Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="CanadienneBacon" data-source="post: 3280704" data-attributes="member: 11146">The yellow dog wags its tail at Arden and gets up to follow her.  Wyleck casts a passing glance at the dog.  The creature seems well-fed, if a little dirty.  The dog's mannerisms are completely at odds with the normal behaviour of most city mongrels and its eyes belie keen intelligence and kindness.  Through the kitchen and past the stonework hearth that cook used to bake and stew all manner of edible concoctions, a door inset into the kitchen's south wall stands ajar.  The cloying stench of urine from an outhouse greets those who exit the Cockatrice via the kitchen door.  In the back of the Cockatrice, a narrow strip of garden in which herbs, lettuces, and carrots look to be grown stands thoroughly torn apart.  The lettuces are shredded, the carrots are uprooted, and nary a sprig of any of the herbs still stands, for the earth in the garden is rent.  In front of the empty three-stall horse and pony stable lies a dead boy, his chest torn open and several ribs exposed so that the whites of the bone show.  It takes a second or two to set in, but the boy is reconizable as Schrute, the Cockatrice's stablehand.  In life, the stableboy was a quiet soul of perhaps 14.</blockquote>