April Vignette!

[Silence Sei]

In celebration of our new canine overlord, Doge, we bring a brand new prompt courtesy of Philomel!

How would your character kill Doge?

You have one month. Have fun!

[Astrid Whitepeak]

Responsibility

The door to her house opened with the old familiar creak that never seemed to go away no matter how much she oiled the hinges. Yekaterina had told her that she liked it, that it sounded homey and well-used, a door that had let in many friends. But today Astrid was only worried about one friend. She bent over and slapped her hands to her thighs as she called, “Here boy! C’mere Doge!”

The old Shiba Inu had been sleeping peacefully on his thick, down filled bed beside the hearth, but he immediately perked up as she whistled for him. Doge climbed to his feet with a huff, his rheumy joints clearly giving him trouble as he slowly trotted over to her. Even with as much pain as he had to be in, he still managed to wag his tail at the sight of her and gave a happy, if reedy, bark. Doge looked up at her with soulful brown eyes that had long ago begun to mist over with cataracts, but she could still see the playful pup she had brought home all those years ago in the mischievous twinkle there. That stare was like a punch to the gut, and she felt her hand begin to shake around the small vial she held. I don’t… I can’t… why?! Why does it have to be like this? Why is it my job? She knew why, of course; there was no one else to do it. Doge was, as he always had been, her responsibility. Sometimes that responsibility was frustrating, like taking him out late at night, or needing to go on walks even when she was exhausted. Sometimes it was fun, like when they went out into the forest and she laughed as she chased hares he could never hope to catch. But sometimes… Sometimes it meant doing the impossible to help her friend. Her emotions were beginning to get the better of her, and she knew she needed to act now before she put off her decision again. Her friend was in pain, and had been for a long time, and he needed her now more than ever. If Doge can be brave, so can I.

Doge trundled after her as she made her way to the kitchen with all the willingness of a prisoner walking to her execution. Slower, actually; she would have to be here to deal with the aftermath when the condemned would have had release. Inside one of the cupboards was a glass jar of peanut butter she had picked up at the market some time ago. It had been an expensive purchase, peanut-butter was hard to come by this far north, but she had wanted to spoil the hound in his old age. The irony of it was not lost on Astrid, and she had to fight to force her hand to grab the jar, open it, and pour in the contents of the vial. She thought back to what the apothecary had said back at the shop as she mixed the liquid in with the thick, creamy substance. He had told her that he had helped many people in situations like hers, and he guaranteed that it would be quick and painless, that once he ate the tonic-mixed peanut-butter he would just… go to sleep. Sleep and never wake up. Astrid’s hand stopped mid-stir and she closed her eyes tightly against the thought. It was like a bad dream, but she couldn’t seem to make herself wake up no matter how much she tried.

She made her way back to the living room with leaden steps, letting her free hand stroke the top of Doge’s head and scratch him behind the ears. He liked that, she knew. As she sat down on the dog’s bed, she whistled and held out the jar towards Doge. He knew the smell of peanut-butter, and was already salivating as he galloped over to her faster than she had seen him move in years. The Shiba Inu immediately stuffed his muzzle into the jar and began to lap up the mixture. Tears poured down her cheeks as she watched him unknowingly embrace his end. There was no going back now; even if she pulled the container away and tossed it in the garbage it would only prolong his suffering. She sniffled and laughed softly as she watched the old dog greedily eating with wild abandon; Astrid had no doubt he was enjoying this treat. She had never let him have this much before, but now was hardly the time to be worrying about him getting sick; she only wanted her friend to be happy.

Astrid chocked back a sob as her vision blurred with tears. “That’s a good boy… good dog.” The Shiba Inu made quick work of the jar’s contents and snuffed happily as he curled up in her lap. The alchemist had not lied; within minutes Doge had fallen back to sleep, and she could feel his heartbeat begin to slow as he pressed into the warmth of her body. Astrid cradled the old dog, her most loyal companion and constant friend, in her arms as his breathing slowed and eventually stopped. “That’s a good boy.” She stoked the soft, gray-tinted fur as she bawled in acute misery. “That’s a good Doge.”

[Fox Owen Xavier]

As he stirred the green hissing mixture, Fox took another glance at the tied up test subject in front of him. The yellow dog looked back with a pleading look in its eyes and a small plead of mercy. Its beautiful fur coat and Innocent eyes would have made it a favorite pet among children. But to Fox, dogs were just good test subjects. Foxes were the kitsune's friends and therefore not eligible. This left dogs and other canines as the victims for new potions.

“Hmm, this recipe doesn't seem to be turning out like the book said... I bet it's a phony, but still, if it works, then it will be a valuable discovery. Besides, it's only a stupid dog, the kind that depends on humans and wouldn't last a day in the wild,” thought Fox as he started pouring the now purplish liquid into a small cup. “There's way too many of those dogs anyways... Seriously, I'm doing humans a service by getting rid of their over abundance of dogs that just search the streets for scraps.”

The potion crafter now began approaching the helpless animal in front of him. Ignoring the desperate cries for mercy, he pried the jaw open and began pouring the sizzling hot potion down the throat. After the final drop dripped out, the kitsune bound the mouth of the innocent victim once again and sat back to observe the results.

At first, nothing seemed to happen other than the dog squirming around which was probably from the pain of the hot liquid. However, within a minute, the dog seemed to let out a hellish scream and its body began to go into spasms with muscles twisting the body into the wrong shape. The beautiful yellow fur started to lose its shine. The once piercing eyes lost their brilliance due to the overwhelming pain. After a few more agonizing minutes, the yellow body finally went limp as the owner fell into the sweet relief of death.

“Well, guess I was right... Still, I haven't failed, just learned one more way that doesn't work. Might make a good poison though to sell to certain people,” Fox said as he finished writing a note on the experiment. “Well, time to head off. Too much work to bury the body. I'm sure nature will take care of this test subject soon enough.”

[Ioder]

"Once a pain, always a pain." Ioder says as he walks down a dark hallway, only a faint glow for a candle illuminating his way. This was a hall he knew quite well, one that leads to his favorite room like a home away from home. Ioder had once walked this path daily back in the days of old when he would lure lesser beings to their deaths with his personas out of pure joy, but he had given up his favorite pass time over the years. Though this was a special occasion, at the end of the hall in his 'Play' room sat a lonely puppy who was a bad, bad doge.

"How should I deal with this scum," he contemplated this the entire walk down the hall, "bleed him, fry him, cook him into soup?" his mind flourishing with ways to torture this devilish creature. As he neared the door his heart started to race as he could hear the whimpers of agony just on the other side of the door. "Yes, the fun has already begun!" he says with joy with his hand on the latch. To add to this poor creature torment Ioder had dawned an alternate form, one of a tall bald man with no eyes of nose, just a long and scary mouth. This was purely an illusion to mentally add to the canine's fear, Ioder could still completely see what he was doing but this scary face would be his captive's final memory.

Slowly pulling on the door Ioder could see the tied up canine in a smaller room light up by a raging fire coming out of a trap door of sorts in the center of the room. The walls were covered with an arsenal of sharp cutting tools and blunt objects. "Isn't the décor lovely" Ioder says to the whimpering doge with his wide mouth, baring one hell of a creepy smile. "Im going to make you cry for me scum." He says as he walks to the doge and kicks him in it's ribcage had enough to break one or two. "Bahahaha" He laughs as the doge lets out a yelp of pain as he repetitively kicks the hound. Ioder stops and walks to the wall and grabs a short iron cutting tool from on of the shelves, "This is going to hurt you a lot more than it does me." he says as he lets out a devilish laugh and crouches over the pain stricken pouch. Then as if he was going to very meticulous with his actions slowly brings his tool to the tip of the doge's snout, then slowly drags it down the length of the mutt's body al the way to its tale. The whole time the doge's cries grow louder as if twitches in pain unable to move from its binds and broken bones. Then again and again Ioder drags his blade along the doges skin until almost every inch of its body was covered blood. By this time the doge soul had long been separated from its body, at this point Ioder just enjoyed mutilating his lifeless corpse.

"Hmmmph you didn't last as long as I hoped." He says as he kicked doge's lifeless body until it fell Into the flaming pit, "Still I feel satisfied."

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

It was a dreary, miserable, cold, soggy afternoon. The sandwich in front of me wasn't much different.

My lip curled in disgust as I poked at the half-eaten lump of bread, veggies, and meat as it soaked up its own congealing grease with a gnarled, green finger. The stale bun offered just the slightest amount of resistance before pushing inward. I had half a mind to walk back into the restaurant and give the cooks a good thrashing... But that meant I would have to leave the safety of the covered table I had parked myself at to get out of the rain.

I pushed the wooden plate away from me and sighed heavily. I turned my attention back towards the busy midday streets, watching the denizens of the city walk by without a care in the world, and felt my mind free itself of stray thoughts and begin to wander.

Several minutes had passed--I couldn't tell you how many--when I noticed this sad, rain-soaked, miserable-looking Shiba Inu with golden fur invite itself underneath the canvas umbrella of my table. We exchanged brief, wordless glances and then looked back out towards the throngs of idiots who couldn't wait for nicer weather to run their errands in.

The dog was a curious specimen. Around its thin waist was something between a harness and a set of saddlebags, completely soaked by the mutt's travels in this weather. In its mouth it held its own leather leash. A quick glance showed me that it was covered in bite marks on over half of its length. Had the dog grown accustomed to walking itself? Very curious indeed.

Its wet, lumpy nose twitched a couple of times, and it turned its tired gaze towards me. For a second, I thought it had noticed my sandwich. I furrowed my brow a bit and pulled my plate back towards me. It was a shitty sandwich, but it was my shitty sandwich, dammit. The dog with rain-soaked fur got off its haunches and strolled over to me. The wretch sniffed my plant-infused legs a couple of times. I pulled my legs away and back underneath the table. "Fuck off, mutt," I grumbled.

The dog followed my movements underneath the table. I leaned back slightly to give myself a better view of what the fuck it was doing. It suddenly turned around and away from me, and lifted up one of its hind legs and began to take aim.

Quickly understanding what it intended to do, I let loose a loud curse and swiftly kicked the dog square in its ass. It tumbled away from me with a yelp, bouncing on the muddy cobblestones and back into the rain. "Son of a bitch," I yelled after it (the literal applications of the phrase didn't actually hit me until well after the fact).

The Shiba Inu collected itself off the ground, cocked its head sideways, and whined as the light midday drizzle continued to fall. Underneath the table, I readied myself for another swift boot to its rib cage, in case it tried to mark me as its territory again. Our little standoff continued as it took a couple cautious steps forward.

"Go home, mutt," I growled. It whimpered a weak rebuttal.

Just then, I felt a small tickle in my nose and in the back of my throat. It wasn't much--at first. But it grew in size and intensity. I felt my head twitching backwards in preparation for what was to come. My mouth opened, my eyes closed... And then, with an embarrassingly high-pitched sound that was a cross between a chirp and a squeak, I sneezed.

A small puff of purple poison escaped from between my lips, and rushed forward to greet the dog. Not knowing better, it inhaled it. As I rubbed my nose and eyes on the sleeve of my shirt, I noticed that the creature was starting to shake its head and blink rapidly. It started to dance around in the rain, bouncing up and down and yipping and ruffing as it tried to comprehend what was happening to it. It spasmed, it ran in tight circles, it bent forward and made heaving motions--once even managing to toss up a bit of mostly-digested breakfast onto the rain-slick street.

Yep, my involuntary infection, ironically brought on by my own dog-related allergies, had begun to take hold. It would only be a matter of time before the dog could barely muster the energy to crawl into a dark alleyway and die. The experience would be horrible; the mutt would find it increasingly difficult to breathe. It would suffer through horrible hallucinations. It would throw up a lot, each heave racking its body with indescribable pain. It would beg for a quick death like a... well, you know. But it would not get it.

Serves it right for trying to pee on me, I say.

[Philomel]

They were those kinds of beasts that one would find, near the gates of Hades or in the depths of an ill-built grave. Some form of mutilated ass or wartpig, they dragged their behinds through mud and manure, then tread their heavy way from the dungeon-hell to tfhe mortuary. Some stopped for a while, finding a truffle or root in the ruined ground to feed upon, and as they do so their chains rattled like haunting melodies of a long-lost cuckold. Shackled together, but generously, they moved as one, yet at their own pace.

Behind them, however, the broken and bloody form of the captured mutt was dragged through the mire. His legs snapped, or some were just splintered, by the heavy falls of a blacksmith's hammer back in the town gave him no ability to walk. All he could do was give up and suffer mercilessly as the four beasts led him to his death. It served him right for tresspassing where he was not welcome - attempting to take over a world on a bright April morn, with only his apparent "cute face" and witless humour for his weaponry.

The blacksmith strode, a giant of a man, beside the dog, heavy footfalls shaking the ground. In his hands his huge hammer was finely balanced; a tool of terror and practicality. He was a courier of justice, a beneficiary of this judgement, and he agreed with the sentence entirely.

One of the pig-beasts stopped, lagging slightly behind the other. He had found some scrumptious tuber within the soil and was hectically digging at it with his hoofed fore-foot. It so happened his chain was connected to the dog's genitals - therefore as he paused for longer than was usual their prisoner let out a high-pitched squeal of terror as the skin stretched an tore. The pig-beast ground its back feet firmly into the dirt as the others of its kind continued, causing an issue of blood to seep out and mingle with the once-caramel skin.

The mutt yelped, desperately in mercy, horror, and pain.

"Will someone shut it up?" she yelled, striding forwards.

With head held high the faun of love and blood came forth, glaring daggers at the beings and beasts surrounding her. The four pig-beasts, not certain if to stop or not, carried on, making the victim squeal again.

"I mean honestly!" Philomel tutted, twisting her way towards the dog, "Does it have to make that ridiculous noise?!"

"'E's jus' screamin'" the blacksmith commented, furrowing his monobrow, "Innit wha' you wan'?"

"I want it to feel pain, not to burn my ears!" she yelled right back, and as she did so she swooped down. Removing a curved blade from her belt she bent over the trembling thing. She shoved the knife with full force between its lips, between its jaws and jarred it open. Staring darkly and directly into her victim's eyes she smiled slightly before flipping the point of the blade. It sliced along the tongue with ease, separating it from mouth and body and sending bright fresh blood spilling across her hands.

"Better," she said, delightfully, regaining her proud posture. "Much better."

The dog still whined, but the echoing irritating highness of volume and yelping was gone. It watched in morbid horror as she tossed the tongue aside - where it was caught in mid-air by a leaping ginger and russet fox.

Philomel let out a cry of joy. "Well done my darling!" she praised Veridian, then signalled the troupe to continue on.

The last pig-beast stayed behind, and the genitals were ripped right off the mutt's body. By the time they got to the mortuary the "doge" was deceased, its torture having been long and arduous.

The experts reckoned it had lasted three hours before the bleeding was too much, and they sighed amongst themeselves.

So easily the time could have been stretched.

[Roht Mirage]

You monsters.

The setting sun's rays set aflame the cabin's cracked windows like hot, leering eyes. Astarelle unconsciously shrank back farther into the Concordia foliage. Her hand drifted to her right, flitted aside leaves, and found her companion in the patch of scrub built for two. She stroked his silky fur as she said aloud, “No one's shown up or moved around inside for an hour. It should be safe.” Happy panting agreed with her. “Let's check it out.”

Astarelle, the fallieni priestess, and Doge, the dog, emerged from the bushes. Hunkered low, they crept toward the door, the dog managing a lower profile than the human as he pressed his chest to the wild grass and waddled his bag-adorned bum forward. He shone gold under the setting sun; far too bright with so many hunters about. Anxiously, Astarelle creaked the door open and ushered her canine companion inside.

The cabin certainly looked lived in, violated even. Furniture was toppled and broken. Knives were strewn about as a woman might leave hair pins. At the center, around the indoor fire pit, was the most depraved sight. Small animals, or the remains of them, after what had either been half-consumed meals or skinning practice. The pot hanging over the pit, though cold, was dirty from fresh use. Astarelle and Doge stepped closer, their tummies rumbling with a mix of hunger and revulsion.

Astarelle's toe stubbed against something, and she let out a chirp of alarm. Doge spun, growling quietly. “It's okay,” she shushed, motioning for silence as she looked around, back to the door, then down at her feet. A book lay there, a solitary piece of culture in a neanderthal's cave. It bore library stamps beside the title, which was in Akashiman. She knew just enough to guess...

“Cooking with Dog”

A note in the spiky scrawl and dried ink of a previous borrower was written rudely below, clear enough in Tradespeak and a confirmation of her worst fears.

“No recipes for dog fetus. This book's a bleedin' waste of time, Cutter.”

The sudden cackle of birds with their jimmies russled made both Astarelle and Doge jump. The dog's ears lay back as he stared at the door. A growl brewed forth, but faded into a whimper.

“Doge, come!” Astarelle hissed forcefully. She bolted for the back door and held it open. Doge passed her with less haste, giving her an unreadable look. “Hurry,” she urged again, then took off into the trees. Her friend had no choice but to keep pace as Astarelle carved a path through the clawing, clinging branches.

The sun set farther as they moved, forcing them to slow both for safety and to leave less obvious tracks. Blood trickled down Astarelle's face and hands from a hundred scratches, and Doge wore a coat of shredded underbrush over his normally pristine gold. His nose twitched. He made a soft bark. Then, he gripped the cloth of one pant leg in his teeth and pulled Astarelle to a stop.

She hunkered lower. “Do you hear them?”

Doge sniffed at her red-lined hands then presented his side to her.

“I'm fine,” she huffed.

The dog leaned closer and growled as kindly as possible.

Astarelle sighed. “Okay, but I hope you realized how weird this is.” She gave him a scritch between the ears, brushed off the twigs, and then licked his magically medicinal custard fur.

~

An hour later, the darkness of night swept over them as they huddled under the droopy boughs of a tree. They had no fire for warmth, so Doge lay across her lap like a warming blanket while he chewed a strip of honeyed jerky. Astarelle dined on dark chocolate. It was all that she had stowed away in the dog's carrying pouches – back when the plan had been a nice walk in the forest. If she pretended hard enough, she could imagine that is was still just that: a woman and her dog enjoying some treats in the forest, no dog haters or drop bears about to bother them.

Eventually, she began to nod. Her head lolled back against the bark of the tree, and Doge rustled about. She stroked a hand down his back as she muttered, “I don't know which Depth Lord you ate the slippers of to make so many enemies, but you'll be fine. We'll get out of the forest tomorrow. Then... then we'll...” She drifted off before coming up with a plan.

~

When the sun tickled her eyelids, she became aware of the morning chill – and the absence of her warm friend. “Doge!” she called out far too loudly. There was no answer from the dog, nor any from their stalkers, thankfully. “Doge,” she said softly as she stood up in the sunlight. Sleep took a few blinks to fully fade from her eyes. Then, she saw a trail in the grass. It wasn't paw prints, but a shredded path of the wax paper that had wrapped her chocolate. I must have dropped it when I fell asleep, she thought dumbly as she recalled that a generous portion of it remained.

“Doge,” she whispered pleadingly as she followed the trail around a tree, then gasped. There was a golden tail sticking from the underbrush. Limp and absolutely still. She ran forward, shoving foliage aside to uncovered the dog. Doge wasn't moving. Under his prone body was a puddle of half-digested chocolate, and his nose was planted in it as if to say, “Look what I did! I'm a bad dog! A bad bad dog!”

Astarelle fell to her knees, already sobbing as she tried to shake the dog awake. “I'm sorry,” she breathed over and over until she had not even enough breath for that. The chant continued in her mind, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

~

When the hunters found the place of the fateful cocoa-seppuku, there was no body, no turned earth for their grumpy cat eyes to see. There was only the shreds of wax paper and a message scratched into the tree the poor beast had hid behind.

“In memory of Doge:

Such dog. Very friend. Many feels.

No WOW. Only dreams.”

[Mordelain]

Prompt: How would your character kill Doge?

Astrid Whitespeak: Evocative, well written, and in character. You did not fall for the trap of tyranny and did best friend justice. Be wary of over-long sentences.

Fox Owen Xavier: You drew on your character’s career to deliver ‘justice’, but I felt somewhat betrayed by the unexplained cruelty. Is it really in keeping with Fox’s personality to test on animals?

Ioder: Ah. Okay. This is how to be a monster. As a former dog owner, this entry made my skin crawl and I commend you for it. Be careful with paragraph structure, it affected clarity in the third section.

BlackandBlueEyes: Excellent inner voice, first person, and humour as always. You managed to not only be cruel and sadistic, but also do it accidentally. A refreshing turn for what could have been tired old Maddie doing what she does best – being a bitch.

Philomel: Several minor typing errors were present, so double up on proof reading! I like the portrayal of chaotic evil; or rather, true chaotic that comes with fauns traditionally. Consider giving hints as to why you want Doge to bleed so much for the reader.

Roht Mirage: Cute. Very cute actually. The scene transitions were a little disparaging. I have to ask if you really needed an Aur cameo to be badass. Epitaph made me smile and captured the moment.

[Mordelain]

1st: Astrid Whitespeak receives 200 experience and 200 gold.

2nd: Black and Blue Eyes receives 400 experience and 150 gold.

Fox Owen Xavier receives 150 experience.

Philomel receives 150 experience.

Ioder receives 100 experience.

Roht Mirage receives 300 experience.

[Lye]

EXP & GP Added