Information

Bixu has a minion!

Rag the Zombunny

Bixu
Legacy Name: Bixu

The

Graveyard Manchu
Owner:

cil

Age: 14 years, 7 months, 4 weeks

Born: September 20th, 2009

Adopted: 13 years, 4 months, 4 weeks ago

Adopted: December 21st, 2010

Statistics

Level: 1
Strength: 10
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 1
Books Read: 1
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Unemployed

Just a Trophy

In the dim afternoon light, a young Manchu sits next to its dead mother, unaware of its fate. Two poachers grab it by the scruff of its neck and stuff it into a black bag. Inside, the Manchu calmly waits for her mother to comfort her, but there are no other sounds except for the strange foreign language of the two men. She dozes off, ignoring the slowly-rising temperature inside the bag.

The two men smuggle the bag and its contents into their car and drive away.

At the hideout...

"Dangit...I think it's dead. Look, it ain't moving."
"Idiot! I told you to lea' the bag open a lil'! Now we'll never get the full price."
"Look, I can fix this. We can sell it in parts."
"That ain't a bad idea. I'll advuhtise first and see if there's any interest"...
Morning. The little Manchu was now mounted onto a polished mahogany board. Well, just its head. The rest of its body was skinned, the luxurious green fur sold, bones ground up for medicine, and teeth and claws strung into tourist necklaces.
"Thank ya, sir, we're glad to have you as our first customer for our first handcrafted baby Manchu trophy. It's quite delicate, so don't handle it rough, a'right?"
"Thank you too. This will be another wonderful addition to my vast collection at home, Mr. Tydings. Here's your payment. Good day to you, sirs."

At his expansive estate, the rich customer grasps the bodiless head and orders a butler to hang it up.
"Right there. Yes. Perfect! It's a beauty, don't you agree, Herbert?"
Herbert just nods slowly.

Night. The buyer sits on his massive bear carcass armchair, drinking coffee and reading a large tome titled Divitiae Poaching, with his feet enveloped in ermine skin. His eyes droop and his head nods to the side, falling asleep. The clock reads 1 A.M. Silence. For a while, there is a tiny, faint scratching sound. The scratching gets louder, and is accompanied by a soft dragging noise, like fur on carpet. A grisly red-brown trail of rotting blood follows the footsteps.
"Errrhm...huhhhm..." the man mumbles in his sleep, disturbed by the sound that's now coming closer to him. "...I'd love to buy that, sir...WHAT? ONLY FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND FOR THIS?! What a great pri-"
The man jumps up, awake now in joy of the super-low price of a fantasy elk head. He screams. The little Manchu head looks up at him with its eyes, tight eyelids blinking over the glass orbs. The head was crudely sown onto the body of another unknown animal. Someone else would discover that head somewhere in the hall...