Elder joints operated the big wolf's anatomy more peculiar than any other day in his age. 'Old age' maybe. Walking about on hind legs put forth the image of a trophy-chance given your hungry hunter or poacher. A series of events most unfortunate to string together. 'Oh Rhydin, it has not been long enough.' distaste for the land.

Bless the area he'd chosen, as with such attentive ears to the mile circumlocution that bounded him. Crackling leaves, strong gusts of wind, and the big muzzle of the wolf that would put Toucan Sam out of a job. The countdown to peace in this wolf deity's days was a short list errands. No sooner completed then could he go back to a brisk pace on all fours chasing the moon.

He sighed looking down to his wolven hind paws, the three alternating claws wiggling as toes would. He unfolded a pair of sunglasses and roosted them atop his snout. Looking back they slid back and landed appropriately visoring his eyes. A deep breath and back on the patrol with two claws hooking the strap to a case over his back. Black and sloppy in an epic proportion for the eyes. The purple velvet shut inbetween the case that spoke just the softest of whispers to the richness of the case-lining.

When the wind blew his bangs to an opposite eye they were shadowing, and his ears could stand again from the chill, he saw it an opportune time to whip out his map from his black jacket. All biker-esque and bad to the bone hinting.

The shades hid his eyes so well, and the bangs overtop one the lenses accented an angry gaze. Scribbled on that bit of paper he had was his countdown to peace, and "2." was his being out in the forest. Mobster-style package to deliver. "The goods" in that case on his back and hooked by claws.

But the question stood 'Where in the bloody hell do I find the guy to give it to"' Quick pro quo, not where, but when. And the answers to both unreal questions lied on that paper. This alone, shows the size on which things are being played today. Today logged like a school assignment paper in the paper's corner, unfortunately too brief and blurry to be made out by any quick glances. Rohkan had already read and was prepared.

His dewclaw flexed back to uncover his timepiece ticking away. He was here to the very minute of this plan. Still early, nonetheless. His shoulder went to a fine tree and he adjusted his Desert Eagle with his map-paw. A glorious butt vined in gold leafing and on down into it's holster as a strip tease to make the eyes want to see the rest, what is concealed.

Another breeze of wind, another glance to the clock. Another read of the paper. Those names of characters in this crazy tale we call life were all documented. Documented as best can be. Some more than others, some deeper than others. 'RPS Chris.' was somewhere down the thousandth hall of an archive with a nice little label for his name and a log of events. Old Avia's library all but haunted and darkened now. But where the information on this paper came from.

Logs of events from the past and most importantly the future. And the old wolf completed list item "1." by finding Chris' records. A freaky bit of bullshit it may sound. A kid/stalker with pen and paper getting these tidbits of information down would be a very embarrassing. No it was a red globe of circuitry and a bit of awesomeness that operated in the worn ruins of the Avian Empire connected by supercomputers than ran and recorded the logs. Since it's 'purification' during the working days to the since 'retired' days, the apparatus has never gone offline.

And one fine day in recorded history deep in the unmapped forests of Rhydin, a mass of land undergoes attack. This intrigued Rohkan to completing the task at all seeing as his thirst for action had never left what tastes his teeth soothed in sinking in.

The blast from a spaceship just within Rhydin airspace. Deemed such by closeness and not actuality. A cruel Lord lead to an army and toyer of a power all barking considerable threat. A name and a fight for another time, another story. This was simply a landmark and checkpoint for "2." on his list.

What crazysexycoolness that made Chris what he was, was easy to assume he was not of the higher-knowledge that there was a universal coding system that recorded several documentations of his ventures. To this he was destined to bump into Rohkan today, an old imperial prophecy on notebook paper of the one guy who would walk this secluded forest in, time-check: half an hour. Recorded time of arrival for the spacial attack to forever signaturize the land it touches.

To this date, how would Chris look" Casual in sneaks and jeans, or patroling in dazzling armor that blinds it's attackers with the sun it reflects. Rohkan would know when he saw. His old nose had been around long enough to tell the scent between someone who'd washed dirt off his hands before, or someone who'd washed blood off their hands before.

Rohkan shuddered a moment. The thrill of space to land battles during daylight. Nothing ever looked the same. Curses to his fancies for liking such devastation, but it was far too habitual to ever change. His great internal struggle to act out the battle, rewrite the future of what happens. Or simply deliver the parcel and go about his journey for peace.

Poor Rhydin no sooner touched by his presence than him ready to leave it once more.

'A wolf out in the snow, did not know for where to go. He looked the stars and all about, but no sign of kin meant only doubt.

With his snout up high and paws all light, he was sure to take any fight. But without the three there was no end, she he ran off into the night.'

Eaglian manuscript readers would have lived their lives reading everything their clock of time allowed, and only dying and roaming the halls of the Eagle Library in spirit would they have found that particular parchment within the archives of the Eagle estate there.

This could give him thrill again, so many possibilities knowing what may happen, no more on that paper than a few predictions to a race by one standard, but to another, to him, an exegesis of events to come. And this old wolf who has stood the test of time he could most certainly leech the most enjoyment out of this situation. A grin showed his emotion now where those shades didn't show it in his eyes.

A near half-hour was plenty of time to race to some points and stir up a storm before the blast and Chris' passing in the woods. Thoughts now delved into financial gain, blood money. To be the masterclass overseer in a game of chess he'd host. The pawns combatting and move for move to his expectations. All said and done he'd be the bigshot with the brilliant currency to his master plan by some parimutuel.

Time would tell, and surely Rohkan was prepared for anything in terms of this character. Twas why his Desert Eagle had an unbuttoned strap swaying down undone. And just how grand a scale were things on his side? Still a bunch of unknowns. Rohkan knew nothing of the man other than the mastermind behind task "1." and "2." had a liking to him. Good enough for this old dog. And to that the case on his back unopened but badassily scathed in a few wolf scratches he cared not for when how he first hauled it.

Surely a nice wear and tear positive. And a poorly drawn tree and poorly written directions marked the very spot he was at, overlooking the pasture ahead. Looked to be drawn by a limb very in capable of writing with utensils. To that Rohkan clenched a fist out of his paw. The case slipped off his fingers and it leant up against the tree as he did. Popping the seal on his signature beverage, a Corona brew. Materialized from one location to his paw by the clacking of claws.

He awaited both the blast AND Chris' passing-through with great expectation. The thrill of action, the meeting of Chris, and all in all one step closer to his peace: Out of Rhydin.

Showtime baby. The clock was doing it's cool thing, you could always make a watch make YOU look sophisiticated by taking a quick glance at it just enough to hear a few ticks, watch the second hand move a notch or two on it's springs. Quick enough almost to not gauge the time but this was a treat to do, especially when plotting ways out of boredom. Waiting room, waiting for your food to arrive, bus stop, DMV, waiting to check out, boredom.

He tossed the empty corona bot. through the air and drew his Desert Eagle, following it's descent through his crosshair the whole way to the grass, ultimately sighing. Weapon reholstered in that cool sound of steel brushing leather and the long black case was picked up again, another check to the watch and it was moments til the clock would match the poorly written time on the paper.

Walking towards the opening that showed the wide valley best and to where the explosion would take place from an alias warmaster making a situational cameo. His attentive ears picked up the treading of feet, thinking this was him. And not only that but the weight distribution to the sound he made beneath him lead him to believe that he wasn't wearing shoes, but running with them! What a gamble.

Closer the sound drew and he stepped from the tree concealing him and head on where Chris was running, and already having his speech prepared.

"Chris I presu-" ever wondered what a wolfman looked like blushing, now you knew. A masterclass warrior indeed, or perhaps about to get his groove on with a promiscuous housewife. Anyway, there he stood with all his words having fled from him.

Careful what to say or do, messing with the future must have it's drawbacks. But wait a tick, that only applied to the past didn't it' You mess up the past and it affects your future. You mess up the future, doesn't seem like it'll mess up the past. There was probably more to it than that, but Rohkan didn't think on it. If ANYTHING could give you a headache it was thinking about time-travel.

He looked Chris over for real this time, part of the procedure to gauge his capabilities. No concealed weapons or so it seemed. Rohkan was a strict believer that everyone has to have been killed by everything at least once, ,so having said that, a man has to have been slain by a wang somewhere. Leaving open the possibliity Chris is still dangerous.

He wasn't about to carelessly lose his life, so he slipped back on the alert. And resumed his still pose, only the wind blowing his black fur around, that was more salt than pepper these days.

The laser blast finally came, as if a five-second sunset and then all was bright again. A wolf in sheep's clothing came down through the skies as that laser and appeared so normal and common til it struck. Rising a tsunami of mud and dirt and swirling everything into it's destruction til it was done materializing.

What was left when it had all subsided was a castle in the sky. A saying of what was up with this spaceman and the toys at his disposal. It floated there still as a statue all but the bottom which floored with a jaggedy collection of landmass and all of it waving like a buckling bridge not built to weather a storm.

Well now things were put together delightfully for this encounter. The aftereffect castle not one of the memos on his paper but a positive nonetheless, and just all that more cool it still in the background while they had their encounter.

"RPS Chris?" a noticeable brow went up, only cause the fur over his eye clustered when those muscles rose.

"This is for you." he said, taking off that case from over his shoulder and slinging it out for him to catch. Arriving closer to him the black case was that: black. But at the base it had a romantic cursive written "Slime."

That was it, Rohkan dropped his alert of him and looked back at his paper, "#2" got scratched out just like "#1" and there was only a few numbers left on his countdown to peace. Chris' eyes would see a bumblebee if he were to open that case, but not the large, hairy, yellow and black nectar-collecting sort.

The parcel had a long time coming to Chris, and this story strung it to Chris in a way of no other. Finally a closed chapter and a slew of new ones to open surely. Rohkan cared not what happened, and he winked conclusively to Chris before turning his back to him and walking through the forest again. They were diddle-die-done.