Bartleby By Strega The badger sat in a booth, a mug of beer clasped between its forepaws. Claws as long as a man's hand enclosed the drink, ensuring it would go nowhere. Lacking thumbs the badger did not risk lifting it to its muzzle, but rather dipped its nose to lap up the suds. A badger in a bar was curious enough. More curious was the size of the thing. The thing's long body and neck made it sit rather taller than a man. Were it to slide off the seat and onto its short legs, yet still stand upright, it'd be at least seven feet tall. It must weigh as much as two men, possibly three. Long gray flank fur spread out to either side of it, concealing much of the bench it sat on. Cream colored chestfur stood out fluffy and the bright eyes in its black and cream muzzle almost made her use the word 'cute'. Only the thickness of its muscular forelegs, wide as a man's thighs, made her hold back from that word. Well, that and the scars visible beneath its fur and the metal inlay that turned its already formidable claws from digging tools into lethal weapons. It lifted the mug in one paw and she realized it did have thumbs. A short thumb with a long claw, just as its fingers were short and long-clawed, but it had hands. The shape of its muzzle made drinking in the normal way hard, thus the lapping, but it had no trouble handing the mug to a passing barmaid for a refill. Bernice realized she was staring. By good luck the next booth was open and she slid in. Just as she did she learned the beast could speak, too. "Thank you, Ellie," the badger growled as the barmaid set a bowl of stew in front of it. "Any trouble?" "Drunk half-elf looks like he might want to show people his sword," the red-haired barmaid said. The badger grinned. "There's a right way and a wrong way to show people your sword," he growled. "You're so bad," the barmaid said mock-harshly, but she scratched him between the ears before moving on the next table. Bernice knew the badger was male. It wasn't hard to spot the end of what must be a quite long sheath despite the efforts of his belly fur to hide it. She'd already noted the iron bands around his thick wrists - armored bracers the same color as his fur - and the inconspicuous earrings in each of his ears. Some sort of little-seen badgerman? A werebadger maybe? "Get you anything, hon'?". It was a different barmaid, this one with a broad face and muscular, scarred arms. "Some of that stew I think," Bernice said, and nodded to where the badger was lapping it up out of his bowl. "With a chunk of bread and an ale." She mentally reviewed her plans for the day. Once the city inspector released her wagons she'd need to get some porters to heft the bales of fabric to the market. All of it was pre-sold except the crate of exotic fabrics. Verbobonc had the largest market this side of Greyhawk and she had high hopes they'd fetch a good price. Despite her mental calculations she kept her eyes on the badger. She'd met beastmen before, mostly the Maker's people - fox, raccoon and even wolverine men and woman. Then there were hyena-man gnolls and a couple of types of cat people. But no badgers, and though she'd heard of 'feral' beast people, she'd never seen one as obviously four-legged as the badger. She was sure that when he left the bench he'd walk around like a real badger. She was right. There was an alarmed cry nearby and Bernice saw a shouting half-elf with long blond hair tugging at the hilt of his sword. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the badger slide neatly off the bench and onto all fours. She couldn't resist following him as he scuttled to the disturbance. The badger's furry tail led her to the fight. Big as the badger was he was a low-slung beast easily hidden by a crowd and the first warning the elf had was a set of claws locking around his ankle and yanking him off his feet. Before he got the broadsword out of its scabbard the badger had him trapped under its huge forepaws. The half-elf cursed and slammed an elbow into the badger's face. Though he wore partial armor and had a steel elbow cop to augment the strike the badger skilfully turned his head so the blow hit his cheek instead of his nose. The tough beast's head barely moved. Losing patience, the badger shifted more of his weight to the forepaws on the elf's back. The elf grunted as it bore down, pinning him hard to the floor. Bernice was close enough to hear the words when the badger spoke. "There are two ways this can end," it growled into the elf's ear. "You can calm down and leave the bar, or I can spend tomorrow morning coughing up your armor. I'd rather go with the former so I don't have to explain to the guard why I ate you, but I'll leave it up to you." "You can't eat me," grunted the elf. "I most certainly can," said the badger. "I can peel that armor off and tear you apart or just swallow you whole. That's neater. Unless you want a badger-fur coat I suggest you calm down." The elf looked up at the circle of interested faces. This little spectacle had the bar's full attention. The scarred barmaid spoke up. "He really can swallow you," she said. "I've seen him do it. Get out or be badger shit." "Fine," the elf hissed, and made to stand. Instead the badger locked its fangs into his collar and dragged him to the front of the bar A hulking bouncer smiled as the badger tossed the elf out the door. "Thanks Bart," he said, and bent down to stroke the badger. The beast arched his neck into the petting but both of them looked alertly out into the street, presumably making sure the elf didn't come back in for a fight. "No problem, Alma," the badger growled, and Bernice realized that the heavyset bouncer was a half-orc woman. The muscular barmaid might be one too, just one favoring her human side. "I was closer." When the badger returned to his booth and somewhat awkwardly climbed back onto the bench - his short hind legs let him stand up on his hindpaws but the booths weren't made for badgers - her curiosity got the best of Bernice. She picked up her stew and ale and stood. The badger, who clearly kept an eye on the bar's goings-on, saw her interest and crooked a claw to invite her closer. Bernice slid onto the opposite bench without waiting for further invitation. The badger watched her out of ink-dark eyes even as he lowered his head to lap up more stew. "Bartleby," he growled when he'd swallowed. "Before you ask, no, I'm not a werebadger. I'm a dire badger who used to be a rent-a-mount." She knew about exotic mount vendors, but never one with a badger to rent out. She supposed that with a saddle the big badger might work as a mount as long as you didn't mind the rocking gait and having to bend your legs so they didn't drag. "Bernice," she said. "I apologize for being so curious, but..." Bartleby smiled a carefully teeth-hidden smile. He held up a forepaw and ticked off points on his claws. He must get the same questions a lot. "No, I wasn't intelligent then. A rich woman bought me and had me Awakened and paid for a few other changes." He swiveled his thumb around to show her it was there. "And while I was a mount my first owner had me changed so I could neatly dispose of bodies. So yes, I could have swallowed that half-elf, but I work tomorrow. Takes a while to digest a whole man." Bernice took a swig of ale. "And now you're a bouncer?" "A little," the badger admitted. "Mostly I work for the Guard sniffing out contraband." He touched his wet nosepad with a claw. "Good as a dog's but I can think and talk. Plus I can play dumb and people say things they shouldn't. I help out at the bar when I'm free and they let me sleep in the storeroom. I could afford a room but I don't need much space. Just a spot to curl up, and a basket vendor I helped out got me a big padded basket that fits under the shelves." "How did you help him?" "There was a big stray dog that kept getting into his storeroom and chewing up the merchandise," he growled. "I waited for it one night. No more dog problems," he said with a smile. "But you don't eat people very often." "Of course not," the badger growled. "I work for the guard. Once in a while they have a dangerous prisoner they need disposed of immediately and then I get a day off to digest them. But I don't just eat anyone that annoys me. I like talking to people," he gestured at the bar crowd. "Not eating them." He excused himself to visit the bathroom and the muscular barmaid stopped by to refill Bernice's mug. "And maybe doing things besides talking," Bernice muttered, for she hadn't missed the fond look the barmaid shot the badger as he went by. The woman smiled. "That's right," she said, low enough so only Bernice heard. "Why do you think that rich lady bought him?" "What's he like?". Bernice couldn't believe she was actually considering it, but it'd been a while. A traveling merchant doesn't always have the luxury of a spouse to scratch that itch. "Powerful," the barmaid said. "Enthusiastic. Well hung," she said in an even lower voice. "Trade a hand job for him licking you out. He's very good at that. Then you can decide if you want more." She traded Bernice's empty mug for a full one from her tray. "But watch his claws. Sometimes he slips. Oh, not this bad," she said as she touched one of the scars on her forearm. "But they can sting. And he may nip your neck, but gently. Go on top the first time you get that far. See if you like being badgered." She left with a smile. A moment later the badger was back. He surveyed the other patrons, looking for signs of trouble as Bernice ate. His little furry ears flicked as he listened in to conversations she couldn't hear. "Why did you leave the rich lady?" "Ah," Bartleby growled. "You were talking to Maris. I was with that lady - I won't say her name - for two years. I learned a lot from her, and she's why I can talk now, but in the end she fell in love with a male of her species. Her mate wasn't up for a three way relationship, so I left. I keep these," he touched one of the earrings with a claw, "To remember her by." "Do you get lonely? For other badgers?" Bartleby shrugged, a weirdly human movement on a beast with no real shoulders. "I've met a couple since I was Awakened. Badgers aren't social. They just hissed at me. Yes, if I found a female on heat I'd stay with her and mate, but then I'd go. I like a good conversation." "And showing people your sword," Bernice said with a smile. "When the time is right," Bartleby growled. He scratched his dense chestfur with his claws. Either unconsciously or as a bit of boasting his claws slid down onto his belly, flattening the fur enough for the sheath to stand out. She couldn't see all of it but what she did see was formidable. He was big and feral and he'd be scary if he showed the least ill-temper, but even when threatening to swallow the elf alive he'd been calm. The bar staff obviously trusted him. Bernice was sure she could be alone with him without ending up wearing a badger-fur coat of her own. She wanted to touch his fur, feel the rustling coarseness of his long flank fur and fluffy softness of his belly. What would it be like? To be in bed with a beast, albeit a talking one, wrapped in those powerful paws? She wanted to find out. "I have a room rented upstairs, Bartleby," she said. "Maybe the time is right now." When she slid out of the booth he waited before scuttling after her. The bar staff collectively smiled as he left a just long enough gap that it might be happenstance that they both went up the stairs. Most of the other customers paid it no mind but the staff knew what what happening. It wasn't the first time, after all. More than one lady traveler made it a point to stop by when in town for a good badgering. "Watch your claws," Maris murmured as he went by, and the badger chuckled. Maris grinned and rubbed the love-bite scar on the side of her neck. Four white pinpoints where his canines had dug in a bit. Bartleby really was a careful and gentle lover, unless you didn't want him to be. Then he could be very fierce indeed.