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Ros knew there was something strange about ClownPierce. Of course she'd heard the rumors. She knew there was something he wasn't telling her, something no one else who knew him before the Realm would speak of either. She knew he was dangerous. She didn't need to hear Hannah's veiled warnings to figure that out. She saw a change in him sometimes. When Pangi tampered with the Kingdom's honey, and his loose posture stiffened. When Pangi stole his armor, and his voice came out as a growl. When Bad and Pili threatened her and he appeared from thin air, fingers curled into claws. Every one of them a moment that came and went so quickly that she wasn't sure it hadn't just been her imagination.
Then Pili killed her. Bad came to the castle to deliver a gift from her murderer to her protector. Clown met him at the bridge, standing stock still in front of the castle, and in front of Ros. He accepted Pili's token wordlessly. And then he spoke.
"Ros," he said, his voice a quiet rasp against the still, late afternoon air. "Tell me. Did Bad have anything to do with your death?"
For some reason the question made her heart pound in her chest. "O-oh, no. No, he didn't."
"But he was there when it happened?"
"...Yes." Something about Clown's tone raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
"So he stood by and watched as you were murdered?" Clown asked, and she knew she wasn't imagining his stiff posture and claw-like fingers now. His voice came out as a growl and his mask split into a snarling maw of teeth. "He let you die and he did nothing to stop it?"
Clown let out an agonizing howl that filled her with a bone-deep dread. The prey animal of her screamed at her to run, but her feet remained rooted to the spot as she watched her friend change. His body twisted into an enormous, canid shape, larger than a draft horse and covered in matted, black fur. His face lengthened into a snout full of ribbons of drool and snapping teeth. Horns sprouted from his skull, sharp and spiraling. A mane of red fur ran the length of his spine to a bushy tail that thrashed with rage. He was like no animal Ros had seen before. He was a monster.
"Ros, you should run," Bad said with alarm. "Fast, and in the other direction!"
But she couldn't move. She watched in utter horror as Bad turned tail and ran, and Clown—the monster that was once Clown—roared and gave chase.
Despite Bad's warning, despite every fiber of her being telling her to listen, Ros followed. She watched the beast that was once her friend gallop after Bad, gaining on him fast with the advantage of his new size and strength. Clown pounced, knocking Bad to the ground and pinning him under one paw.
Bad shrieked, loud and dramatic. Under the icy fear freezing her limbs, Ros's mind whispered treacherously that it sounded disingenuous. Clown snapped at Bad, and Bad barely dodged having his head ripped from his shoulders, curling up around the paw crushing him to the ground. Clown bit at him again, and Bad grabbed his jaws, wailing when Clown's teeth punctured his hands.
"Stop! I! Didn't! Do anything!" Bad yelled, pushing Clown's face away. "Pili's the one you want!"
If there was anything left of Clown to reason with, the words did not reach him. The beast snapped at Bad again, but his teeth met the dirt. Bad conjured a battle-axe from his inventory and from his awkward position beneath Clown he wound up, then slammed the blade up into his shoulder. Clown let out another agonizing roar as he danced away from his prey, holding his injured leg close and pawing at the axe imbedded in his flesh.
Bad leapt to his feet and pulled his bow from his inventory next, nocking an enderic arrow and drawing it back. "Ros, get out of here!"
He released the arrow and a moment later disappeared in a cloud of violet mist. The monster that was Clown yanked the axe free from his shoulder, tearing his flesh open further, blood staining his fur like an oil spill. He gave a long sniff to the air, and for a moment Ros's blood ran cold. Then he roared again and carried on his chase, limping off in a direction that Ros was sure Bad had not gone. At no point had he given any indication that he knew Ros was there.
She let out a shaking breath and stood there, trembling as the adrenaline faded away. A chirp from her pocket shocked her out of her fearful daze. A new message on her comm. Badlinu was slain by ClownPierce. Not the right Bad. It was possible Clown no longer cared.
Ros desperately wanted to find him, plead with him to calm down and think. She didn't even know where she would begin. He was faster than she was. By the time she caught up to his last known location he would surely be chasing down new prey halfway across the Realm. What could she even do if she did find him?
She could return to the castle instead. Wait to see if Clown would come home. She was so tired of waiting. Another ping on her comm, and she read, Piso4 was slain by ClownPierce. He was a creature in a frenzy, seeking only destruction, no matter whose expense it was at. Freddie was at least part of the Hostile Faction. Coy had done nothing to earn Clown's ire.
Except be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The Titans were not exactly the Kingdom's allies, but they weren't their enemies either. If she found him she would just become another of his victims, torn to pieces by his claws and teeth and left to be picked apart by phantoms and zombies. Yet when she finally pried her feet up from the ground, they carried her in the same direction she'd seen Clown go.
The closer she came to the center of spawn the more signs of Clown's rampage she found. Claw marks along wooden walls. Blood streaked along broken window panes and puddled on the road. Dropped inventory, abandoned by both owner and attacker.
She heard him before she saw him, a gurgling growl that could only be made by a monster as large as he was. The nervous pitter-patter of her heart sped up into a rabbit-quick pounding against her sternum. Her hands began to shake. She peeked around the corner of the therapy office and found him there, stood up on his back legs and pawing at his face, snapping arrow shafts in half as he tried to free them from his snout. Clown's hindquarters were punctured with as many arrows as his face. He spit blood and drool with each puffing breath he took. The pained, wheezing breaths were broken by the soft growls and whines of a beaten dog with every swipe of his paws across his face. Then suddenly Clown froze, stiff as a board. Before she could consider what it meant his long neck craned around until his eyes met Ros's.
His face was as bone-white as his mask, stained red with blood along his muzzle. The four horns that sprouted from his head spiraled in asymmetric directions, straight up into the air and curling around his face like the hat tails of his jester's hood. Broken stripes of red fur ran the length of his legs and sides like bloody gashes—turned redder still by the blood soaking his matted fur—down to paws with too-long toes, big enough to wrap around her neck if he so chose.
Clown brought his front paws to the ground and stood, turning to face her fully, and her instincts screamed for her to run. He limped forward on his injured leg, still spurting blood from the wound Bad's axe had inflicted. Tears pricked at the corners of Ros's eyes from fright. Blood dripped from his jaws and her lip trembled as she imagined his teeth tearing through her flesh. He stopped just out of arm's reach from her. There was a hesitance in his body language she hadn't expected, couldn't read the intention of. Then he stretched his neck out and sniffed her curiously. He was close enough that she could reach out and touch his wet nose if she wanted to. Everything in her told her she shouldn't. It was either maddeningly suicidal or idiotically brave that she did so anyway.
He flinched away when her hand poked his nose. Startled by the touch, or expecting something worse from it perhaps. He didn't growl or snap at her, though, so she didn't pull her hand away. Just waited for him to bring his nose back to it and sniff it again. He nudged her fingers insistently, forcing them to run over the length of his snout like she was petting him. Ros blinked.
He wanted her to pet him.
Ros took a careful step forward, and as she did she ran her fingers up his snout to his cheek, gently scratching through his fur. The monster that was Clown let out a contented chuff when she did.
"Oh, Clown..." Ros whispered. He wasn't an untamed beast. He was a guardian. Her guardian. She continued to scratch her fingers through Clown's fur, barely holding in a grimace when her hand came back wet and red. Blood from injuries sustained trying to protect her. "You poor thing..."
Clown took a step closer and bumped his head against hers. Ros began to lead him towards the castle, and Clown followed obediently, limping after her to stay within reach. None of the frenzied anger from before remained. Just desperate affection. He was an exhausted, pained animal, though, and if anyone else found them it was possible he'd be sent right back into his rage. Kill until he was killed in return. She needed to get him out of the open, tuck him away somewhere safe to heal. To hopefully come back to himself. She didn't even know if he could.
Clown dripped a trail of blood as they went, along the roads and over the bridge and all the way up the steps of the castle's grand entrance. Ros hesitated at the doors as she considered the mess his bloody paw prints would leave in the carpet. Would Foolish be angry with her for ruining the interior? Maybe she could clean it up before he saw. Doing so would mean leaving Clown by himself, though. She had no idea if he was in any condition for that.
Ros took a sharp left towards Sneeg's cave instead of leading Clown in the front. Surely Sneeg would understand. Clown ducked his head under the doorway, and remained ducked beneath the vines and glowberries hanging from the ceiling. He chuffed again, less content this time. If she didn't know better she'd say he sounded skeptical.
"You'll be safe here, Clown," she said. "Lay down. Please?"
In the silence that filled the air between them Ros questioned her own sanity, speaking to this wild beast like a person. He was driven by instinct. Why did she assume he would understand her? But a moment later he lowered himself to his belly with a groan.
"Good! Good boy, Clown," she said with relief, then cringed at herself. Was that a weird thing to say? If he understood her then perhaps there was more of Clown still in there than she first thought. If he was offended he didn't do anything to indicate it. She did note, however, that his breathing appeared strained. Blood loss, her mind supplied, and she immediately scrambled to rifle through the barrels in Sneeg's room in search of any potions of healing or regeneration.
Would they still work on Clown in this state? There was no time to contemplate that.
Ros pulled her comm out and typed up a quick message to Sneeg.
You whisper to Sneegsnag: can you come to the castle and bring potions
You whisper to Sneegsnag: healing
Sneegsnag whispers to you: yeah, is everything okay?
You whisper to Sneegsnag: Clown's hurt
Ros turned her attention back to Clown, who was still lying on the mossy floor, watching her and huffing out labored breaths. His hindquarters were still a pincushion of arrows. She approached him carefully, hands up so he could see them as she reached for his haunches.
"Please don't be mad," she said, wrapping her fingers around one of the arrows. "This is going to hurt. I'm sorry."
She wasn't sure what best practice for arrow removal was, so she gave it no further thought, lest she overthink the whole thing. Ros yanked on the arrow shaft, pulling it free from Clown's flesh with a spurt of blood. Clown let out a sharp yelp and kicked at Ros, catching her in the hip with his paw. It seemed there were still limitations to what he was able to understand. Ros rubbed at her hip with a groan and carefully reached for another arrow.
"I'm sorry, Clown," she said, and pulled this one out of his hide as well. This time she managed to dodge his kick. Clown whined and scooted away from her, bumping into the wall of chests and barrels as he did.
"What on earth," came a voice from across the room. "have you brought into my home."
Both Ros and Clown whipped around to face Sneeg, who had appeared from his portal below. He was eyeing Clown warily, hand tense around his trident. Clown responded with a growl, and began pushing himself up to his feet.
"Oh, no, no, no! Clown, wait! That's Sneeg!" Ros cried, and ran to stand between them with her hands up placatingly, heedless of her own safety. "Sneeg's our friend! Remember? We like Sneeg!"
Clown huffed, but after a moment he lowered himself back down. His eyes remained on Sneeg, a low rumble in his chest. Ros turned to see Sneeg's brows raise. "Clown, huh...?"
"I'm sorry, Sneeg, I didn't know where else to take him," Ros said.
"It's fine," Sneeg said, staring at Clown in disbelief. "He's just bleeding all over my floor. No big deal."
"I know," Ros moaned sadly. "I'm sorry."
"I'm guessing those deaths earlier were related to... this, then."
"I don't know what happened. He asked if Bad helped Pili kill me and then he just... changed and went on a rampage." She turned back to Clown and reached out to give him a comforting scritch on his cheek. Clown responded by pressing his face into her touch. "He calmed down when I found him, though... But he hasn't changed back..."
"Cool. He's just some kind of feral demon. Great." Sneeg took a tentative step forward, and Clown huffed again in warning. "Not sure how I'm going to get him to take these potions without losing my hands."
"He seems to like me," Ros said. "Maybe he'll let me give them to him."
"I don't love that idea, if I'm being honest," Sneeg said.
"Please, just trust me, Sneeg." Ros held out her hand, and reluctantly Sneeg handed over a potion of regeneration. She smiled gratefully and turned back to Clown, uncorking the potion and holding it up to his mouth. He pulled away from it with a grunt. Ros frowned. "Clown, please... it'll help, I promise."
Whether or not Clown understood her, it didn't matter. He kept his mouth firmly shut. She pouted. "Please?" If he were still fully himself that surely would have broken him. This Clown, though, does not budge.
"Looks like we're doing this the hard way," Sneeg sighed and moved in close. "Don't you dare bite me, you fuckin' beast."
Sneeg grabbed Clown's muzzle and Clown gave an annoyed whine as Sneeg slipped his fingers in between his teeth, prying his jaw open. Ros quickly poured the bottle into his mouth, as far back down his throat as she could reach. Clown yanked himself out of Sneeg's grasp, coughing on the liquid and pawing at his snout again. The wound in his shoulder began to knit itself back together.
"Oh thank God," Sneeg said with a relieved sigh.
"We still need to get the arrows out..." Ros pointed out.
"I'll get it," Sneeg said, pretending to push his sleeves up as he moved to Clown's hindquarters, out of the way of his feet so when he pulled the remaining arrows free, Clown's kicks didn't reach him. Clown still turned to stare daggers at Sneeg, snapping his teeth with each sharp pain of an arrow yanked from his hip and back. He didn't make an effort to attack or escape, though, as if he finally understood they were trying to help him. Ros pet his neck and whispered soothing words to him until the last arrow was removed, the puncture wounds each closing up as soon as the obstruction was gone. The broken arrow shafts in his snout pulled free much easier, having less flesh to hold on to, though they elicited sharp whines from Clown. It was more difficult to avoid his big paws slapping Ros's hands away each time she pulled another arrow free than it was for Sneeg at his rear.
Despite his animal instincts slowing their progress, they eventually removed the last of them. Clown chuffed and lowered his head onto his paws to rest once he seemed to realize the two were done tormenting him. Sneeg offered Ros a water bottle to rinse the blood from her hands, which she took gratefully. They each washed their hands in silence as the monster that was Clown apparently drifted off to sleep.
It was only a moment later that the transformation Ros had been waiting for came. The beast shrank and twisted back into a humanoid shape, curling up into a protective ball on the ground. Clown's clothes were torn and bloody where his injuries had been inflicted, and Ros rushed to his side to check that they were still healed from the potions. She was relieved to find only raised scar tissue on his shoulder.
"C'mon," Sneeg said, kneeling beside them. "Let's move him to a bed."
Sneeg lifted Clown into his arms and carried him to his bed, sparing Ros complaints about staining his sheets as he removed Clown's bloody waistcoat and shirt, then his boots and gloves. Ros tucked him in under the blankets, fussing over his comfort there, still half-dressed and wearing a mask, but she didn't want to overstep any bounds she wasn't aware of. Clown valued his privacy, and she wanted to respect that. Even if she had more questions than ever about him after today.
Once she was sure she had done the best she could for him, she took up a silent vigil at his bedside. Whatever he was, he had done what he did with the intention of protecting her. It only seemed right that she returned the favor.