C.P.D. Harris's Blog, page 26

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: The Whore’s War 3.24

Hello! this is my weekly serial, written raw as a writing exercise.

You can find the first post in the series here.

Last week’s post is here.

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The Pink Pearl was newly renovated and very popular. We were ushered around the back  by a pair of burly doormen in black leather studded with ‘diamonds’. The perfectly manicured garden path let to a little patio cut off from the rest of the grounds, sheltered from the rain by the series of decks and balconies above. A little round glass table awaited us with chairs set all around.

As the doormen left, a pair of servers, one young, one old, appeared, bringing wine and port as well as a tray of cheese and grapes.

“Diamond will see you shortly,” the elder said as they departed.

I could sense more ‘doormen’ nearby, my ears picking up the sound of leather creaking and my nose the odor of the cologne that they were told to wear.

Carmen held up her hand in making a gesture or inquiry. “Five?”

I nodded affirmatively, wondering if she was just guessing or she had some other method to count the guards. I doubted her senses were as sharp as mine.

The Twins sat down at the end of the table facing the door. They were dressed in simple evening wear appropriate to a Myrhnese woman of any station; a knee length back dress, short black blazer, and knee-high black boots. Vethri wore a simple gold chain, while Eiskra wore her favourite ruby ring.

Carmen was still dressed in her ‘apprentice’ clothing, although she now carried weapons both hidden and in-character.

Vethri and Eiskra looked at each other once and settled, still as statues. I contented myself by listening to the sounds of the Pink Pearl and the streets beyond.

Diamond Silvermane waited just long enough to make her entrance. She strolled through the heavy oak door, resplendent in a cloak of white minx fur and the most impressive diamond necklace that I had ever seen. Her silver hair billowed about her head like a candle flame. She smiled at the twins, but there was little warmth in her eyes.

A pair of guards followed her out. These carried swords.

“Welcome to the Pearl, fellow whores,” said Diamond Silvermane. “The best brothel in Myrrhn.”

“You seem a little understaffed, Diamond,” said Eiskra.

“We’re just busy, darling,” said Diamond Silvermane. “But I do thank you for your concern.”

“Half of your rooms are empty,” said Vethri. “We know the capacity of this house and we know that the Silk Swan is already drawing some customers away from you now the Dierdre Dark and Troy work there.”

Diamond Silvermane laughed. “You’re right. Those two do have a loyal following, and I admit that their defection has caused us to lose their regulars. But you can see that we are busy and I assure you I am recruiting new talent; young women who will build their own followings. Now I assume that you did not call this meeting simply to insult me, girls. Let’s do business.”

“We are not going to take you to council.” said Vethri.

“Pardon?”

“We have decided not to challenge The Pink Pearl’s severance from The Doxies’s Union. We welcome the competition; Myrrhn has always been governed by market interests and we will not try to force you or your girls to join us you do not want to.”

“That’s all. No need for wine or anything,” added Eiskra.

The Twins stood, in unison. It was a gesture complicated by the fact that Vethri was a head taller than Eiksra, but they managed it.

Diamond Silvermane look confused for a heartbeat, then she recovered and stood as well. “Are you certain you don’t want to discuss this further?” she said, a little less bombastically.

“What is there to discuss?” asked Vethri. “Thank you for your hospitality Diamond, I know that The Pink Pearl is in good hands.”

“Have a nice afternoon,” added Eiskra, a little too gleefully, I thought.

And we left.

“What was that?” asked Carmen as soon as we were in the carriage.

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Sunday Teaser

A little teaser from my WIP.

Riritaka is always a character that I am trying to make better use of…

The report from the Legates was promising. While skirmishes were still common and traps were being set, there had been no large scale attacks or ambushes in more than a year. The Legions did not advance beyond the borders of Trial’s Watch, and The Pale did not attack them in force.

“What do you make of this Riritaka?”

“Some of the Tribes, especially those who have suffered greatly in the wars, want to have peace and time to lick their wounds and replenish their losses. If the Legions leave their territory they have less desire to fight. Some of the Tribes from further south and west will push for war, I think, because they have more to gain, even if The Pale suffer; the war is not on their territory and they can always seek respite when they need it.”

“Should we seek to ally with the closer tribes first then?” asked Gavin. “How would we even communicate a desire for peace with your people.”

“If The Pale are still sending out war parties to … skirmish, as you say, and make traps they will be watching this place closely. I can go into the Jungle and speak to them, or I can signal them.”

“Going into the jungle seems too risky,” said Gavin. “Why don’t we try to signal them first.”

“Ech,” Riritaka made a sour face. “I knew you would say that Gavin Chosen. It is much work. I must carve a spirit stick… a totem banner, you would say.”

“If you knew, then why haven’t you started Riri,” said Headtaker.

Riritaka rolled her eyes.

“Perhaps I can help with this,” boomed Chosen Brighthoof. “I and many among my rangers, are adept at that kind of carving.”

<> 

The Totem Banner was a carved wooden pole covered in animal shapes and the pictograms favoured by The Pale for quick communication. It was painted in vivid colours for the most part, although the carved animals tended toward more realistic colour schemes. Gavin thought it was impressive.

Chosen Brighthoof’s rangers dug it into the ground on a high hill between the jungle and Trial’s Watch, some distance away from both. Riritaka directed them to place various stones around the bottom, judging it like a master sculptor.

“What do we do now?” asked Gavin.

“We come back tomorrow and see how they have responded,” said Riritaka.

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: The Whores’s War 3.23

Hello! this is my weekly serial, written raw as a writing exercise. This week as a bonus I was sick and exhausted to boot!

You can find the first post in the series here.

Last week’s post is here.

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Murith and I sat down for a drink while we waited for The Twins and Carmen. The common room of the Inn of the Willing Wench was full of boisterous men and women from far off ports and smelled of bread, spices, and Brunor’s famous lamb stew.

A light cider accompanied a bowl of stew for me, while Murith drank a dark ale with bread and cheese.

“How can you be certain that Ulfgorr will come after us directly?”

“He’s cunning, but not especially strategic. Given that Ulfgorr rarely faces anyone that he can’t tear apart or sneak around, he’s never had to think that hard about it. Wolki is the brains of the pair, and I managed to beard him in hid den so to speak; he will be wroth beyond thinking. Ulfgorr will seek him out and Wolki will order my demise. They won’t approach the act like idiots, but they won’t be extra cautious unless we give them reason to be.”

“They sound like serial killers.”

“They aren’t called that when they hold positions of power, Murith.”

The Dwarf woman guffawed, I smiled. Getting Murith to laugh is often difficult, but always worth the while.

“Here they are, Ragnar.”

Vethir, Eiskra, and Carmen turned heads as they moved through the common room. Each of them wore leggings of black leather, stitched to reveal a little of their legs down the side, black silk corsets with spikes that looked almost like armour, save for the generous amount of cleavage showing, and long gloves that matched the leggings. Vetheri and Eiskra wore sashes of a deep, rich burgundy around their waists, advertising their status highly skilled Dominatrices and the formal half-masks often used at Doxies’s Union protests and masquerades. Carmen wore a sash of a brighter red, proclaiming her status as an apprentice in the arts that Vethri and Eiskra had mastered. Her haughty look had vanished as well, replaced with that of the watchful student, complete with glasses and a severe bun in her hair.

I noted that Carmen would easily be able to hide  her weapons in plain sight, as tools of the trade and props. She winked at me and started to make a lewd gestures, but Vethri’s voice froze her.

“Carmina, show some dignity, you are an adept now, not some lusty novice.”

To her credit, ‘Carmina’ did not even flinch. Instead she feigned contrition. “Yes, Domina.”

Murith looked at me, eyebrow raised. It was a convincing disguise and one that would allow Carmen to stay near us without attracting undue attention.

“Well done,” I said to Vethri and Eiskra as they squeezed into the booth with us. “Murith and I think it best to go about our business as usual and try to discover what links Lily Gemarkand, Diamond Silvermade, and Wolki together in this. What is our next course of action?”

“We have arranged a meeting with Diamond Silvermane,” said Vethri. “We want to discuss terms. She has been surprisingly amenable.”

“Since your investigation has run into a dead end we have also decided to offer a reward for any information about Rake’s death,” said Eiskra. “One silver per tip, Two gold bars if it leads to capture of the one responsible.”

“Why such a discrepancy?” asked Carmen.

“We expect to be deluged with useless and misleading tips,” said Vethri. “The silver is a form of charity to those who want to test and see if we are serious or just trying to look good. The gold is the real bait.”

We finished our meal quickly, and then made preparations to meet with Diamond Silvermane.

<>

Sunday Teaser

I am going to skip the politics tonight. It seems that everyone is aware of what is going on, one way or another

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: The Whores’s War 3.22

Hello! this is my weekly serial, written raw as a writing exercise. This week as a bonus I was sick and exhausted to boot!

You can find the first post in the series here.

Last week’s post is here.

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“You want me to dress like a whore?” asked Carmen. “I have no problem with that, it actually sounds fun, Ragnar.”

We needed to disguise Carmen. Ulfgorr was bound to return, but he would be more wary this time and would not attack if he recognized the assassin. We were waiting for The Twins at a private room in The Inn of The Willing Wench.

“And the funeral for dignity with be held next Sixthday,” quipped Murith. “Please dress appropriately.”

“I like you Watch Sargent,” purred Carmen. “We are going to be such good friends.”

“The Doxies’s Union is not just for prostitutes, dancers, and burlesque performers Carmen,” I interjected before Murith could retort. “There are actually a large number of clerks, factors, doormen, bouncers, and support personnel.”

“Support personnel?” asked Carmen, lifting her cleavage and making a face at Murith.

“Cooks, seamstresses, musicians, and craftsmen are all part of the Union. It takes a small army to keep all of the brothels running in Myrrhn.”

“You sure know a lot about whorehouses, Grimfang,” said Carmen.

“I do. I worked as a doorman all over Myrrhn for a decade, and on the side during my adventuring days. Can you act as if this matters? Surely you understand the importance of the guild system.”

Carmen looked at me with a raised brow. “It is not the same. The Nightblades are a serious guild.”

Murith laughed. “I am always amused with the idea that murder for hire is more honourable than harlotry.”

“Fine,” said Carmen. “I will take this seriously.”

“Good. I’ve brought Vethri and Eiskra here to help you with your disguise. You will be posing as one of their aides. They will also brief you on the etiquette of your station, how to act, and who you need to know.”

Since we could not be certain of where and when Ulfgorr would attack, my plan was to continue helping The Twins with their struggles in the Doxies’s Union. I still was not certain who killed Rake and how Ulfgorr was involved, but I was coming to think that it involved Lily Gemarkand, Wolki of the Shadow Wolves, and The Nightblades in some fashion. I did not have to be an alchemist to know that this was a volatile mix.

“What exactly is the situation in The Doxies’s Guild?” asked Carmen. “I thought things had died down.”

“They had. But on the day that The Twins called quorum to see if they had the support to assume leadership of The Union, we had a guest both who was wondrous and unwelcome; a woman by the name of Diamond Silvermane who announced that she had assumed ownership of The Pink Pearl, a brothel frequented by your mentor, and that she was leaving The Union. Diamond Silvermane spoke to the greed of many of those gathered. Why should they have to pay dues to support older guild members or support personnel? Needless to say, she caused a ruckus. Worse yet, before the night was done, one of our most prominent supporters was found butchered in such a way that it seemed like I was trying to send a violent message to someone. Diamond Silvermane, who is a servant of Lily Gemarkand, was quick to take advantage. The Twins have been trying to negotiate support and keep The Union from falling apart.”

“Lovely,” said Carmen.

There was a knock on the door. Vethri and Eiskra entered. I introduced them to Carmen and then excused myself so that I could get a drink while they became better acquainted.

<>

 

 

The War On Truth

This is political and anti-Trump.

Sometimes I worry about posting stuff like this. I don’t want to alienate any of my readers who are pro-Trump, whom I love regardless of their political affiliation, but we are living in a historical moment and I cannot pretend to be neutral.

Reagan and Nixon had the War on Drugs, George Bush had the War on Terror and this weekend President Donald J Trump started The War on Truth. It began over this photo:

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The thing is in 2009 President Obama drew a crowd of historic size (1.8 million), partly because of his popularity and partly because it was a historic occasion (first Black President). The next closest crowd size in recent memory was Obama in 2013 (1 Mil) and Clinton in 1993 (800K). Others rarely broke five hundred thousand.

Donald Trump is a divisive President, so he should have been happy with the relatively small, but still decent crowd size estimates, or just said “wait and see” until the facts were published. Instead he had his Press Secretary call a special press briefing to dispute the crowd size estimates and harangue the media, but offer little factual evidence in retort. The whole thing was the basically the press conference version of road rage.

The conference is worth watching, by the way, if only to see how it sets the tone for The War on Truth. I will link to a republican site for it, so you can read how Trump fans see it, but it is easy to find you own version on youtube if you don’t want to give them views.

Here is a nice summary of some of the ‘alternative facts’ aka lies that were said, with evidence.

The size of the crowds was still a theme later in the day when Trump himself spoke out, especially since it appears that the women’s protest against Trump the next day dwarfed the inauguration day crowds, but first a little background.

On January 11, 2017 President Donald J Trump tweeted this, after a round of new revelations about his connections to Russia and a possible blackmail tape:

Intelligence agencies should never have allowed this fake news to "leak" into the public. One last shot at me.Are we living in Nazi Germany?

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) January 11, 2017

He then went on to attack the outgoing director of the CIA and the agency’s record in general, and then ended his rant with a veiled accusation of them being the group that leaked the Russian revelations to the media.

Just ten days later President Trump gave a speech to high ranking CIA officers in front of the wall of honor, where stars are displayed for CIA officers killed in the line of duty whose names remain secret where he said this:

“But no, I just wanted to really say that I love you. I respect you. There’s nobody I respect more. You’re going to do a fantastic job. And we’re going to start winning again – and you’re going to be leading the charge.”

So there’s no one Donald Trump respects more than the agency he was attacking ten days ago. Reminds me of another Donald Trump quote about how no one respects women more than him, just after his famous pussy grabbing comments came out into the open. It is a pretty easy to follow pattern for him.

Finally, Kellyanne Conway, the woman who ran Trump’s winning campaign (or was that Comey?) defended these two rants in a media appearance. She said that Sean Spicer was just working with ‘alternative facts’, a rather impressive piece of doublespeak, and then threatened veiled retribution for hard questioning, saying she might have to rethink their relationship with the program.

The first weekend up the Trump presidency was a fight over crowd size. Just wow.

Even if the president thought he was being misrepresented, surely he has better things to do that correct a minor issue like this. The truth will come out over time regardless of initial estimates. Can you imagine if Obama had freaked out like this over his birtherism?

Trump has declared war on the media, the facts, and ultimately the truth because he wants to control the narrative of his presidency. Unfortunately, his own words are what trip him up the most, such as with his comments about the CIA.

I started off Friday sincerely hoping that I am wrong about Trump, because people’s lives are at stake. Now I am virtually certain that I am right, and it is not a pleasant feeling.

Still, the sheer size of the crowds at the women’s protest left me feeling buoyed, at least until I hear the ‘alternative facts’ about those…

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: The Whores’s War 3.21

Hello! this is my weekly serial, written raw as a writing exercise. This week as a bonus I was sick and exhausted to boot!

You can find the first post in the series here.

Last week’s post is here.

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I was curious. I knew that The Nightblades were in conflict with Wolki, and that it had something to do with the items that Cinder was trying so hard to steal. I did not know why Factor Octavia and the most powerful guild in Myrrhn wanted my help. To say that my ears were eager for her words would be an understatement.

“Firstly, The Guild has put a bounty on Ulfgorr,” said Factor Octavia. “It is a restricted bounty currently; Ulfgorr is no longer welcome in Myrrhn.”

“How much?” I asked.

“It is an internal affair, Ragnar Skyggeson,” said Factor Octavia. “The bounty is for only for assassins.”

“Then why am we here?”

Factor Octavia pushed her glasses up her nose and looked at Carmen, then me.

“Normally only the very best among us would be able to engage in the hunt for Ulfgorr. There is a promising Adept, however, who has proposed a cunning plan that involves you, Ragnar Skyggesson, and Murith Stouthand. I like her plan, not only because it helps preserve guild assets–“

“She means she does not want to risk any of our top talent,” said Carmen.

“But also because Nordan involvement will make it less likely that your people seek retribution. The adept in question is free to share her reward with you; it will be substantial, possibly even life-changing.”

Carmen grinned.

“If I understand what you are eluding to, you want us to kill Ulfgorr, and Carmen is going to help us. The Guild will be grateful if we do this. You are being tight lipped about the reward, which intrigues me. We both know money is no object to The Nightblades–“

“Money is my job, Ragnar,” interrupted Factor Octavia. “While The Guild has a considerable balance sheet, we Factors take objection to the idea that that our coffers can flow freely.”

“It was merely a turn of phrase, Factor, forgive my lack of precision,” I said. “What I meant to convey is that if it were money being offered you would be more forthright. You are a person who deals in exact sums, as you inferred.”

“Clever, Grimfang,” said the Factor. “Yes. What we give you depends on the outcome of the situation and other external variables. It is a complex calculation that involves many in The Guild.”

“But we get to kill Ulfgorr without repercussions, with help from The Nightblades,” said Murith.

“Yes,” said Factor Octavia.

“That is good enough to get my agreement,” said Murith. “Ulfgorr is a monster.”

“Murith is right,” I said. “Carmen’s help is good news. Ulfgorr will not let our last encounter stand and we are pleased with any assistance that you offer, reward or no… but, I am still curious about why Wolki is here and what has put him at odds with you. It does not bode well, in my mind.”

“It does not. That is why we want you here, Grimfang.”

I looked at Carmen. She smiled slyly. I looked at Murith. She looked annoyed, but shrugged. Ulfgorr was going to come for us regardless, why not act as bait?

“Very well. Let it be done.”

Sunday Night Teaser

Watched the latest episode of Sherlock tonight, so instead of a dissertation on some topic, I will leave you with a teaser from my upcoming book.

Still, Shagra was a master ranked Gladiatrix and a Grand Champion, and Chloe had to admire that the woman still fought here, risking death instead of retiring to a comfortable life as a trainer or joining the Masters League in the Capital. Shagra was set for life, as easy as a Gladiatrix could have it, and yet she continued to perfect her craft on what was the harshest fighting grounds in the Domains.

Chloe allowed a moment for the members to admire Shagra. The Gladiatrix remained motionless, stoic really, showing no sign of emotion other than a sense of predatory readiness.

When she judged the time was right, Chloe stepped forward.

“Members, for your pleasure, this Gladiatrix will face a beast that has killed a dozen Gladiators in the Supplicants Arena, a notorious beast that was once a murderous criminal, I give you Vespus the Living Hive!”

Vespus rose into the arena unchained. The beast knew the rituals of the arena well enough to sit still. It was large, easily twice Shagra’s height. Its mottled flesh was green, brown, and yellow all pooling into each other. It moved like a great gorilla, with massive forelimbs and shorter legs, but was hairless and with a wide mouth full of hooked teeth.

Of course Vespus the Living Hive’s most impressive feature was on its back, where a huge hump of tissue spread out like a howdah, punctured by innumerable finger sized holes. That hump was home to a unique species of wasp that Vespus controlled. In the beasts previous fights the Gladiators that it fought were either swarmed by wasps or were so busy destroying them that they lost track of the beast and were pummelled to death by its crushing fists.

Chloe hoped that Shagra had it in her to overcome the beast, but Vespus was one of the best monsters that they’d had in the Killer’s Circle in ages. It was best not to become attached to a Gladiatrix in the Death Leagues.

The trumpets sounded.

Shagra stood her ground, casting a series of spells to enhance her physical prowess. Vespus growled and thumped its chest. A hum came from the arena then, one that Chloe could feel to her very bones, and then finger sized insects began to shoot forth from the hive.

Some familiar faces there… but in what context is the question

The Shadow Wolf Sagas: The Whores’s War 3.20

Hello! this is my weekly serial, written raw as a writing exercise. This week as a bonus I was sick and exhausted to boot!

You can find the first post in the series here.

Last week’s post is here.

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It was foolish to trust Carmen. She was beautiful, she was smart, and she was a nightblade. Still, the information that she gave me about Wolki looking for a sword was nearly as tantalizing as her flirtations. As we walked toward the looming bulk of Night’s Finger itself, my mind danced between thoughts of her lithe form in my arms and what sort of sword Wolki might be be after.

Magic weapons are, as one might expect, considered the greatest of treasure among the Nordan. My people are very fond of their arms and armour and most of the clans have armaments dating back to their great heroes and even the divine founders of the clans. Wolki would certainly kill to recover the lost sword of Skygge, for example, or even a blade from one of the other clans, which could be traded for a favour from a grateful Jarl.

Of course there were other blades that had been lost over the years. I knew one, the Blade of High King Siggurd, lost in the battle where I died my first death. It seemed unlikely that Wolki would care enough about that blade to risk the wrath of the Nightblades though.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden. Nervous?” said Carmen.

“Not at all, I am just thinking.”

“Regretting not taking me up on my offer I hope,” she said with a wicked smile.

“That goes without saying.”

Carmen led us through hidden alleys, past fountain squares, and even over a thin metal bridge between two building. We made rapid progress toward Night’s Finger. I saw a familiar figure waiting for us outside the only visible entrance in the massive building.

“Murith, it is good to see you.”

“Likewise, Old Wolf. Who is your friend?”

“This is Carmen. She is with the Nightblades.”

Carmen smiled. Murith looked her up and down and then nodded.

“How was the meeting?” I asked

“The watch presented our case to a high ranking guild factor and her assistants.”

“Factor?”

“Most of The Guild havenothing to do with assassination, Ragnar,” said Carmen. “A Factor in the Nightblades performs the same function they do in a merchant house. Think of them as an accoutant or a financier. Can I ask the name of this one, Murith?”

“Octavia.”

“I thought so,” said Carmen. “That is a good sign for us. Come on, then. I’ll explain on the way. Octavia handles accounts for the City of Myrrhn itself. She understands the politics  of the city and the world and what needs to be done to keep the peace. If you met with her, it means that The Guild is seriously considering acting against Ulfgorr.”

“That is welcome news,” I said.

Carmen led us into the cavernous foyer of the tower, a room bustling with activity. It looked almost like a bank or a place where commodities were traded. Money changed hands. Transactions were recorded. Deals were made. The only difference was that in this place they sold death and protection.

As she walked, Carmen’s dexterous hands greeted people she passed with rapid hand-signals. I doubt many outside of the guild would notice her signing, let alone be able to read it.

“I’m asking for directions,” she said before I could ask.

She led us up to a fourth floor and along on an elegant balcony overlooking the famous board where the largest contracts were listed and then into a meeting room decorated in brass and dark wood where a bookish looking woman was sitting in a leather chair sipping a glass of wine while she examined reports. She looked up as we entered, and stood.

“Greetings. It is nice to meet you Ragnar Skyggesson. I am Octavia, senior Factor with The Nightblades of Myrrhn.”

“Well met, Factor Octavia,” I said.

“I know Carmen, and I have already met with Watch Sargent Murith. You may be wondering why you are here and what the Guild’s has decided to do about the actions of Ulfgorr of the Shadow Wolf Clan. I will explain everything.”

<>

Teaser

It is late, late Sunday night, and I am a little too tired to push out a full post, so instead I will share a little bit from my newest Bloodlust title, which should be out at the usual time this summer. Not sure on the title yet.

Obviously this is raw, unedited, and needs a lot of shaping.

Towering over Chosen Silvius, The Gorehound seemed out of place on the perfectly coifed fighting grounds in Silvius’s palace. He was too large, too square, and far too ugly for an arena usually reserved for the Chosen’s personal amusements.

The Gorehound peered at him with eyes mostly hidden under a thick brow, a dog-faced mask hiding his nose and lower jaw. Silvius had seen him without the mask, but it was hardly an improvement. The man was just ugly.

The Gorehound’s reputation for brutality was well deserved, having spawned numerous imitators after his career faded. He still fought in pit-arena Deathmatches in the Trapholds, killing criminals and heretics, ending innumerable lives over a decades-spanning career as a master that went most unnoticed in larger, more popular arenas.

In one thick hand the Gorehound carried a crude looking club, too heavy for most men to carry, covered in cruel spikes. His other arm ended in a gauntlet with spike and a bladed buckler attached to it. The fist spike itself looked more like some mad butcher’s tool than a traditional weapon, with a hooked point and jagged edges.

Even his armour spoke of single-minded dedication to relentless destruction on the fighting grounds. A heavy harness with thick metal plates protecting his vitals, the Gorehounds protective gear also covered striking surfaces such as knees and elbows with reinforced metal and short, jagged blades that could shred any opponent unfortunate enough to be caught in his grip.

And, to Silvius at least, he was so very, very ugly. While the Gorehounds huge frame was covered in muscle, he was thick and almost looked fat with little definition in some places. The beast’s head was shaved clean, but his chest, where unarmoured, was covered in coarse black hair like fur. His gear was functional at best, with little embellishment or even an attempt to match materials.

“Yet another reason why you don’t want to fight by Skin League rules Silvius,” said Chosen Noxaia from the announcer’s box in the viewing area above the fighting grounds.

Chosen Brand beside her, smiled thinly.