The Prince of Doggs
Babylonian cities were protected by stone lions. Medieval artists saw the lion as the epitome of honor, courage and power, and decorated tabards and coats of arms with the image of the proud cat. Ancient artisans recognized qualities they admired in themselves in the great cats. Today, the dog has replaced the lion as a symbol as nobility, loyalty and strength. Rappers and gangsters, most of whom have never heard of heraldry or totem animals or the ancient role of the lion, unconsciously choose the dog as their symbol. Inner city warriors breed and fight fearsome war-dogs; snarling pit bulls leer from silk-screened jerseys and tattoos. CGI special effects transform rappers into dogs as they rhyme about crime and honor. The dog ascends to power as an urban totem, supplanting the lion.
The Prince of Doggs is a modern day werewolf, an instinctual shape-shifter. Though the Prince can be a being of primal lusts and passions, he is also a far cannier opponent than his enemies suspect. High finance and investment, art and poetry, geo-politics and the politics of the street, the Prince of Doggs knows all these things. He also knows ancient words of power that he integrates into his rhymes, and he knows the thrill of the chase and the foam-at-the-mouth joy of a righteous kill.
Written by Cheis Field.
Artwork by Anthony Cournoyer.
Avaliable at Your Games Now and the ENWorld Download Shop.
Babylonian cities were protected by stone lions. Medieval artists saw the lion as the epitome of honor, courage and power, and decorated tabards and coats of arms with the image of the proud cat. Ancient artisans recognized qualities they admired in themselves in the great cats. Today, the dog has replaced the lion as a symbol as nobility, loyalty and strength. Rappers and gangsters, most of whom have never heard of heraldry or totem animals or the ancient role of the lion, unconsciously choose the dog as their symbol. Inner city warriors breed and fight fearsome war-dogs; snarling pit bulls leer from silk-screened jerseys and tattoos. CGI special effects transform rappers into dogs as they rhyme about crime and honor. The dog ascends to power as an urban totem, supplanting the lion.
The Prince of Doggs is a modern day werewolf, an instinctual shape-shifter. Though the Prince can be a being of primal lusts and passions, he is also a far cannier opponent than his enemies suspect. High finance and investment, art and poetry, geo-politics and the politics of the street, the Prince of Doggs knows all these things. He also knows ancient words of power that he integrates into his rhymes, and he knows the thrill of the chase and the foam-at-the-mouth joy of a righteous kill.
Written by Cheis Field.
Artwork by Anthony Cournoyer.
Tasha’s manicured fingernails traced the jagged curving scar that ran from his hip to his sternum. He winced unconsciously as her purple fingernail traced the curving yellow-white river that bisected his dark chest.
“What that one from?”
“Minotaur,” he began, and than sensing the girl’s confusion, he explained, “like in the Greek stories. Imagine a guy bigger than Swartzeneger with a bull head. Tweaked like a mutha#$@ka. None too bright, but damn can they throw down. Hard to shake too, this one... he trailed me from NYC all the way down to Atlanta.”
Her eyes widened with amazement and frank worship, and even though he couldn’t think of any thing he’d rather do than spend the morning in bed with her, the dreadlocked warrior forced himself to his feet. He stretched in the early morning light, and walked over to the penthouse balcony his talent bought. Calvin ran his fingers through his hair as he watched Savannah wake up, bathed in golden sunrise.
“It don’t matter. I killed his ass dead and had a friend of mine disjoin the body so there’s no way he’s coming back ever.”
Calvin walked away from the window, suppressing a shudder as he slid into his shoulder harness and pulled his silk shirt on over his muscular, tattooed chest. He had been lucky with that Minotaur, and even now, six years later, the wound still hurt when it rained. What kind of fool had he been back in the day, going after a Minotaur’s concubine like that? No woman was worth that much trouble.
Calvin smiled grimly. Here he was, getting ready to go on another run, maybe even take off a bodak snuff-film director if the intel was right, instead of getting back in that comfortable bed and spending the day right. He was still a damn fool. Must be the dog in him, always looking for another fight, he thought ruefully.
Calvin pulled his chain down over his neck, removing it carefully from it’s place of honor on his mantle. White gold and platinum, and enough diamonds to buy a small jet twice over, carved in the shape of the Old Sumerian pictogram for ‘guard dog’. Ever since he first heard that word as a boy, it had defined his life, empowered him, given him all this...
“Gotta go to work now. You still gonna be here when I get back? I just might have another coupla scars to show you.....”
She just smiled, nude and beautiful on his Egyptian cotton sheets.
“What that one from?”
“Minotaur,” he began, and than sensing the girl’s confusion, he explained, “like in the Greek stories. Imagine a guy bigger than Swartzeneger with a bull head. Tweaked like a mutha#$@ka. None too bright, but damn can they throw down. Hard to shake too, this one... he trailed me from NYC all the way down to Atlanta.”
Her eyes widened with amazement and frank worship, and even though he couldn’t think of any thing he’d rather do than spend the morning in bed with her, the dreadlocked warrior forced himself to his feet. He stretched in the early morning light, and walked over to the penthouse balcony his talent bought. Calvin ran his fingers through his hair as he watched Savannah wake up, bathed in golden sunrise.
“It don’t matter. I killed his ass dead and had a friend of mine disjoin the body so there’s no way he’s coming back ever.”
Calvin walked away from the window, suppressing a shudder as he slid into his shoulder harness and pulled his silk shirt on over his muscular, tattooed chest. He had been lucky with that Minotaur, and even now, six years later, the wound still hurt when it rained. What kind of fool had he been back in the day, going after a Minotaur’s concubine like that? No woman was worth that much trouble.
Calvin smiled grimly. Here he was, getting ready to go on another run, maybe even take off a bodak snuff-film director if the intel was right, instead of getting back in that comfortable bed and spending the day right. He was still a damn fool. Must be the dog in him, always looking for another fight, he thought ruefully.
Calvin pulled his chain down over his neck, removing it carefully from it’s place of honor on his mantle. White gold and platinum, and enough diamonds to buy a small jet twice over, carved in the shape of the Old Sumerian pictogram for ‘guard dog’. Ever since he first heard that word as a boy, it had defined his life, empowered him, given him all this...
“Gotta go to work now. You still gonna be here when I get back? I just might have another coupla scars to show you.....”
She just smiled, nude and beautiful on his Egyptian cotton sheets.
Avaliable at Your Games Now and the ENWorld Download Shop.
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