Post by rothome on May 4, 2015 0:12:06 GMT
RANDY: Dog Day Afternoon
It was well known by anyone who spoke with him more than twelve seconds that Randy Rothome was an idiot. Whether you referred to him as a rotbrain, a damaged shovelhead, or a damn fool - it was merely semantics. One of the innumerable mixed blessings of being an idiot was that Randy was sometimes visited with ideas. It was a rare thing to be sure, and when it did happen, they were rarely good ones.
Randy had an idea. He wanted a dog. He didn't see much of his guild-mates, because he couldn't keep track of the date, and wound up missing gathering of his adopted family by showing up days too early or too late to the tavern where they met. So he began to get lonely, and one day, seated on a rock and thinking about... well, nothing, he had a flash of insight.
Humans seemed to have dogs an awful lot as pets. As a Forsaken, most animals avoided him, and he rarely could get close enough to one of his would-be canine companions without being bitten. He also had the unfortunate inability to differentiate between dogs and wolves. So as the bite-dents in his greaves and broken-off wolf teeth in his mail links began to build up, Randy the Rotbrain despaired of ever finding a doggy pal.
He roamed across the human lands by night. In a rare moment of insight, he reasoned that if humans were so fond of dogs, and dogs so fond of humans, it seemed like a good idea to look for dogs where humans lived. But the dogs seemed to either be loyal to their humans, or not be dogs at all, and attack him.
And so Randy found himself seated on an outcropping of rock, looking out across the sea at an old lighthouse. He heaved a sigh out of his dead lungs. The sun would be coming up soon, and if he was at the coast, he'd looked everywhere he could without swimming for it, and he couldn't recollect ever hearing of dogs that lived in the ocean.
He heard the clatter of a pebble and looked down. He blinked, blinked again, and a third time for good measure. Below him was the most adorable dog he had ever seen. It was gingerly poking around the mouth of a cave, and seemed not to have noticed him perched above. Randy got a grin from ear to ear - one last chance to get a dog of his very own!
By the time he clambered down to the base of the cliffs the dog had wandered inside. He followed, smiling, giving a series of short happy whistles he'd heard the humans used when calling out to their furry friends. He pressed forward, deeper into the cave, and then he saw it. The dog was looking at him, wide-eyed.
"PUPPY!" Randy gushed.
"YOU NO TAKE CANDLE!" screamed the dog in reply, and hurled a spear at Randy's head. This confused Randy greatly until he realized that a dog that could talk and defend his master would make a positively swell pet. He bounded over and wrapped his bony mail-clad arms around the curious puppy, hugging him. Then he grimaced as he felt jaws clamp down on both his ankles, almost knocking him over. Two more of the screaming doggies were latched onto him like lampreys, while others were swarming from the interior of the cave.
And then came Randy's epiphany. Maybe these weren't dogs after all. They hit him like a wave, climbing on his shoulders. Randy began punching and kicking his way backwards, towards the cave mouth, away from these crazy swarming near-dogs that were hurling stones and lanterns and each other at him.
"YOU NO TAKE CANDLE!" they screamed.
"I DON'T WANT YOUR DARN CANDLES!" he hollered, grunting as a stone dinged against his helmet, briefly dazing him more than he normally was. He blundered out into the dawn light and ran away.