:: Dear Diary… I never liked Werewolves. I’m more of a Vampire fan girl myself. It's not because they are the Vampire's natural enemy since the dawn of time, that's not the reason why I dislike beastfolk like them. It’s… how should I put it, without being called an @ss... Stories about how they're extremly violent to random people on the road, or kidnapping innocent sheeps for breakfast, lunch, and dinner plays a factor to my ill will towards them, what really makes me wet my pants every now and then... Is the rumor of how 'wild' they can be during mating season... I heard they have a preference for girls with pointy ears and bodies without a speck of fur... Today, I feel like I'm f*cked... N-not literally, I hope... Gulp. ::
----------------------------------------
<< Chieftain of the Lycan Tribe has offered you a Job Request >> << Will you Accept the Mission Offer (Y/N)? >>
=> ...........................
........................
........................
........................
... What is your final answer?
"Sorry, but I don't trust you right now."
“Like I said, Miss Adventurer. We seek your help in fighting the Vampires. We mean no ill will against you or your kind whatsoever.”
"I have no doubt you have peaceful intentions, but would you at least repeat that sincere comment without staring at my bosom? Please?"
"... Sorry. It's been a while since my pack mate is one with the Great Hound Spirits in the sky... Even to this day, I still miss her."
"Staring at another woman with hungry eyes is still considered adultery. Do your wife a favor and look at my face instead."
Pastrache clicked her tongue.
What she thought was an all out assault delivered by a pack of Werewolves turned out to be some sort of misunderstanding. To her surprise, the 10 or 20 warriors and villagers were greeting her and Nello into their tribe.
She even felt the weight of their consideration and open-hearts around her neck, all 10 rings worth of hand-knit flowers. As much as she liked the smell they gave off, being that of honey and lilac, she would politely turn down more offerings. Not only was it attracting bees to bite her chaste flesh, any more and thecombined mass will snap her neck in three places.
That would be bad for business, don't you agree.
"...Mr. Chieftain sir. You're still staring at my breasts. Is there a need to even squint?"
"Do not misunderstabd, my eyes aren't as sharp as they use to be during my young and reckless days as a Lycan pup. I'm also starting to lose my memory hear and there, so my Guardians would help to write down your name onto a leather tag so I could read it... But d*mn, when will they ever improve their handwriting, their claws keep smudging up the vowels... What does it say... P...Pas...Pis...Pizza....Piston?"
"No. It's Pastrache. No, you can't call me Pasta as a pet name. I hate that."
“Please forgive me, I wish I could buy presecription glasses from the city. Alas, my entire tribe are surviving off whatever Mother World has to offer in her nature so we don't make much money to survive like you do. If I truly indule myself in such a leisure, my selfishness would surely bankrupt my people... I don't want that."
"I honestly don't know if I should feel sorry for you, or slap you. Please keep your tail in check and stop making it lick my hips. I'm not a beastman like you, so that kind of erotic play just turns me off."
Pastrache the Half-Elf could be found in the middle of an open camp.
It was an area within the forest range that provided space for a series of sharp prism-like tents and cone-shaped tepees sitting on soft compacted earth. In the center looked like a gathering place, decorated with an active campfire about 5 meters in diameter and guarded by finely polished rocks.
The hearth of any decent native tribe, with healthy flames dancing like fairies curious of the world around them
[https://d.wattpad.com/story_parts/590033892/images/153b74fcc86ecd4221663930575.gif]
"...Mr. Chieftain. I told you my name. So why are you still squinting at my bosom as if you want to see the fine lines of my cleavage. I'm starting to feel very uncomfortable."
"I forgot your name. I'm still trying to read the bad hand writing on your label."
"Pastrache! My name is Pastrache! H-how hard is it to remember a simple name like that!?"
The Half-Elf could be sitting before what seemed to be the largest tent in the community. Right in front of her, with a mopey looking face and a superbly wrinkled complexion, was a St. Bernard.
Kid you not, the one she was talking to was a man-shaped St. Bernard Werewolf. He looked so old, he could be getting a pension next month. If only he knew what RRSP was... you know, Registered Retired Savings Plan...
For the record, his name was not Beethoven. He didn't look anything like a certain composer who was well known for his raging composition and world changing music like Ode to Joy.
Nyet.
... On the other hand, if this narrator were to try and pronounce his natural name in his tribal tongue, this narrator would surely bite her tongue.
"Ahem. Let us return to the mater at hand. I'm calling upon an Adventurer like you, because my entire Lycan tribe is in danger from the epidemic that is the Vampire Clan. They've been constantly hunting after us for over a millenia and they've become more bold in attacking us unprovoked in the recent years. As of now, they are nothing more than a plague to our livelihood."
"I know you have a bitter side towards Vampires, what with the whole arch-nemesis thing going for Goddess knows how long, but don't talk about them as if they were cold-hearted monsters!! My favorite actor is a Vampire, and he's played in more romance and comedy film than the number of canine teeth you have in your maw. I-I know I was bias about Werewolves being violent towards the women they capture, b-but at least don't think all Vampires are evil @ssholes!"
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
"I assure you, Miss Elf. The Vampires I am speaking off are purely evil. All of them. They've been pursuing my people since the dawn of time, either draining them of their blood or forcefully carving their skin off to be sold on the market like cheap pelt! Now, they've not only captured our women and children to be sold as slaves in a foreign country, they've also taken my daughter!"
"... I heard dogs can proliferate by the basket load. There was one breed of Dalmation that was able to give birth to a maximum of 101."
"That's a regular mutt, not a Werewolf. We're may look like animals, but we're not animal! We wash our paws after going to the bathroom! Besides, there is no way a Lycan Woman could pop that many pups out from her womb in one sitting, tha's unethical!. And were you not paying attention? My pack mate is already one with the Great Hound Spirits in the Sky. That's equivalent to your people's saying of 'she's with the angels now'. And I'm old, as if I could find another suitable bride to continue my line last minute."
"Why bring me into this matter between two clans? I mean, you have your warriors right. You know, these buff looking guys that's standing behind my back and breathing down my neck. They look like they can give even the best of the Royal Constabulary a run for their money."
"Dead. All 50 of them."
"................................................... I... I'm sorry. I wasn't considerate of your feelings."
[https://i.giphy.com/media/6LFpgSJKJOaFG/giphy.webp]
Pastrache bit her lip. She felt like a complete @sshole after she said those reckless words. Either not caring, or too understanding, the St. Bernard Cheiftain waved it off by tapping his staff that resembled a long and thing bon that dogs love to gnaw on.
"... I will be frank. I was made Chieftain against my will. The previous Elders wanted to end the Vampire's Hunting of our kind and set off on a grand campaign to destroy them... Even with our magical canoes that could fly and render our presence invisible during he night, not a single one returned... I, being the strongest despite my youth, had no choice but to take up this position... or else my tribe would be lost."
".................."
"My daughter is the only thing of value I have left in this cruel world. She is the only belonging of mine that I can smile and forget about the pain I've endured... Worse, she is my only heir. No one in the tribe as of now are capable of taking up the mantle of leadership. If the other rival Lycan groups and organizations hear about this vacancy, they would surely attack and assimilate us into their packs as lesser servants. I don't want that."
".......................But why me?"
"You're expendable... I mean."
"Go ahead. I'll give you a chance to repeat yourself."
"Cough. Y-you're the only one capable of completing my one and only request. Yes. Cough."
The St. Bernard tapped his bone staff, to hide his uncomfortable cough. He waved off his previous remarked by rubbing the brow on his wrinkly face. It only made him look more akin to a Bull Dog... with hair of a Scottish Terrier. Despite how gentle the Chieftain's plea was, Pastrache still had this skeptic look.
"That still doesn't answer as to why you wrote 'werewolf slaying' and not 'vampire slaying' in your original request form. If you hadn't explain to me your position, or if it were some other ambitious rookie who wanted to climb his way up the Guild Ranks, your tribe would have suffered significant damages... Why such a bold order?'
"........................"
"Well?"
"Surely you would know the answer."
"... Is this some kind of riddle that natives like you like to give out and allow the protagonist to search within themselves for the answer in their heart? You know, sing with all the voices in the mountains? Paint with all the colors of the wind?"
"No. It's even more straight forward: Which is easier to kill? A Werewolf or a Vampire?"
"Werewolf of course--F**K!"
"Exactly. Who the h*ll in their right mind would want to pick a fight with a character that can't be killed by any weapon known to mankind? Even if you had a stake in your hand, do you really think these Vampires with over 300 years of combat experience would leave their bodies open for you to crawl up to their coffins and stab the sh*t out of them? Hmm?"
"......................................................................"
"It's fine. You don't have to hide your emberassment. You can look back at me now."
"D*mn it old mutt, don't up and read through me like an open book!?"
The Half-Elf bit her tongue. She wanted to throw her fist at the wrinkling dog with the big skull. However, it was difficult to move without slitting her own throat on a series of spears tied with sharpen rocks. They were touching the skin on her neck, right over the veins and artery. One false more, and the security detail will cut both pips and bleed her out like a chicken.
...God.
"Good goddess, what did I get myself into?"
"... I won't lie to you. It's been half a year since I post that request up. I used up whatever personal savings I had to pay the monthly fee to keep it up... I thought they would have pulled it down when I was three months overdue... I truly felt at ease when you rode on your wagon to meet with us."
"... Nello isn't a wagon. He's a tank."
"... I beg your pardon?"
"That's not the important thing right now."
"Then... what is?"
"Payment. Your request stated that I would get 5 Million Gold if I was to kill a Werewolf. Given the fact that a Lycan like you is the true client and you want me to hunt a Vampire, I expect bonus or even double pay for the misinformation......"
"...................................................................................."
"... Well?"
"Sorry. I'm an old dog. My ears aren't as sharp as they used to be. Cough."
"Don't lie to me old dog, I know you heard me."
"... Alright. I'll pay you in full."
"You don't have 5 million gold, don't you?"
"My tribe only has 150 gold pieces to feed all 30 families and 60 warriors... Our only income is secretly selling our produce and minotaur milk to the local markets. Please spare us."
"............................................................Nello. Stop playing with the puppies and let's go home. I want a shower."
"Wait! I-I'll pay you in full!! D-don't pat your butt and leave!"
"With what then?"
"......................Will fresh corn and buffalo hide suffice."
"No. Only Cash, Credit, or Debit."
"............Heartless woman."
"Bite me---N-NOT MY @SS, YOU PERVERT!"
Contrary to what people believe, the life of a Client and Adventurer was very difficult. Even in this reality, there was something called the Recession...... Sigh. Don't give up the day job...
[https://pa1.narvii.com/5926/53ebbd5f5a2c822c3b0beae295bb55b6cd5c536f_hq.gif]
'No, not this easy... sob (TxT)'