McIan
Journeyman
“Explain what happened…with details, Bogryn. How did it get loose?” the slim, dandy-dressed, man, inquired, loosing the tie of his cape, draping it over the chair. It had to come off. The searing heat of the jungle sun sent rivulets of sweat streaming down him all over – he was not used to this and he hated the Lost Lands. He sat down in the chair at the table and placed his hands on it as he stared into the twitching face of his henchman.
“Well, sir, I was…”
“You were drunk again. Don’t deny it. Hobkin told me and I do not doubt it. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Malikai took out a warning poster from Delucia indicating a recent murder by a huge wolf and pointed it in his chubby, dirty, face.
Bogryn lowered his head. “You knows I can’t read sir,” he whined. He lifted his head suddenly, “But, but I did get him back!” he added with a small measure of hopeful jubilance.
Malikai threw the poster down. “Murder! I did not wish it to go that far. My orders were to implicate the Elder’s son as the culprit, hopefully making him doubt himself as well. Nothing more! You have made a mess of this and NOW I have to fix it.”
The henchman said nothing, merely rotating his weathered, tattered, straw hat with his big fingers. “What do you want me to do now?”
“For now, just keep the pack well fed and keep giving them the liquid… in the amount indicated! No more! Can you do that?! Can you just do one simple thing from now on – WHAT I TELL YOU TO DO?!!” his eyes flashed anger even though the henchman dwarfed him in size.
“Yes boss. I can do that,” came the sheepish reply.
“When you have two or three of them the proper size and well trained, kill the rest. And kill the one that escaped you, just for good measure.”
Bogryn’s eyes widened. “You mean Big Growler? But he’s my…”
“PUT… IT… DOWN!!”
The henchman sighed. “Yes boss, I will. I will,” he muttered.
“You may go now. Oh, send Hobkin to me. We have another purchase or two to make in Delucia. The price of the byproduct beef and mutton is going up and we need to decide what to do. Feeding these beasts is like feeding an army,” he complained. “Glad when I am done with this whole mess,” he muttered, remorsefully.
Bogryn left and went straight to the dire wolf pens, a circular wooden palisade bolstered on the outer side by tall mounds of earth and stone designed to prevent anything from jumping over or digging under. Inside he located one of the six grated and locked pens. The dire wolf inside had been sleeping but jumped up at his approach, snarling. Then, seeing his master, it whined and trotted toward the gate where he stood. Bogryn knelt down, reached in and rubbed the beast’s grizzled muzzle slowly. “Boss says you gotta go, Growler. I am sorry…” he began, and then tears fell down his face. “No way! No way boy. I’m gonna get you outta this! Tonight, when they’re all asleep! I come back and we both go, together!”
The enormous dire wolf, overfed with food and enhanced magically, licked his master’s hand, confirming the bond they shared.
“Well, sir, I was…”
“You were drunk again. Don’t deny it. Hobkin told me and I do not doubt it. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Malikai took out a warning poster from Delucia indicating a recent murder by a huge wolf and pointed it in his chubby, dirty, face.
Bogryn lowered his head. “You knows I can’t read sir,” he whined. He lifted his head suddenly, “But, but I did get him back!” he added with a small measure of hopeful jubilance.
Malikai threw the poster down. “Murder! I did not wish it to go that far. My orders were to implicate the Elder’s son as the culprit, hopefully making him doubt himself as well. Nothing more! You have made a mess of this and NOW I have to fix it.”
The henchman said nothing, merely rotating his weathered, tattered, straw hat with his big fingers. “What do you want me to do now?”
“For now, just keep the pack well fed and keep giving them the liquid… in the amount indicated! No more! Can you do that?! Can you just do one simple thing from now on – WHAT I TELL YOU TO DO?!!” his eyes flashed anger even though the henchman dwarfed him in size.
“Yes boss. I can do that,” came the sheepish reply.
“When you have two or three of them the proper size and well trained, kill the rest. And kill the one that escaped you, just for good measure.”
Bogryn’s eyes widened. “You mean Big Growler? But he’s my…”
“PUT… IT… DOWN!!”
The henchman sighed. “Yes boss, I will. I will,” he muttered.
“You may go now. Oh, send Hobkin to me. We have another purchase or two to make in Delucia. The price of the byproduct beef and mutton is going up and we need to decide what to do. Feeding these beasts is like feeding an army,” he complained. “Glad when I am done with this whole mess,” he muttered, remorsefully.
Bogryn left and went straight to the dire wolf pens, a circular wooden palisade bolstered on the outer side by tall mounds of earth and stone designed to prevent anything from jumping over or digging under. Inside he located one of the six grated and locked pens. The dire wolf inside had been sleeping but jumped up at his approach, snarling. Then, seeing his master, it whined and trotted toward the gate where he stood. Bogryn knelt down, reached in and rubbed the beast’s grizzled muzzle slowly. “Boss says you gotta go, Growler. I am sorry…” he began, and then tears fell down his face. “No way! No way boy. I’m gonna get you outta this! Tonight, when they’re all asleep! I come back and we both go, together!”
The enormous dire wolf, overfed with food and enhanced magically, licked his master’s hand, confirming the bond they shared.
