The sun above was bright as he ran through the foliage, running from damnation, by fire, stake or cross, once they had him he was done. With a skip in his beat he almost tripped over a stone in his path, cursing loudly ”Piss drinkers! ” he kept on charging the forest. A whistle met his thigh, looking down he saw a faint cut on the side of his ankle. Arrows, just what he asked for. His charge became ever more fervent. He made sure to look behind him as much as he could, but to also watch the trail. With one particularly unlucky glance he tumbled over a very inconveniently formed stone.

What had happened last night caused his miserable situation. He was not running from some enemy, or foe, though they could be considered that now. He was running from his own family. Late at night the day before he had awoken to find himself scratching on the walls of his room. The scratches ran deep. He had looked in bewilderment at his own hand, though it seemed normal. Had he been turned by the blight of the night? He hadn been bitten by the Shegoli, the Shegoli are a race of dark-fire demons that delight in human suffering, theres a saying that goes, ”One bite a wolf a man, one claw a demon a man, one breath a death a man ” He didn find himself to be oozing dark-fire so he discounted the second option, and since hes alive the third option was automatically revoked. He is 16, staring at a wall where had left his half an inch gouges in. They didn seem to come from his dainty little fingers. He was supposed to be a scribe.

His father kicked down the door, seemingly hoping to rescue his son, seeing his son staring at his hand in front of the clawed wall, he yelled, ”Angus, just what in the bloody ** are you doing? ” Angus looked back at his father, only to see him lower his head and sigh deeply. ”To think that we had adopted a Sheogli spawn, what a shame, youd have served this village well. Though its good that we found out now ” The fathers somber tone turned indifferent. Facing Shegoli, its been taught by the Church, the school and the government to be heartless. Making one mistake will get everyone killed. That was when he broke through his window and ran.

After regaining his bearings he darted off to the right, his pursuers were getting closer. Bloody hunters, if he had been one he wouldn have been in this tight a spot. He grunted and found leverage on a tree and started rapidly climbing. This was usually a very, very stupid thing to do, but he had managed to keep himself out of sight for long enough for them not to see him scramble, albeit with great difficulty, up this oak. The branches were low enough so it wasn impossible for his one hundred and seventy five centimeter self to head through the shroud of glossy leaves. He stayed still listening to them running past him, a good thing too since his calves and thighs were burning. He got up and slowly ventured down the tree onto the ground, walking in the opposite direction. Although this seemed rather stupid to do, and is, he couldn help his own anatomy and lack of exercise. He was a bit chubby, and the fact that he got this far was a miracle. If he didn walk off this throbbing pain, it would get worse, and since his now foes were running off to who knows where, he can now peacefully take a walk.

So he thought.

A howl sounded in the distance, he started trying to run, though his performance now was even less than his earlier shoddy one. He hoped he had enough distance, because he didn have the speed. Then he saw it in all its glory. Piss. The piss of a great beast to be exact, great beasts are beasts that have bloodlines of demi-gods within them, usually less than half the blood is demi-gods, although they enjoy screwing around, they didn do it often in the eyes of humans. Generally when a demi-god screws an animal, half of its blood is carried over to the offspring of the animal, or sometimes demi-god, though the latter rarely happens due to the demi-god not wanting an animal inside them… Again. For humans though, they get more of the demi or god bloodline, though this doesn translate to much, usually a percentage or two, it is possible for humans to conceive more of their god bloodline then slowly form their own bloodline. Though most die at this stage, this is generally how demi-gods are made. When two gods have offspring, it usually results in miscarriages or more often their creations being human. This generally defies perception, so the gods could only keep screwing humans over in the hopes that they would becomes their demi-god chosen. To clarify if a person awakens their bloodline entirely, they become a demi-god, only by remaking their bloodline into their own, can they become a god, but since the death rate is so high, almost nobody takes the risk. Then he rolled into the piss.

It stank, he almost vomited, but kept rolling in it, he even made the effort to get as much on him as he could. Normal wolves would never stalk a human or animal marked by a great beast. Theres just one problem though, the urine of great beasts usually sticks around for a month or so, sometimes much shorter, sometimes much, much longer. Thats why nobody rolls in it, since it can stay with you for the rest of your life, always impacting everything you do. Make food? Tastes like piss. Make beer? Tastes like piss. It basically ruins your career unless you become some scholar or builder or find yourself lacking a sense of right and wrong, and taking the job to kill or screw people in their sleep, sometimes both. He had the suspicion that he had some demi-god blood in him, though itd be hard to see. Getting control of the bloodline is the easiest part, but before that easy part, he has to deal with the hard part, which is to find a new place to stay, hopefully with hyposmia, hopefully the strongest kind, he had a feeling hed be smelling like that beast for a very long and unpleasant time to come.

He found a small set of deer footprints leading in two directions. It seemed a deer went in a circle here, maybe it had gotten lost? He shook his head and used a very scientific method of probing the correct path. What he did was he took one set of the footprints, traced the light from the sun to the shadows and with that he could conclude that the deer was heading in this direction. He almost slapped himself in the face for his circular thinking, though he relented and tried again, this time rather relating the shadows of the sun to the set of footprints and the depth they were in, this allowed him to extrapolate the time of day the deer went through each direction, also it let him know if the two sets of footprints were from the same deer, and the reason for the deers walking, he looked towards the trees nearby and took a gander for any new-ish moss. Old moss can be used to tell direction, since it would eventually grow anyway, though newer moss could easily be used to tell which direction had most sunlight, and that direction was usually east. He readied his hand, thought for a moment and let it drop. He had almost assumed it had risen from the north. Since he was a scholar, he has a habit of always wanting to be right, and he would generally slap himself if he wasn , he swore at one point to drop the habit, but he failed.

Following the deers tracks he sped down the trail like an ant eater on a hot trail. He wasn in the mood for eating ants, but getting a nice slab of meat would suffice nicely. Though that likely also wouldn occur, so hes mainly planning on stealing the poor deers food. If he doesn get his nuts caved in by the deer when it was disturbed. That made cold sweat run down his back. He tempted closer to the deers behind, making very sure to keep his crotch at a side angle to avoid any immediate counter attack by the hungry deer. The deer in front of him was munching on berries. These are frostbyte berries, they are quite the delicacy, the taste is that of a sparkling rose wine with a hint of chilly mint, this taste is phenomenal when used in making actual wine, it would taste like a double wine, this doesn actually make a lot of sense, though thats what the book ”Wine and Culture ” by Zheruk Mikael said.

He tumbled in front of the deer and screamed like a banshee. The deers hair stood up, then it ran. It was rather anti-climactic, though he did sigh in relief. Losing testicles to deer or donkey kicks isn something he ever wanted to experience. He didn have time to pick up a backpack when he was suddenly ousted from his family, thus he now had a peculiar situation. He thought for a bit then took a large nearby palm leave and some twigs, he made a tiny and rather impractical basket that had three places to hold it. The third place was due to his horrible manufacturing method. It was essentially an oversized picnic basket with leaves on the outside and inside with two handles on top. He had thought to combine them, but in the middle of the process the twigs got loose on some ends and he almost threw the entire thing away in a fit of rage. He then started picking berries and gently placing them in the basket. This scene would almost look like a fair maiden plucking berries from a bush to place in a picnic basket, if it wasn for the sweaty dirty guy placing it in his shitty contraption.

Forgetting himself in the process he began picking berry after berry, sweating profusely, his scalp began itching as well as his face. He began to intermittently scratch himself like a dog. It was agonizingly annoying. His face began to lit up like flame, turning blistering red, he almost crushed one of the berries. ”Why the ** is this taking so long?! ” He yelled. He looked into his basket and noted that it wasn even a half way full. He took the basket with both hands and awkwardly kept up the trail that the deer had left, it seemed that it had changed directions at some point, either aggressive animals, or maybe civilization. He hasn been outside his village for seven hours, but he already feels homesick. He almost cried. Then he gave a silent scream. Theres still a chance for a predator to be nearby so alerting it would be beyond idiotic, and he needed some way to vent. He considered going back and torching the place, but he felt remorse for his sister, Aleena.

Walking through the shrubs he managed to spot a waft of smoke rising to the air, it seemed that there was a fire nearby, or maybe even a chimney. He slapped his thigh and almost cried. Had he forgotten how to control his strength? He looked down and saw that his thigh now had a purple handprint ornament on it. He noted that if he should come to be attacked, he shouldn strike back at full force lest he kill them, especially with weapons. He then considered discarding that notion since hes not the saint type. As for the bloodline thoughts from earlier, he also knew that if a person managed to fully dominate their inherited bloodline, they could create their own. The only problem with that is that it would have the aspect of the paternal side of things. It could get a but **y, for example if a human goblin, or rather a hoblin chose the side of goblins, their genitals would disappear and they would grow very crooked. This had advantages, but people like that usually just ended themselves since it was beyond their mental capabilities of control. He noted if he ever met someone in the future to at least guide them with this, even if it was an enemy… Or maybe hed just screw them over… Likely that.

He started walking through the gate of the village. Children screamed, housewives clenched their eyes and gave him evil glares. Pitchforks and torches were ready for him. Had they already been alerted by his detestable family? That would definitely explain their immediate response time, though he doubted it. He looked up and saw a shadowy figure in armor. Where does the a small village like this get enough funding to hire a mercenary? Or did that person just go and rob some poor fellow down the road? It likely is that he killed and defiled corpses as a career, though the last part probably isn accurate, the shadows just alluded to it. The shadowy figure stared down, its eyes narrowing. The figure had noticed him. Its expression didn change, nor could he even see the expression, but the figure did turn around, bend over and spank its but. A taunt. Bloody well then.

”State your name forewalker. ” Well, shit forewalkers are like demons, he knows he probably is not a demon, what now? ”My name is Peter, and I come from ayonder, aye? ” He spoke with an accent he heard foreigners use. Though since the actual speech of a person and what others heard sounded significantly different, he just sounded like an idiot. He then indicated with a few obscene gestures. He thought theyd look fondly at him for knowing more of their culture.

”We don need your kind here, scram! ” The village elder stepped up with his pitchfork, twirling it around like a spear before getting into what he assumed was a militaristic spear position. Did he just happen to walk into a village full of veteran soldiers? He hastily corrected his accent and spoke normally, ”I apologize my name is Angus, Ive just been attacked by my own family, please give me somewhere to stay ” he blurted out. It was a lot harder said that done, though that makes less sense than for other topics since he was…

”You may enter, but pay twenty coppers at the gate, ten more than usual for being a fool. ” He threw his pitchfork and Angus thought it was the end of him, when he opened his eyes he noticed that the pitchfork had traveled a perfect ninety degree arc above him to land in a distant hay bale. Theres just one problem. He has no actual money with him. He dug desperately into his pockets, almost going as far as to strip himself, then he slapped himself in the face, this made him even angrier and he ended up tearing his pocket. A single quarter copper fell out. He picked it up and chucked it at a nearby swan cursing the entire time. The swan elegantly dodged and kicked the copper back at him. He wasn so lucky, it landed on his forehead and it made a deep imprint of the copper coins head.

What is this place? He found himself growing more fearful. Military encampments and martial swans a

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