It was a year of change, of growth and of fire. The council always had a penchant for burning what they dubbed "nuisance buildings" which were usually of mild historic significance, barely in use or not-quite dilapidated enough to demolish for no reason.
The old kennels down by the new housing estate were a combination of the three. All it took was a little whisper here and there and a couple of letters stating their concerns for the health of their children when mangy mongrels were so close to their precious, fragile offspring.
The first attempt didn't work. The hired arsonist was found outside, clutching a half-empty jerry can and weeping. There were no casualties that day, nor for the next three months as hired hand after hired hand all collapsed into piles of excelerant and tears.
It didn't succeed until the council themselves left their chambers for the first time in centuries. It would have been cause for great concern if they hadn't made their intentions so blatantly obvious. They weren't out for human blood - they only wanted the kennels gone and they were done hiding behind their constituents.
The kennels may have been barely used but they had never been used for housing dogs, only dog-like things and their shapeless puppies. It was safer to keep them locked away until they fully developed sentience and the ability to be reasoned with.
Nobody knew what would happen if someone were to try and burn them to death. Normally a few dozen iron stakes did the trick but fire was something they never even considered, not when those baleful dozen eyes stared out from behind heavyset horned brows and a tiny voice came from deep beneath asking them if they wanted to cuddle.
The councillors had never been involved with the kennels nor the creatures they housed. All they cared for was the expansion of their territory and they were being prevented - nothing angered them more than an obstacle in their way and nothing pleased them more than a raging inferno of their own creation.
While they celebrated their latest act of violence, the smouldering remains of the burnt kennels pulled themselves together and began to walk. Logic and reason were sent up with the smoke and ash of their former selves. All that remained was instinct and pain.
Together, the dogs marched for town hall.
The old kennels down by the new housing estate were a combination of the three. All it took was a little whisper here and there and a couple of letters stating their concerns for the health of their children when mangy mongrels were so close to their precious, fragile offspring.
The first attempt didn't work. The hired arsonist was found outside, clutching a half-empty jerry can and weeping. There were no casualties that day, nor for the next three months as hired hand after hired hand all collapsed into piles of excelerant and tears.
It didn't succeed until the council themselves left their chambers for the first time in centuries. It would have been cause for great concern if they hadn't made their intentions so blatantly obvious. They weren't out for human blood - they only wanted the kennels gone and they were done hiding behind their constituents.
The kennels may have been barely used but they had never been used for housing dogs, only dog-like things and their shapeless puppies. It was safer to keep them locked away until they fully developed sentience and the ability to be reasoned with.
Nobody knew what would happen if someone were to try and burn them to death. Normally a few dozen iron stakes did the trick but fire was something they never even considered, not when those baleful dozen eyes stared out from behind heavyset horned brows and a tiny voice came from deep beneath asking them if they wanted to cuddle.
The councillors had never been involved with the kennels nor the creatures they housed. All they cared for was the expansion of their territory and they were being prevented - nothing angered them more than an obstacle in their way and nothing pleased them more than a raging inferno of their own creation.
While they celebrated their latest act of violence, the smouldering remains of the burnt kennels pulled themselves together and began to walk. Logic and reason were sent up with the smoke and ash of their former selves. All that remained was instinct and pain.
Together, the dogs marched for town hall.
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