Maybe It's Stupidity
In the Land Of Gnil, Hammosh Duffle Kahone, an ordriey who was lost in the Monkinik Woods, panicked and brought unwanted attention that had forever changed his life. Along his way he was helped by a dozen or so spectral hounds of the Harukin Mountains back to his home, Harukin Town. Unfortunately it was a very brief meeting with his future companion, Fletcher Dever Wolf, in the barber shop was supposedly a werewolf hunter in disguise. Though he could have killed Hammosh, Fletcher will later join an adventure that is full of magical beasts, otherworldly beings, monsters, and gods. Throughout these crazy experiences, Hammosh and Fletcher grow in ways they could have never imagined. Hammosh is overburdened of taking care of his four newborn children. Hammosh and Fletcher are forced to face the imposing obstacles, and in almost every corner danger lurks. Along their travels a troubled chaotic faerie god named Lurriax Gavolor who is terrorized by his evil father Vureln, tries in every way to kidnap one of Hammosh's children himself or by his minions. It's not just that but also an evil keyor king named Mewry has claimed the ordriey throne and sends his warriors to capture Hammosh who seems to be the last of the Kahone clan. If King Mewry is not stopped he will awaken the sleeping giants and reign complete chaos over the land. Hammosh feels that he must continue to follow his destination but where? He does not know but only his sense guides him. Fletcher too guides himself.Hammosh was lying down beside the steep ravine as the sun hit his back. When the day reached dusk, he stretched his long chubby body and looked on straight. Straight at the gypsy colored buildings of his temporary hometown. The town was on the other side of the ravine. Impossible to reach in time before it was long dark, and the mountain fog would settle in. Before a cry of a wolf or something wolf-like would echo eerily through the mountainside. Fear. Hammosh felt a pang of fear knowing the feeling of being followed, stalked from far away from an unseen predator ready to strike with right timing.
He tried not to think about it as he checked to make sure nothing was misplaced. As he picked through his belongings, he began to walk alongside the ravine - but the fear was edging it's way up, making him pick up pace. It was not a smooth pace, however, becoming more slick and wet and as it was getting darker and harder to see. He slipped once, he slipped twice, and then the third time. At this point he was panicked and kept slipping but he now was running on all fours. Hammosh was no longer slowing down or waiting. For however long he ran he did not know, oblivious to his surroundings and completely blind in the dark.
Still Hammosh ran. Ran until he hit something with a hard surface; possibly a tree. Dizzy, he fell down on his rear end. He sat for a few minutes, lied down once again, and, forgetting how he ever got there in the first place, fell asleep. The cold never bothered him, but what irritated him as he tried to keep himself dry throughout the night was the fog. Until the first dawn's light had shone through forest leaves he awoke at the moment where the fog was just beginning to retreat. Wet. He hated the moist leaves that covered the forest floor, as he found himself covered in them.
He shook his body like a dog's, and his fat jiggled. After shaking the leaves off his grayish black mane, which was now floof, his long tail was fluffy as well. He thought "Oh Wow! Great, I probably look like some kittenish lion now." He said aloud " Heh, how funny. Well, I'd rather look like this than be covered in wet leaves, while hoping I don't get some horrible infection," Hammosh brushed his chubby hand over his head, forgetting that there was bruising where he struck himself on a tree. It hurt. When he looked at his hand, he found a little blood and realized that maybe he should bandage his head, it was more serious than he assumed. Hammosh was off to get back home.
The day was getting lighter and the fog had disappeared. Hammosh found his tracks from last night, followed them, and went back on track to finding home. He found he actually went on in circles and zigzags when running blindly in the dark. "How embarrassing! I must have looked like a bumbler to those specters," He speculated as he walked along the forest trail. Nothing was going on for a while. It was oddly quiet. Towards the end of the trail, Hammosh heard the familiar sound of banjos, drums and clapping, with people in the distance yelling and screaming in excitement. Another Harukin Town Festival was just beginning.
For every two weeks that goes by, a festival is held at the Harukin Town Square. The beginning of the festival has just a few minor events until the end. The end of the festival is the wildest and most exciting of all. Hammosh knew he just needed to crawl under the hedge and he'd be at the gates - at least he hoped. On this side of the hedge, he was clean except for a few muddy spots. Once he was on the other side, he was covered in briar thorns, which stung and ripped at the leather armor he wore. He saw nothing familiar on the other side. "What the heck? Am I in the right place?" he exclaimed in confusion to no one in particular, except maybe himself.
A wolf-like cry echoed and sounded very much the same as the one he heard earlier, except this time it was much closer. Too close. It made Hammosh's hackles rise, his tail swish, and his ears press against his head. He bared his sharp teeth, lowered his body on all fours, and pushed his wings out his back: they were black and, like a dragon's, wet and slimy. He kept his wings drawn close to his sides. Wait ---- there was a patter of paws somewhere to his right ---- suddenly, a wolfish creature burst out from the hedge and viciously tried to bite Hammosh's ankles. Hammosh whipped his tail, his stinger, and he missed the reddish wolf creature.
It growled, breathed in deep, and shot a spout of flame from it's mouth at Hammosh, who yelped and quickly dodged. The creature stood bipedal and again breathed fire, catching the hedge and the leaves on the forest floor on fire. Hammosh soon realized what he was dealing with: a zmag. "A zmag? What's a zmag doing here; they're supposed to be in deserts! A desert werewolf in Harukin lands?! This isn't right," Hammosh thought. Then the zmag leaped at him, swiping it's claws, and one of them caught his arm and ripped his leather armor, making him exposed to further attacks. He tried to pull out his sword, but it was knocked out of his hands and kicked into the fire. The zmag lunged in for a bite this time - Hammosh lunged in too and bit the zmag's hairless arm.
It was a mistake -- he got bit back by the zmag. He whipped his tail and stung the bare-skinned creature. It's humanish eyes widened and it backed off from Hammosh. Hammosh couldn't help but stare at the zmag's almost hairless body as it crashed onto the ground. The zmag closed it's eyes and it's breathing slowed. The zmag was sleeping from the poison it was delivered. It was going to sleep for a while, allowing Hammosh to get out of the area before he finds himself trapped by the fire the zmag had caused so quickly and suddenly.
Hammosh later found another trail and started to follow it. Very quickly, Hammosh was surrounded by at least a dozen whist hounds, but they weren't trying to hurt him - they were trying to lead him home. The whists looked blueish and misty leaving icy tracks behind. They barked and whined and nipped at him, nudging him, trying to get a move on. The specters here were the friendliest by far in his trip, relieving him from the stress of being lost. Whist hounds were known to help, guide and protect merchants and travelers along the trails in the Harukin Mountains. After some hours following the whist hounds he was at the gates of his hometown. Two gate guards riding brine birds rode up to Hammosh and shooed off the whists.
"Good day, Hammosh!" Said the guard on his right while the other observed him and asked "Are you alright? Maybe you should see the doctor," Hammosh smiled at them and snarked "No shit, Sherlock. I'm probably fine, but I guess I should see the barber. It was awful being lost in the forest like that," Hammosh thought "Where did that saying come from? I'll eventually figure it out." The guards have never had an attitude towards him - even on bad days - and that made Hammosh feel comfortable and safe around them. The brine birds were curious and pawed the hard packed dirt with their sharp talons. They squawked and chortled, the grayish coat of flightless feathers puffed up. They had the look of terror birds, the beaks were large, jagged and curved sharply. The eyes glinted almost like a yellowed bronze with a hint of umber, the size of fists. The guards opened the gates and Hammosh walked through. Then he realized his sword was lost all the way down in the forest where the fire was. He also forgot he bandaged his head and he had a headache. People and music and happy chatter was everywhere - especially towards the Harukin Town Square.
Hammosh found the barber pole which was wrapped in a long bloody rag. That was the sign for the barber, the barber, of course, was in the building. There was the possibility that even the doctor has dropped by though it's usually the barber who does the job for both the sick and the injured. Hammosh knocked on the wooden door and pushed his way through. This was his first time seeing the barber. The barber was human, and he wore a bloodied apron with his long sleeves rolled up, his pants spattered with old and fresh blood and shoes that were a bit tattered, needing to be replaced. He looked in his early 40's. Hammosh closed his eyes and covered his nose and mouth when he walked up to the barber not wanting to smell or see the blood on the floor. The barber said ,"Hey, how are you feeling? Did you have a great time in the forest? You don't have to close your eyes; it's a bit rude. By the way, the name's Fletcher."
"Oh, uh, sorry about that. I didn't want to see the blood. The forest? Oh, it was awful: I got completely lost, I panicked and I rammed into a tree, I think, but I couldn't see a thing since it was night," Hammosh said. "What's your name?" Fletcher asked as he looked at Hammosh with narrowed eyes while examining his injuries. "Hammosh -- Hammosh Kahone," Hammosh answered simply. Fletcher suddenly yelled at Hammosh "Sit down now, lie down immediately! Don't you you dare move!" As he said this he took a shotgun off a shelf and had it at point blank towards Hammosh's head. Hammosh gasped and quickly lied down on his belly on the wooden floor his ears back. In a very serious tone Fletcher asked "How many did you kill?"
"What? What? What do you mean kill?" Hammosh asked in a trembling voice his eyes widening as he looked at Fletcher. "Oh don't give me that, I know what you are, I know you were out there preying on people to kill and eat, you monster," Fletcher said calmly. Hammosh said in scared voice, "Monster? Monster? I'm no monster, and I don't know what your talking about!" Fletcher furrowed his eyebrows and said " It's cute how you keep on continuing on and on and you expect me to believe you, know how I could tell? You smell like one, you act like one and your eyes, they're bright green just like any other werewolf's and you expect no one is going to notice that? Hahahaha oh how cute you're just another one of those common black werewolves," Hammosh said in alarm " My eyes are green? No they're brown, and why do you insist I'm a werewolf? ........... Oh ..... oh no .... th-the zmag... it attacked me a few hours ago......." Then Hammosh burst into tears, started to sob, and crawled into the corner, slumping against the wall. Fletcher smirks confidently with triumph,"Ay, the old classic werewolf trick. When they start crying and crawl in the corner just to change and turn on their friends," Then, he lowered his shotgun and his face turned from a serious look to a concerned one with the realization of what Hammosh just said.
"Did you just say you were bitten by a zmag? ......Come on, show me the bite, I'm not going to hurt you unless you try something on me," Fletcher beckoned him over. Hammosh had stopped crying and walked on all fours to Fletcher, flinching when he reached over to inspect the bite on his upper arm. Fletcher had him sit on a bedside under a better light source to see the bite. Fletcher grabbed Hammosh's arm and squeezed the wound hard. As he did so, Hammosh grimaced in pain, and he wanted to hurt him for it but let him continue his job. Clear bodily fluid came out and Fletcher took a piece of cloth to wipe the dirt, blood, and other fluids off. He used forceps and pulled out a sharp canine tooth out and dropped it on a platter, then two others were pulled out.
Fletcher examined each tooth carefully, independently, his words more calm, collected, and focused, "These are no ordinary black werewolf teeth. They look like zmag canines..... but that's not really possible since, one, they're in the deserts, and two, they're rare. Now what's the description and behavior you remember of the creature?" Hammosh gave him all he could remember. Fletcher spoke, his words slow with speculation,"So you say it was nearly hairless stood upright, blew fire, and caught the forest on fire while you escaped after knocking it to sleep with poison? Well......... yep, it definitely sounds like you were bitten by a dragon werewolf," Hammosh was starting to get curious, "How come you know so much about werewolves, Fletcher?" Fletcher selects his words carefully,"Ah, you had to ask that one question, didn't you? Well, the explanation is very simple. I'm a werewolf hunter who disguised himself as a barber. You're lucky I didn't kill you on the spot. These bullets are made of silver, so you really didn't stand a chance against me," Hammosh was growing more desperate and confused by the second,"Does that mean I'm turning into a zmag or am I already one of them?"
Fletcher's expression changed from worry to pity,"Unfortunately, you're not only one of them, but there's no cure for it, and the only way to get rid of it is to kill you. I'm sorry," Hammosh started shaking his head from side to side in fear that the hunter was planning to kill him anyway. Then Fletcher laughed,"Ok. Are you really sure you want to stay in this state and not be put down in peace? I'm giving you the first and only warning: the first change will probably be the worst pain you have ever felt in your entire life. You might be wishing you were dead, and will plead to someone to kill you right then and there. If you do ask me to take care of it, I will not hesitate in putting you down unless you quickly change your mind. Are you certain? I will do it," Hammosh shook his head yes and just right when Hammosh was starting to wonder what was going to really happen to himself Fletcher told him "Let me see your head," and Hammosh looked him right in the eye and took off the bandage. Fletcher's expression changed, yet again, but this time it was curious -- as in mad scientist curious,"You looked me straight in eye without your hackles rising.... interesting.... looks like you had a really bad concussion.... but it should be healed up by tonight.... your arm should also heal.... so you're actually quite fine. Imagine what would have happened if you weren't bit.... you probably most likely would have never made it back here without passing out from the looks if it. Did you sleep with this concussion? Because if you did, you definitely were a hell of a lucky guy to have not gone into a coma," Hammosh tilted his head to the right, "Oh, I did alright, and, uh, do you have a mirror? I still don't believe my eyes are green until I see it for myself," "Here take a look," Fletcher said almost casually as Hammosh looked into the small mirror and gasped in amazement "Oh woah! They're like almost an an emerald color! They're beautiful! I've actually wished I had green eyes since I was little. Green eyes all my life looked so haunting, yet so beautiful to me."
Fletcher looked at Hammosh and said curiously, "Really? Have you heard a history of people calling any of your family members wolfblooded?" Hammosh answered "No, have you? I'm actually the last of the Kahone family and I don't know who my parents are," Hammosh saw Fletcher shake his head, "Tonight's a full moon so your answer might change quick. Most werewolves that have started to go through their first change have had to be put down because they immediately couldn't withstand the pain, so watch it." Hammosh decided that he should rest for now and lied down on the bed and fell asleep. While Hammosh slept Fletcher felt Hammosh's head. He had a fever. Fletcher went outside, flipped the sign to closed, and went back in. He pulled a chair up beside the bed, sat down, and watched Hammosh closely with the shotgun in his lap ready just in case.
Hours passed and sky was getting darker. At this time Hammosh woke up breathing hard and sweating. He looked at his arm, and it was completely healed just as Fletcher said it would be. He stood up and started to walk towards the door when Fletcher suddenly jumped and blocked his way to the door. "Thought I would just let you walk out the door, huh? Because that's just really not going to happen. If you do walk out there and change, a lot of people are probably going to be murdered. Not only that, but you're going to get yourself killed as soon as someone decides to take a stand against you. You should understand why I'm keeping you in this room." Hammosh gave a look of understanding and backed away from the door, "Since I am now a zmag, would my children be zmags as well?" Fletcher looked at him, surprised that he would ask such a question and replied, "Yes, absolutely. Why did you ask? Wait, are you pregnant? I know how you ordrieys are with love, babies, and family. That's what ordrieys care about, isn't it?"
Hammosh turned to look at him with wide eyes and took all he could muster and lied. "No, no I'm not, not at all," Hammosh turned his back to Fletcher and regretted he ever lied and thought in fear that he may have put his babe in danger, especially at the time he were to give birth to his child. Hammosh was never going to let anyone know of his pregnancy until he can find someone he could trust. He found himself pacing back and forth in the medium sized room and stopped when he saw the full moon through the window. He felt his body stiffen and couldn't turn away even if he wanted too. Fletcher raised his gun focused on Hammosh. Hammosh's left eye twitched and suddenly felt a piercing pain in his entire body causing him to fall on his hands and knees.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S SSSOO MUCH PAIN!!!! AAAARRRRGGGGG!!!!!! IIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!!," Hammosh screamed and writhed in pain on the floor. He felt a torrent of ripping and tearing inside his body. He felt his bones splinter and crack, pop, and snap as they reformed into it's new body form, his skin ripped and changed with it. Five inch long claws grew. His face stretched and elongated to it's draconic wolf form. His clothes and armor stretched and tore. His skin and hair had turned to a reddish color.
Hammosh snapped his head toward Fletcher and bared his teeth growling and snarling, thick drool pooled from the sides of his mouth spattering on the wooden floor, his eyes glowing an emerald green in the moonlight, his nose and mouth had smoke plumes and flickering little flames dancing around. On all fours, he slowly approached Fletcher who said, "DON'T MAKE ME DO THIS, DON'T MAKE ME DO THIS, I'LL KILL YOU!" Hammosh stood bipedal and rammed the door, smashing it open with his newfound brutish strength. "HHHHOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!" As Hammosh howled into the night for the first time, he saw the night as if it was still daytime. BOWHICHIKBOW!!! Fletcher had taken a shot at Hammosh and nearly had him. When one of the bullets grazed the left side of his chest from the back, he felt a burning sensation. He quickly turned around and bounded with a much faster speed across the cobbled streets his claws clicking and scraping against them.
Fletcher then yelled out "HAMMOSH! I WILL GET YOU IF YOU TOUCH ONE SOUL!!!" There was a few people still out past bedtime. They all immediately started to run and scream for their lives. Hammosh could feel and hear his blood rushing throughout his body, and seeing people scream and run made him want to chase them. To hunt them, to eat them. He did not chase them but stopped, reeled, and sprinted all the way back to the barber's building. Fletcher was halfway down the cobble path, his shotgun reloaded and pointed at Hammosh.
Instead of leaping and trying to kill Fletcher, Hammosh stopped running and started pouncing and tackling the long grasses that grew from in between the cobble stones. He barked and whined. His tail was between his legs and his ears were pointed straight up and alert. He stared right at Fletcher, who looked at him with confusion and shock. Hammosh reeled back too quickly, slipped, and thumped hard against the brick wall and onto the cobblestones -- knocking himself out cold. His body slumped onto the ground, unconscious, and began to revert back to his original body form. Fletcher was alarmed and quickly ran to his side, then he pulled him into the barber shop and onto one of the beds.
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