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Klarg abhorred violence. Hard to believe, maybe, but he really, truly did! Violence was the last bastion for a man with very little else to bring to the table. Bugbears, of course, were inherently brutes. Bloodthirsty and hungry, they tore into anything they could get their claws on, leaving viscera and gore in their wake, extending very little sympathy to the lives they so easily cleaved with their claws.
The inhibitor stopped that.
After being inoculated, Klarg was very acutely aware of what had transpired in that lab of Lucas’. He was very much aware that he was no longer.. Normal, as one could consider it. He had been altered, a chip in his brain soothing and calming his genetic rage and leading him towards calmer pastures.
In a world where he was destined to only see red, the chip helped Klarg see color. And while many tsk-tsked his actions-- And true, Klarg wished there was a way he could have been amicably approached with the offer-- Lucas had been a smart man.
The inhibitor took a part of Klarg with its activation, but it wasn’t a part he missed.
So Klarg had time to explore kinder pastures. He took to tea, and ties. He enjoyed a meal ceremony just as much as he enjoyed a good book and a view. Klarg could discuss careful poetic prose and aim conversation delicately away from heated topics like politics or personal liberties-- He was a damn good diplomat when everything was working as it should.
When things went wrong, though, it very seriously went wrong.
“Hey, come on! Just a quick sparring match.” Three new initiates, new recruits to the cause, as it were-- They had been pestering Klarg for a week now. It was an incessant strand of pleas, mixed with goading taunts. Three of them, not even worthy of their bracers yet. Klarg, fortunately, was relatively good at not letting little jeers phase him.
The largest of the three, a bulky Goliath, easily standing at eye level with Klarg, approached him then, reaching a palm out to amicably hold his shoulder, making the Bugbear stiffen and twitch, a souring feeling in his stomach making him twist and exhale. Not today, they were children, for Gods' Sakes. They just wanted to prove themselves worthy of the bracer by fighting the largest being on the Moon. It was a natural reaction. Klarg would not break. “Come on, man,” He said eagerly, voice like gravel skittering down a mountainside. “We could even do one on one, you and me. See who’s the better misunderstood giant, huh?” He laughed then, though he would have been a fool to think Klarg missed the way his friends behind him hissed with giggles.
One on one. A gentleman’s duel. An honorable request, if it had been in truth. Somehow, Klarg doubted that. So, with his own kindhearted grunt, Klarg shifted away from the palm on his shoulder, clicking his tongue. “Perhaps you could find Killian of the Regulators? Surely one of her group would be much more amicable to your request? I am simply a librarian.”
Which he was, most days. Relegated there so to keep himself away from ruffians and also entertain him with a quiet job, if Klarg wasn’t on the surface acting as a Seeker-- Which he did very rarely, to be sure, as his disposition and breed did not typically bode itself to the gathering of information-- he was on the base. As a librarian.
He actually liked it quite a bit.
The trio, however, were not ones to be stopped, and as they scoffed and rolled their eyes amongst each other, Klarg looked up, casting a concerned look throughout the cafeteria. He’d simply wanted to grab lunch before heading back to work, then to have tea with Taako, mend some armor for Magnus, rebind a book for Merle-- He had a busy day, he didn’t have time for this tomfoolery.
Unfortunately for him, the cafeteria was nearly empty, janitors sweeping up rogue messes and chefs preparing for the next wave of people to hit in about ten minutes. Which left them alone and, woefully, to their own devices.
“I really must take my leave, gentlemen,” Klarg managed with as much civility as ever, despite the growing swelter of rage burning thick in his throat like phlegm. He turned to the lone woman in their group, bowing low. “Lady,” He amended, smiling as charmingly as his fangs would allow, before turning on his heel, tray in hand, and heading off lest they continue to pester. At least in the library he could have some clout to tell them to leave.
Their disappointed calls followed him only two steps before something collided with his head. Klarg staggered like he’d been hit with something much heavier and more damaging, blunted claws denting the metal tray he’d been balancing so gently not two seconds before.
The hacky sack flopped gently to the floor, now prone after hitting Klarg at the temple. It seemed the twig-like elven ranger realized his mistake a minute too late, an expression like dawning horror spreading over his face as Klarg’s lunch dishes clattered to the ground, the metal tray split in half in his claws.
Klarg saw red, and lunged.
--
Now, Taako was a relatively private man, personal life considered. He’d be the first one to dropkick his way into your bathroom to critique the way you pissed, but if you were to ask him who his friends were, you’d probably get cursed off the moon for your efforts.
So it frustrated him to no end that, when Klarg got into it, he was the first person they ran to.
It was common knowledge that Taako and the bugbear had some sort of bond. Most didn’t know to what sort of extent it was, they just knew that when the shit got real for him, it was the elf that could calm him down. Even that, though, was too much knowledge out there in the world for his comfort. So the half-elf twittering nervously in his doorway was given an unamused, flat glare for her efforts, picking at the cuticles of her nails as she was under his inscrutable gaze.
“He’s what?” Taako repeated, voice dull. Klarg could take care of himself. He didn’t need Taako rushing in every time someone bullied him and hurt his feelings.
“I- Ah, well, Mr. Taaco, see--” The half-elf was just sweating now, nervous bullets of moisture sliding down her temple, both from running frantic through the base to get to the Man, the Myth, the Legend, himself, and now apparently getting a workout for her trouble. “He’s-- Please, we need you to come to the cafeteria, otherwise we’ll have to magic him, and-- And we were told he likes that even less, so--”
Taako held up a hand, slim fingers shining in the dim light his candlelit room provided. “He’s fighting?” He asked. “As in, already pissed to shit?”
A frantic nod was his answer, the poor girl’s eyes wide and nervous as she opened her mouth to speak again, only to be silenced by Taako’s suddenly very large grin. “Well, why didn’t you say so, Baby Doll?” He said, voice bright like the chime of a bell. “Fuck yes I wanna see this shit, lead the way!”
When he got to the cafeteria, though, it was almost everything he wanted.
The ranger was on the ground, cowering under a lunch table even as Klarg roared and slammed his fist through an adjacent one, long claws catching on the plastic wood grain and ripping up, hurling the hunk of plastic at the goliath who yelped and ducked, slipping on the floor and taking cover as best as he could.
Klarg’s snarl rang and filled the dome, and those that were cowed by him before stumbled back even as three others sprang from the crowd to try and stifle the Bugbear. Two rogues and a barbarian, large hand reaching down to heft the goliath to his feet. She approached Klarg with her hands raised. “We don’t want to hurt you!” She called, hands splayed. “But you need to calm down, or we’ll take offensive action!”
He seemed to take a beat, but that was when the two rogues, apparently acting in unison launched themselves from the shadows, landing on his shoulders and each working to pin an arm back and subdue him.
Infuriated roar once again reverberating throughout the base, Klarg bit thick claws into the leather armor of the rogues on his shoulders, ducking his head toward the barbarian and charging forward, arms twisting and yanking, sending the rogues flying at the woman before he, himself, collided with her, all teeth and fury and--
“ God that’s hot,” Taako groaned, a hungry note in his throat, ignoring the aghast look the half-elf shot him-- Or just not seeing it. Either way, he licked his lips and watched the two beings grapple, waiting until Klarg’s teeth were within snapping range before he began to clap, walking calmly into the ring, sharp, staccato notes taking the entire throng by surprise.
A rush of mutters flooded the room, a silent hush only punctuated by the low, furious growls still tearing themselves from Klarg’s throat as he refused to break the stare he had on the barbarian woman before him. “ Be careful! ” Someone hissed from the crowd, a caution Taako physically seemed to wave away before continuing to clap and approach the two.
The two rogues lay on the ground nearest to one another, groaning low under their breath and rubbing their heads, still in perfect unison. Taako stretched one leg farther in order to avoid stepping on them, and yet still somehow managed to step on their hair as he did. Definitely accidental.
Finally close to Klarg, Taako reached a hand out to press comfortingly against his bicep, standing on his tiptoes even as his fingers comfortingly pet through the thick fur there. “C’mon bud,” He said warmly, casually, like urging a friend to move along at a zoo. “You’re late for tea, let’s get outta here.”
Something in Klarg seemed to relax then, claws that were digging into the woman’s arm loosening as he blinked, gaze turning from infuriated to dazed, fuzz clouding his vision as confusion began to twitch onto his lips. “Wh…”
“No, no, no,” Taako promised, clicking his tongue expectantly, long fingers trailing up to tap Klarg on the lips in punctuation. “No need to speak. We can sort all this out back in the room, come along.”
Like in a trance, Klarg followed, eyebrows drawn heavily over his eyes, grip completely slack on the woman as Taako guided him away. The crowd parted like the red sea at their approach, silent awe filtering heavily down as people took in the destruction of the cafeteria and the back of the Bugbear who had caused it, all without gaining a scratch himself.
It was a moment later that Taako reappeared, shimmering and flickering, without Klarg at his side. His voice sounded distant, as an echo, but everyone turned their attention back to him as angry magic cracked off of him like static, mood very different from his amicable demeanor prior.
“If I find the mother-truckers responsible for pissing Klarg off, I hope to Gods you can breathe in space because I will not rest until you’re the first man on the actual moon I swear to you. I will find you and rip your goddamn bracer off with my bare fucking hands and ensure that no one will find you, and then I will put you on the goddamn moon.”
And he vanished.
Klarg came to hunched on the floor, Taako calmly braiding beads into his hair and chattering vaguely about the looks on people’s faces when he’d said... something. No memory of the context of their conversation was given, and the bugbear winced and furrowed his brow, confused even as those gentle fingers combed through his hair and held him in place.
“Taako?” He asked slowly, voice a sore, rasping grunt-- Nothing like his typically eloquent diction.
“There he is,” The elf in question said brightly, stopping his braiding to lean forward, a finely-manicured nail pressing hard against his nose. “And here I thought you were going to make me wait for a whole hour before you spoke. You’re really not much of a conversationalist when you’re so angry,” He mused cheerfully, seemingly just happy that he had someone to talk to.
And yet, as Taako’s words hit him, the bugbear stiffened, memories of the past hour managing to filter through his subconscious and fall into place in their horrifying timeline. Guilt made Klarg feel nauseous, and as quick as his confusion had arrived it was gone, and he let out a noise quite unlike the rage of before. “Is everyone alright?” He asked, horror in his voice even as his shoulders slumped and he buried his face into his paws, claws catching at the fine braids around his ears.
A confused noise left Taako then, as his subject hunched over and promptly made braiding a lot more difficult. “Klarg, Klarg, darling--” His words turned into a coo as the bugbear groaned, apparently bracing himself for the worst. “Oh, they’re fine . Big, strong warriors like the Bureau’s got, they’re perfectly alright,” Taako assured him. “Maybe a bit startled by all the throwing--” Another noise, and the elf quickly wrapped his arms around the bugbear.
He couldn’t quite manage to fit around his entire frame-- Klarg was muscular, sure, but add that to just generally being built like a tank meant that Taako’s hug was a bit awkward, no matter how he shifted. And he did shift, moving to settle in front of Klarg in lieu of behind, lithe fingers forcing Klarg’s chin up so he could look the man in the eye.
“Hey,” Taako’s tone was firm now, steely eyes meeting liquid gold, overbright with unshed tears, wrecked with guilt over something he couldn’t even control. “Everyone knows better than to fuck with you, big guy,” He said. “Now you know I personally luh-oooove when you get angry, but the others know that you aren’t something to trifle with, we clear? They trifled. Their fault. No one blames you.” Maybe he couldn’t speak for everyone, but anyone that disagreed with that sentiment could kindly suck Taako’s entire ass.
“If you hadn’t showed up…” Klarg didn’t try to break the staring contest Taako held, incredulously eying him like he was some sort of miraculous angel.
But then, Taako always had been an angel, since that very first day he’d seen them enter his cave. Since his friends threw his dog, and took his Jade frog… Even when Taako was commanding him to jump into the path of a laser, christ, Taako was a goddamn angel sent from the Gods.
That might have been the Chip speaking, though.
Rolling his eyes, Taako’s fingers loosened their iron-like grip on Klarg’s fingers, instead settling over his fur and combing through it at his chest, shaking his head. “I did, though. No reason to think about ‘what if’s, my guy,” He drawled flippantly, waving a hand. “Now, the important thing, can you see these beads? I found them in Neverwinter, and I just thought: Klarg. They make you look so regal, you know--”
Stooping down, Klarg’s paws found Taako’s hips, pulling him close as he pressed a gentle, grateful kiss to the elf’s lips. It was sweet, appreciative. About as spur of the moment as Klarg could allow himself to get, gently managing to keep his fangs out of the equation for just a brief, fleeting moment before he pulled away.
Thank Gods for fur, lest the other man see him blush.
“Well, that’s certainly an option, yeah,” Taako murmured quietly after a second, grin slowly spreading wolfishly across his lips.
“Ah-- I-- Terribly sorry, you’re right-- Of course, now is hardly the time, I just--”
“Oh my Gooooood how are you not over this yet,” Taako groaned loudly before grabbing Klarg and dragging him in for another kiss, straddling the larger man’s waist and picking up his paw with his hand, settling it right over the curve of his ass.
The smallest of pathetic-sounding mewls left Klarg’s mouth as his paw tightened, blunted claws scraping dully against the skin. He responded to the kiss eagerly, pulling Taako tighter to his chest and leaning back against the couch where Taako had been perched previously, eyes slipping shut as a claw caught in the waistband of his skirt.
A tutting tongue broke Klarg’s haze as Taako, above him and perched so carefully over his hips, placed brief, teasing kisses along his jaw and at the corner of his mouth.. “Oh, no, no, no, Klarg. Simply no. You’re gonna have to work much harder than just a few kisses before we get to go anywhere fun.”
Without a doubt, Taako had been sent by the Gods. What kind, though, remained to be seen.