Tales of Misfits: Hunt or be Hunted

Intro: The Gods of Order and Chaos

Skip if you read the first books/Only this first one

Since the dawn of the Sentient, the world of Orion and its inhabitants have been under constant surveillance by two supreme deities. The deities split control of Orion, where one controls the uncharted skies and the other controls the fiery pits of hell. One’s rule could not bar the other’s influence on events that happen and could not take total unanimous control. They control the formation of land, spreading its water to help propagate the growth of fruits that fill Sentient bellies. Together, they decide what species are allowed to have free thought, the ability to develop skills, and allow them a means of establishing themselves through procreation. They also influenced what ailments would plague the world and what conflicts would arise from the horizon, introducing hungry beasts to force the masses to adapt.

The two Omnipotent gods are known as Rama, the Lord of Order, and Boros, the Lady of Chaos. Rama summons rain to irrigate the wild forest to bear fruit and fill its vast rivers, while Boros influences their minds to misuse their valuable resources for gain, helping create delicious wines that cloud rational thought. Rational free thinkers now drown themselves by indulging in once simple pleasures to the point of sinning. All these personal desires make the soul weak, leaving free thinkers vulnerable to no gooders and vulnerable to flesh-eating monsters created from the earth to devour them. One cannot live without the other, for if there were no bloodshed, the vast lands of Orion wouldn’t get the proper nutrients to grow its tasty fruit.

Rama is praised as the undisputed Lord of the Sentient races, the one who you pray for guidance, wisdom, glory, and a good harvest. In the earlier times, the free thinkers questioned the existence of a truly omnipotent being, discarding their skepticism once he sent his soothsayers down from his coven. The soothsayers were born to resemble any of the Sentient races’ women, with the only difference being their eyes. Their eyes were purple, like dulled amethyst jewels, resembling the gaze of the unseeing, yet their vision was not obscured in the slightest.

The soothsayers brought knowledge for many eons, teaching the races about agriculture, construction and civics. Their knowledge seemed otherworldly; without the help they provided, the races would still be primitive, slinging rocks and succumbing to common diseases. Their mythical powers were nothing to scoff at. They could construct temples graced by their Lord that supplied them with powers similar to the omnipotence of their master. With the blessings of the Lord, a single soothsayer could heal mortal wounds instantaneously and sooth the souls of those who have lost their way.

The world itself didn’t need proof to know that the Lady of Chaos was real; her actions spoke louder than words. In the beginning, the land was populated by species that survived on roots, berries, vegetables, and mushrooms. In that span of time, the land was peaceful but advancement was stagnant; there was no need to dream or create. That’s when the Lady created the Lyconians; a ferocious race of wolf-kin that spawned from her malice. They could only consume meat and often wandered the uncharted forest, starvation causing the devouring of others. It didn’t take long for the strongest of them to come across villages of herbivorous races.

It was a bloodbath; villages were wiped off the map as a means of satiating the large number of Lyconians. With the looming threat of an enemy that grew stronger from their fallen, the races had to adapt; crafting slings and crude bows to manage population control. Now the herbivores knew the conflict of war, which many concluded was the reasoning behind the Lady’s actions. Yet Rama had other plans for the Lyconians. Some of the wolf-kin found that they didn’t enjoy the bloodshed or the constant pleas of those they understood. Slowly but surely, Rama restructured their bodies to be able to handle other forms of sustenance. Their diets were now of the omnivorous variety. To help facilitate the demand for food for Boros’ carnivores, Rama sprawled the land with an abundance of non-sentient animals. The need for bloodshed was still prevalent, but at least there wouldn’t be wars fueled by hunger.

Boros didn’t like that her hounds were converted into docile versions of themselves. A portion of the Lyconian population no longer required a carnivorous diet with the discovery of protein-packed crops, as their hunger was finally curbed. Yet for some, the taste for flesh was too intoxicating to relinquish, but at least the Sentient races could now see Lyconians as neighbors. The Lyconian community was divided; one side spat on the generosity of their Lord, continuing to act upon their savage hunger as they saw fit. It was a form of domestic taming as the docile Lyconians bred, slowly evolving into a new race of hounds: the Infenrials.

The birth of Infenrials was the last straw for the Lady. A majority of her own creations, now tamed by the Lord of Order, served under him and his people. To combat the evolution of the Sentient races, Boros spawned new races to combat those who upheld order; one such race was the Pantheamata, a race consisting of warriors with feline features. With each new arrival came a moment of time when the fighting stopped and new subspecies emerged. Wars and peace were cycles for the gods, with the last bringing about a Sentient race known as humans. The elder races feared these humans, for they were the first race to have knowledge akin to the soothsayers; many encountered claimed that they came from other worlds.

At the point when humans arrived, the lands were in an ever-teetering scale of chaos and order. Boros’ recent project was the creation of hybrid animals, ones that came without sentient thought and followed only instinct that harbored in their blood. She experimented by creating creatures that were bigger, while also combining feline and avian features in some and using black magic to reanimate the dead to become ravenous husks in others. The soothsayers called Boros’ highly anticipated creations, monsters. They couldn’t thrive with anything other than their race, killing for territory and food while having no dreams or aspirations . The two gods’ constant entanglements were the identity of the world of Orion, where peace and war were an everyday occurrence.

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Introduction: The Wonderkin

“Come on, guys, it’s going down by the farms!” A Sith girl hops to get her friends’ attention, flicking her ears when she dashes. The mix of all races rushed to her back, leaving the runt behind as he scribbles in the dirt. He looked up to see that he was alone, his green patched hoodie covering his eyes. He was just as curious as the others, so he ran as the group’s tail. He was slower than everyone; he was too shy and feeble to be a noteworthy kid.

He ran as hard as he could, while the rest of the kids continued to grow farther away. He was winded, yet he really wanted to see what all the fuss was about. He met the crowd that surrounded a scene; the clashing of wooden training swords echoed from the roaring crowd. Their wows and whoas whet the boys’ curiosity, making him slither through the crowd. He popped himself in, excited by the sight.

The two older boys clashed blades, and the taller one got knocked over by the smaller ones’ skill. The way the older kid looked; he was the embodiment of heroism. He wore green training leather armor, and his hair was the color of ravens.

“Is that all you’ve got, Thatch?” The Jade warrior kid said, taunting the bigger kid. Thatch didn’t like his provocation, quickly getting up and putting his weight on the blade. Behind him was an albino girl, wearing training armor and cheering for Thatch.

“Kick his butt; don’t make Osma’s training go to waste!” The albino girl yelled as Thatch made the kid fly. The shocked gasped of the mixed-race crowd, as the Jade warrior lands on his feet, like a cat. The runt cheered for the jade warrior, getting a look from Thatch. The runt backs into the crowd, scared of the big kids’ angry scowl. The jade warrior went for him, giving him a ten-strike combo.

Thatch tries to block all the blows, but each hit had more weight when the jade warrior spins. He gets knocked on his ass again; the jade warrior aims his blade at his throat. The crowd of the earless and the beastkin roars; the victory has been won. The jade warrior offers Thatch a hand, but the boy rejects him and huffs away. He goes through many sentient children, aiming his anger at the runt.

“Out of my way, momma’s boy!” Thatch pushed the runt on his rear, making the boy sniffle. He starts to cry, no one reaching out for his hand. The albino huntress pass the boy, giving him a indifferent glance, continuing to follow Thatch. The fight was over, the beastkin and the earless left the boy dirty on the dirt, with one exception.

“Don’t cry Calconus, Thatch is just a bully. Don’t let him break you down.” The jade warrior offered his hand to the runt, calling his name. The jade warriors eyes are blue, an the crying child is green. The jade warrior offers Calconus a hand, wiping his tears away.

“Thatch is always a butt-head, he always bullies me *sniff*, hes going to hurt me if *sniff* I go home.” Calconus wipes his emerald eyes with fear, trembling from the thought. The jaded warrior smiles at the sobbing runt, pulling his hand softly.

“Thatch isn’t going to do anything to you, I’ll make sure your safe.” The jaded warrior said as he confidently walks down the farms road, memorizing his heroic visage to Calconus. He stood tall against those who wish harm, he was a boy that he wanted to be when he was older.

“Thank you Joan.” Calconus told the boy.

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They go to the small house up the hill from the farm village, Calconus hearing his mother yelling.

“Dammit Osma, I put faith in you taking care of Calconus. Then I see you flirting with one of the farmers daughters!?” His mother sounded made, especially to Osma. Joan guided the boy down the walkway, looking at the angry glares Thatch was producing. He was punching the properties tree, while the albino girl read a tome in the branches above. Calconus shutters into Joan, the boy ignoring the two and making course.

“What can I do, Snitch! I’m trying to train warriors and the boy doesn’t have a bad bone in his body!” Osma countered her words in anger, sounding a little drunk. Joan waited at the door for the right time.

“As my closest friend, I would at least expect the bare minimum. My Calconus wants to make bread! He wants to fill the bellies of your warriors and you ignore him!?”

“He’s not mine, Snitch!”

“So that’s it! Don’t forget that you killed that road when you kept on sleeping around!” Snitch said, leaving the room silent. Joan thought it was a good time, but they continued.

“I was out of line. Os, I care for you, just that puppy love from all those years ago is gone. I want Cal to have some decent surviving classes so he could meet his father in the northern Triangle.”

“He wont survive, he’s too weak to even throw a punch.”

Joan pushes the door, hearing the two slightly calm down. The two adults turn to the boys; One was a warrior with fiery red hair and the woman looked like a alluring version of her son. Osma looks at Calconus with a bit of anger; while his mother came down to him with a smile. She hugs the boys, fishing Calconus out of his arms. She had wild raven hair and her curves made Joan blush as he felt her bountiful chest.

“Thank you Joan, bringing my baby boy back home.” Snitch kisses Joan on the cheek, letting Calconus deeper in her arms. Joan rubs his cheek with a blush, memorized by the stunning vixen.

“Your welcome, Ms. Rosefield.” He said out of obligation, looking up at Osma. The man was a bit furious at the boy when he got a peck from Snitch, staring daggers at him.

“Little boys with homes should go there---right Joan?” Osma tempered his anger, but Joan got the message. Joan dashes out of the homestead, leaving the three alone. Snitch rubbed her boys hair with a twinkle in her emerald eyes. Calconus hug his mother tightly, giving her a cause for concern.

“Whats wrong my little black rose?” Snitch asked the boy. Calconus lifted his head up to his mother, tears falling down his jade eyes and snot from his red nose. He motherly instincts turned to Osma with fury, making him flinch.

“You made my baby boy cry.” She said as her eyes went cold, making Osma wave his hands.

“Listen Cali’ boy, go play with Thatch and Lenore, while your mother and I have a civil---civil conversation.” Osma told the boy, repeating a word when Snitch lip twitched. She turns her head at Calconus, kissing his forehead warmly.

“My sweet Calconus. Give mommy some time to have fun with uncle Osma.” Snitch said when her smile turned deadly, making Calconus nod furiously. Nothing scared him more than the scorn of his mother, the same feeling Osma had right now. He didn’t tell her about Thatch, he just wanted to get out. Once he walks out of the door and the door gets shut, it happened.

*Bang* *Toss* *crash*

“You fucking bastard, this isn’t the first time you made my baby cry!”

“Take it easy, Snitch! Put the chair down!

Calconus walks away from the porch, letting his mother have some fun. He followed uncle Osma’s words, heading to the older kids. Thatch smiles from the boys body language, scared and little. Lenore closes her tome, watching Calconus with the shin of the moon. He ignored Thatch, admiring how beautiful the albino girl was, watching him with a smile. Her eyes were like rubies and her ashen hair was to alluring to look away. Thatch didn’t like being ignored, rushing the kid.

He tackles Calconus onto the floor, ready to lay his fist down on the runt. Calconus gasped in fear, seeing his sickening smile. Thatch stops when a blade skims his cheek, looking up to Lenore with a snarl.

“You leave him alone; hes not yours to play with.” She said with a chuckle, making Thatch wave at her stupid worry. The homestead door crashes open, Osma pacing away with bruises.

“Take that fucker with you!” Snitch points at Thatch; Calconus’s mother knowing how the boy treats her babe. Thatch sweats from the woman’s cold stare, she looked hungry and violent; like she was part Lyconian. Lenore laughs at the bully, swinging her legs with glee. Thatch follows Osma out of the yard, leaving Lenore and Calconus alone.

“Can I bother you to spent time with Cal, Lenore? I’ll whip up something tasty for you troubles.” Snitched told the albino girl.

“Okay, Ms. Rosefield!” Lenore waved at her, leaving security with her. She swirls her body from the branch, falling down like a cat. She was twice the boys size, but she never intimidated the boy. She sat on the ground under the tree, slapping her leg for Calconus to come. Calconus smiles at the girl, rushing to her grasp; as Lenore gave him cuddles.

“Oh you such a cutey, I can just die!” Lenore said as she showers Cal with love. She pokes his rose chubby cheeks, loving the way it bounces. Calconus loved her praise, feeling like all he need was her attention. She stops and brings Calconus into ha embrace, cradling the runt. She felt very motherly at the moment, brushing his raven hair. She rests her head on his, looking up to the stars.

“Lets be friends forever, okay Calconus.”

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Introduction: Mirror on the wall

“I love to see you struggle little black rose. How you defied expectations from everyone.” The shadow-man said as he observes his cloud, getting a image of the Serpentslayer. Calconus was running quickly in the forest, with great form and speed.

“Such vigor and strength the little runt grew; now he stands in the middle of my parents gaze.” He wafts his cloud away, pushing his chair to his library. He swirls the large selection, finding a row that has “hunter” written in crayons. He pulls a book and swiftly reads, over and over.

“sorry sport, most tales don’t have hunter as the hero. Try back later.” Shadow-man throws the last book with a comedic indifference. Reaching for another, reading a passage as he narrates.

“I find it weird that Otherworldly fiction always paints a traditional hunter as a bad guy?”

“Demon hunters, vampire hunters, monster hunters, bounty hunters from space. They always end up being the protagonist of tales.” The Shadow-man smiles.

“Why do otherworlders hate the sour idea of a traditional hunter; one that supplies resources and meat on the table for hungry villagers?”

“They always bastardize the concept, man with gun is always bad.”

“He wants to cage the wild mans family, hunting his own kind, the thrill of killing is bad.” The Shadow-man mocks the Otherworlders philosophy.

“They do the same to their farmers, or at least the radical division.”

“Hear that runt, you aren’t suppose to be the hero of this tale; but my folks in Orion want you to have a trial.” He slides to the large mirror, having a paper taped on it with “definitely not a magic mirrior”.

“Mirror, Mirror on this surface I cant say.” Shadow-man said with a chuckle, smiling at the mirror. It only showed a shadow, one with white teeth grinning.

“what does the Little Black Rose have that this mirror stains?” The Shadow-man found his wording amusing, getting a sigh from his sister down in the attic.

“I can be a poet too sister, critics these days.”

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You see a runt in the mirror, same as you.

Two sides of a dime, splitting in two.

What happens when you stare in the mirror long?

Your mind breaks, leaving you wrong.

Regressing you to a moment when your stunted.

This world calls you, Its Hunt or be Hunted.

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The Shadow-man smiles as he goes back into his cloud, seeing the Hunter dodge a near death encounter from a Orc. He sips on his drink, loving the sight of action.

“Now Mr. Green, show us how you hunt.”

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