fowl_beast | OOM: Out of character

Death wasn't a convenience anymore.

Not when you couldn't rely on teleportation to get away from the crowded cities.

Not when you couldn't get away from people who would gladly take away the life you had just fought (sorta) to get back.

For 7,000 years, he had been wrestling death and winning. Three millennia ago, death had begrudgingly realized that Evil Chicken was not going to stay dead. The will of the beast was too strong. The fight over life had degraded to a mere staring contest, but it was a mere formality.

Death's only consolation was that it was his choice where Evil Chicken would be reborn. It was the same place he put most all those who had the protection of the gods after they had died. A place full of bitterness and disappointment, some of which Evil Chicken himself had created.

Soon after the Wizard Guild's successful attempt to exercise further control over teleportation, the reasoning for the choosing the place of Evil Chicken's place of rebirth was made clear. Death could no longer hold Evil Chicken. Death, however, could find Evil Chicken at the hands of the angry mobs of Lumbridge, and drag him in for staring contest after staring contest.

Death no longer had any fight left. The warriors he guided back to Lumbridge did however. With the option to directly teleport to a more remote place in Glienor gone, Evil Chicken had to once again fight for life.

But then, there was teleporting into other realms. Realms where the Wizard Guild held no power.

Death was no longer a convenience. And so Evil Chicken was finally shaking off bad habits he had learned while he was sure that his death was meaningless. He was relearning how to survive.

And part of that was learning how to use his natural gifts in novel ways.

Have you ever wondered how it is that this chicken can speak to humans?

The whispering started with the mages, more specifically the two mages who were wielding the staves that users of the more ancient of magicks tended to carry around. Magicks that manipulated blood, shadow, smoke, and ice, rather than the air, water, earth, and fire that more primitive magic did. Magick used by the Mahjarrat and the Empty Lord Zaros before the God Wars erased their histories. Few beside the users of the Magicks knew the origin of the ancient spells.

Doubt. The Dark Lord Zaros ruled many of the same lands the Saradomists now occupied and defended from the influence of Zamorak. But as willing as the armies of Lord Saradomin were to fight off Zamorak cultists, they were adamant in denying the existence of Zaros, who even Zamorak allegedly feared. As much as a threat Zamorak posed, it was dwarfed by the threat posed by Zaros. And yet Saradomin and his priests would not even acknowledge his existence.

It was but a seed of doubt that made it easier for them to consider seriously the same questions Lady Palana asked herself while in the Wilderness. The questions she thought she was asking herself, anyway. About the apple, about the chicken they were escorting south, about why they were doing what they were. Why are we following the river?

The hunting group was now in the forest surrounding Draynor Manor, the huge estate north of Draynor village, formerly occupied by the late Count Draynor. The influence of the vampire could still be felt, though, even outside the estate. Why are going east to get around the manor? The forest around the manor was still dangerous, and taking the western route would have been safer. The forest didn't come all the way to the Asgarnian wall there, but in the east it stretched all the way to the river. The western route is more well traveled. Why are we sneaking around as if we were thieves?

"What are you whispering about?"

The progress of the group was halted by Evil Chicken, who had been been following Lady Palana closely since Edgeville, pretending to be her familiar. It took Lady Palana a few seconds to halt herself. The apple she was carrying preoccupied her thoughts. It still showed no sign of oxidation around the wound, which still looked as fresh as when she cut it. But as preoccupied as she was, the fact that Evil Chicken had stopped pretending to be her familiar wasn't going to go unnoticed. "Why have you stopped? This forest is not a place good place to stop and talk." She wasn't just asking Evil Chicken; she meant the question to be heard by the whole group.

"It is better than doing it out in the open where someone may see us. Or hear us," said Evil Chicken.

"Lady Palana," one of the archers spoke up, "why have we taken the eastern route around the manor? The western route is much safer."

"Why are we doing this at all?" The knight who had been poisoned. "We are supposed to be doing Lord Saradomin's holy work, and instead we are doing the work of this evil beast and delivering that fruit of the wilderness to some place, only the Lord knows where-"

"Ingrate!" hissed the rooster.

"Draynor, and we are nearly there-"

"And what will we do there?" Asked one of the mages, cutting Lady Palana off. "We can't be expected to defend this... thing if someone recognizes it."

At this, Lady Palana stopped to stare at Evil Chicken. "We have made a promise. But... what will we do in Draynor?"

"We will divide up the apple, like I told you." Hmmm. Staring contest. Evil Chicken could do that.

"And we are supposed to just wait around while that is done and hope no one sees us?" Again, the knight who was saved by the apple.

"You already received your portion! You do not have to wait around," snapped the rooster. Ah, those trees look familiar.

He was saved from a righteous (and a bit stupid) death by one of the enemies of his god. And now he was aiding this beast as if he had some debt to repay. Evil Chicken was right, he had no reason to wait. He unsheathed his sword and charged. "Begone, unclean thing!"

Evil Chicken took to the air. "The deal is off. The apple is mine!"

No one had seen Evil Chicken fly in thousands of years, and it was generally accepted that he could not. Evil Chicken was twice as large, twice as heavy as a normal chicken, and chickens weren't exactly graceful fliers. Why would he fly, when he could teleport anyway? The warriors were stunned by the feat, and even more so by what he did next. He physically attacked Lady Palana, who was prepared for a magical attack from Evil Chicken. The knight who had charged Evil Chicken was not expecting him to take flight, and so, as he continued his charge, he tracked the rooster's movement, taking his eyes off the ground and the gnarled roots in it. Already off balance, he tripped on one of the roots and fell onto Lady Palana, unwittingly helping Evil Chicken knock her into a tree. The tree awoke and made an attempt to grab Palana, finally freeing the apple from her grip. Evil Chicken immediately stopped his attack and headed to retrieve it.

"Stop him!" She shouted as she struggled against the tree that was now trying to hold her and the foolhardy knight prisoner. "Don't let him take the apple! Don't let the apple fall from Saradomin's hand!" The forest around them started to come alive.

Evil Chicken was in the air again, with the apple in his claws. Claws that were made for perching and walking and running, not holding things in the air. At least it wasn't wiggling, like the demon bunnies did. It took concentration to keep the apple from falling, it took concentration to knock arrows out of the air with wind magic, it took concentration to keep heading toward Draynor Manor.

A water spell knocked him and the apple out of the air. So near the fence, so close. Palana and the warriors of the group were closing in on Evil Chicken, but were being slowed by the trees that taking swipes at them. The archers and the mages had stopped in a treeless spot where they could safely fire off arrows and and spells. Now that Evil Chicken was out of the air, the archers could no longer reach him, however, they wondered if they could hit him at all anyway. He was knocking their arrows out of the air, something which he never did before. He never physically attacked people or ran away from a fight, either.

He was still getting hit by the mages' spells. Please, wake up, please trip then up. He located the apple and ran toward it. "Warthead! Warthead! Get inside the fence!" An ice spell hit him, temporarily halting his progress, followed by a fire spell.

The ground below the mages and the archers finally came alive. Vines erupted from the ground and started to flail wildly, distracting the mages. Evil Chicken took the temporary halt in the assault to grab the apple and take to the air once again. He was almost over the fence when a spell knocked him and the apple down again, but thankfully he was inside the manor estate this time. "Warthead! Warthead! Where are you?"

A goblin ran up to the chicken. "Warthead, hurry! Get me and that apple into the house, I need to talk to Oddenstein and there are Saradomists after me."

The goblin scooped up the injured chicken and the apple and ran into Count Draynor's former home.

Carried around by a goblin... There was a time when he would have killed Warthead for looking at him funny. There was a time when he wouldn't have used such cowardly, deceitful tactics. There was a time when he wasn't afraid of dying.

Times are changing.