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Unlikely Partnership

“What the fuck happened here?!”

The lead raider couldn’t believe his eyes. He went out of the compound to stalk targets and possibly reap up some rewards for himself and the others, but then, when he returned back to the ruins, after two days, he saw what remains of his raiders and the possible carnage that happened.

The whole place was devastated. If it was a ruin before, it was practically unrecognizable as a former human supply depot. He specifically chose that place due to the underground storage of weapons, still in pristine condition after the war, to use them in his motive to rule the area. Now, like the scenery around it, it was reduced to rubbles, with its overgrown building nothing more than bricks and chunks of rocks.

But that wasn’t the one the lionman was concerned about. He knew that, sooner or later, the place would blow. He felt that he was the brains while the people following him were either incompetent fool or illiterate, clumsy drug addict who could not even hold a cup straight. It was easy for him to know how volatile the place was. It was also the reason why he planned to move to somewhere less risky. For the feline, a small group like that would be disposable, so he only took competent people he regarded to be equal. His brothers-in-arms as they say.

Seeing the carnage in front of him made him aware of the situation involved. His base was attacked, either by other raiders or ruthless and murderous bounty hunters who were not as different as the raiders. This time, however, was different. The bodies of his underlings were mauled to death by a beast, or beasts’, claw. Their mutilated bodies were either torn off or having a big gash akin to the sharp claws of his feral brethren in the past. The damage from the explosives were less apparent than the wounds.

He then noticed one of them still alive, yet barely and close to death. The lionman quickly told his companions to see if anyone stayed to finish the job while he walked towards the mortally wounded human.

“Hey, you’re one in charge of the bunker, right?!” said the lionman. “What happened here? Who the fuck did this to you!”

“N-not sure, boss,” said the man. “Some fuckin’ croc just bang on the door and throw that m’tal to Chuck there. His head got ripped. Then he just tear up rest of ‘em like paper…”

“A croc?!”

“Yea. Seems pissed to me.”

The lionman proceeded to try and get him out of the rubble, but his fragile human body was far too damaged. His lower part was trapped and cut from the rest of his body. What remained of him was his torso.

“Where are they headed?” said the lionman.

“No clue. I just sittin’ ‘ere with my balls cut. I…”

The lionman tore his throat and broke his neck, killing him instantly. He munched the flesh in his mouth as the survivors watched, in horror. His bloodied visage, with his maws covered in blood, earned him the nickname of ‘Bloody Gwynn’. Though he regarded himself as someone with an above average mind and practically the reason of his claim of leadership, he was also a man-eater, literally. As a lionman who had been deprived of food for so long, resorting to eating freshly killed corpses was something akin to gold for his dying body. That drive for survival eventually corrupted him, and he hunted for live, living flesh to eat.

“Search the perimeter. I want that croc to be found!” exclaimed Gwynn. “I’m gonna fucking kill that son of a whore and eat his fucking brain out!”

“Y-yes, boss! On our way!” said his subordinates in fear. The lionman never thought that everything he had worked for turned bad horribly. But then a thought came through him as he saw the rest of the bodies. They did not look like they were killed by the claws of a beast, but by a simple cut. Others, while masked by the explosion, was killed by a shot through his head. What’s even more glaring were traces of magic use.

This gave him a conclusion he needed. Yet, before he could relay this discovery, something happened.

There was another explosion coming from the remains of the front door, where his companions were. He had no time to be surprised when he heard a loud roar coming from the basement. He soon realized that he was walking into a trap.

“Shit!” was the only thing he managed to say when he saw a green reptilian figure ran to him and tackled him to the ground. He was clearly the same croc that cause inhuman injuries to some of his people.

“I should’ve know you’re a danger,” said the croc. “You fucking cannibal.”

“Yeah? You look like one of those people, too.”

“Wanna see what I’m capable of?”

Gwynn closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable, but he was then saved by a voice.

“Karkas, stop!” exclaimed a soothing voice. Gwynn opened his eyes and saw an elf walked near the croc.

“You’re not supposed to tackle him to the ground. We have talked about this.”

“Fear is something these people knows best, elf,” said the croc while glaring at the lionman.

“He is not that easily intimidated. He’s a lionman, a proud beast race.”

“Proud and mad, as you can see.”

“Don’t you think you’re too excessive? We are supposed to capture him, not shred him to pieces!”

“Not my style, elf.”

“Easy for you to say,” said another male voice. This time it was coming from a Loup. “We need the goddamn muns, and him living can give us more.”

“He’s a cannibal and a menace. It’s easier to sleep at night if there’s one less people like him.”

“One of a dozen more, or even a town full of them,” said the wolfman. “Now stand down, Karkas. I’ve gotten too much problem with this job.”

Karkas looked at the wolfman and then back at Gwynn, who was trying to show a visage of power. The croc then grunted and said, “Fine. Do what you want with him.”

The wolfman then approached Gwynn and said, “You know, I still prefer killing you. Easier to take your head to them instead of bringing your body. But you know what? Greed is good.”

The wolfman then proceeded to hit his face, and he quickly lost consciousness.

***

Gwynn didn’t know how much time had passed when he was unconscious and when he woke up. When he opened his eyes, he could see that there was a crowd gathering in front of him, and he was on the top of a platform. He quickly reacted and tried to find out what happened to him and what those hunters were doing to him, yet he couldn’t move his head, or even his body for that matter. When he saw a young lionman cub was pointing at him and laughed at him, he wanted to scare him off, but realized that he couldn’t speak, with only muffled, incoherent words coming out of his mouth.

It was slowly apparent, as his senses completely returned to him, that he was restrained and his body was forcefully bent with his legs also manacled so he couldn’t move. Thick padding, or otherwise restrictive collar to the restrain around his neck prevented the much-needed movement to look around. On top of that, his mouth was stuffed with something that felt like a ball or a log that was snugly put inside his big maw and was tied in a way that he could not spit it out or even move his jaws to talk, hence the muffled, incoherent words.

But what’s worse was the light sensation of his body. As a beast race who belonged to one of the feline races, he had fur all over his body, with a thick mane around his head and neck that showed that he was a lionman. However, years of being inside a make-shift scrap armor made him more adapted to its weight than wearing simple clothes. This caused his body to become sensitive, like moments when he was having a sex or showering. He realized that he was naked, and he wasn’t sure if his loins were covered by anything at all.

Gwynn panicked and completely lost his pride. For a lionman like him, being humiliated was worse than death, even if that wasn’t logically sound. He somehow felt what would happen to him next. He would be auctioned and turned into a slave, stripped from his prideful armor and becoming a mostly naked slave whose fate would be determined by his master. He wanted to assure himself that it was temporary and he knew that it was nothing. Things could happen with the world in the state of ruins.

And yet, he panicked and his stern glare turned into pitiful eyes. He realized that he had lost. Gwynn knew very well, as someone whose whole life had been struggling to stay alive and refusing to give up, that there was an easier and far better end than being kept alive, humiliated, and sold like an object.

He was better off dead.

***

While Gwynn was being humiliated in the town square, pilloried and gagged by a giant red ball stuffed into his mouth, in addition with a wooden plaque hanging by his neck saying ‘Cannibal and Raider’, the Wanderers looked at him, feeling both pity and sympathy. Yes, he was the leader of the raiders that had terrorized that town, and he was a cannibal who would cause nightmares for children and adults, but his fate was clearly worse than death.

Jek wondered if Gwynn was nothing more than a small spot from a bigger world full of freaks and mads. Yes, he was a cannibal, but he knew his actions. The people who tied him up like that was clearly enjoying the view of his predicament. The red ball gag was a relic from a bygone era where it was once a hobby and one of the many ways of having sex games. Now, however, it was a symbol of humiliation. With the world ended and things like those scattered everywhere around the land, it was easy to assume that it was not a toy and more of an actual torture, and thus was replicated for that purpose. Seeing how a once proud lionman was stripped of his armor and having his mane shaved made him felt bad of taking that job.

He had been assured by the employer, the mayor of the town, that Gwynn would not be sold as a slave and would instead be “locked in a dungeon like a filth he is”. Even though that was true, since the town had a strict policy about slavery (if that was even a thing in a town made from ruins of a grand city), the lionman was off-limit, as do all captured raiders they turned in for extra muns.

“Thank you for your hard work, Wanderers,” said the mayor. “Now that his reign of terror is over, I must give you a sincere thank you for a job well done. Here’s the muns as promised.”

After receiving the muns, Karkas, who was standing near the door, grunted and said, “He’s better off dead than being humiliated like that.”

“It’s not your call,” said the mayor. “Anyway, the town is open for you to stay. The pub is always full and ready to accept you.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Jek while walking out of the room. “We made a camp out of here and our things are there. Wouldn’t want to make your inn packed with our stuffs, right?”

“Right….” The mayor then smiled as Jek silently walked away from him. But before Jek closed the door behind him, he said, “It’s a shame most of the citizens don’t like Fa’ars in this town. I’ve met some that’s anti-stereotypic, if I said it right.”

Jek did not reply and just leave. It was inevitable that Narati’s scent would stuck with the wolfman. The mayor was a dogman with a model they called ‘Dalmatian’, based on a book about dog breeds he once had when he was a pup. It said they came from the region of Dalmatia, hence their name. Jek wondered if dogmen like him was considered exotic or not, since he was a rare sight, even for a wolfman who had travelled a lot like him. Having blue eyes were enough to tell him that he was a rare breed.

As they walked down the stairs and met Raine, Jek looked towards Karkas and said, “You shouldn’t have tackled him to the ground like that, or even roar.”

“It’s easier to do that than your complicated plan, wolf,” replied Karkas.

“That’s not my style. And besides, it is worth the effort. Well, most of the time, anyway.”

“I don’t understand how you can do this so easily while most people just blow things up or otherwise having a high kill count.”

“I prefer doing it solo, but since I’m now in a group, there are a lot of things that can work well with others.”

“Yes, and you think that rat’s explosives would work in your subterfuge methods.”

“You know what? Stop complaining and I won’t bother you.”

Karkas grunted and looked away. Jek could hear him say, “I’ve been reduced into a fucking strongman ever since I joined this circus.” Jek could not blame the croc for distrusting the group, mostly because he was new. If the wolfman was still in his old personality, he might act like Karkas.

He just hoped that Narati could change Karkas like he changed Jek and Raine.

The three of them intentionally leave Narati with Aranis back in the camp for two reasons. Aranis felt that she had a bad feeling as to what would happen to the lionman, and Narati because of the law of the town. Other than that would be the sight of the lionman itself. Jek wanted to be wrong, but if Narati saw what happened, it would trigger his psychosis and ended up burning down the whole town. The sight of a maneless lionman being pilloried and humiliated by a crowd was like the sight of what happened a year ago that started the incident that burned a whole free town to the ground. Jek did not want that to happen to that settlement, especially seeing that it was not full of amoral people and there were children in it.

Like always, Karkas did not try to talk with Narati even though the rat person was trying to be nice to him. He didn’t seem to antagonize Narati, but it was clear that the croc did not like the Fa’ar, out of experience. Narati was sad about this fact. He knew whatever he did would not change the fact that most Fa’ars were liars and traitors, and that hardened the croc like his hard-bulletproof scales. If it wasn’t for him getting triggered and seen by Jek and Raine as someone who needed help, he would still be wandering alone and the Wanderers would not have formed. That won’t work with Karkas, though. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t cause sympathy for him. It would just make him convinced that Fa’ars were far more destructive than just being tricksters or liars. If that happened, he would simply kill Narati to save his hide.

Karkas’s addition to the group also caused them to become tense due to his hard-to-trust personality. The croc might not trust Narati, but he also did not trust the rest of them, and it wasn’t because of their association with the Fa’ar.

The next night, Jek had enough of Karkas feeling different from the rest of the group, despite of only travelling with him for just a week. He intentionally slept first so Karkas could become first watch, but then he woke up and sat beside the croc.

“It’s not your round yet,” said Karkas.

“I know. I just want to talk,” replied Jek. “Want something to eat?”

“I’m not that hungry.”

“Yeah, I know. Just want to talk. Can’t sleep.”

They sat there for a while before Karkas said, “You don’t need to warm up to me, wolf. I’m not a nice person, and you shouldn’t bother.”

“No one’s a nice person in this group. That person has died a long time ago. All we do is to stay alive and survive as long as we could without corrupting ourselves.”

“How do you corrupt yourself if you already kill to survive?”

“For me, killing is inevitable. But, the moment you regard others as nothing more than an object, that’s when the corruption begins. From there, killing is not the worst thing you can do.”

“I can see why you despised slavery that much,” said Karkas.

“Nah, it isn’t me,” said Jek. He then looked towards Narati. “That rat changed me.”

“How? By tricking you?”

“No, not really. Well, like you, I didn’t trust him, but when I heard his age and the horrors he had faced, well…I can’t let him alone. Do you know that Fa’ars move in pack?”

“I know they can’t fight alone and need others to support them, given how weak they are. But are you sure he’s harmless?”

“You want to hear a story about my last encounter with a Fa’ar?”

“No need. It’s going to be like mine anyway.”

“Yeah…I guess that’s how we looked at Fa’ars before. But…seeing how tortured Narati is…I can’t just leave him alone. Besides, he was 15 when we met and he’s a miserable fuck. We thought that he was better off in slavery, but…he got triggered by it, and by the end of the day, he burned down a whole town.”

“From tricks to arson, huh? I guess they decided to up their play after all and having a backbone.”

“It’s just him, actually,” said Jek while sipping his drink. “But crocs don’t go around this part, so why?”

Karkas went silent for a moment before he said, “I’ve got my own mission. It’s not your business, but it involved a Fa’ar.”

“Why am I not surprised? So, he’s a Fa’ar and he almost killed you. Why can’t you just kill him and be done with it?”

“Because he’s a coward. I don’t know what was in his mind, but as soon as we did a job, he put a slug in my head and take all my things, leaving me with the clothes I’m wearing. His aim was obviously bad, so that is why I’m alive. Since then, I can’t trust Fa’ars, even if they are still 16 and clearly a child. I may not have a heart to kill them, but I believe they are scheming to take away all my stuffs.”

“Narati is not like that.”

“Yes, because you put him in his place.”

Upon hearing that Jek did not answer, which made Karkas felt right.

“I’m right, am I? But well, it has been a year now. My relationship with his kind is just a week or so, so I guess you have a reason to trust him.”

“So why can’t you trust him?”

“Because until that worm-tail’s head is sticking on a stick somewhere and left to rot, I won’t trust any of them. I do not blame you or that elf for trying to help that rat, but I won’t, so don’t get any ideas that our relationship is more than professional.”

Jek stared at the hulking croc before he said, “Get to sleep.”

As Jek tried to sleep, he kept thinking about what Karkas said, and the possibility of how the relationship went in their newly created mercenary group. He knew there would be a possibility that someone joining them was for the gain of wealth, and no personal relationship. He knew that would happen, so why? He felt like he wanted Karkas to be a family to them. Why would he think of that?

Was it because of Aranis or Narati? Jek had been a lone wolf most of his life, but the moment he met Narati changed him. Was it a good idea to keep it that way?

He did not think about it, and went to sleep, ending his day.