Solo A Hairy Situation

[Keene Ward]

The twenty-fifth day of fall, 514 AV.


"And then'e just killed the beasty with'a single swipe!" Boswell swung his arm down through the air to illustrate the beheading via axe. "Lopped his head clean off, like'a hunk'a butter." He whistled, fiddling with the almonds in his hand, shaking his head with his usual grin. "Couldn't believe a man could just lose'is head like that." Keene nodded, unsure if the account was entirely factual or subject to hyperbole. Having never had much ability to tell the two apart when it came to anecdotes, Keene usually sided with the attribute of the latter until it was otherwise disproved, much like he had with Boswell's account of the courtyard. He'd even seen Mistress Wanda a few times in passing, or he assumed it was she, as they had exchanged a total of zero words between them. As for the current tale, Boswell had been recounting a part of his childhood spent in the city of Sunberth. It was, by his accounts, a dirty, lawless, and subjectively exciting place, though Keene found it to be quite antithetical to his tastes. He had never been much for government beyond the theoretical realm, but an entirely anarchist society couldn't have made for a comfortable place to live.

"After that, everyone was hackin' and slashin'. I only made it out 'cause I was small and pretty quick." He extended at leg out from its criss-crossed weave, pulling the leg of his pant up to show a large, ragged looking scar. "Wasn't fast enough to not take a little gift with me." Boswell chuckled, shaking his head and replacing the leg back on top of his other. He sat in a strange fashion with straight back and interlocked legs that made Keene's tailbone ache just looking at him. Keene's room was void of any sort of comforts, especially when it came to his floor and the marginally softer cot. Boswell, however, didn't seem to have any sort of problem with his posterior and the cold stone beneath. Keene found it both fascinating and potentially troubling (it was possible Boswell just had little feeling below his waste, which could be a medical issue, though Keene knew little about such things and only tended to worry about them in silence until further light could be shown on the situation). "And my father was furious, right red in the face! I remember him jabbin' his finger into my chest and shoutin' somethin' fierce." A bubble of laughter erupted from his throat, filling the tiny room with his mirth even a few ticks after he'd finished. Tossing the nuts into his mouth and biting down with a satisfying crunch, he raised a brow at Keene. "Ya missin' home yet?"

Boswell, like most people who were bright or cheery in spite of their humanity, rarely ever made logical progressions in Keene's opinion. To move so quickly from tales of murderous gangs in Sunberth to inquiring if he missed the maritime city of his child hood was a jump Keene had to take a few ticks to consider. He thoughtfully chewed on the pleasing sweetness of the dates that rolled across his tongue after each crushing join of his teeth. Since his arrival on Sahova, he had thought of Zeltiva several times, but to say he missed it would be a gross misrepresentation of his feelings. Boswell had done little to warrant anything but the truth or simple refusal owed a neutral party, and Keene often found himself musing over the man's questions. Out of all the denizens of Sahova, Boswell was, by far, his most intimate acquaintance. For whatever reason the drawling hunter seemed to take both interest and initiative in what he surely viewed as a friendship between the two of them. Keene didn't share Boswell's presentments about the quality or attributes of their relationship, but he did provide him with conversation that was, usually, at least semi-elucidating.

"I am not." Boswell raised an incredulous brow, shoving a few more almonds into his mouth. Keene amended his statement with a slight frown. "Yet."

Seemingly satisfied with the augmented reply, Boswell nodded sagaciously, swallowing his mouthful of food before continuing. "Don't worry, it'll hit ya when yer least expectin' it, like bam!" On his use of onomatopoeia, he smacked his hands together with a sharp striking clap that resounded about the chilly stone interior of the sleeping cupboard. "Happened to me when I was out huntin'. Got me real quick and right to the heart." His pounded his chest to both indicate the location of his life sustaining muscle as well as to demonstrate how quickly the abstract concept of fear figuratively "hit" him. "There I was just sittin' there cryin' 'bout how I wanted to go home and such," He shook his head, chuckling at his own foolishness. "Thomas hadda cuff my ears and box me around a bit to get me back in shape." A moment of uncharacteristic solemnity passed between the two of them. "I still miss it. Sahova's a hard place for people like us to get on." The seriousness fading from Boswell's intent stare, the man laughed the previous state off, shaking his head. "Anyway, Thomas-"

There was a knock at the door, halting Boswell's story. Keene rose up, rubbing his knees to gain a bit more mobility before shuffling over to the door and unlatching the hitch to let it swing open, revealing the crabby visage of the subject of Boswell's recount. "We're leavin', Bos." The short, cut syllables were all that were offered. As Boswell hurried to his feet, slipping past Keene with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders, Thomas turned his attention to Keene. "Look. I don't know what you're tryin' to pull with Bos, but why don't you spend your time more productively and do some gods damned work around here." Raising a brow, Keene drew breath to ask exactly where he was supposed to do such things without access to the majority of the island's facilities. Before he could do so, Thomas was quick to reply without having to go through the trouble of listen to the calm, infuriating tone of the young man he detested so much. "The Synchrograph Office, where all of just about eveythin' come from. Gods, you've been here this long and haven't figured that out yet?" Keene took little offense to the man's question. He was still learning the ins and outs of how the city worked, and after his first experience with the backlash of restricted areas, Keene had had little reason to go poking his head through mysterious doors. "Just get over there and stop bothering Bos."

"I don't believe I'm-" Thomas cut Keene short with a venomous glare that could have melted its way through Isurian steel. Finished with the conversation, Thomas stomped off after Boswell. Keene watched him leave with a contemplate knit of his brow. Since coming to Sahova he had not spent a single Miza. Food was handed out each day, though it was a meager amount, and he was glad to have thought of purchasing his own supplies before hand. The city was very different from Zeltiva in that money had almost no place in its chilled, stony walls. He had always wondered where all the wizards bustling in and out of the labs and up and down the floors of the Gug Andjak got all of their supplies. It seemed his question had, at last, been answered. It had been one of the things he'd been unable to ask Risabel, as she was constantly busy whenever he wanted to interrogate her and almost always about when he preferred her absent. Still, though the delivery had been most unfriendly, Keene was glad to have been given an opportunity to do something with his vast quantities of time that was not entirely directed by his own facilities.

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[Keene Ward]

The Synchrography Office was in one word efficient. The stone walls were clean, stark, and against them rows and rows of cabinets filled to the brim with neatly order sheets of papers that were constantly being withdrawn and replaced by strange, wheeled machines that whirred and buzzed about the polished floor with a single minded determination that the advent of a new individual in their presence had little effect on their workings. The smell, unlike the dank fog of the courtyard or the partially populated Quarters, was crisp and had the distinct flavor of books in the air that Keene had come to find as the most comfortable sort of taste an atmosphere might have. It was reminiscent of the University's library, a place he knew quite well from his childhood. Thus, unlike the majority of the rooms and buildings he'd found himself in during his time in the citadel, he felt much more relaxed. It was a strange feeling and it didn't last long as he quickly realized the Office was much different than the library that had become a second home to him.

Sitting hunched behind a desk, frantically scribbling over a stack of documents, was a bespectacled man who looked up the moment Keene passed over the door's threshold. He'd spit out a disdainful, "Pulser." before bending back over his work and subsequently ignoring the new arrival. It was apparent the man wanted nothing to do with him, and by his initial statement, Keene assumed the individual as a nuit. Both of those realizations did not bode well for him if he were to find a job. Standing in silence for a time, listening to the squeak of wheels and the scratching of the nuit's pen against the rough fibers of the paper, Keene pondered what was the best course of action. He thought to make his inquiry once the first document had been dealt with, but the man removed the paper by placing it onto an even larger pile and started on the next form so quickly, Keene was able to get out little more that a muted croak. He considered leaving and trying again at a later time, but he had the impression that no matter the day, the circumstances within the busy whir of the room would be much the same.

Clearing his throat, Keene approached the desk, taking care not to step on the whirring metal creatures and zipped around the room like strange, polygonal rodents. "I was told there are jobs here?" The nuit slammed his quill down onto the table with a solid thud, shaking the whole desk. The massive stack of completed documents wavered some, but remained steady. He stuck his arm down towards the floor, hastily wrenching open one of the drawers. Feverishly rummaging within the contents of the compartment, he withdrew a small stack of papers which were violently extended towards him. Keene moved quickly to receive the handful of submitted work requests, but his arms were not fast enough to stop them from cascading out of the nuit's hands and onto the ground. It seemed his arm had grown tired from all of his generosity, and that weariness could only be remedied by a continuation of his work without paltry interruption. Squatting down, Keene quickly gathered up the mess of requests, tapping them against the ground to put them into a once more neatly stacked pile which he kept in his hands. "Thank you." He received a grunt in either response or merely a bodily reflex to things the nuit considered distasteful. Either way, it carried with it a similar message: Do your business and get out.

Perusing over the forms, Keene frowned. The majority of things were for items to be created, destroyed, or altered in some way. Many of the requests asked for magics and skills Keene had never seen before. There were requirements for "glyphing", "voiding", "magecraft", "spiritism" and "alchemy"; all of which Keene found he knew nothing about. There were ridiculous rewards as well, especially if one was able to create a lightweight cloak that was, essentially, armor of a sort. The only sort of task that he could fulfill was labeled as "Vermin Extermination". It required any form of combat, of which he supposed he did possess enough destructive power to deal with a couple of "gibbat dogs". The word "infestation" seemed a bit dodgy, but Keene was certain he'd be able to handle it. The reward was marginal in comparison to the rest of the request, and it seemed as though recompense was based upon the difficulty of the posting. There was also the promise of "shielding", which seemed rather self-explanatory, though Keene wasn't sure what all it entailed. His interest further piqued by the potential for a new form of magic (which he had only recently learned there were things beyond reimancy), Keene re-approached the desk with the papers in hand.

"I'd like to take this job." He offered the papers to the nuit, who snatched them away, looking briefly at the top page. Grabbing a stamp from a drawer on his left, the nuit dipped the rubber into the ink before slamming it onto the request form. Shoving the rest of the pages away back into the drawer near the floor, the form was thrown back at Keene with all the ceremony of before. Prepared this time, Keene snagged the document before it could be thrown to the floor. The nuit bent over to the ground, snatching up on of the medium metal creatures like a plucking a fish from a pond.

"Escort to lab twelve S."

The creature was set back on the ground where it remained for a tick before turning to head out the door. Keene started at it for a moment as it disappeared out into the courtyard before he realized he was mean to be the one being escorted. Giving the Nuit a frustrated frown (which was returned with a slight twitch of the nuit's lips), Keene hurried after the wheeled box, catching up to it after a few blind chimes of searching through the mist. It moved at an average pace, taking it time to navigate the broken and frayed cobbles of the courtyard's meandering pathways. At the Gug Andjak, it waited for Keene to push open the heavy door before rolling inside. Keene took up the rear, glad to be once more in the cool of the Gug Andjak's interior with its bustling orderly chaos. He had little time to look around, however as his mute guide wheeled its way towards the stairs to his immediate right. Seeing as how it was meant to be escorting him, Keene followed tentatively. The rejection of his entry into the large building between the Gug Andjak and the Quarters had not be something he really wanted to relive any time soon.

Fortunately, no barrier rejected him. He and his mechanized guide proceeded without harm. Once the had come to the edge of the stairs, Keene stared down at the little wheeled device with an intrigued raise of the brow. The determined object seemed unperturbed by its wheel's incompatible nature with a construct such as stairs and launched itself off of the first, bouncing its way downwards landing on every other step (sometimes two or three). Impressed by the durability and stability of the item that hurtled itself down the stairs at a pace that had him jogging in pursuit, he made a mental note to ask Risabel what in the world the things were, and if he might be able to get one. What exactly he'd use it for, he had no idea. It was difficult to think of purposes for something that he knew so little about.

They descended at the same pace two flights of stairs. The first floor they passed seemed to be exactly the same as the room above, its only difference being it was beneath the ground rather than on top of it. On the floor of their destination, the machine paused for a few ticks before chugging off towards one of the laboratory doors where a calm, quiet looking man stood with arms crossed. As Keene approached behind his metal herald, the man gave him a slow nod of the head. "Bebe said you would be coming, Pulser." Unlike the nuit at the Synchrography Office, the dark haired, mild mannered man before him spoke with little but calm in his voice. It was a trait Keene often employed himself, landing the man an immediately favorable appraisal by the young, grey eyed human. "The gibbat dogs are contained within. Are you ready to deal with them?" Though polite, the nuit seemed a bit skeptical of Keene's abilities, a quality the two of them shared.

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[Keene Ward]

"I believe so." Keene sounded confident enough, though he was unsure of what he was actually exterminating. From their name, he assumed the gibbat dogs were some sort of canine, though beyond that they were just faceless, four-legged, hairy beasts that drooled. He had killed one of the disgustingly large birds of the island already. The dogs would just be one more part of his journey. Keene was not, by any means, a lover of animals, but he didn't set out to bring harm to the creatures if it wasn't necessary. From the sound of the request, however, it seemed that force was the only way left. The gibbat dogs were in a place that they were not supposed to be. Keene couldn't blame the beasts for doing so. The likelihood of the creatures being brought down for some sort of research or experimentation seemed to be the most logical explanation as to how they managed to infest one of the lower levels of the the Gug Andjak. In a way, it was the fault of those within the lab that the vermin had been allowed to take over the room. They were merely creatures of instinct, something that Keene, in spite of all his introspection, could understand. Creatures that thought little and acted much were predictable. They were much more readily comprehended than the complexity of a human (or a nuit for that matter).

The nuit raised a brow, though his face read purely as uncertainty. The lack of disdain was, surprisingly, refreshing. He turned and held his hand out over the front of the door, gently caressing the air. Keene felt a tickle at the back of his neck as the nuit lower his arms, stepping back from the door with a slight nod. "Be careful. They jump." With that, he stepped back, an arm extended in invitation. "If you don't die, I'll be here, waiting for your return." Nodding at the nuit as he passed, Keene stepped through the door, a ripple of disturbance passing over him as he did so. Carefully and quietly shutting the door behind him, Keene stared at the mess before him. There were books and papers strewn throughout the room, pages torn and bindings broken. A few puddles of what seemed to be urine spotted the floor and soaked into the disarray of papers, baubles and furniture. From a corner of the room, huddled beneath a several desks and a cabinet that had been knocked over, came the aggressive growl of a trapped animal. The sound was quickly echoed by several more, until the entire room was filled the wavering rumble of fear.

"Gibbat dogs?"

The words were quickly returned with several sharp, barks followed by a long, piercing howl. Taking the sound to be a charge of sorts, Keene sank into knees, letting them bend to center his weight as the Djed within his body tingled in anticipation for what was to come. The beasts came first a pair. They were surprising small, furry creatures with long, fluffy ears and two sets of eyes both small and large. The gibbat dogs arced through the air, their paws outstretched and teeth sharp and barred. Pulling a fist full of res from his hand, Keene tossed the ball in front of the animals, waiting until they both began to pass on either side of it before jerking his hands away from each other and transmuting the res into two separate blasts of air that the sent them small furry bodies crashing into the walls on either side of him. Both incidents of contact made a terrible snapping noise, followed by the pitiful thud of broken bone and useless flesh against the stone cobbles below. The dog to his left let out a pathetic, wheezing whine, panting desperately to fill its quickly flooding lungs.

Though Keene would have preferred to put the animal out of the misery he had unintentionally caused it, three more of the dogs advanced. First two, then the last made a jump for him. While they were his enemies, the dogs were different than the vultures that had hunted him before. They did not attack him out of spite or superiority, they did so to protect their own lives. Of course, had they been able to communicate, the entire situation could have been easily dissolved. They could not communicate, however, not in the human sense of the word. Thus, they had decided him a threat (and he surely was) and did what animals only knew to do when threatened. Unwilling to use the same tactic again (as the sound of the spluttering animal on his left made his stomach feel queasy), Keene resolved himself to something much more dangerous but worlds more effective. He let his res seep out of his body in a mist, concentrating the cloud in front of him at the farthest point of his influence. As the first two animals approached, Keene force fully shoved the res into the heads of the animals, filling the inside of the skull with res with a joining of his hands together in a sharp, quick clap. Immediately after the clap, Keene clapped once more, turning the res inside the animal's heads into a burst of air that sent little trails of blood from their ears as their empty bodies collided into the wall behind him, harmlessly falling to the ground, motionless save the steady flow of grey-ish liquid that oozed from their eyes and ears.

Keene was not fast enough to deal with the third animal. It slammed its body into him, surprisingly heavy for a creature its size. He was able to throw it off of him, though its teeth caught at his arm, tearing through fabric and flesh alike taking with it a fair amount of cloth and a shaving of skin. Keene winced at the sudden pain, his fingers already dripping with blood from the wound. He doubted it was too serious, however, as he still had fine control over his injured limb (though any motion that strained the skin was not pleasant). As the animal moved to jump once more, Keene drew upon his res once more. Unwilling to use his injured arm more than he had too, Keene spewed the gaseous substance from his lips with a sharp whistle, sending it swirling towards the dog as he had before. This time, however, the creature moved too quickly for him, letting out a series of blood-thirsty barks as it propelled itself directly towards Keene's neck. Abandoning his cloud of res for the time being, Keene ducked, leaning backwards as he did so. The action resulted in him landing with a heavy thud upon his back as his injured arm scraped against a fallen stool. He let out a short shout of pain as the dog sailed over his prostrate form, slamming into the wall behind him like the others.

Not wasting any more time, Keene rolled to his feet, pulling and shoving the res from behind him with his left arm - he kept his right hanging loosely at his side to avoid aggravating it. The mist snaked into the dog's head while it dazedly rose to its feet. Extending his fingers, Keene quickly pulled him into a fist, transmuting the res within into a pressurize burst that had the same effect on the now fallen creature as it did on the previous two. Over the course of the fight, the remaining dogs had begun to bark and howl. He could hear them, scrabbling about in their corner. He stood, turning around to see six more the gibbat dogs, fur raised and teeth barred as their strange, spherical eyes glared at him, shaking slightly from the effort of their growling. He could feel the effects of his magic usage. He had enough, but he was going to have to use it intelligently if he was going to avoid overgiving.

As the dogs readied themselves, Keene let res flow from his body, letting it swirl around him in a gaseous cloud by rotating his left hand about the wrist. The creatures seemed wary, but launched their attack in spite of what seemed to be misgivings. All five dove towards him, teeth snapping and saliva foaming at the corners of their mouths. With a thurst of his arm - and a wince as the motion jarred his bleeding forearm of his dangling limb -, Keene pushed his res into the dogs as they passed through the cloud. While not perfect, he waited until the last moment to clench his fist and draw it back to his hip to transmute the res into a well-sized gust of air that shot out in every direction from the res he had not managed to put inside the animals. The resulting effects of the spell send him flying to his right, slamming his arm against the wall and letting out a pained wail that he had little control over. The dogs, however, were blown in several different directions. There were a few sounds of whimpering as those that had not recieved the full effect of the internal blast smashed against the floor where they slowly proceeded to fade away, their pitiable squeaks and twitching legs a sight that make Keene feel as though he was going to vomit.

Groaning and he pulled himself up and away from the wall, Keene shuffled over to one of the first two dogs that had attacked him. The whimpering had grown louder, and as he knelt down to put the poor beast out of its misery, he was surprised to see that it was already dead. The sounds were coming from the corner where all the creatures had piled out of at the start. Slowly, he straightened himself up, his head feeling light and airy, as if he was falling. Shaking his head back and fourth did little to alleviate the sensation. In fact, it only seemed to make it worse and the taste of blood spread across his tongue. Spitting out what he though would be blood only made the taste more prominent. The whimpering had softened some, and Keene's attention shifted from himself to the source of the noise. The broken bodies of the dogs lay strewn about like floor as if some one had taken a cart full of bags of seed and dropped them from a great height. It was disgusting, and Keene kept his eyes glued on the darkened corner of the room. He could feel the empty part of himself where he usually kept his reserves of Djged. It was painfully empty, and though he felt as though he should exude more res to be safe, he instead stooped down to pick up a heavy looking book with his left hand as he crept ever closer to the quiet whimpering.

"...Gibbat dog?"

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[Keene Ward]

With book in hand, Keene gripped the leather tightly, the whimpering growing softer with each step he approached the desks and fallen furniture. Huddled within the shadows cast by the candle lights, crouched the last gibbat dog. It was smaller than the others, and from the way it pulled away from him, it had no intention of outright attacking him. Steadying himself by placing his hand against the nearest desk, Keene slowly eased himself down, kneeling in a good distance away from the creature. It stared back it him, its four eyes catching what little light there was, nearly glowing within the darkness. The whimpering had faded into so silence as the creature regarded him, its ears twitching and breath shallow and quick. It had pushed itself back against the wall, but though there was more room in the far corner of the space, it remained in its place. Taking another cautious shuffle forward, Keene kept his eyes locked on the dog. It remained inert, its breathing quickening as he moved, calming the longer he remained still. His mouth felt dry and tasted as if he had sucked on a Miza for a week. And though he was closer to the ground, his attention mostly focused on the terrified animal before him, Keene's head still felt impossibly light, making his motions awkward and clumsy.

Several more terribly slow steps forward, and he was near enough to the gibbat dog to reach out and touch it if he had wanted to. He did not, however, and he kept himself still and the frantic breathing of the creature had caused it to whimper again. From his change in vantage points, Keene was able to see that the dog's tail was caught beneath the cabinet that had fallen in what Keene imagined was the initial chaos when the gibbat dogs had escaped or arrived or whatever it was that had caused the problem in the first place. He crouched there for a few chimes, his eyes gazing straight into the strange, bluish orbs. The dog, with its trapped tail could not escape, it simply sat there, staring back at him with a low whine. The blood still dripped from the tips of his fingers, but the sting had dulled into a low throb. He was faced with a choice. The animal's companions were dead or dying, which meant it was alone. It was small, weak-looking, and Keene doubted it would survive on its own. It was docile enough while it was trapped, but he wasn't sure it would remain so if he were to release its tail from its entrapment.

At worst, the creature would take a bit out of his leg. Keene found that there was no logical reason to slay the creature that had no animosity towards him. Rising up with an uncertain wobble, Keene made his way over to the cabinet. The low let out a low growl in warning to which Keene replied with a weary sigh, "Gibbat dog, if you attack me, I will kill you." The growling was cut short as the animal whined, a signal that Keene took to mean that the creature would stick to their non-verbal agreement. He set the book on top of the cabinet he intended to move, making sure it was close enough for him to grab if he needed it. The lift required both arms, and as Keene grabbed onto a corner of the structure, he felt his eyes tear up as the tear in his skin stretched from the effort of raising up the side of the object. There was a scratching of claws on stone followed by a sharp yelp as the gibbat dog scurried out from under the cabinet. As soon as it was free, Keene let the cabinet fall back to the ground with a dull thud.

The creature scurried out from under the table, it's whimpering rising to a keening whine as it approached the corpse of the nearest of its fallen comrades. Keene watched in silence, wearily leaning against the now prostrate cabinet as his eyes followed the creatures movements as it scurried from body to body, its tail a mess of congealed blood, bent heavily to the left. One by one, it approached them, nudging the lifeless piles of fur and flesh with a growing urgency. As it reached the last body, it let out a forlorn howl. The sound rose up out of the tiny figure starting as a shaky warble that slowly grew in its intensity until it filled the room with its high pitched keen. Keene stared on, his calm, grey eyes carefully watching the mourning creature as it sat back on its broken tail, continuing its howl broken by gasps for air. As the last of its howls slowly faded away, the creature turned on Keene. Standing straight, book in hand, Keene readied himself to fight. Instead of charging him like the previous creatures had done, it laid down, whimpering.

He looked around the tarnished room. The bodies of the gibbat dogs strewn about among the papery mess, small spatterings of blood from his arm leaving a little trail from where he'd traveled. Keene let his eyes close, the images of the dogs snarled, biting fangs juxtaposed with the large, blue eyes of the last gibbat dog. It made him sick to think about. The nuit had asked if he was prepared, but no line of questioning could have prepared him for the strange, sinking sensation he felt. The creatures had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. His arm ached and the soft, wobbling whimpers of the remaining gibbat only sank his spirits lower. Having little else to do, as he was not quite ready to leave the room and unsure what to do with the little shaking pile of fur off to his right, Keene stared down at his arm.

The damage wasn't excessive, but the cut was thin and deep enough that the blood that had finally begun to clot was a dark, solid sort of color. He had no more spare Djed with which to clean the wound, but there was water in his room that he supposed he would have to use to wash the area of the drying blood. He slowly wiggled his fingers, watching as the movement gently pulled on the edges of the wound, stretching the skin and threatening to tear open the weak cover of the scab. It hurt more the longer he looked at it, so he decided to look at the only other remaining living thing in the room. The broken bodies of the other dogs only served to send little shivers of pity down his spine but not regret. They had attacked him, and had he not destroyed them, it would be him upon the floor, torn open by the viscous bites of the now inert animals that lay scattered across the room. It was a shame, to be sure, but Keene found the waste of the animal's lives to be more sickening then the actual act of killing them.

That left the quivering figure before him. It had buried its head in its paws as it stared at the nearest fallen gibbat dog with flattened ears and a pitiful groans of pain. Keene had minimal experience with domestic animals and even less with wild ones. If he was to come to any sort of decision, however, it would not be through his quiet appraising gaze. Leaning back against the cabinet once more, Keene spoke, his voice even and low. At the sound of his voice, the gibbat dog's ears perked up, and it turned towards him, its four eyes seemingly focused upon him (though it was difficult to tell). "Gibbat dog. We've reached an impasse." The dog let out a whine. "Let me finish." The whining stopped, and the ears twitched in response. "...Thank you." He found it a bit ridiculous to be extending gratitude to the little creature, but its tail gave a short wag that elicited a fraction of a whine, giving Keene the impression that it - to whatever extent - understood him. "I don't wish to kill you, but I don't believe you can survive on your own." The animal stared back at him, seemingly uncomprehending. "What am I to do with you."

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[Keene Ward]

He could not kill the pup. It was a plain and simple fact, much like he could not fly or he could not ever give birth to a child. The last gibbat dog's chances of survival without its pack were slim, but Keene refused to make the choice of life or death over such a variable unknown as "would it survive". He had survived. Against all odds, in spite of everything and everyone, he lived. He continued to live. Had another made the choice for him, Keene had no doubt he would have been buried shortly after Mella's passing. Yet his lungs still drew breath, and his mind continued to spark with thought. He forced himself to stare at the corpses of the fallen, their blank, unseeing eyes having already faded to the dull grey that seemed to settle over those who souls had left to find a new meaning, a new life.

His eyes strained, carefully perusing every detail from the matted, bloody fur to the twisted, broken bits of bone. He had caused the destruction before him. The devastation was wrought by his own might. The coppery taste in his mouth intensified as he focused upon it, matching the flavor to the scene. Blood to blood. He had killed, he had determined the value of life and found his to be the more important. He did not regret his decision, and were he faced with the choice again, the result would be same. However, he did not want to forget. He did not want to become numb. He had spent much of his life cold and analytic, which benefited him more than it deterred, but it was no longer how he would deal with death. To those who meant him harm, Keene would destroy them. But to those who had a choice, who were merely victims of chance, he vowed then and there to let them make their own choice. To wrench such a thing as will from something was to do more than take its life, it was to take its soul. He was not sentimental or religious, but Keene did differentiate killing to defend and killing to kill. He would not succumb to the latter.

Pushing himself away from the cabinet slowly, as his head still rushed with its uncomfortable lightness of weight, Keene began to shuffle towards the dog who's ears had begun to lower in concerned defense at his approach. He spoke once more, his voice soft, though it remained its steady cadence, "Gibbat dog, we are leaving now." A small whimper started at the back of the animal's throat, but the ears slowly rose, its growling sneer cautiously melting. The closer Keene came to the dog, the slower he moved, shaking with the effort of controlling his motions in such a refined way. The dog, all the while, watched him with wary eye, though the growling did not return. When he had reached a point at which his hand could make contact with the creature by extension of the arm, he did so, gradually extending his injured arm. He chose to let his wounded arm lead, as there was a chance the dog would attack it the object regardless of what truce they'd seemed to come to. It was an animal after all.

It seemed to pull away as Keene let his arm fully extend to the point just before it would have caused the laceration in his arm to rip once more. Regarding the limb with a leer, the dog slowly inched its head forward, it's small, black nose pressing against his skin with a cold wetness that Keene forced himself not to draw back from, though his arm did tense, sending shivers of pain up through his shoulder. Sensing the tension, the dog pulled back for a moment, but soon it's nose began again, puffing out short bursts of balmy air as it inspected his peace offering. The two figures continued in this fashion for several chimes, Keene kneeling before the furry creature, arm extended and brows knit; the dog, sniffing and sniffing, never taking its eyes away from him. The monotony was broken as the dog's little pink tongue extended outwards, the rough texture of the muscle scratching against the now dried blood that had begun to cake onto his hand. He winced, the sensation was less that pleasant, but the dog seemed to be content, licking away the gore and leaving behind a thin film of saliva. When it was satisfied, the dog pushed itself up into a seated position: front paws planted firmly on the ground and back feet splayed slightly to the sides. Its tail wagged half-heartedly, its crooked, bloody nature seemingly unimportant to the gibbat dog.

Pulling his arm back to res against his hip and support his weight as he settled his hand upon the ground, Keene nodded at the animal. The gesture was returned with a short bark. Rising to his feet, Keene stared down at the little animal as it returned his gaze, its tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth as if it could not keep it inside. "Come." The dog continued to sit, staring back at him with a complete lack of comprehension. Deciding that words, perhaps, were not the most efficient way of getting the animal to move, Keene carefully walked around it. His action gave rise to a cautionary growl, a gesture he respected. The dog did not entirely trust him, and were he in its place, he doubted he would have reacted much differently. Still, the beast would have to obey him eventually if he was going to get it out of the lab alive. Stopping at the door, Keene turned back to face the gibbat dog, who had begun to elicit a low whimper. "We're leaving now." It cocked its head. "Come here." The tongue flopped out of the panting mouth. "Come." Still nothing, though another whine was released, followed by its tongue rising up to wet its nose. Thinking perhaps the beast responded to gestures like a furry pile of res, Keene raised a hand, cupping his fingers and pulling them towards him. "Come."

It seemed to finally understand the command, rising up onto its four legs and cautiously trotting over, stopping a short distance from his feet - either it understood or had moved of its own volition. Still, Keene was relieved it had finally obeyed - or at least gave the impression as such. Turning to the door, Keene pushed the door open, revealing the hall beyond. A low grow emanated from behind him as the dog's fur began to rise. Turning to address the hostility, Keene shook his head. "You are in no position for aggression." The beast calmed some, though it remained alert, staring intently at the opening where the door's wood had once occupied. Stepping outside, Keene turned to address the expectant nuit who raised a brow upon seeing Keene's state of disarray. "The gibbat dogs have been dealt with." Keene paused, turning to see that the dog still remained in the room, a little whine wobbling its way from within. "With the exception of that one."

The nuit moved past Keene to peer into the room. A small sigh escaped him as he withdrew, the low growls of the dog fading as the nuit disappeared from its line of sight. "You certainly dealt with them." He did not seem particularly pleased, though the quality of displeasure was much more kin to sadness than anything else. "That last one. What do you intend to do with it?"

Keene shook his head, eyeing the animal that scraped at the air with its paw, grunting at whatever it was that kept it from leaving. "I'm not sure yet."

The dark haired nuit shrugged, "Well, I suppose it's your problem now." He moved over to the door once more, his hands gliding through the air as if caressing something, pulling and weaving in an elegant fashion. As his arms began to fall back to his side, the sound of claws on stone tapped through the hall as the creature darted from the room to plant itself firmly against Keene's legs, its tiny body quivering with the low, guttural growl it directed towards the nuit who stared back at it with a placid disinterest. "I will send for you to distribute your rewards at a later time." Keened nodded, softly nudging the little animal with his foot in an attempt to create some space between their two bodies which only served to make the growl a little larger and gained hit a little twitch of the dog's head. "Thank you, Pulser."

With that, the nuit disappeared into the lab, shutting the door behind him. What he planned to do with the bodies was no longer Keene's issue, as the problem at hand had finally stopped growling, instead turning its head upwards to stare up at him. "Now what."

.

[Keene Ward]

The walk back up the stairs seemed to be all the much longer with the gibbat dog's strange distrust of the elevated structures. It eyed them in much the same way it had regarded Keene, malice and uncertainty were diluted by its desire to be close to Keene's feet, a trait he was finding to be fairly useful in the direction of its furry frame. As he started up the stairs, there had been a whine from behind him, the animal clearly uncomfortable with the prospect of climbing before it. Not about to try to lift the creature up into his arms as if it were some especially hairy child, Keene had stared back at it with confusion. He had never met a creature that had a problem with stairs, nor did he understand how another living creature (or unliving or dead for that matter) could find them to be a subject of such impressive disdain. Deciding that the creature would most likely eventually choose to follow him over its fear, Keene continued up the stairs for several more steps before the dog let out a low, mournful bark. The sound echoed through the hall, exponentially louder than it had been when it had left the dog's maw.

Hastily trotting down the stairs, Keene knelt down next to the animal, an action that caused the little thing to shake with excitement and let loose a few more excited barks which Keene was quick to silence by holding his finger to his lips with a stern frown. The last thing he wanted was to disturb the research within the labs, but his newly appointed canine companion was not nearly as wary of such things. Standing tall once more, Keene took a step up, using the same motion he had used the first time he'd manage to influence movement in the beast. It rose up from its seated position and scratched at the stone, cocking its head at it before it growled once more. Feeling the beginnings of frustration starting near the heart of his chest, Keene motioned once more, adding a terse, "Come." The dog's ears pricked up, and it placed its first two paws upon the edge, letting out a happy yap. Fortunately, the sound was much softer than those previous, and it didn't carry nearly as far, nor did it seem to reverberate in the cavernous stone hall.

Deciding incremental improvement was desirable over nothing at all, Keene nodded at the panting, furry face that looked up at him with its large, luminescent eyes. "Close." With another bend of his wrist, he motioned for the dog to continue. "Come" The paws jumped back from the edge as the dog lifted and set its feet off and on the ground, as if it were determining the best way to conquer the trial before him. After about a chime, Keene was ready to just pick the thing up and risk the consequence of such and act, but as he made a motion to make his way back down the steps, the dog took a nimble hop, landing on the step with a happy wag of its broken tail. Blinking, Keene stared with a mix of pity and praise at the pup. It seemed it wasn't the brightest spark out of all the lights of life, but it wasn't below the ability to learn - or at the very least "behavioral progression. The process became easier and easier, each time the coaxing process (which generally involved Keene's soft, though increasingly agitated, "Come" followed by hand movements) grew shorter and shorter until the animal was finally comfortable enough to struggle along behind him.

He couldn't decide if the issue lay somewhere in jury of the body or mind, but whatever the case, he was very close to letting his face twitch into a grateful smile once they had reached the main floor of the Gug Andjak. The bustle of work continued on as usual, taking little heed of the Pulsar and his pet as they emerged from the stairwell, save one certain legate who approached him with her customary snorting laughter. "Find yourself a little pet, huh, Ward?" She found the situation much more amusing than he. Kneeling down to face the gibbat dog that had started to growl once more, her voice adopted a sickeningly sing-song sweetness to it that Keene found even more disturbing than anything else prior. "Who's a sweet puppy? Hm? You are! You are!" For once, Keene found himself content to let the little animal's guttural warning grow in force, though it had little effect on the bushy headed woman. Rising to her feet, she brushed off what dust might have been collected from her kneeling appraisal of the gibbat dog, straightening her robes before giving Keene a perplexed frown. "What are you going to do with it?"

It was the question of the bell, and Keene wasn't sure what the answer was. He certainly didn't want to keep it. The thing had to eat, and he had a limited supply of meats. He had also already seen the potential for mess the creature could make, and he wasn't entirely sure pet were even allowed in the citadel anyway. In all his time spent in Sahova, he hadn't seen a single indication that suggested such a thing was acceptable (though he also had not seen anything to the contrary). In any case, Risabel's curiosity as to what he was going to do with the gibbat dog gave him an idea. With a raise of the brow at the creature who's growl had stilled some once Risabel had moved away from it, Keene let his eyes fall upon her expectant face. "Would you like to keep it?" She blinked, first at him, then at the dog. A little frown crossed her face as she considered the proposition. Keene was almost certain the first thing she thought of was the food problem, but it was of little matter as she slowly nodded.

"...Yes." She seemed to still be convincing herself as the nod became slightly more energetic, "Yes, I think I would." Raising a brow at her growing enthusiasm, Keene allowed her to explain. He had grown to learn that Risabel very rarely ever did something without offering some sort of relevant context, though the extent of such relevance was often debatable. "You know, Ward, you're about the only living thing I get to talk to on a similar regular basis." Keene didn't doubt it was true, as he doubted anyone was so "lucky" as he was to have the never ending chatter Boswell at his constant disposal. "And he's kinda cute. Like you." She winked, the joke falling flat as Keene tilted his head with a slight squint to his eyes, attempting to find any similarity between himself and the creature that pressed itself against his leg. "Never mind." She brushed his confusion off with the wave of a hand and a roll of her eyes. Kneeling down once more, Risabel extended her arms towards the gibbat dog that immediately resumed its growling, "Come 'ere, Ward Junior! Who's a good puppy? You are!"

Keene moved his foot behind the dog's back, nudging it forward. It planted its feet firmly on the stone floor, but its attempt to remain immobile was thwarted by the polished quality of the floor. It was scooted forward against its will, something Keene found a bit ironic as he had saved its life for the sole reason of giving it a chance to make its own decisions. Still, he was not an option, and Risabel was its best bet. As the little furball was placed in range of the legate's grip, she snatched it up with a quickness that surprised both Keene and the gibbat dog. Cradling the creature in her arms, Risabel cooed down at her new pet, gently rubbing its stomach. In a daze, the dog just stared up at her in much the same fashion Keene regarded her: wide eyed and silent. Seemingly having diffused the animal's aversion to her, Risabel grinned at Keene, rocking the dog she'd so unceremoniously dubbed "Ward Junior" as its newly found placidity found his head lolling in her arms. "I've always been good with animals." She shrugged, pursing her lips and making kissing sounds at the dog, who responded with a few happy licks of her face.

Keene found the whole display of affection to be distasteful. Risabel and the gibbat dog seemed perfectly content, and he was glad to have nothing left to do with it. Turning to leave, the dog let out a little yelp, jumping from Risabel's arms and trotting over to stand behind him. Risabel let out a little huff, putting her hands on her hips and calling it back over with her sing-song beckoning. Keene turned to stare down at the expectant gaze of the dog, its crooked tail slowly moving back and forth. He knelt down, the creature hurrying over to shove its head into his lap. Pushing it away with a gently but firm hand, Keene gave the dog a stern command. "You must stay with Ms Timpel now." The dog tilted its head. Keene pointed back at the frustrated legate, "Go." It seemed to hesitate for a moment, letting out a short whine before it reluctantly trotted back into the waiting arms of its new master. Keene gave the gibbat dog a short nod. "Good."

Turning once more to leave, it was Risabel to interrupted his egress. "Ward." He turned again, his frown prominent on his features. "Come visit him once in awhile. He likes you." Her genuine request was quickly altered into an impish grin, "For whatever reason that's beyond me." With a little chuckle, she and the dog retreated back into her lab. Keene stood and watched them, his frown lessening slightly. Though it was only one, he was glad to have spared it. It now had a life, a potential that might be realized. Slowly, his made his final turn towards the courtyard, pushing open the doors to let the cool air rush out behind him as he stepped out into the humid mists that swirled about his boots. Letting the doors close behind him, he took a moment for himself, staring out into the swirling flurries of the ever moving fog. Perhaps he would visit, if for no other reason than Risabel had asked him to.

.

[Ink]

Fate has dictated the conclusion to your journey...

...And now, only Fortune awaits you.

I am Ink, Mistress of Sahova; and it is my pleasure to award you with this bounty of XP and Lore. If you have any questions regarding this Grade, please do not hesitate to send me a PM. Fret not, I tend not to smite...often.

 

Keene

XP

• Socialization 3
• Observation 3
• Reimancy 3
• Acrobatics 1
• Animal Husbandry 3
• Logic 1

LORES

• Sunberth: City of Anarchy
• Synchrograph’s Office: Taking a Work Order
• Golems can Escort Passed the Barriers
• Gibbat Dogs: Rabbit, Dogs
• The Horror of Tiny Bones Crunching
• Risabel has My Dog

MISCELLANEOUS

• ledger: +25 gm
• Loot:1 Shielding Lesson Voucher
• Overgiving: For two weeks hence Keene has spontaneous dream-like hallucinations. Within these dreams he is filled with the desire to fly.

With Regards,
Ink