.

    "Ha, well... I'm glad you could make it. Oh! Um, I saw the interview on TV..."

    Taylor trailed off, leaving an opening for him to respond without pressing the issue. When had his little girl gotten so political? ...probably when she started wrapping the ABB around her little finger. In retrospect that was a silly question, but it was still hard to reconcile the idea of the little girl jumping off the couch with a towel for a cape she used to be with the power-player she was now. Danny wondered if Taylor was having the same problem, with him as both her father and a hero. "Yeah. Cat's out of the bag now; I figured there wasn't much point to keeping up the charade."

    "Was the Protectorate okay with that?" She asked.

    "Nnnnot exactly," Danny grimaced. "Or, not at first. They came around a bit after the most recent polls. Apparently inquiries about joining the Protectorate are up something like 20% in the areas that interview was aired." That had come as a bit of a surprise, at least to the PR department. Apparently the usual tactic of presenting heroes as the pinnacle of humanity wasn't as effective as originally thought. It was still pretty surreal to hear his own voice repeated from radios and televisions, saying, 'I don't need a tragic backstory or some overarching goal, I have a mortgage.'

    Conversation shifted over to small talk until Martha declared the meal ready, and everyone helped set the table and carry dishes from the kitchen to the dining room. Taylor got a mixing bowl from a cupboard to fill with various foods for Good Dog, as it seemed even with as much exposure to Taylor as the Henricks had, a dog at the table was a step too far. Danny did wonder aloud, as she set the bowl on the floor and gave her power a quick ear rub, if Good Dog often ate people food-- he certainly had never noticed any bags of dog food at the house. The question made Taylor grin and reply, "Oh trust me, Sunny eats everything. If it's food, it goes in the dog."

    That, Danny felt, warranted further explanation, and happily enough Taylor was willing to do so. She started talking about the sorts of offerings 'Sunny' received at the Pawprint Shrine, and how she had gotten Taylor to take up cooking (so that's why the lunch boxes had started showing up!), and relayed an anecdote about the first time Sunny had tried to order pizza without Taylor's help. Both Danny and the Henricks asked more questions about Taylor's daily life running a shrine, which Taylor continued to answer. It made a lump form in Danny's throat and he had to take a drink of cider to cover his sudden silence.

    Any awkwardness he felt about Taylor being Brushstroke, any reservations he held about Good Dog, none of that mattered. Sitting here, right now, was his daughter-- happy. Laughing. Her previous nature as the energetic, cheerful little chatterbox she'd been before Annette's death shining through the fog that had enveloped them both ever since that loss. And as Taylor continued talking, explaining her current and future projects, an idea sparked in Danny's head. Determination followed it: it may have been late in coming, but here was finally a way for Danny Hebert to be his daughter's hero.


    * * *

    The next day found Taylor's routine sweep of tidying up and dusting the interior of the shrine disrupted by someone calling out from outside: "Helloooo, Brushstroke? You around?"

    The voice sounded familiar, and once Taylor got outside to greet the new guest, the source was confirmed to be Tattletale, the girl from the Undersiders, and she was still wearing that skintight suit that was now even less weather-appropriate. It seemed she was regretting it, too, if her shivering and occasional stamping of feet was any indication. Taylor wasn't quite sure how she felt about the Undersiders in general or Tattletale specifically, given their likely deception involving the meeting at Somer's Rock, but her personal opinions weren't an excuse for poor manners. "Good Morning, Tattletale. Would you like to come inside? I can make tea in the office."

    "Ah, thanks but no thanks. I'd rather not stay long, if that's alright." The villain took a moment to peer around the shrine's snow-covered grounds. "Is Good Dog around?"

    "She's next door, delivering some fresh ink to a friend. Do you need to see her?"

    "No! Nope, that's fine. I just need to talk to you for a minute," Tattletale said, and visibly relaxed. "So-- if you weren't aware or hadn't guessed, I used to work for Coil."

    Now it was Taylor's turn to tense up, but Tattletale quickly waved her hands. "No no, I'm not mad at you! He was a real scumbag and I wasn't exactly in his employ willingly, but that's a long story. The short version is, you and Good Dog did me a huge favor by getting rid of him."

    "Ah, well... I'm happy for you, but it was the police that apprehended Coil."

    "Sure, officially, but everyone knows better." She shrugged, and paused to pull an envelope out of a small pouch at her belt. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but Coil was loaded, and I managed to seize a number of his accounts before they were frozen, so even though you got rid of our boss, the Undersiders are getting a nice severance package, so to speak. And after I had a talk with the rest of my team, we decided that it would be in our best interests to repay you for Good Dog's intervention."

    "Oh, that's not necess--"

    "It took me a few days to get everything laundered properly and legally squared away for a charitable donation, but I set you up with a bank account. Don't worry about the details too much, there's a parahuman that handles this sort of thing for a lot of capes. Here's the bank card, and a note with the PIN number and some tips on using Number Man's services." Tattletale held out the envelope, and when Taylor hesitated, she sighed. "I insist-- please. I know you need the money and I know you'll put it to way better use than Coil ever would, and I really, really do not want the Undersiders or myself to be in debt to Good Dog."

    Taylor reached out a hand and took the envelope. She didn't feel very comfortable with this, but Tattletale had some good points and with how the cape was behaving, Taylor didn't see a way to refuse the offer that she would accept. "I see. In that case, thank you."

    Tattletale finally smiled, and stepped back. "Great! So, just be sure to let Good Dog know that we're even now, right?"

    "Sure, I'll do that," Taylor assured her. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

    "No, that's it. Happy Thanksgiving," Tattletale said as she turned away to leave. Sunny came trotting through the torii gate just as the parahuman was leaving, and the wolf gave Tattletale a curious head tilt as the girl changed her course to give Sunny a wide berth. Taylor took the opportunity to open the envelope and examine its contents, now that her guest had departed. She gave Sunny a quick rundown of the conversation as she did so.

    "I'm thinking I'll just consider this as a private bounty for Coil. I'd rather not constantly worry about the ethics-- think that's okay, Sunny?" Sunny snorted in amusement, but nodded her head. "Heh, thanks. Besides, she was right in that we do need the money, though I won't know how much until Dad gets back to me with that estimate." She hadn't realized there might have been electricians and plumbers and such among the old Dockworkers, but it made sense. Tradeskills would have suited a lot of them more than office work, and the Dockworker's Union finally being shuttered by arson meant that anyone still clinging to it would have needed to find new lines of work. Now that he wasn't concealing his identity and occupation as Chessman anymore, Danny had been much more willing to get in contact with old friends and employees, and had promised he'd find out what was needed to build the onsen she and Sunny were struggling with.

    "Hm... the note doesn't say how much is in the account. I guess we can run some errands later and find an ATM to check."


    * * *

    Taylor stared at the tiny screen, and its display of the number 3 followed by a full six zeroes. The world slowly tilted until she literally fell into place sitting on Sunny's back, the wolf helpfully anticipating her needs. The screen refused to change when viewed from her new vantage point, and after a moment Taylor let out a short, unsteady laugh. "I guess we can afford to hire professionals for the onsen, now."

    Sunny's tail started to wag, but the wolf graciously stayed in place and waited for Taylor to collect herself.

    It only took another minute or two for Taylor to realize that now she was also going to have to shell out for that open bar Sunny had wanted.
     
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