Born a Monster

431 331 – Junkpile

In one sense, it was a load of junk. In another, it was barely usable refuse.

“Are you about to cry?” the minotaur asked me.

“It is glorious.” I said.

He shrugged. “If you say so. Welcome to it, if you can claim it from whatever pride holds it this week.”

He left as I began sawing off the remaining legs from his broken chair. One of the youths of the pride came over while I was trying to find something with screws or nails in it.

“That’s our stuff; you’ll have to pay a toll.”

I looked at him. The words scraggly and malnourished came to mind. I mean, I hadn’t expected prime warriors, but there was hardly any muscle on the lad. His eyes were sunken, his skin beginning to sag. “From the looks of how little you eat, I can afford it.”

He snorted, stomped a hoof, made fists. All the things you expect from a bluff. “Just for that, your toll is double!”

I sighed. “What is the toll?” I asked.

.....

“Four silver coins, for you!”

“Ridiculous.” I said.

He lowered his head and charged; I hadn’t been expecting that, not so early in the blustering and posturing process. Still, I had enough time to sidestep.

He flung his head toward me, knocking my fist back into my chest and then some. I went flying into a heap of debris, most of which was garbage.

[You have taken eight points of Bludgeoning damage; after armor you have received two. 60/80 health remain.]

I grunted, took my feet on the unsteady mound. “You’ve lost. I have the high ground.”

“Not after I knock you off it!” he replied.

I dodged, first left for two steps, and then right. Unsteady footing, to be sure, but I was betting that my Agility and Footwork skills were better than his.

I just had no idea by how much; he went sprawling in the debris, and I struck him in the side with a handy half of an axle. Or maybe it was a spear, or a coat-rack. The important thing was that it was handy and long, and made a nice loud thwack noise.

He threw his head back, roared loudly, and I hit him again, this time across the snout.

He tripped, and I struck him again.

[You have scored a YELLOW critical for double damage.]

“Hwugh.” he said, falling to his knees. I raised the club again...

I threw it to the side. “Child. Your horns have yet to come in. It’s brave of you to fight like that...”

“I am...” he huffed, “Only the distraction.”

Distraction? I was too late looking around.

She caught me low in my left side, below the rib cage and above the hip. THERE was the twelve points of damage I had expected! Piercing, since her horns HAD come in, and she knew how to twist them in the wound. I’d have almost admired it, except that I had to at least fight her to a standstill to prove dominance, or some such nonsense.

As I was now at a good distance for it, she took a swipe at me with a lamp-chain. It wasn’t lit, but I wasn’t about to find out how much it would hurt.
“Heh.” she said. “Why are the small ones always fast? It’s not like you can hit hard.”

I threw a handy pail at her head, and charged low. It was a gamble, to get in close.

She kicked at me, so I went for the leg remaining on the ground.

Yeah, don’t try that. Hoofed creatures get out of ankle holds real easy, and then you’re right there to kick.

I rolled to a place among the scattered discards. Ugh, what was that SMELL? And when had I stepped in it?

But there was no time for that, as she was also finding her footing. “You want to wrestle ME?” she asked. “Me?”

I smacked my hands together, mostly because the left was beginning to tingle. “If that’s the only way to join this pride, then yes. I’m willing to do that.”

What was WRONG with me?

[Parasite: Giant Leech detected.] my System said.

Giant... it was wrapped around my lower left leg, happily sucking on the calf muscle. It was also the source of the horrid stench of death.

“A moment, please.” I said. “Flames, children of the sun, it is I, Rhishisikk, shaman and...”

“NOOO!” screamed a young girl. “Don’t BURN him! I’ll get him off. It’s easy.”

“Decima, stay away from him!” the older girl ordered.

Decima did no such thing. She came forward, and with skilled hands pressed in the sides of the leech’s mouth sucker. “Come on, Squiggy.” she said. “Off.”

Squiggy didn’t come off easily; he was about as poorly fed as the rest of them.

“Well?” asked the older sister, “Go ahead, hold her hostage.”

“Do you want to get held hostage?” I asked Decima.

She shook her head rapidly.

I waved a hand in dismissal. “Get to a safe distance, then.”

I used the time to wrap the remains of a towel around my left forearm, and held a metal globe in my right.

“What?” asked the older sister. “You don’t think you’ve earned any manner of respect by doing that?”

“No.” I said. “I expect respect to come once you see the manner of skills I bring to your pride.”

“What makes you think I’m letting you into my pride, no-horns?”

“For starters,” I said, scooting a keg over to use as a chair, “You clearly don’t know what a good place you have, here.”



“It keeps us fed enough that we don’t starve.”

I sighed. “Please allow me to go first. My name is Rhishisikk, and among other things, I am a Truthspeaker. I literally cannot lie to you.”

“My name is Hexanter, and I don’t care about your fancy social skills.”

I rubbed my left hand against my side, dislodging some manner of sodden cloth. “You should care.” I said. “But then, you should also be making enough money from this stuff to feed your pride, and let them grow some muscle as well.”

“From this?” a male asked. He wielded a wooden sculpture of a female, her horns and one arm missing. Pity, she must have once been worth restoring. “This is garbage.”

“Some of this IS garbage.” I said. “Some of the rest can be salvaged, or turned into scraps that your craftsmen will purchase.”

“Hah!” Hexanter said, rolling a rotted melon to my feet. “Salvage THAT!”

I was tempted to tell her it was useless. “Can’t eat it,” I said, “But we might be able to make dye from it. There’s cloth enough in these piles. Some of it still has to be good.”

She snorted. “Good luck finding it among the bad.”

“Let me organize it.” I said. “If we can move the wooden goods over there, and the metals into a pile...”

“Let me stop you there.” Hexanter said. “You want to eat, you provide something of value.”

“I can cook food.” I said.

“Listen well.” she said. “No value, no food. You think there’s something here we can sell? Find it before the next meal-time.”

I sighed. “I don’t think that’s a reasonable... never mind, you’re sitting on half of it.”

“On half... of a broken dresser?”

I nodded with my head. “The other half is right there. Get people to hold it together, and I can incant Merge Wood.”

“You can fix stuff with magic?” Decima asked. “That is so COOL! Teach me!”

“What do you already know of magic?” I asked her.

“I can do slug magic,” she said. “Look, I can make Squiggles barf on command.”

he begged.

“He doesn’t want you to squeeze his tummy.” I told her.

Her eyes went wide. “You can talk to him?”

“He can talk to me, but yes.”

She nestled him in her arms, mouth safely away from her. “Teach me. Teach me to speak to him.”

Hexanter stomped a foot. “First, you show value.” she said. “Secondly, if my sister burns away in a column of green flame, you. Will. Also. Burn. Understood?”

“Ugh.” I said. “Some of these drawers will also need repairs. What do you have around here that resembles glue?”

“Thought you said you had magic for that.” she replied.

“Magic has it’s limitations.” I said. “For example...”

“Bored.” she said. “Either fix it or don’t. No food until it’s fixed. Decima, come along.”

“But Squiggles might want to talk to him.”

.....

“So leave Squiggles here.” Hexanter said. “He never leaves the room.”

“Okay.” Decima said, slapping him to the ground. “You two become friends.”

I asked him.

I chuckled.

Yes, there’s all manner of rude context to that word. Indolent, incontinent, dull-witted, cowardly, gullible... think of every mean thing that can be said about pre-teen children, and put it all into one word.