Of men and burricks
A/N: This one's a bit more fanciful and impractical than what I usually do for a Thief story, but who doesn't love a nice fairy tale now and again?
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Ramirez had always been the rather eccentric fellow. After accumulating a decent following of criminals, and a high social status in his early twenties, the lord had found multiple ways to indulge his many passions. Large baths, fine wines, beautiful women. But it was money, which Ramirez valued above all else. He had no such love in his life for any living creature. Save one. The humble burrick--a beast often referred to as a nuisance. The unwitting harbinger of noxious death.
His first dalliance with these cumbersome beasts began on an otherwise unremarkable day in late June. Ramirez was suddenly jolted awake from his afternoon nap by the clashing of metal, and the roars of his men as they struggled to fight. Within moments of dressing, his bedroom doors were thrown open by four members of a rival criminal faction. Ramirez called out for his bodyguards, but to no avail. The menacing cutthroats at his door had spared no one, in their conquest for his blood.
But a swift death did not come within his bedchambers that day. Rather, Ramirez was knocked unconscious, and dragged to the inconspicuous outskirts of the City. Fearing retribution if any of Ramirez's loyal followers were to catch wind of their misdoings, the rival faction decided to dump the lord's unconscious body into the depths of a truly despicable place. A place, from where no man had ever returned alive:
The dreaded Bonehoard.
Ramirez awoke with a fright, encased in absolute darkness. The earth was cool and moist where he now lay, and there was an enchanting din reverberating off the monolithic walls of this lonely abyss. He was confused, injured from his fall, and above all else; terrified. But the survivalist which had carried him this far into his infamous career, once more prevailed. And so--albeit reluctantly, the lord began searching for a way out of his latest unfortunate predicament. But sheer will cannot overcome peril without knowledge in such a situation. Thus, the arduous journey went about as well as could be expected for an unarmed man with no prior history of dungeons, or spelunking. And soon, Lord Ramirez found himself hopelessly lost within the depths of that forsaken tomb.
While his constitution was steadfast, it had not always been so. Ramirez was indeed a stubborn, relentless man, but he was also a paranoid one. Ever since obtaining his wealth and power, the lord had lived in constant fear of assassination. Hence the reason for his legion of bodyguards, who were always on the alert at his behest. He had also taken to ingesting small amounts of various toxins during meals, in order to build up his resistance to a possible food-related 'mishap'. As fortune would have it, such habitual activities would end up doing so much more for the man, than just saving his life on that fateful day.
As Ramirez continued to amble about within the eerie confines of that place, he caught sight of sparse movement. Before he could properly identify just what he was looking at, a pack of burricks came charging towards him. Deadly green gas erupted from their drooling maws, as the reptiles snorted and gurgled. One of the larger animals knocked the lord right off his feet, and began to grunt vociferously.
Ramirez was petrified. At any moment, he expected the creature's toxic exhalation to suffocate him. But one of the many poisons he'd been meticulously measuring and ingesting for close to fifteen years now, was indeed, the infamous 'Burrick's Breath. He had unwittingly made himself immune to the very creatures he was destined to regard with such ardent adoration.
But what of hunger? Surely these great reptiles would see a weak and defenseless human as an easy meal? But again, he was mistaken. Through wide and terrified eyes, Ramirez slowly noticed what the other burricks in the near vicinity were grazing upon. Mushrooms. Their lips smacked as they chewed, gurgling and swaying lazily in time to the ghostly melody permeating the stale air. These beasts, though deadly to those who had not built up immunities to such toxins--were far from vicious man-eaters.
So there he lay, his fear diminishing as he continued to stare up into the large and pensive amber eyes of this magnificent animal. It crooned, crooking its head to the side before releasing a loud, resounding bellow. Before he could react, Ramirez soon found himself being surrounded by the remaining reptiles, who had regrouped at their leader's command. They licked and nudged him with friendly exuberance. In return, he patted their large snouts, laughing as they grunted and trilled with delight.
So it came to pass, that the burrick whom had taken such an interest in poor Lord Ramirez, dug a passage out of the Bonehoard for him. Ramirez bade his rescuer farewell, and returned to his palace forthwith. After launching a cold-blooded counterstrike against the rival faction who'd tried to dispose of him, he sent word for the greatest beast tamer in all the land, and made a rather extravagant purchase:
A pair of young burricks.
They came to his manse in the dead of the night, delivered by a most sinister man in a long black robe. Two eggs, one moss green, the other a limestone grey. Perhaps one of Lord Ramirez's fondest memories, was watching in spellbound wonderment, as those eggs hatched within his hands. Making contact for the first time with a pair of yawning, bright-eyed baby burricks, was another.
He would later discover that the creatures could indeed devour meat. The finer, less fatty cuts were best; as they did not upset the burrick's delicate digestion. Human flesh was far too salty and rich for their sensitive stomachs--a fact which was quickly deduced after Ramirez had begun the practice of tossing political enemies and swindlers to his pets. They would succumb to the untoward belching soon enough, but their corpses would be left to rot.
Every so often, the particularly daring individual--named Guisee--would end up taking a nibble or so out of curiosity, only to end up vomiting all over the inside of the enclosure. The servants always did hate cleaning that up. Guisee was the troublemaker, without a doubt. She delighted in terrorizing the staff, and had a tendency to wail and grumble late into the night whenever Ramirez was out. She was a chewer--and a snuggler. Most of all, she enjoyed agitating her older brother, Gizarath. She would even keep him at bay with her broad snout during feeding time, hissing and snapping in order to assert her obvious authority. Ramirez would often watch her shenanigans for hours on end; chuckling to himself, a glass of fine merlot in his hand.
Gizarath was more akin to his master--a proud beast with a taste for the finer things. Though he did have a tendency to dig. It was he who'd caused the initial altercation with Tol Camrick and Sons, and he'd even once burrowed his way down into the mansion's plumbing. The servants found him rolling about gaily in the mud and sewage, come morning. The effects of his latter expedition, left the Ramirez household reeking of waste, and soaked throughout for the good portion of a fortnight.
But although Lord Ramirez had never been forgiving towards the transgressions of his fellow man, he always turned a blind eye unto the antics of his cherished pets. His relationship with them was unique; albeit incomprehensible to everyone else.
As the bonds between man and burrick only continued to deepen, the lord began to uncover the burrick's mysterious ways and secrets. Occasionally, he would even return to the Bonehoard, to study his beloved beasties in their natural environment. Far from the stupid, bumbling brutes the rest of the world made them out to be, he soon found that the creatures had established their own social hierarchy. Much like his own cherished Guisee, the females appeared to be more domineering. They tended to their injured and sick members with reverence. And in the event that one would die, the entire herd was hurtled into a grueling, and inconsolable grief.
Their braying would increase in both pitch and intensity, until it became a deafening baritone which overtook even the all-encompassing dreamy serenade of that subterranean world. This mournful anthem of savage lament, would last for weeks on end. Their primitive sorrow was enough to bring tears to the eyes of a man whom had never cried before. For no living thing, had ever been able to move him so.
Over the next several years, Ramirez would become the City's supreme authority on all things burrick--even going so far as to write several un-published memoirs dedicated to his most beloved creatures. But eventually, as with every living thing, death did come back for him.
Despite the grand sums of wealth which had been spent to bring about such an event, there were very few mourners at the funeral. Ramirez was laid to rest within the the catacombs of Fort Ironwood. It was a strange choice, for a man who'd devoted his entire life to sin, greed, and burricks. But he was buried there, all the same. In accordance to his will, the following words were carved upon his epitaph:
"Here lies Ramirez. Loved his burricks."