Born a Monster

528 Tan Fur, Black Chin

Let me be honest; I made a terrible Hyenadae.

Not in the physical sense. I was by far strong enough, fast enough, coordinated enough... that wasn’t the problem. Nor was it my mind, which I rapidly realized was... okay, I’ll say it plainly- they were dumb. Not capital D Dumb, but just dumb.

It wasn’t their fault, really. Nothing wrong with their brains, they just didn’t usually use them. They were hunters in the sandy wastes, and from the few hundred that now ruled the Armpit, they were very good at hunting.

I was good at hunting; that wasn’t the issue.

Hyenadae are like Vulpin or Vargar or even Domugs. Whenever a group of three or more get together there are issues of who is dominant over who. More confusing to me, this structure constantly changes. Have a case of the runs? A fit of coughing? Prepare for your status to be re-evaluated.

So when I showed human-like manners while walking, I could expect to get shoved. I didn’t, but I could have. And they chuckled and moved on. Fine. But then I got shoved by others, some of them smaller than me.

Weaker.

Well, I didn’t want to become the omega of the pack, the lowest ranking member, so I shoved back. One of the big ones, to warn all of them.

His nostrils flared, his eyelids drew back to reveal the whites of his eyes (which, in turn revealed the red branches that form when you just don’t get enough sleep), and he bellowed: “WHAT is wrong with YOU?”

.....

“What’s wrong with you?” I retorted. “You shoved me first.”

“What?” he asked, giggling. “You want to fight?”

Laughter spread out from the crowd. “Fight.” one said, and soon it became a chant, “Fight, fight, fight...”

I waved it off. “I have better things to do.”

“Me too.” he said, turning away and then turning back to thrust a spear at my head. I had a leather helmet, but it was still enough to knock my head to the side.

He openly laughed, and threw his chest forward and arms akimbo as though daring me to strike back.

This is where any other Hyenadae, wounded, would have just slunk away in shame.

Me? I darted forward, driving a [Hammer Fist] into his stomach. He flew back, struggling, but keeping his balance.

Then things went wrong.

“Demon!” he shrieked. “He’s possessed by a demon!” He turned and fled.

Others turned and fled. There was screaming. There was chaos. There was trampling and a small riot. From time to time there were arrows fired vaguely in my direction.

Oh by the laughing gods, how did THIS happen so quickly? <1 >

I had expected that there were guards, or a hero, or at least someone who would do anything other than flee. Maybe they just got caught under the fleeing crowd before they could get to me.

“Things like this are why I need more Charisma.” I grumbled in Achean while making my way toward the medical ward.

It was easy to see why protecting Masaad wasn’t part of my quest. His head and two others were on puppet sticks near the medical lean-to. Along both sides of the road were those too wounded to flee, possibly being entertained by the macabre theater.

“The child that was here.” I said, pointing at the unwalled roof. “Where is she?”

“heh, heh, heh.” the wounded man chuckled at me. “If I knew where a human child was, I’d be eating them.” he said. “Have you checked the kitchens?”

I closed my eyes, rolled my head back and sighed at the sky. “I’ll do that.”

On the way to the kitchens, I met an older man, being aided by a half-starved girl. <2 >

He did not seem to fear me, in fact turning deliberately so that he would be in my path. Not what I’d particularly do if there were a demon on an otherwise deserted street, but after a certain amount of aging, some people’s minds do become enfeebled, scattered, or foggy.

This was none of those. He needed help to walk on stiffened joints, and he moved with that deliberate pace the elderly have. But his red-in-yellow eyes never wavered, and there was a way the light shined off the whole eye rather than part that was just disconcerting.

“I am led to understand that you are a demon.” the old man said, continuing to close.

“No.” I said. “I am something else.”

“Heh. Something else. Thank you, that clarifies things.”

I let out a frustrated breath that became a snarl. “Fine.” I said. “I’m a shape changer on a holy quest of vengeance, assigned by an angel of Sobek who is probably laughing his or her butt of right now.”

He chuckled. “That seems too unlikely to be anything but the truth.”

I finished inhaling, which I was doing slowly, keeping an eye on archers who thought they were concealed in dark windows, or the edges of rooftops.

I wasn’t mad; if I had half a company of archers, I’d probably have them covering me, too.

“My name is Rhishisikk.” I said. “I am a Truth-Chanter and literally cannot lie to you.”

“And which of my kindred do you seek vengeance upon?” he asked.

“None of them.” I said, naming the remaining people targeted by my quest.

He chuckled, and waved a hand repeatedly before doubling over in laughter. The archers let their bowstrings straighten, but made no move to loosen them.

“My name is Arkara Tan Fur.” he said. “This is my neice, Varki White Feet.”

“I have class levels in Knife Dancer.” Varki said. “So you just mind your manners.”

“Varki,” Arkara said, “is that how we talk to guests?”

“He’s not a guest.” Varki said, giggling.

And that was when it clicked. “You don’t only laugh when happy.” I said. “Any strong emotion causes you to laugh.”

Arkara scratched the top of his snout. “Oh. So you didn’t know this, and still you pretended to be one of us? That’s... heh-heh... that’s...”

“A stupid plan?” I asked.

He leaned back and howled laughter directly into the sun. “Not that you are stupid, but yes. That plan is epic in its stupidity, and should become a cautionary tale for children.”

“What do you want of me, Arkara Tan Fur?” I asked.

“No.” he said, still gazing upward. “That is the wrong question. What will you give us for those slaves you named?”

I pulled out the open water barrel, dipped a ladle into it, and drank deeply. “If I think hard enough, I’m sure I have something to trade.”

Varki laughed, pointing at the barrel. “Do not be fooled, uncle! Those barrels are marked the same as those from the human stores.”

“Eh? Yes, Varki. It seems to be exactly the same.” Arkara said.

“I’ll not deny it.” I said. “Once upon a time, these barrels were among those owned by the humans of this camp.”

“These?” Arkara asked. “Is there more than one barrel?”

“I have two full ones, and this one.” I said.

“These aren’t trade goods.” Arkara said. “By right of conquest, this is property of Skull Clan. Do you intend to fight to keep them?”

I shrugged. “It’s not worth a fight. You want me to return the dry goods, as well?”

He blinked. “Well, yes. I’m prepared to demand those as well.”

“Fine.” I said. “The food is still stored in that building? In the basement?”

“Walk with me, curious intruder. What do you have that you can offer for the slaves you mean to murder?”

“Well,” I said, “I have a rock.”

“Ridiculous.” Arkara replied. “The chieftan will have you skinned alive if that is your best offer.”

Oh, laughing gods!

“Unless they have changed schedules, I know when a caravan full of food and military supplies will be traveling along the road to the south.”

“Heh. That might be worth the value of one slave. It depends what mood our Chieftain is in.”

“Good.” I said. “I really don’t want to fight an entire village of people.”

“That I cannot promise you.” He said. “Could I ask you to resume your natural form?”

“Sure.” I said. “Is this alleyway here a good place for that?”

“As good as any.” he said, gesturing that I should go first.

It was eight minutes, after which I was smaller.

And in a hempen net.

“Can you understand me?” a burly gnoll asked.

“I hear your words.” I said. “But this net sends a very clear message as well.” I flicked a talon against one of the ropes, causing an audible tearing noise.

“None of that.” he said. “I am Rarawga, Black Chin, and you are MY trophy slave.”

I sighed, stretched. “This will not end the way you think it will.”

“We shall see.” Rarawga said.

<1 > Yes, I know now that Hyenadae are always looking for the next threat to their standing, the next challenge. And when that challenge outmatched them, they were prone to exactly what they did.

<2 > No, I mean Hyenadae people. When you’ve met as many different peoples as I have, eventually you reach a point where you just stop. There are people, and folk and awakened and monsters. What do I care if they have a hyena head and fur? They’re still people.

.....