Run, bitch, run!
Clutching the small brown hare in her paws, Shēdo bowed her head in reverence. She paused for but a second, her ears drooping, her tail sagging, and then with a swift, sudden movement, she twisted the hare’s head around. There was a muffled squeak and the sound of fine, delicate bones crunching.
“Sorry.” Shēdo lifted the hare to look into its dead eyes and she felt a sincere feeling of regret. “A dog has gotta eat and you are made of food. That is just how it is.”
Hunkering down close to the ground, the pup slipped a diggy-diggy claw into the hare, sliced it open, and began peeling the skin off. Her paws trembled from hunger, even though she had been eating rather well for the past few days, growing stronger and recovering. The scent of the hare’s blood left her feeling both sad and excited, though she had trouble putting the reasons as to why she felt sad into words.
With the entrails and offal dumped on the ground for something else that might want to eat them, Shēdo loped over to her fire and laid the hare upon a large flat rock laid over the coals. Right away, the meat began to sizzle and spit on the hot rock, and the delicious smell of searing meat filled the air.
Lo, as our heroine sat down upon the grass, she began to realise that it was time to go back. Days had passed, several, days filled with fantastic training montages! Our heroine could actually hold a sword and pose a credible threat, due to the amazing teaching skills of her most handsome, perfect blade.
“Limey, why don’t you just talk to me and not do that weird thing?”
In a moment of terrible confusion, the narrator paused, uncertain why anything would actually want to talk to him. With the story on hold, the narrator attempted to understand what had just taken place, and he felt very peculiar indeed. The narrator narrated because he was fond of the sound of his own voice, as it was the only voice that had ever been kind to him, for the most part, with the occasional bit of self-deprecating humour.
Sighing, Shēdo poked at the hare with a stick.
Narrating a narrative, narratively narrating, the narrator somehow seemed to narrate himself into a corner, and now amidst his own narration, he did not know what to say, but continued to babble anyway, because, why not, mindless narration was better than awkward silence anyhow.
“You could just talk to me,” Shēdo said to her sword.
Alas, the poor pup just did not understand that a conversation was not the same as narration. She did not understand the subtle nuances of fine narration, nor did she grasp their importance. Any sap could have a conversation, but it took a divine being of nigh infinite intelligence to narrate, a being of infinite cosmic powers. Talking without quotation marks was the pinnacle of godly displays of might.
“I give up.” Hunching over her food, Shēdo poked her meal with a stick once more.
A thin ribbon of drool began to dribble down from Shēdo’s muzzle and she looked eager for her meal. An entire hare all for her was a glorious feast for somedoggy used to scraps and bones. Nearby, she had some wild apples for dessert, delicious apples with delicious worms. She had already eaten some of her dessert, but the less said about that the better.
“How many days has it been?” Shēdo asked aloud. She held out her paw and tried counting, but things became complicated after three, as she couldn’t quite remember what came after three. Her brows furrowed so much that her entire face became wrinkled and her ears were pulled forwards. “Three days?” She flexed her paw fingers and her diggy-diggy claws clicked together.
Looking over at her pile of apples, she tried counting them. A bitch wasn’t supposed to count or read and doing so could mean a beating. Pointing with her diggy-diggy claw, she counted, and by amazing circumstance, she discovered that she had a large pile of three apples. Maybe more though, but she had trouble remembering what came after three. She knew about the number six, but she couldn’t quite figure out where it went, but it wasn’t after three.
Seven was a scary number that Shēdo didn’t understand, and she didn’t like either, as seven ate nine. It was wrong to eat your own kind, Minori had said so, and Minori’s word was law, as far as Shēdo was concerned. Seven was the bad number, a bad omen, and she didn’t even want to know how to count that high. Seven was the number of evil. Seven was the number of cannibals.
Just thinking about it made Shēdo shiver and she was thankful for her hare. It was a dog-eat-dog world and Shēdo would rather starve than eat another dog. Breaking one of Minori’s commandments might cause the Black Hound to appear, and Shēdo, like every other pup before her, was absolutely terrified of the Black Hound.
The Black Hound was just too scary to think about. He had a throne made of the bones of bad dogs and a tapestry woven from puppy dog tails said to be plucked from the butts of rotten little puppies. Minori said that he had a bag filled with the severed heads of the worst dogs, and the Black Hound fed these heads to his pack of howling hunting demons.
If Shēdo had the chance, she would give Dig Dag’s severed head to the Black Hound, with the hopes of atoning for her own sins, because she wanted to be a good dog. With her stick, she turned the hare over, and her smile revealed her bright blue tongue. She couldn’t wait to return and save Minori.
In fact, she was going to do it tonight.
Slathered in thick mud to help hide her stink, Shēdo, a shadow, crept through the darkness, returning to her home. There would be guards posted, but everydoggy else would be sleeping at this hour. The moon was well past its highest point and these were the dark hours that took place before the dawn.
She froze and became little more than a bush, having rolled in twigs and leaves. Unmoving, she strained to hear, to listen, but it was quiet, too quiet. There was no fire for the guards and that puzzled her. Fire kept the monsters away, and there were monsters here. Still as a statue, Shēdo ceased to move as she waited for some sign of life.
The guards were not even going on patrol. Dig Dag would beat them for such laziness. Dropping down to all fours, Shēdo crawled along with her belly just inches above the ground and her tail held low. There was nothing here, but it looked as though a terrible battle had taken place. Everything was wrecked and ruined. No signs of any dogs, no scent of smoke, nothing.
The Black Hound had come just as Minori had promised. He had come and punished them all for their wicked ways, and from the looks of it, nodoggy was spared. There was just nothing here. No fires burned, within or without. She didn’t dare go inside the mine, not now, not ever. This place was cursed. The Black Hound had come with his pack of howling hunting demons and he had cleaned this place out.
Shēdo felt her skin crawl and it felt like she had fleas. She needed to be away from this place, far, far away, and she needed to roll in fresh ashes to protect herself from the evils of this cursed location. The trees were broken, snapped off, splintered, the pup had never seen such destruction and this was clearly the act of an angry god.
Her tribe had sinned and all had suffered. She alone had been spared, because she had ran away, she had fled from all this wickedness. Of course, if the Black Hound really wanted to, he could hunt her down and make her suffer too… but perhaps she had been spared for some reason. It couldn’t be just because she had run away, could it?
No, Shēdo decided after thinking about it as hard as she could. She was spared because she had smote the wicked—she had cut down Crag Daggle—and she had done so in a righteous fury. Crag Daggle’s head had been severed and left on a rock as an offering. Now, it was obvious, this had pleased the Black Hound and he had a new head for his sack.
Struggling, Shēdo began to put three and three together. Whimpering, she began to wonder what else she might have to do to stave off the Black Hound’s fury. One severed head could only do so much to appease one such as he. She had been spared, for now, but the Black Hound’s mood was fickle.
There were a lot of bad dogs in the world, Shēdo knew.
“Black Hound, forgive Shēdo for coming back to this cursed place.” The frantic prayer spilled from her jowls and she dug her diggy-diggy claws into the earth. “I will go from this place of sour earth and bring bad dogs to your judgment, wicked dogs like Crag Daggle. Many heads will I bring you. Spare Shēdo!”
Not wanting to risk the wrath of a fickle god, Shēdo got out of there, running away on all fours with her tail tucked between her legs, heading off to the camp she had established for herself. All around her were the broken trees, shattered stones, the evidence of a raging, rampaging god, a clear warning that bad dogs would be punished.
It was terrifying to discover that one of your gods was real, and not just a story told to make pups behave. The Black Hound had shown up in canine and based on the destruction all around Shēdo, he was pissed. Who else was mighty enough to snap tall, proud trees in half? Who else could shatter granite into pebbles? Who else could have such majestic, terrible fury?
The Black Hound, that’s who.
Slinking away in the darkness, Shēdo promised herself that she would howl for those she had lost. Minori was a good dog and she deserved a good and proper howl. It saddened Shēdo that Minori had shared in the fate of the bad dogs. Tears stung her eyes and she thought about Long Ears and Kabuki. They had been such good dogs too. But that didn’t matter.
It just didn’t matter.
Those she loved lived under the rule of bad dogs. Sniffling, Shēdo hoped that maybe, just maybe, the Black Hound had been merciful with them. Maybe their end had been swift. Perhaps even now, the Black Hound was on his throne made of bones, weighing their souls. He might put them into his forge and maybe, just maybe, they would go on to become part of the Everflame. They could come back and try again, try again to be good dogs.
In mid-lope, Shēdo froze and took a tumble. She lay in the dirt, panicking, panting, and she thought about her sword. Bitches weren’t supposed to touch weapons, not at all, for any reason. Whimpering, Shēdo worried that the Black Hound might be angry with her, and her mind filled with a thousand terrible thoughts.
“Get up, Shēdo,” Limey urged in a reassuring real voice. “I’ll protect you. You don’t need to be afraid of all that stuff you are thinking about. Now get up.”
“Nuh uh.” Petrified with fear, Shēdo refused to move.
“Shēdo, I know the Black Hound—”
“Liar!”
“No, really, I do!” Limey insisted. “Look at you! You are a black hound! Well, almost. You are very, very grey, but that’s close enough. And your name! Your name means shade, shadow, or ghost. It’s obvious that you are his chosen!”
“Liar…” This time, there was doubt in Shēdo’s voice.
“Think about it, you found me for a reason,” Limey said to Shēdo in a gentle, sincere sounding voice.
Shēdo found herself wanting to believe.
“It’s rather obvious, really. You were led to me so we can do great things together. Just take a moment and think about it. You were spared for a reason and we were meant to be together!”
Opening one eye, Shēdo waited for the Black Hound to manifest, she waited to be struck down for this act of blasphemy, this heresy. Nothing happened. Opening her other eye, she raised her head and looked around. The Black Hound was slow to smite her, or maybe Limey was telling the truth.
“Strange magic did this,” Limey whispered to himself, sounding distracted. “I can’t quite put my fluffy puffball tail on what did this, but this magic… it’s almost familiar… no unicorn did this, that’s for sure. It certainly looks like a rampaging god came through here...”
Shēdo was far too distracted by her own thoughts to pay Limey any attention, and she didn’t hear him mumbling about centaurs.. She decided that it was time to move along and leave this awful, cursed place. She had a lot to answer for, and perhaps, she had a lot to make others answer for. She thought about what Limey had said, and it seemed true enough, but it was hard to tell for sure.
Once more on all fours, Shēdo took off, putting this cursed place behind her.
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I swear you're taking a page out of Piers Anthony's writings, and I'm loving it!
Stuck his needle.
↓ Jump to 39:10 for what this reminds me of. ↓
Doctor Who Movie (No: 8 part 2)
Limey is a manipulator, but a good one at heart. I think, under Limey's guidance, Shēdo will become great. Not 'warlord great', I think, but 'lone assassin great'.
So are Tarnish, Maud the Black Hound? Did they come in those few days?
7976297
Well, having read Venenum Iocus, what do you think happened?
Huh boy. I hope she'll get to reunite with the others at some point...
Perception is a powerful thing.
7976398
Care to elucidate?
7976403 well, if my timeline is correct, this takes place during VI.
(VI spoilers below)
Which means that the 'angry god' was simply the aftermath of Tarnished's run in with Dig Dag and his dogs. Shedo doesn't see that, she sees the aftermath of a rampaging god who saw what the bad dogs were doing and was angry. Terrified by the carnage, which she sees as a warning, she takes to the path of collecting skulls in an effort to appease the angry god, who, though they may or may not exist, was not (directly) responsible for the destruction.
7976488
Yes.
This is how a religion could be born.
Your words are as empty as your soul! Dogkind ill needs a savior such as you!
I enjoy that Sheedo can hear the narration.
Lo our hero did avoid quick salvation by a matter of sunrises, verily we shall watch her path bestride the borders of penance and perdition.
I find myself wondering: what voice should I be reading Limey in? Rucks from Bastion? The Stanley Parable narrator? Morgan Freeman?
7979535
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Warner_(actor)
all i hear limey in is irish batpony
And yup, i thought this would happen. She must have been quite far to avoid that storm.
Hehehe. Though i forget, was Tarnish in the "possessed" state where Terra is doing the work, or was it just a shitstorm he brewed up.
7979535 This guy:media3.giphy.com/media/Bf4AhGHyOVXKo/giphy-facebook_s.jpg?t=1
"Dogkind ill needs a savior such as thee!"
Why did the opening of Castlevania: Symphony of the Night suddenly pop into my head