Quia Peccavi Nimis, aw

[Torquemada]

The sun was high in the sky. Running calmly was a small river. And next to it lay the demented interrogator Torquemada. Though he hasn’t had a real victim, one that screams or begs as he works, the native wildlife was enough to keep him occupied.

So today’s plan thing was a slimly fish. The real challenge wasn’t making it suffer, but to merely hang on to it as it wiggled and struggled to escape. The scaled creature had slipped his grasp a few times but to no avail. For it was recaptured by the Dane time after time. And now the fish had lost its strength and was at the mercy of one who did not know the meaning of the word.

“Now that I have you, what to do with you,” he ask the gasping creature as it lay pinned under his paw. Torquemada hummed to himself as he thought. His long tail wagged as the idea hit him, “That’s it. I’ll do nothing to you my fishy friend. You’ll just lie here with me till you suffocate.” Ah, what a devious bastard he was.

It didn’t take too long for the fish to expire. A deadly combination of the Sun’s heat and lake of water led to quick but painful death. Torquemada lets out a sigh of relief. He licks it with his tongue before sinking his fangs into the fish’s innards

[Daxter]

The small dog hobbled through the forest, his long wolf-colored coat shining in the sunlight. He had come quite a ways from the bloody, injured creature who had stumbled across the path of the pack's Alphess herself; he had adopted a permanent limp due to his injuries, but he had survived, been welcomed in, and had - as far as he was aware - made himself useful. Though he couldn't bring down large enough prey to keep the biggest of the males happy, he hunted himself exhausted on smaller creatures. And he had managed to keep the small pack sated, if not content.

The bigger males could deal with the bigger prey; besides, it gave them something to hunt and kill at a time where there was not much action for them to have. Daxter was fine with the peace; he was small and couldn't really fight that well, and his limp made it hard to get away.

He also figured he would be hunted down and beaten for... treason? Probably.

He emerged from a line of bushes upstream of Torquemada, carrying a peasant in his jaws. Despite the limp, he could still manage to hunt birds and small prey with relative ease; at least enough to keep himself out of trouble and in the... decent graces of the rest of the pack. But he still feared all of them, which is why he went out of his way to make sure he brought enough home.

He paused at the edge of the river for long enough to drop the peasant and lap up a few mouthfuls of water. It was as he was doing this that he heard a voice that chilled his blood; the rumble of the Great Dane.

He glanced sideways, his eyes wide with fear, then let a shudder run down his spine. He picked up the peasant again and padded a little closer to Torquemada, deciding to be polite. Why? He wasn't sure. But it would seem much worse for him to ignore the Dane and pass him by. Then he would likely take horrible offense.

And Daxter didn't want to offend Torquemada.

He dropped the peasant and intoned with a faint tremble, "G-good afternoon, Torquem-mada."

[Torquemada]

Closing his soulless eyes the inquisitor savors the flavor of his meal. The fish wasn’t much but it did satisfy one of his hungers. His trance like chewing was interrupted by a stuttering voice of a newer member of the pack. He was a small one, they always had lovely squeals. But being a fellow pack member the little fellow was protected by his lord and lady.

Swallowing the last bite of his snack he turns his head towards the smaller dog, “And to you as well, Daxter.” Torquemada takes the remains of the fish and tosses it into the water. He chuckles as the bones with tatters bits of flesh splashes and the fish underneath scatter.

His choke chain rattles as he snakes his head. “So heading back to try and please the lord and lady? It’s good to see that you use your skills t try to prove your wroth. I’ve yet to be so lucky.” With a growl he stares off in the distance in annoyance.

[Daxter]

Daxter was always surprised when the other dogs of the Southern Alps pack didn't move to intimidate, threaten, or bully him; some would, but many did not. He suspected it was only two factors: that being a pack member they would respect his presence, and that he was actively trying to prove his worth. Torquemada's finishing words did lend his theory some support; so long as he brought in what he could from hunting and foraging, then his usefulness to the pack would prevent him from becoming the next punching bag for the soldiers.

Daxter picked up the peasant and padded a little closer to the massive Dane. The companionable tone helped to ease his nerves a little bit, but he was still too hesitant to get close. However, Torquemada had shown him respect, and so the Keeshond would return it to him.

After all, it was a chance to get to know the big beast better. And maybe they would eventually be on decent terms - though Daxter did doubt it.

"I am trying, yes. It's the least I can do to thank Lady Hitora for taking me in." And for not allowing the other dogs to beat up on him, or chase him, or turn him into their next meal. He sat down and looked into the stream, frowning ponderously. He wasn't sure what to say to Torquemada's frustration at not being used; Daxter wasn't a fighter and was relieved that it was a peaceful time, but he knew that the pack was gearing up for war. Many of them were antsy with the lack of battles, but they still remained loyal to the cause and waited oh so patiently.

"Your time will come," he finally managed rather lamely before quickly continuing. "Has there been any word recently - of an attack, or of Lord Raidon's return?" The Keeshond was aware of what went on around him, yes, but he spent most of his time with his eyes and ears to the sky and the ground - always hunting, always working.

[Torquemada]

The smaller dog’s words comforted the inquisitor. It would just be a matter of time until he will show his Lord his art. Only a matter of time until he will fill the air once again with the sweet music of tortured screams. In his mind he imagines an orchestra of victims and himself as the maestro. What a grand master piece he will conduct. My god, it will be beautiful.

Torquemada folds one ear back at Daxter’s inquiry. “A battle you say? No, I have had heard no such news. A shame, really. After battles there are always prisoners or wounded.” That brought back some memories of the poor souls who trusted him to help them in their time of need. But they were helped in another way. He lets out a sinful laugh as he decides to share some of his dearest memories with his packmate, “Daxter, have you ever heard the screams of someone getting their ear ripped in two or how about a female’s squeal as you remove the flesh from her back?” He sits up and scratches at his choke chain.

As he lets the little dog get the mental images buried deep within his brain the Great Dane think about his lord. He knew that Raidon had a habit of vanishing but he always returned. If Raidon had returned, no one has told him.

[Daxter]

Daxter felt the Great Dane relax and, in turn, allowed himself to relax slightly as well. When Torquemada remarked about his desire for a battle, the Keeshond gave a small shrug. "It must be drawing near - our Lord and Lady won't let us sit idle for long. It could lead to mutiny." Words that could be considered dangerous, but the small dog felt he was safe and right to say them. He wasn't too smart, but he was terrified - and that terror assured him that if the warriors of the Southern Alps were unhappy, then they could turn on their weaker members.

And that meant, well, him.

The Dane spoke again, asking Daxter if... Ear ripped in two? Flesh clean off... what?

His eyes grew wide, his pupils shrank, and his ears pressed flat against his head. He stared at Torquemada with unhidden horror, and felt a shudder rush down his spine - but despite the tremor he kept his eyes focused on his much larger packmate. Luckily for the Keeshond, he didn't have much in his bladder to lose - and what was lost he quickly stepped in front of and tried to shove dirt and leaves over. He knew that Torquemada would smell it anyway, but he wanted to pretend that it hadn't happened.

"I'm afraid I haven't," he squeaked out quickly, his words almost running together. He forced his ears to perk forward and spoke again. "I guess you have, Torquemada?" He immediately regretted those words, but he wanted to keep the Dane as focused as possible on something besides himself, and the fact that he was ready to run in the other direction screaming.