Minnow Fellingchamp could feel the rumbling of the wagon as the caravan made its way through the flatlands. He sat in a cage, amongst dozens of other Beastmen, bound in chains.
Their heads hung low as they, their faces muzzled so they couldn’t bite and tear their way through the prison. Minnow, for one, wasn’t muzzled. It was quite odd, but that wasn’t the only oddity about him. He was, also, short— half the size of the [Wolf Beastmen]. He had white hair, and he wasn’t covered in fur like his cellmates. Also, he had pointed ears.
He was an Elf.
Now, it might seem odd that an Elf wasn’t in the Elven lands, considering that they were rather reclusive at times. Furthermore, it might seem even odd-er that an Elf had the name of a Beastman. But Minnow Fellingchamp hadn’t always lived here, nor had he always gone by that name.
His original name had been Bus’sin. He was born and raised in the Elven lands. In fact, he had been the son of a Principality. His father had been incredibly strict, forcing him to adhere to the Elven virtues without ever straying— even for a mere moment.
undefinedUnfortunately, that came with the side effect of fostering a fascination with the forbidden within him. So when his father enrolled him in one of the premier Elven academies for magic, he picked up… well, necromancy.
It went well at first— in the sense that no one found out about his dabbling with the undead. Necromancy was punishable by death in the Elven lands, but he kept his secret hidden. And no one would have if he hadn’t spilled the secret to his best friend who so happened to be his cousin.
What Bus’sin didn’t know then was that his cousin had been jealous of his status all this time, so he exposed the burgeoning [Necromancer]. Faced with death in his home lands, Bus’sin fled to the ocean— taking a ship and sailing far away.
He'd hoped to find refuge in the land of the Cyclops. Unfortunately, a storm washed him off course and he somehow found himself… here. In the Beastmen Plains. Where necromancy was not, in fact, frowned upon.
Here, he gave up his original name and picked up the name of Minnow Fellingchamp. Of the Fellingchamp Tribe. The tribe that took him in when he had nothing. He now traveled around the Beastmen Plains, hoping to spread the kindness he received from that tribe around.
And that was how he ended up in this mess. The Elf sighed as he cast his gaze around the cage. The [Wolf Beastmen] around him were growling, poking their heads out of the bars, but unable to break out. He’d been passing through the Furious Whispers Tribe, when he was embroiled in an inter-tribal conflict.
He wanted to help, but he wasn’t ready for the ambush that happened overnight. The entire Furious Whispers Tribe was caged and locked up, with its greatest warriors slain defending them. If Minnow had been better prepared, perhaps he could’ve done something…
He heard a sniffle come from behind him. He craned his neck. Three [Lion Beastman] cubs huddled together in the corner, tears in their eyes. Fear on their faces.
“...what’s going to happen to us, Mountaintooth?”
“I… don’t know…”
They whispered quietly to each other. Minnow bit his lower lip as he saw this scene. Taking in a deep breath, he approached them. They cowered back, but he offered them a kind smile.
“Hey, it’s going to be alright.”
He calmed them. They looked up at him— well, actually, they looked straight at him because he was around their height. Still, his soft words seemed to reassure them at least slightly. The foremost cub eyed him hesitantly.
“We’re going to be sacrificed.”
His voice turned into a growl as Minnow felt a pang in his heart.
“That stupid Grave Hill Tribe will have us all killed if it means saving their land from the curse.”
The three [Lion Beastman] cubs lowered their heads, dejected. The Elf couldn’t help but sympathize with their situation— and that was why he hushed them, speaking as gently as he could.
“I know, I know. But just trust me.”
They exchanged confused glances. Then the caravan suddenly ground to a halt. The entire cage shook. There were shouts— screams. The cubs blinked, confused. And he winked at them.
“Everything will be fine.”
After all, there were a lot of things a Level 115 [Necromancer] could do.
“We’re under attack!”
Nalok raised his head. The [White Tiger Beastman]’s eyes narrowed as he halted in his feet. He turned around, looking at the procession grind to a halt. He drew a scimitar and growled.
“What’s going on?”
A [Leopard Beastman] ran up to him, answering as he panted.
“Great Chieftain Nalok! We’re under attack by undead!”
“What?”
Nalok frowned. Just undead? That sounded ridiculous to him. He was Level 135, and his tribe was full of warriors. Great fighters, even if they lacked in numbers compared to other tribes. They averaged at Level 40, with many of them reaching up to Level 70.
“Deal with them. A few [Skeletons] and [Zombies] shouldn’t be any trouble for the Grave Hill Tribe.”
He snarled as he turned around. The [Leopard Beastman] bowed and quickly started off. Nalok shook his head and sheathed his blade. Waste of my time. But a voice drew his attention. A white-haired creature, carried in a cage to his right.
“When did you become so cruel, Nalok?”
Tuktox, the eldest of the Furious Whispers Tribe, was locked up in a special cell. He was an [Ape Beastman]. Old and wizened. He bowed his head, a look of melancholy on his face.
“I had thought your Nakog raised you better.”
Nalok’s brows snapped together. That irritated him. What else annoyed him was the fact that he could still hear the fighting in the background.
“Don’t you dare speak about my father like that. He raised me to be a great warrior. And that is what I have become.”
The [White Tiger Beastman] puffed up his chest. Tuktox closed his eyes.
“So why do you do this? Why betray the peace between our tribes? Why attack us now?”
“I told you, didn’t I? The [Witch] said so. She saw it in a vision. The curse shall destroy our land if we don’t offer it a thousand sacrifices.”
“And you believe that [Witch]’s mad claims? Where is the [Witch] now, Nalok?”
Tuktox asked, baffled. Nalok snorted as the commotion in the background continued.
“The [Witch] waits for our return. She will oversee the ritual. Now silence. I do not want to hear your chatter any longer.”
“You have fallen so far if you truly think that shedding the blood of innocents will save your tribe.”
The [Ape Beastman] wept. But the Great Chieftain of the Ghost Hill Tribe ignored him.
“The weak will always fall prey to the strong, Tuktox. You know that as well as I do.”
Nalok shook his head. He turned away, shouting as the fighting still continued.
“Deal with those damn undeads already!”
However, the same [Leopard Beastman] came running up to him, covered in blood.
“Great Chieftain!”
“What is it, Swifttail?”
Nalok crossed his arms.
“The prisoners— they are escaping!”
“What?”
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