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World Map - Log:1.2163 words
Chapter 1: Strange Yet Stranger [Redux]5,718 words
Chapter 2: Attack At Dune City! [Redux]4,079 words
Chapter 3: Legendary Status4,930 words
Chapter 4: Stories & Lore5,361 words
Chapter 5: Suicide Hunting Trip [Redux]5,955 words
Chapter 6: Message of the Mage3,351 words

Chapter 1: Strange Yet Stranger [Redux]

I awoke, startled from my slumber by the gust of the screeching wind. Gasping, I shivered as I gained control of my breathing. Staring aimlessly into the clouded sky, I began searching through my memories. With nothing showing up, I began to feel my body starting up. Yet as calm as everything seemed, everything felt... Wrong. My entire body felt different and yet, my instincts told me this was right. Every fiber of my body felt all so unnatural and yet, I stayed calm through my panicked mind. I raised my arms, seeing the unbelievable.

My hands were gone! No. They were changed. Similar to that an eagle's claw, I had a three digit finger/talons including a talon/thumb. I was too shocked to scream as I continued to breath in and out. Doing my best not to lash out and do something rash, I continue to stare dumbly at my changed hand. I did an experimental twirl with my changed hand. And as expected, it followed my commands and moved.

“Holy shitbuckets.” I could bare keep my thoughts straight as my mind raced with sensation and realization.

“This… Is it real?” I spoke under my breath as I raised my left arm, leading to the same conclusion. Slowly, I rolled over onto my belly as I got onto all fours. As if it was normal to be on all fours instead of standing on two.

“What am I?” My voiced aches out, as if I had a small cold. Still sounding the same, I sighed and took another deep breath. The air was freezing dry, yet didn’t affect my lungs all too much. I glanced over the area to find a spectacular sight.

I stood on the ledge of a tall cliff side, gazing down upon a barren valley. Down the valley and into the distance, I could see some kind of man made structures. Another gust of cold wind hit me, blowing a bit dust into my face. I quickly reacted and shield my eyes, but I was met with shock as I felt my face. Finding a beak instead of normal mouth, I began touching every part of my face, finding that I was completely changed. What the hell did I turn into? I looked down below, finding that I was really high from any kind of way down.

“Damn.” I groaned as I sat in the dirt, trying to think and comprehend what was going on. With my mind yielding no answers, I stared at my claws. Then an idea popped into mind. I need to climb down. Climbing down will lead to somewhere. Going around and I'm bound to find someone. And if I find people, I'll get answers. With that train of thought, I need to get moving. I got up and gazed down the mountainside, only finding no spots to climb down.

“Of course, no easy way down.”

Grumbling at my luck, I began to check myself, seeing if I had anything useful. I had my beloved German Mauser K98K modified with a (6X) Scope. I had bought it at an action and boy am I glad I did. It was both fun to use and great to hunt with. Both Unexpectedly Surprisingly, I had my Remington 870 Special Purpose Marine Magnum 12 Gauge with 6 round tube. I also a bandoleer holding 3 inch shells as well having a saddle like bag that was stored with ammunition. And lastly, I had my sidearm with me in it’s now modified holster. The gun itself is a Smith & Wesson Model 610 10MM 6 shot Revolver. I didn’t bother to count how much ammo I had, I knew by glancing that I was stocked up on ammo to shoot at the range all day. All of the guns had additional changes that made them work with my new claw like hands.

Besides my guns, I also had stuff that didn’t belong to me. For example, I had a bunch of survival tools; from a flint and steel fire starter kit to a classic swiss army knife. I also had a stainless Ball-Peen Hammer with a redwood handle. The strange thing about the hammer was that it had strange runic symbols flawlessly engraved into the metal and wood. The hammer was part of what I found to be a metal working tool set that (magically) somehow fit in a section of my bag. On the outside of my bag, there was two big pouches held down by large belt buckles. The first one held an entire gun cleaning tool kit. The second one held a ammo reloading kit with the many tools to make more.

So far, this entire bag defied physics and all that is logic. How do all of these thing fit inside it! How is this even possible? My brain hurts trying to wrap any logic around this entire situation. It’s like some bullshit magic excuse of a reason! Wait...

Magic. It has to be…

Well damn, I guess for once, magic is the only logical reasoning here. Damn. I’m just going to tell myself that I guess nothing is impossible, at least for my own sanity. Since logic has now been thrown out the window, let’s see what else there is in Santa’s magic bag!

Looking into another internal pouch, it held large wood splitting axe/sledge, a wedge, hatchet, a large one-man crosscut saw! I had another magical pouch full of a mixed bunch of odd stuff. Tools for fine detailed carpentry, bottles of strangely colored inks, jars filled with unknown powders, gold engraved pens for calligraphy, reflective/crystal like papers, many engraved/painted bones, sticks that looked like magic wands, and so much more.

So far, seven pouches inside of a moderately large bag holds a garage turned into a packed workshop worth of tools and things. Grabbing a permanent marker, I began labeling the pouches.

“Ammunition Storage. Ammunition Tools. Gun Tools. Survival Tools. Metal Working Tools. Woodworking Tools. And… Magic Junk/Tools? Yeah, I’ll go with that. I can always change it latter…” I mumbled a I wrote. I thought about labeling the tools, but that’s work for another time. Speaking of the tools, I noticed that all of them had those runic engravings that seemed to have a soft glow within the paint. That told me that these tools must have at least some magical property. What that is? I don’t know. I’ll find out later. Anothing thing to note about the tools, is that none of them had any manufacture logo or any mark of who made them. Hell, the red swiss army knife was plain and markless as well. The only things unaffected by this unbranding was my guns.

“Strange, as if no one wanted anyone to know who made them. Could it be because none of them belonged to me? More questions to be hurt my brain with later.”

Beside my magic bag of stuff, I had another weapon that had now caught my attention. Sheathed on my right was a beautifully crafted Roman Gladius. The finely crafted damascus steel blade was quite sharp and strong as I grazed the tip on my talon, testing the sharpness to be like that of a razor. And just by this observation alone, it was by far from being any cheap blade. Another blade on me was a dagger located next to my revolver on my left.

The dagger, if i could be called that, was a strange definitely ineffective weapon. The hadel was simple polished wood with two snake tails curving outwards and forming the pommel. Two dragon like heads made the guard as the snake tails traveled up and crossed over once before forming two sharpened shot edged tips. The blade was really just a arrowhead split down the middle. This dagger was by the looks of it, more of a decorative piece then a useable weapon.

Other than my weapons, my arrire has changed as well. I no longer wore my hunting jumpsuit and coat. It was all gone and replaced with armor on the line between fantasy and realistic. And this was an interesting setup of armor if I’ve ever seen. The first thing I wore was a long dense dull gray gambeson that reached all the way to cover my rear sides. The pattern was like that of scale mail, each scale overlapping the next. Based on the odd texture, the gambeson seemed to be made of some modern plastic like fabrics. Kevlar maybe?

Besides guesstimating what the gambeson was made of, the forearm parts of the sleeves were protected by some fancy steel bracers. The reason I considered it fancy was because the nordic pattern finely engravings into the steel. I had more nordic plated armor that covered my shoulders, abdomen, belly, back, and rear. All parts seamlessly worked together in protecting me and keeping maneuverability. Strange that I was missing a helmet though…

The chest plate was composed five main plate parts that overlapped each other, but fully protected my chest and granted flexibility. My underside was like that of a dragons, metal parts forming scales that overlapped and allowed more flexibility, but less protectability. My shoulders were like that of my bracers, and are simply strapped down held together with the Gambeson. Each side of my rear had a big curved plate that overlapped the smaller, integrated scale plates that worked flawlessly. My back was a bit different as two gaps were made for my wings and making use of the. The section of my lower back did have a single plate that worked under the ones on my rear.

Besides the fantasy like armor, I had these black leather saddle bags. Just looking at them, it seemed as if they were really nothing that special. But finding out before hand of the massive and unnatural storage capacity, I greatly valued them. As I’ve noted before, the snake dagger was sheathed on my left side right next to my Revolver. The Black Gladius was sheathed securely onto my left thigh. My stainless shotgun was hanging on my back between my wings by it’s strap. And lastly, I held my beloved rifle in my bird hands.

Damn, I look just like some type of anime Bounty Hunter in the Middle Ages, added with my modern firearms. Yet with all this stuff, I was scared. Not from the heights of the cliffside, but rather the fact that I’m not panicking. Everything about this is just… Wrong. This is Impossible at every level. How did this happen? Why did this happen? Where am I? What am I?

These questions kept shouting for about another minute until I started taking another breather. Ok, I need to think rationally about this absurd situation. I’ve been turned into a… umm… Bird thing? Damn it, I need a name for what I am. Let’s see, I walk on all fours, have huge blue/white/black wings, a black beak, black talons, a fluffy lion’s tail, Head and upper half of a bird, lower body that looks like a white leopard...

It was this moment, I facepalmed…

Or is if faceclawed? Naw. I’m sticking to facepalmed. I’m not changing my views that quickly!

Anyways! I now know what I am! A freaking Griffin in all of its glory. If I’m correct, I’m a mix between the likes of a snow white leopard and a blue jay/falcon. Wow, I’m such a dumbass. But why such an odd color? Aren't griffins supposed to be... Brown?

Racist.

“What the hell?”

What you said was racist.

“That did not sound racist… Or did it?”

You know better than that dumbass.

“How am I supposed to know that brain?! All mythological creature are just a myth! Griffins don’t even scientifically work!”

Yet that is what you are.

“Ture, I can’t deny that logic.”

And forever an unlucky loser.

“Shut up!”

Besides arguing with my own thoughts, I then finally remembered what I was doing before I passed out. It was the ROCK! Goddamnit! I know better then to touch magical glowing rocks in creepy caves! It’s so cliche that a child knows better! Whatever that thing was, it must be responsible for this. I’m so stupid sometimes.

Yes you are indeed stupid as well.

“MOTHERFU-”

After going on my spree of constant swearing, I finally calmed down. My tempertamterm nearly lead to headbutting the cliffside in rage to get my head to shut up. But I knew better than to act like a child in a situation like this. Yet I have to admit that this is by far the most stupidest thing I’ve done in a while. Maybe even the worst of them all!

Once again, I pouted and grumbled, not wanting to accept reality. But I was brought back from my mental breakdown as I heard the echoed sounds of screams and clashing of metals. Quickly getting up, I gazed over the the valley, thanks to my eagle eyes, I quickly spotted a small caravan of griffins. What surprised me even more was that they were be attacked by what looked like biped dogs. They were smaller then werewolves and their limbs seemed dispoerposraint? I quickly aimed my rifle and looked into the scope, getting more detailed image of what was going on. I took note that these griffins looked like the ones I’ve seen before; brown body with a white eagle head. These Griffins seemed to be farmers as they were armed with farming equipment and a few swords. There looked to be ten strong as they protected the women and children.

Now the mutants on the other hand, looked to be primitive at best. They were dressed in poorly sewn pelts and armed with bone and rock. Not really the best weaponry compared to iron or steel. Assuming that these dogs were just savages, I laid down and aimed my rifle. Hoping I was making the correct assumption, I readied myself. Within a few moments, I mentally calculated distance and directory, even if I was not that far away, I still did it out of habit. I breathed steadily, and gently pulled the trigger.

*BOOM*

And as expected, I landed a good old headshot on one of the larger dogs. I watched through the scope as the dogs stopped their movements, the sudden sound making them drop their weapons and cover their ears. They searched for the source, only to find a dog missing a good chunk of his head. Both the Dogs and Griffins stood shocked while I on the other hand, I did not. Taking the opportunity, I skillfully moving the bolt at blurring speeds, ejecting the shell and bolting in another. I aimed at the next target, calculated, and fired. This time, landing one in the chest. The Dogs haven’t caught on and were still cowering from the blasting sound of my rifle. The griffins did not and took the advantage as they charged, taking down two more Dogs.

I heard a howl of fear amongst the now terrified raiders, sending the savages into a full retreat. I did not let them leave easy as I fired three more time. Landing two more and missing the last. Sighing, I loaded another five rounds and caught the stripper clip in mid air. Grabbing the somewhat hot shells, I packed them into my empty pocket. I aimed down the scope once again, observing the griffins as they searched for their savior. Lowering my gun, I got back up.

I needed to get down there. Saving them should give me an advantage on gaining need information and hopefully, some answers.

Switching the safety on, I slung my rifle onto my back. Stretching my wings a bit, I moved my two guns from messing with my wings. I really hoped I could glide down without breaking anything. Yet again, I decided to take the chance, I jumped off of my perch and held my wings out, letting them balance out my guided fall.

Now, I don’t know much about birds or how they fly, but I’ve air dived once when I still had the stomach. Sticking to those important yet horrid memories on how to slow and move through my descent, I glided through the air. The only problem with this was that I didn’t account for wind.

I began to spiral out of control.

Yet on instinctive impulse, I quickly flapped balanced myself in the air. Curving around the group, I then made a somewhat smooth landing in front of them. And for first time since I’ve awoken, luck seemed to like me now. Thank god I didn’t mess that up. Shaking my head, I looked up at them, seeing their shocked faces.

“What? Never seen a griffin fly?” I asked sarcastically, hoping to god that they would understand me, at least ease them before they stabbed me with those pointy pitchforks. Thankfully, this got them out of their stutter as they looked at each other, as if not knowing what to say at my response.

“Thank you.” I heard one of them say out in english. I looked down and saw a little ball of fluff pop out from behind the adults.

“Your welcome.” I answered back, smiling at the surprisingly cute little griffin. I thought bird babies were supposed to be ugly as hell? Whatever, the small thing stood wide eyed at the sight of me, looking just like a kid at christmas morning. He was quickly nudged back and hidden away by what I assumed to be his mother.

“What do you want mercenary?” Said an older one as he practically spat out the word. Yet I did not take offence as I notice he was clutching his chest over a bleeding wound.

“You're hurt, can you let me see your wound.” I asked politely, gaining a grunt from him.

“We don’t need the help of your KIND!” He spat, but this time with blood. He let out a cry as he fell, clutching his bleeding wound. The other Griffins quickly caught and lowered him onto the ground.

“Father!” Another griffin called out, grabbing his hands and looking into his tearing eyes.

“Let me help now or he’s gonna die.” I demanded. Even though I knew little about surgery and medical stuff, I wasn’t just gonna let this guy die. The griffin that I guessed to be the son, looked up at me, staring into my eyes for a moment.

“Help him.” He allowed. I didn’t hesitate as I quickly looked over his wounds. He had a nasty looking opening and was bleeding out profoundly. Thankfully, it wasn’t too deep and could be stitched. Yet I needed to cleanse and seal the wound fast before he bled out.

“Get me some bandages, towels, clean water, a needle and some thread. Now!” They did as I said as my voice brought authority over them. Rushing like mad, they quickly brought me what I needed. Reaching into my bag and pulled out a round for my Mauser.

“What’s that for?” Another demanded, hold a dagger at my back.

“To cleanse the wound.” I answered, ignoring his threatening jester and quickly soaking up the wound. I then washed the opening and quickly dried it. I then popped the bullet out and spread the gunpowder onto the wound.

“This is going to hurt a helluva lot, brace yourself.” I said. He gulped and shut his eyes, ready for the pain. I used the flint and the steel rod, igniting the powder. The Griffin screeched at the sudden burning pain, yet still held strong. Before the others could object to what I was doing, I began to sew the wound up as fast as I could, yet trying to be gentle. With the wound sealed, I wrapped the last of the cloth I had around his chest and made a knot, putting pressure on the stitched wound.

Now I’m no field medic or any trained specialist like that. Even though I saved this guy's life, I didn’t even pass biology in high school. So how did I do this? I saw this done in a movie. Simple as that. Don’t know why I remembered that particular movie, but I’m sure as hell glad that I did. By now the bandaged Griffin had passed out.

“Is he…” The son stated, just ready to mourn in sorrow.

“No. He just passed out from shock, I guess.” I pointed out, stepping back.

“He is alive and should get better.” I assured, letting him hug his father. I backed away a bit more, giving them some room. I watched him, making sure the son didn’t open up the stitches. The griffin with the dagger then came behind me, holding the blade against my non armored neck. Everyone got nervous as I stood still with the dagger at my throat.

“Put the blade down.” My voice spoke low with malice, hoping that I could scare him into letting his guard down. And it worked. He flinched away and that seemed to be all I needed as I quickly smacked the dagger out of his loose grip. I the grabbed him by the arm, flipped him onto the ground and twisted his arm down into submission. All done in one fluid motion, he cried in pain as I held him at the breaking point of his shoulder.

“I am not your enemy.” I said loud enough for everyone to hear. Glancing around, the farmers looked at me fearfully.

“First I scare those dogs off your hide, then I give medical treatment, and save one of your own from death. Yet he sees me as a threat? Does his ignorance represent you all?” I asked, clearly voicing my frustration at them. They said nothing, watching in shock as I twist the arm a bit, making the griffin scream in pain.

“I come and save you, yet this is how you thank me? Maybe I had mistake the dogs for being the victims?” I snarled, releasing my anger onto them. The griffins were now huddling in fear, as if I was a monster about to eat them. Few moments passed before I realized what I was doing. These people are scared and I’m about to break this guy’s arm off. This is not gonna help my reputation or get me answers.

A few moments passed as I stared into their eyes. Even an idiot could tell that they clearly feared me. Quickly understanding that this was not the best idea for making friends, I let him go. Releasing his arm, he quickly scurried onto his feet and joined his friends.

“However, that is not the case.” I stated, looking away from them.

“The truth is, I’m lost and in need of some guidance.” I told honestly. Yet I was not gonna go dropping the ‘I’m not a griffin’ bomb. They’ll just see me as crazy… Yet they probably already do by how they look at me… Shitbuckets.

“Hay. I’ll even make a deal.” I said, which perked some interest out of a few of them.

“What is it?” Asked the... Who is that one? Damn, I need their names.

“I’ll protect and guard your group as long as needed. In return, you lead me to the nearest city and help me get a map.” I offered, hoping they'll take the bait.

“What about daddy?” He asked the fluffball, looking up at me with a puppy face at god tier. DAMN IT! HE IS SO CUTE! CAN’T. RESIST. MUST. SUBMIT. Damn it Jack! Why does he have to be so freaking cute?!

“And I’ll see to it that your father gets well.” I said quickly, doing my best not to just rush up and hug the life outta him. They took their time talking to each other, discussing what they should do. When they finally came upon agreement to my offer, they had their own terms. Just as long as I don’t go killing or stealing from them, they said I could accompany them as a guard. Now it's time to get some info.

After chatting with a few of the Farmers, I got quite the story. Well it turns out that this wasn’t the first time they had been raided. First time was not from these ‘Diamond Dogs’ as they were called. Instead a hungry dragon burned down their town and farm to a crisp. If it wasn’t for me not caring and just going with it, I’d be having a panic attack by now. Thankfully, that didn’t happen as I continued to learned more about this world, while not revealing too much about myself.

While they still feared me, I now understood why. They had just survived a dragon attack and were heading to the city for help. Then they get ambushed and nearly killed before being saved by a strange colored griffin. Yeah, I’m apparently very strange to them. Yet I can’t blame them for being paranoid as they are.

Thankfully, nothing jumped us on our way to the city. I think the gunshots had scared most of the wildlife. Besides the boring long walk, I couldn’t help but question what kind of world I was in. Based on what I could get from the griffins, I could only assume that this land held other sentient mythological creatures. Hell, I’m probably in a some kind of fairy tale land for all I know. And if I can use magic, I’m so gonna freak out and try to use it. But first thing’s first. When we reach this Dune City, I’m gonna find a map and figure out where the hell I am.

Speaking of the city, it was by what the griffins told me, it was a outpost of sorts. While the city was a center trade route, it also was considered a free fortress. Whatever that meant. It was also the only connection to the rest of world for these farmers. Apparently, we were in a huge wasteland that spanned across the dry countryside and was barren for miles on end. Dune City was one of a few safe heavens in the ironically named wasteland. When I asked how this came to be, the elder told about the Great Wars. And man, it was some of the most scariest shit I’ve ever heard of. Basically from what I got out of his brief history lesson, it was medieval times having a near worldwide cold war era. Except these magic weapons got hot and messed the world up in more ways than intended.

Yeah…. That’s totally what you’d expect from a magical land of mythical griffons. In fact, this country is still coming back from the ashes. Yet still struggling from the aftermath a little bit under a few hundred years. Similar to Germany after world war one, griffins were the butt of the joke. Similarly to earth’s history, the world hasn’t given a damn about the griffins for centuries, or if there is a world out there to begin with.

Yet, as fascinating as it was learning about this world, he was only one source. Like anyone else, I can’t just base over a few hundred years worth of history on one person. That’s insanity. Besides his vivid history lessons, I mostly focused on where we were going. The city itself was made of ‘melted stone’ as he called it. Thanks to this forgotten building material, the city has been standing strong like that of roman concrete. In fact, I’m betting it is something akin to roman concrete.

Surprisingly, they weren’t asking that much from me. May it be I’m scary or just too strange for them, I don’t know. I don't pester them too much, so most of the time, we walked in silence. That is until that adorable devil came and hugged me outta nowhere.

“Wut.” Is all I could say as the fluffball hugged me.

“Even though mum said no, I think you needed a hug. Do you like hugs?” Goddamnit he is so ficking cute! I might as well have a heart attack by now.

“They are nice when needed.” I strained out. He gasped out in excitement as he stared up at me. I don’t know how, but I should die by heart failure any minute now. I can’t take this much!

“What’s dis?” He asked, poking the stainless steel barrel of my shotgun. Taking a moment breathe in some air, I looked back down at the little griffin.

“That is a shotgun my little friend.” I told, he didn’t seem understand my answer, so I continued.

“A shotgun is one of my hunting tools.” I answered simply. He gasped again, looking at the firearm like a raccoon dose with anything shiny.

“What does it do!” He asked eagerly, trying to pry it from me.

“If you keep trying to take it, how am I supposed to explain it?” I rhymed, getting him to giggle as I slung it off of my shoulder.

“This shotgun is one three similar tools I have on me. This thing shoots a bunch small metal balls a supersonic speeds that take down anything in their path.” I explained, letting him observe the gun closer.

“While I don’t use it that often, I use this shotgun for when I come across a angry bear or something alike.”

“Can it kill a Bugbear?” he asked, flapping his wings excitingly. Before I could even question such a monster ever existing, I noticed that we were approaching the main road to the City. While that wasn’t to important, what caught my eye was something very disturbing. Much more than a Bugbear.

Off in the horizon was a huge lion bat scorpion monstrosity. It stood over a dozen mutilated griffin corpses, ripping the dead with it’s maw. And in it’s eye, I saw a beast gone rabid with no logical reasoning. The rest of our group quickly noticed the bloody mess and the monster ahead.

“Run.” I started, pushing the fluffball to the others. The griffins needed no more words as they retreated back, grabbing their pitchforks as the four male griffins formed a protective wall. The beast looked up, noticing us and our movements. But what it saw was me standing there out in the open with my shotgun aimed ready. It observed me for a moment before charging madly. Without a second thought, I aimed down and pulled the trigger. The buckshot spewed out like fire and stuck the charging monster. It tripped upon the sudden blast and fell into the dirt, roaring in pain as the burning lead shredded into its flesh.

*Chuck-Check* *BOOM*

I fired another shell into the beast, this time pumping lead into its left shoulder and left wing. The monster roared in agony as it failed to get up. Closing in, I pumped the shotgun and ejected another shell. The lion cried in pain, trying to crawl away. With a boost of my wings, I jumped up and landed right before it. Quickly, I aimed the barrel at the base of it’s skull. The hideous hybrid let out a final cry as I blew it’s head into gore confetti, ending it. Observing my work, I grabbed a shell from the bandoleer and began reloading.

After loading the shells, I pried my gaze away from the death and towards the griffins behind me. I swore their eyes grew the size of dinner plates by my actions.

“Dinner anybody?”

After dealing with the shell-shocked griffins, I eventually convinced them to help me gut the Manticore as it was called. Speaking of that monster, it was huge! I mean, I’ve killed all kinds of game before, but this was the biggest one yet. It was nearly twice as large as a Black Bear and had huge wings. It also had a poisonous tail that could paralyze its prey with one puncture. Thanks to my shooting, most of the meat was unharmed and edible. Besides the dead monster, we had the dead griffins on our hands… Ermm, talons now.

Anyway! They were torn to shreds, barely recognizable from mushy gore. Not even enough body left to have a proper burial. So I did the next best thing.... Loot the bodies. What? The dead don’t care about their valuables, there dead! While there was nothing really salvageable, they had a few pouches of gold coins. These coins were known as “Bits” and were accepted worldwide as currency. When I asked about how trading bits worked, they looked at me like I was stupid, yet they explained it to me. I think they answered all of my questions out of fear. I mean, killing a monster three to four times your size without a scratch is impressive, but with such ease of my weapons-

Wait…

Weapons...

That’s it! They don’t just feared me, they are just scared of the unknown! I may be totally strange to then, but my weapons are probably like nothing they had ever seen. I might have as well have shown a caveman my guns and used it to kill the powerful monster. No wonder they're scared shitless. I’m an enigma with power and they don’t know how to properly adapt to it. I could… No. I’m not gonna just take full advantage of them. That’s just wrong in my book.

Besides the realization, I helped with gutting and packaging the meat. Yet another problem raised. They didn’t want to take the meat. Why? Well, it was my kill apparently. Before I could just facepalm my brains out, it made sense. They are predators and if I was to eat something they killed, it would be socially wrong in their eyes. After all, I was too, a hunter. Why did I not pick that up in the first place?

Anyway, as hesitant as they were from taking the food, I assured them that I didn’t need all of that meat to myself. Eventually, I convinced them that it was payment for their help and for anything that arises in the future. So they helped in finishing the gutting and we stored the meat onto a cart. After we settled that, we continued our way towards Dune City.

Author's Note:

All I really want to say that I am welcoming any good criticism, questions, and suggestions towards this story. I am working hard to improve my writing skills and become the best I can be.

On Redux notes:

Jack's Armor is basically a mix of normal Steel Armor and Dragon Carved Armor, which is a mod made armor for Skyrim. Obviously, the armor is shaped for our displaced blue jay griffon. The gauntlets are much more thinner and gloveless for his talons. His rear/underside is protected with big carved plated metal parts designed similarly with the rest of his armor's getup. Sorry if anyone could't understand his getup, I struggled with describing his armor.