Fifteen

.....Ah.

Baskerville also came a hair's breadth of losing control. Of his bowels. In fact, as he took a single step backwards he did lose control of another set of muscles. This might be worth rewinding and watching in slow motion.

The foot that found the ground looked as though it was melting and flowing. The heel lengthened; the shoe was gone, the jeans quickly followed (they hadn't been quite real anyway). Where there should have been slightly grubby pink skin, dark fur was sprouting: pooling like an ink stain from within.

The front end was meanwhile going through changes of its own. The twisting of the spine forced him to fall onto his hands; large, black, webbed front paws touched the turf, completing a set of four. A broad enough muzzle, two pointed ears and eyes of solid red, even without the impressive dental array conveyed a sense of dread.

And we must not, of course, forget the tail. It is a fairly ordinary tail, but it has charm in the wag.

The size of a mastiff and built to rival an alsatian, this adult hellhound would have looked fairly nightmarish... if he hadn't been standing right next to a towering eight-foot werewolf warform.

Rooted to the spot and not even considering backing down, Baskerville snarled his defiance.

---

"How have you been, Miss Jade?" Suitov asked casually.

"Mister Suitov," Jaina said with surprise. It took her a moment to remember that this impeccable gentleman had asked her a question. "Ah, I'm fine, I guess. Well," she amended, "not wholly. I don't know. Maybe I'm too old for this traipsing around strange bars business."

Her right hand wound itself in her hair and gave a long, nervous tug. "Didn't you want a hand moving tables or somesuch? Is there a method to this spaces-trading madness?"

The whole thing took a while to click into place. As the huge, snarling werewolf rose from the stagnant water, Agueda's first thought was ''My God, that horrible thing has eaten poor Kerak!'' A few seconds later, it all began to fall into place: the burn marks, the ring, the flinches and the 'illness'. This terrifying creature was Kerak. Well, it clearly wasn't him in any real sense, but then who thinks about that when there's a warform towering over them?

At the precise moment that she decided to run towards her Baskerville, either to save him or to ask him to protect her - she hadn't decided which yet - he turned into a red-eyed hellhound.

Now Agueda was very confused.

A calico kitten hissed her extreme displeasure at the abrupt appearance of giant canine-like critters. She spat and howled (at a pitch that shattered a discarded bottle) and generally made her loathing known until she bolted from the bar, through a gap in the walls, and away from the werewolf and hellhound.

---

Jaina heard, and offered Suitov a wry smile. "Somehow I doubt this signals anything pleasant, so... wanna check it out?"

"I suspect you are right." The growl and subsequent yowls had caused an eyebrow to raise, which tended to be the closest Suitov looked to surprised.

"The source of the problem is easy enough to pinpoint, at least." He nodded at the fountain's newest tenant (across the garden a few steps beneath them, and visible in the predawn light despite his black fur).

The creature seemed almost suprised by Baskerville's defiant challenge, and stood there with his head tilted to one side as this unexpected development was considered.

Just as the demon normally hid in the shadows behind Kerak's eyes, now Kerak stared out in terror at the world. Somewhere deep inside the beast's head, he screamed.

The Werewolf seemed to make a decision, and took a step towards Baskerville. Or at least tried too. What actually happened was it made a jerking motion with its' leg, and then it's arms. The creature was clearly making an effort to move forward and attack what it saw as its lessers and prey, but something was stopping it. Inside, a battle for control raged.

Suddenly the inevitable happened, and the warform lost balance and fell backwards with a mighty splash. Spray filled the air once again, obscuring everything from view. When it died down, the creature was gone. For a moment, the dark waters were still and calm again. Then Kerak floated to the surface, a strangely peaceful expression on his unconcious, or possibly just dead, face. Strangely, it was possible to detect a hint of triumph there too.

Baskerville's muzzle split in a doggish grin. Victory, he thought. Clearly the creature had been too terrified to move, and had then died of fright.

He turned a beaming grin of triumph on Agueda. Then he remembered.

Two monsters hidden within two men. One now seemed to be floating lifeless in stagnant water and one, still in the form of a hellish black dog, seemed to be snarling at her.

Agueda sat down on the cold, damp ground in the darkness with her head cradled between her knees and wished she were going insane.

"Oops," said Baskerville with less-than-convincing contrition. Then he giggled, further ruining the effect.

The floating Kerak was bobbing gently. Well, it is funny, you got to admit.

Down in his dog's soul, however, a dilemma raged:

To dunk or not to dunk?
Just how buoyant was the boy?
Would he, in other words, do anything else funny? And so on.

"Ah. Excuse me one moment," Suitov told Jaina with seeming reluctance.

Baskerville appeared at his heels as Suitov crossed the lawn, and said "Aww no, don't do -- oh, you stick-taker!" He harrumphed off a short distance.

Ignoring him, Suitov leaned across the parapet and caught hold of Kerak's collar. The next part of the operation would appear rather tricky; the classic mage-scholar physique does not lend well to lifting large water-sodden men, after all. In fact, what with the water pushing back, Kerak was soon on dry land.

Dumping him on his side, Suitov withdrew a little way and looked around. Of course there was no dry linen; par for the links, that. There weren't even any beds. If there was infection or fever, the lad would be in for a rough time and that was that.

"Summr' Weft," he said to Baskerville. "Or anyone else medically trained. I won't have bodies cluttering up the place."

Perhaps sensing himself sought, Weft (in the manner of all good kitties) was elsewhere.

She stood before the building, eyes closed, motionless. She could sense the energies of the earth beneath her stylishly leather-clad feet. Twisted and warped by its very dark nature, this was not a happy place. Perhaps that was what had attracted Her, being after all a creature of infinite and blueish-black melancholy.

For She was a teenager, and nobody understood Her.

A cough behind Maledictia intruded upon her concentration. It was followed up by a stern "What do you think you're doing here, girl?"

"What you want, Babylon?" she grumbled, turning, then unexpectedly squealed her recognition of the challenger. "Oh mah gawd, Weftieeee!" The girl pounced and hugged.

Unprecedentedly, Weft allowed this bedevilment with nary a protest. "Haven't seen you around in a while, Dixiepops," he said.

"Ah bin busy, my dear." She shook her death's-head, pentagram and ganja-leaf bangles. "Doin' this an' that."

"Well," he said, "you're looking fine, girl-friend."

A few nearby owls fell out of their trees in shock.

"Why t'ank you moy dear, I is feelin' ayrie. Say, we a-gwin give each odda makeovers agin somtime? Yay!" said Dixie. She skipped once or twice in excitement. (The tormented earth silently shuddered.)

"Super," simpered the highly-trained assassin.

Having quite suddenly lost his lift on Baskerville's ankle, Bowman contented himself with sitting on top of Kerak's head. At least until he woke up. There was a better view and he was further away from the dog and from Agueda, who had nearly sat on him before.

Adventures were so much fun. All the more so for being only a few inches tall.

In the attic, then, three were gathered for obscure occult rituals, which might or might not have included sacrifices of fruitcake and libations of caffeine.

"So, exactly what is this Dominatrix Discipline?" Sebbie asked, his head cocked to the side so much, his left eartip touched his shoulder.

Whatever looked faintly sheepish at this.

Serp said: "I like these Brew-herds."

Whatever said nothing.

Sebbie added: "Whoreadors are nice, too."

"I thought you'd have liked the Shadybombers," the beefy one muttered, trying to count - with his fingers - how many points he had left to use on Physicals.

"Le Sombreros?" the half-elf asked, eyes widening at a particularly explicit picture. He turned the book sideways, grinning ferally.

"Something like that," Serp shrugged. "What's holy water? Is it something like blood?"

Whatever wished he would have tinkered a sound recorder -- no, make that video camera -- into his Event-O-meter. At the same time he hoped neither of them wouldn't notice his bad attempts at keeping a straight face.

Baskerville had been making an attempt to gauge Agueda's reactions. She was merely very quiet and still. He chose this moment to hit the dirt at her feet, displaying his most attractive tickle-my-tummy sprawl.

"Love me," he said in Canine, this coming out as a sound something like a yawn and something like a groan.


Suitov, having made certain of the continued respiration of Kerak and looking for all the world as though he had no idea there was a game of Vascular: the Masturbate going on in his poor inn, resumed his conversation with Jaina.

Roleplay was only enthralling for so long.

"Furry Pirates?"

"Don't ask," Whatever smiled.

"He already did, though," Serp noted as Sebbie tossed the book over his shoulder. "But don't tell. I don't like the looks of that dogperson."

"Steampunk 1209?" Sebbie muttered, sifting through the pages. "Oy! This is completely wrong. Even for an imaginary book."

Whatever had a feeling he knew what was coming up.

"What say you if I show you what steamworks are really like?"

Yep, there it was.

"Steamworks?" Serp asked.

Kerak began to cough and splutter all of a sudden, seeming to be fitting. Then his eyes opened, and he dared to glance around.

"Oh." There was a long pause. "Oh dear."

Then his ears caught the canine, and he glared over at Baskerville for a moment. Then the man went back to staring up, looking rather resigned to what he was sure was about to happen next.

"Puh! Puh!" said Bowman excitedly, meaning to convey "He's awake!"

Bouncing up and down on Kerak's ear ensued and, shortly after that Bowman slid down onto his nose to start him straight in the eye.

He waved a secondary process in greeting.

"Puh." Kerak echoed thoughtfully, staring back at Bowman.

He'd seen some strange things in his time, and this didn't particularly odd to him.

He was, however, trying to keep one eye on Agueda.

Agueda, still a little confused, decided it was probably best not to anger the hellhound and gave its tummy a tentative tickle.

She hadn't noticed Kerak had woken up, and if she had, she was sufficiently dazed as to have cared very little.

Baskerville wagged.