Zion - LotNM Character Prologue (Gaerid of the Fang)
Zion - Light of the New Moon
Prologue, Gaerid of the Fang
"You would be surprised at how many people do not recognize the taste of powdered Rossa Bark." the rottweiler announced, casually running a paw across the top of an immaculately clean dresser before slowly turning around to gaze at the paralyzed rabbit laying face-down on the foot stool where she had been unceremoniously dropped by him when they entered. "On second thought," he added, "I suppose you might understand how someone might make that mistake."
He passed by her to begin inspecting the drawers of a desk against the far wall. "You've made some very powerful men angry, Aja, and that is not a good thing." The rottweiler brushed a few papers aside until he found what he was looking for-- he took the envelope from the drawer, "and you put your paws one something other than what you promised the good baron..." he paused his casual monologue at the sharp, punctuated sound of cloth tearing.
Looking back at the rabbit, the rottweiler casually observed as his dog, a four legged rottweiler of the mundane variety nipped, clawed, and tore at the woman's dress. "My employers wanted to be certain that you consider a change of employment, and so my task was to give you an incentive to never play a con again... to make an honest woman of you, you might say." he chuckled as his pet tore away a section of her dress.
"Wyse here is one of my best dogs for sensitive matters... and I consider a change in lifestyle a very sensitive matter." the rottweiler continued as the rabbit's undergarments were gnawed on, "You see... while many of my dogs are used to tearing flesh and tasting blood, Wyse is capable of being much more subtle when the need arises." He turned his back to the rabbit when he heard the identifiable sound of panties being torn asunder, "and he has many more uses for flesh."
The rottweiler continued looking through the desk as he heard the tell-tale signs of Wyse putting his training to good use. Most of the rottweiler's employers assumed that it was just another sick, twisted vice for another sick, twisted bounty hunter, but, then again, being known usually he never had trouble finding a job. Gaerid of the Fang, they called him-- it was an honorary title that he didn't mind, though few really understood how or why Gaerid was so highly in tune with his animals.
The rottweiler flicked an ear as he heard Wyse's breath quicken. He knew that the rabbit's would not-- the Rossa Bark that paralyzed her would maintain her body functions such as breathing, take away full motor control, and leave all senses completely intact; Aja, a petty con artist, was receiving quite the punishment for swindling the wrong mark. Gaerid did not care about her... he didn't care about his employer either. Nobody knew why Gaerid took the jobs he did and nobody ever asked for clarification. He accepted the money, though he often turned down higher paying tasks for ones more suited to... his goals.
The halting of the rhythmic thumping signaled that Wyse had done his task. Turning around to face the rabbit, Gaerid saw his dog in the familiar butt-to-butt position that identified success. He moved to kneel down next to the rabbit's emotionless face. Tears were streaming down the rabbit's cheeks-- Rossa Bark did not inhibit them in the least, allowing its victims to clearly profess their shame and defilement in at least that way.
"Now listen to me, Aja..." Gaerid announced in a calm, neutral tone, "You received far more than Rossa Bark in your free meal." the rottweiler reached forward and gingerly wiped the tears off of the fur of her cheeks, "There are forces in this world you could not hope to understand, but, rest assured, regardless of how unbelievable it may sound, in six months time you will birth a litter of Wyse's pups." Fresh tears began to pour from the rabbit's eyes, the only sign that she heard and understood what he was saying; she had no doubt of his truths.
"You will bear him six young... two males and four females, though one of the females will be dead at birth." his explanation was simple and to the point-- he realized that his matter of fact tone likely scared the rabbit more than the future he was divining for her, "I will come to collect four of them... the larger male and all three females... you will care for them until I do."
He stood and walked back to the desk, carefully returning everything to where it belonged, save the letter desired by his employer, and one other item which he slipped into a small pouch hanging from his neck. He turned to regard the unmoving rabbit once again, "Your little sister... Leah..." Gaerid paused as Wyse finally worked his knot free with an audible pop, "She will receive the second male as a gift for her coming-of-age. She will be very happy to have him, as she'll have helped take care of all of them. Then, one night while you are out of the house at an important meeting, Leah will lose her purity to him... and she will do it of her own free will."
The rottweiler pulled his heavy coat around himself and tied it off. He snapped his fingers and Wyse came obediently to his side, "Her dog will care for her and treat her well... he will make a great protector, and she will be pleased with him as a lover, spurning the advances of many men who court her. This thought will bring you shame til the end of your days. You may consider trying something foolish, such as interrupting your pregnancy but I know, however, that you will not fail me... as much pain and humiliation Wyse has brought you is as much joy and fulfillment Leah's dog will bring her..." Gaerid motioned to the door and his dog moved obediently to sit beside it.
"One final thought..." Gaerid noted as he went to join his dog, "if I do not have my four dogs, and if Leah does not have hers, I will be back after her coming of age ceremony. I will bring Wyse... and I will let your beloved little sister be his breeding bitch in your stead." and, with that, Gaerid left the rabbit. It would be hours before the Rossa Bark wore off and he knew that Aja would have a lot to think about-- a far finer, more artistic, punishment than his employer likely had in mind... but he always demanded certain freedoms in his contracts-- after all, it wasn't his employer that he wanted to impress.
* * * * * *
Gaerid's home was on the eastern part of town, one of the less desirable locations for most people due to its exposure to the weather when it was at its worst, but the rottweiler didn't take any notice of that. Closing the door behind him, the bounty hunter doffed his coat and tossed it unerringly onto the hook jutting out from the nearby window frame. He lowered a paw to casually pat Wyse on the head, "You did well today, my boy... very good." he glanced to his dog, who dog responded with a pleased bark.
The sound quickly summoned the rest of Gaerid's pack, a gathering of over twenty dogs that he had collected over the years. While many breeders in town were jealous of Gaerid's collection only one had ever gained enough courage to try and challenge the rottweiler for ownership of any of his dogs. It had been two years ago... but nobody had forgotten the lesson and it was one that Gaerid knew would never need to be repeated. Pushing those thoughts to the side, Gaerid moved among his faithful followers-- though he loved his dogs there was something more pressing on his mind.
Moving a section of baskets his pack used for sleeping, Gaerid knelt down by the floor and slid aside an old, ratty carpet, revealing... nothing... well... nothing to someone who didn't know how to see what he was seeking. Brushing his paw across the bare ground, Gaerid curled his fingers, hooking them around a thick bronze latch. Whispering the words none other than he knew, the rottweiler drew the trapdoor open, wards disabled. There were no torches in the path down the stairs; Geraid did not need them.
There were twenty seven steps in all-- the eleventh was twice as low as the rest; with no handrail the difference was a much more mundane trap than the ancients wards on the entryway. Counting fifty paces past the steps, Gaerid took the next three steps at a quickened pace and jumped forward into the darkness. His feet touched solid ground, though he knew that anyone else would have walked right into a pit. Although light would have solved any of the problems for an invader, illumination would have been far, far worse.
Finally finishing the long walk to the end of the hall, Gaerid placed his paw against the cold metal door that barred his way. He recited an incantation he knew as well as his own name and slowly pushed the door inward. Once he was inside he let the door close, and only then did the wards of the room disarm and light slowly filled the chamber.
It was richly appointed, easily the equal to anything that would have been found in the temple. Shrad was a place of simplicity and survival-- luxury goods were not common, but, given enough time and enough means, anything was possible... this, Gaerid had learned in the many years of visiting the chamber. The dog walked reverently through the entryway which was adorned with beautiful statues, vases, and sculptures; Gaerid had no interest in any of them. He made his way through a hallway filled from its floor to its fifteen foot high ceiling with books. Many of the tomes were older than Shrad itself, containing ancient wisdom and powerful incantations; he ignored them.
The dog stepped into a large, circular room, the floor of which was covered in rich, red carpet. A chandelier adorned with Banniharian Diamonds hung from the ceiling casting a warm glow throughout the room. Oaken furnature, rarer than even the trees from which they were cut long ago adorned the space. Gaerid had no interest of these treasures, finding a single painting to be the most valuable thing there. The bounty hunter walked directly to the painting, gazing at it reverently, eyes lost in the picture portrayed.
The woman was beautiful... too beautiful to be a human despite the similarities. Her golden hair was the color of ripe wheat fields-- Geraid had never seen real wheat, but the paintings he had seen had to have been drawn from the same pigment. The woman's skin was the color of fresh milk: cream. Her cheeks were lightly blushed and, whether it was from natural radiance or with the aid of a powder or oil, it made no difference to Geraid. Her eyes were of a gold not unlike her hair, yet much more vibrant with orange... almost the deep amber of a hunting cat. Geraid had spent hours staring into those eyes, drawn with the crystal-clear perfection of an artist obsessed... and the dog could still feel just how obsessed the artist must have been.
He felt her presence without needing to turn around; it ran up his back like a shiver of anticipation. Her voice flowed through him more completely than his own blood and a shiver ran from his ears to his tail as he drank in the sound. "Your task is complete then, Geraid?" It was a smooth, delicate voice, quiet, and demur, though its beauty was like that of a glacier-- chiseled... hard... cold.
"I did, my lady." the dog announced, remaining focused on the picture. He heard her footsteps approach him from behind-- they were purely for his benefit, of course; she did not make a sound unless she desired to do so, "The letter for the buyer is in my coat..." he reached to his neck pouch with a paw, "and what you asked of me is here." he let out a breath, reveling in the painting that hung before him, "You are gorgeous." he announced.
He could feel her draw closer to him, her aura warming him like a bonfire, "The picture is over a thousand years old... much can change in that time."
"And yet your beauty remains... eternal." he spoke reverently.
"Changed... but still present." his mistress confirmed. "And you did my bidding?" she asked, returning to the topic. Though her comment was unspecific he knew precisely what she meant.
"Wyse completed the task, as I knew he would, my lady." Geraid acknowledged, nodding, eyes still transfixed by the painting. "The rabbit's sister will have the dog."
"Very good, Geraid... I am pleased with your success." she announced, "You may face me." she offered, and the rottweiler could not help that his tail-nub began to wag wildly... it was the first time in four days, but he did not care to stop it; the remnants of his tail displayed outwardly the elation he felt within. "We must talk about your next task..." she explained, "...about Zion."