These aren't my mother's poodles.\n\nIn the Great Cleave leading to that ominous city of corruption prowl dogs of unnatural color and ferocity. I have taken to calling them Corrupted Hounds for the red veins of Corruption visible and accompanying abhorrent behavior. These aberrations can unhinge their jaws of gnashing teeth wide enough to swallow a turkey whole.\n\nStill, they are kind of cute from a certain angle, aren't they? Mum back home raised bigger dogs--how hard could it be to domesticate one of these? A puppy of one would look just darling in a bow. A gift for a beloved, perhaps?

Corrupted Hounds

Day 1

I have not yet been able to locate a pup no matter how deep into this crevasse of corruption I delve. All are full-grown, and fully trained to follow their shambling Masters. Do these Hounds not need to whelp? Do they just regenerate fully-grown as everything else on this strange continent? Further research required.

Whelping Grounds

Day 2

After a grueling battle I managed to slay a red-eyed houndsman in attempts to capture an adult specimen of the beast.\n\nMy arms are covered in at least two layers of bandages from wrestling the dog into a makeshift trap and my blood surely left a trail from the snowy pass, but my efforts are not in vain. I sit writing this in incredible pain and incredible pride, gazing upon my new captive before turning in for the night to rest. She's restless, obviously unused to being confined by walls and too strong to remain in the trap for long. I think I shall call her ‘Molly'.

Molly

Day 3

Molly is still ruthlessly vicious around me.\n\nI present her with raw meat at feeding time and this seems to quell some of her rage, but not her distrust. She drags the scraps from the wooden bowl I made her in favor of eating in the corner of the wall enclosure. From this vantage point she can keep her eyes on me at all times--always red, always wary.\n\nFood motivation can only take us so far, and ultimately winds up being more dangerous than it is worth to feed her from my own hand.

The Hand That Feeds

Day 4

Her behavior still proves too aggressive to let out of the walled-in enclosure. I write now with my left hand as my right has been requisitioned by dearest Molly as a chew toy.\n\nResearch into leather leads required—if I could ever get close enough to her neck to sling one around. The dog looks at me with such disdain and disgust, as if I were the one with red fissures and eyes glowing like The Devil.

Devildog

Day 5

What joy! I woke this morning to find Molly sans her characteristic growling and snapping. She took food more gently from the bowl, obviously cowed by my superior animal handling skills. There is a strange intelligence in her eyes, as if she is beginning to understand the situation.\n\nCould this be how the first man felt taming a wolf?

Man's Best Friend?

Day 6

That damnable dog, she was figuring things out--but not in my favor!\n\nI have never seen such intelligence in a canine, to feign docility long enough to convince even an experienced handler like me. Molly did not as much as whimper when I put the leather lead on through the fence. I spoke sweetly to her, told her it was time for a walk, hoping a lack of captivity would bring out her personality. It turns out her personality is evil, and the second she realized she was no longer contained, my dear Molly mauled me, draining me to my last before I woke up in bed again, alone. She ran back North to her true master, I can only imagine.\n\nThere are better ways to make profit on this lush continent than lying with the dogs. On a related note, I now certainly have fleas. Corrupted Fleas, at that. A Corrupted Flea Circus, yes, now that could work...

Man's Worst Enemy Chapter - NWGuide Database of Lore

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