Hyena Werks (DanmachixDnD SI)

[DangerDesperado]

Hyena Werks, A proud Orario Company.

Danmachi-X-DnD Nonhuman semi SI

Disclaimer:

I, Danger Desperado, do not own either Danmachi, nor DnD. This is a fanwork protected under fair use and is non-canon. All of the IP's used in this fiction are the sole property of their respective holders.

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Prologue:
New Beginnings


Chapter One:
A New to You, You. (Slightly Used)


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I smiled, and it smiled.

I winked, and it winked.

I waved, and it waved.

I stuck my fur covered thumbs into the edges of my lips and pushed up, revealing a fearsome collection of bone white teeth and fangs that would have made any self-respecting wolf utterly green with envy.

The monster in the water had done the same.

I slowly let go of my lips and dragged my paws down my furry face until they rested along the chin of my muzzle, framing the hyaenid countenance that stared out at me from the pond.

The creature's fur was an incredibly dark, almost black russet color from its lips to about halfway down its muzzle; Which then quickly transitioned to a sandy beige that persisted across its entire body. Other than its minutely twitching nose and triangular ears. The only facial feature it had was a pair of inscrutably deep eyes, like pools of pure onyx set into the beast's head.

My eyes absently drift over to watch a water strider as it skates across my reflection, before it's eaten with nary a splash by some silvery fish that had darted out from beneath the lily pads nearby.

As the hyena-like creature in the water ripples in the passing wake I have an epiphany.

I know you.

The creature that stares up at me from the pond seems to share in my sudden revelation when its mouth slightly opens and a new light of recognition shines in those inky eyes.

I know you, Maedmux.

…

..

.

Maedmux…

…The fucking joke character I've been playing as in the Exandrian campaign my friends and I were running!

My eyes fly to the charcoal-gray hooded poncho I'm wearing. I quickly yank it aside- and am met with an absolute mess of leather belts, buckles, and bandoliers. All loaded down with an uncountable number of books; scrolls; vials filled with various colored liquids of dubious purpose; And the tools necessary for seemingly every kind of job imaginable. All of it layered over an old, yet well maintained studded leather vest dyed a deep maroon.

Other than that, the only other piece of clothing I'm wearing is a pair of loose cotton shorts that ended right before the bend in my digitigrade legs, and some cloth wraps around my… paws, I guess.

I let the poncho go so it could go back to covering up the crime against organization and basic safety that sat across my chest; And bury my face in my baseball-mitt sized hands (paws?).

I finally have a name for the indescribable feeling that had been brewing deep in my belly ever since I had woken up to this small, sunny glade in a body that wasn't mine.

Utter fucking dread.

If I had to be yanked from all that I knew and loved, and shoved into one of my Dungeon and Dragon creations, could I have at least been dropped into any number of other characters I had made over the years?

I could have been my dragonborn paladin who struggled between his black dragon ancestry, and being the paragon of virtue and honor he swore to be. Or maybe the lady killer Tiefling assassin with a secret heart of gold.

Hell, I would have even settled for my kobold mage! The little lizard who's entire schtick was that he was obsessed with becoming a true dragon, but was so weak and pathetic, that he could only manage to emulate dragons in goofy ways!

I would literally rather be stuck in the body of a three-foot-tall gecko who had tried to imitate the majesty of a dragon in flight… by using Mage Hand on himself and telepathically punting his tiny body through the sky.

But no- I'm stuck with Maedmux, or Mad Max, the certifiably insane gnoll artificer.

Instead of the groan that I thought I was about to let out, a canid-like whimper escaped my lips. Which made me whine even harder at the completely animalistic and undignified noise I just made.

Oh, God… I wanted to run an artificer because it sounded fun. But playing as yet another gnome magic man with a steampunk aesthetic would have been so mind-numbingly cliche, I'm sure my DM would have done his damnedest to kill me off just on the principle of it.

So, in the spirit of making such a powerful class interesting to play with, I came up with an educated man with a barbarians heart. One whose inventions would be more at home in post-apocalyptia than in any fantasy world.

His primary weapon, for instance, was a homebrew called The Growler. It was a chainsword that was made out of an old mace with a rusty anchor chain draped over the head, with metal shards spot welded along its length. When activated the chain would vibrate back and forth rapidly, giving the mace some slashing and bleeding damage to go along with its good old fashioned blunt force trauma.

The Growler unfortunately met its match in our last session when it was broken against someone wearing plate-mail. Which is a damn shame because now the only dedicated weapon I have on me is some bog-standard hunting knife.

Speaking of which…

A quick pat down later and I found said blade strapped to the small of my back, right above my tail. Something that I became acutely aware of when my hand accidentally grazed over the aforementioned limb.

A full body shiver ran up my spine at the indescribable feeling of touching a body part you didn't have when you went to sleep that night. Even still, the bizarre feeling of whatever the opposite of 'phantom limb syndrome' pales in comparison to seeing your legs bending the wrong-!

No! No… Breakdown over body dysmorphia later, take stock of what you have now.

Clamping down my building panic with a force of will I didn't know I possessed, I Continued my full body inspection.

I noticed that the layout of my gear isn't as chaotic as it originally appeared. That, or I got some of ol' Muxy boy's muscle memory along with his personal taste for 'organizational skills' when I stole(?) his body.

My hands and eyes ghosted over the various sized hammers, tongs, chisels, and other assorted tools of the blacksmiths trade that hung from specially made loops and holsters along my belt. Each of them well worn, yet undeniably well loved.

Unbidden, my mind supplied the specific name, function, and use of each and every one of the tools on my person.

With nought but a glance I could differentiate the minutiae between an embossing and forming hammer. And then use both with the skill of a master with years of experience.

Instinct… it felt like pure animal instinct, but I just knew that I could pick up an ingot of pig iron right now, and with only a bit of time and elbow grease- Work the excess carbon and other impurities out of it until I'm left with high grade steel. And then from there? I could make anything I wanted.

The ideal temperature for working adamantine, the expected tensile strength and elasticity of a blade made from pure mithral, and the ideal amount of Residuum dust to mana ratio for powering a cantrip level enchantment. All this knowledge and far, far, more- simply sitting in my head as if it was always there.

As if I was the one to actually learn it.

Suddenly I'm on my hands and knees, wrist deep in pond muck as bile crawls up my throat and out- into what was only moments ago an utterly peaceful and picturesque pond within a small glade. Chest deep retching and gags thoroughly shattering the once tranquil atmosphere.

Years, decades even, of education, theory, and expertise just grafted into my mind with none of the associated memories of actually earning these skills.

I can remember my entire life up until this exact point, twenty odd years of living an utterly mundane life. One lived by hundreds of millions of others before. Go to school, graduate. Go to a more expensive school, walk out with an associate's and the delusion that you'll eventually go back and finish when you're more established. Get stuck in some soul sucking job and never get the energy to go back and better yourself.

Completely ordinary, a life lived by uncountable others every single day.

But now?

In the span of what must have been seconds, with no distinction between my old life and my new. I gained a proficiency and finesse for the crafting arts that could have only been earned with blood, sweat, and tears.

The full might of an artificer was now mine to command.

I now knew the exact steps I would need to take to build magical artifacts straight from myth and legend.

From arcane prosthetics to enchanted tattoos, magical swords and fully autonomous robot assistants.

If it could be dreamt, I could build it.

And all of this knowledge was gained, being gained, as if some unfeeling automata was robotically carving the information directly into my brain.

Fact by fact.

Skill by skill.

Line by agonizing line.

And I screamed.

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The mid-afternoon sun reflected along the edge of the small, (human) finger sized glass vial in my hand. The blood red liquid sloshing around inside gave it a slightly sinister appearance, but I knew better.

The humble health potion.

Ubiquitous to the fantasy genre; And an essential piece of kit for any adventurer worth their salt. They can be found pretty much everywhere. From your local general store to the loot of your slain enemies, and occasionally buried deep within dungeons that haven't seen the light of day in millennia.

The latter of which tend to be of an advanced age and of dubious quality, so use at one's own risk and all that.

As I hold the potion up to the light as though I'm about to cry 'Poor Yorick!' to it- I'm struck once again by the duality of my memories, though thankfully far more muted this time. I knew this particular potion came into existence when I told my DM that I would spend our group's long rest gathering ingredients and brewing a batch of them.

But Maedmux knows, however, that this potion had been carefully distilled from a tincture of dried and crushed Red Amanita Mushrooms bound to purified water using a small drop of acid as a catalyst.

Simply recalling such a small nugget of information sent a fresh wave of agony through my skull. So, with a grimace, I popped the metal latch holding the cork in place with my thumb and downed the vial's contents into my open maw. Instantly, the overwhelmingly disgusting taste of cherry flavored cough syrup assaults my tongue. And it's not even the 'good' stuff either, this shit tastes like the off-brand stuff you'd find in some bootleg, highway convenience store.

Forcing myself to swallow, the effects are nearly instantaneous. I could feel my throat, raw and sore from screaming myself horse, heal back as good as new in real time. I lifted my hand and watched, enraptured, as healthy flesh grew over my split knuckles and scratched up fingers. A fine layer of fur had even started to grow over the new skin before the effects seemingly wore off.

Not to mention the potion took the edge off my migraine, and I could finally think straight again.

After marveling at the literal magic happening before my eyes, I looked back up at my surroundings while slotting the now empty vial back into its holster.

The once beautiful clearing had seen better days. The flowers and grass that had dotted the edge of the pond were stomped flat. Many trees that made up the clearing now sported long, deep gouges torn into them. Some of them had just been straight up ripped from the ground, roots and all, only to be tossed aside.

It looked as though a grizzly bear had gone on a complete rampage, which, when I looked down at my pretty formidable frame… Fair enough, I guess.

I uh… Kinda lost my mind there for a bit and took out my frustrations on whatever I could get my claws on. I- I don't think I'm quite done expressing my feelings yet, but I'm running out of time before nightfall, and needs must.

I probably should sit down and take the time to properly psychoanalyze myself and figure out whether or not my reaction to being isekai'd was normal and justified; Or if it was the manifestation of some sort of- Gnoll Blood Rage or something but…

I had already burnt enough daylight with my 'episode', so it's probably high time I make tracks and find some place to spend the night. The only problem was that I was absolutely covered in mud and filth. Dirt was caked on in clumps to my thoroughly soaked clothes, and matted into my fur, it's going to take hours to get this all out-!..

Wait a minute.

I have magic now!

A giant furry hand met my face with a resounding 'clap'. Because I'm an idiot. Here I am wasting potions when I know I always keep Cure Wounds prepared for when Maedmux's slapdash inventions inevitably blow up (usually literally) in his face.

And for my cantrips?

Leaning into my new instincts, I let my body go through the motions as I waved my hand over my soiled clothes. And with a muttered Prestidigitation- all the dirt and sick clinging to my equipment just sluiced off me like water over a duck's back. I stared at the mound of muck piled up around my feet with wide eyes before a slow chortle built up in my chest. A chuckle that quickly grew into a full belly laugh. Magic!

Honest to God magic…

Maybe… Maybe things just might work out.

With a few more passes with Prestidigitation, I finally felt clean once again and was ready to leave.

Only- Which way should I go? As pretty as this little clearing is, or was, the only thing I could see beyond the tree line was… well, more trees. With no better idea for which direction to head for, I decided to trust my body once more.

Leaning back on my heels, I put my nose to the sky and just… started sniffing the air.

The scents of the forest filled my mind as I breathed it all in. The fetor of stagnant water mixed with the odor of fish was almost overpowering, but barely beneath the smell of the pond, there were hints of animals that frequent this little watering hole. I'll be spare on the details of what fox urine and rabbit droppings smelt like, but I wasn't too focused on those malodors anyway.

It was only a whiff, barely perceptible underneath the far more numerous and fresher scents around me, but it was there.

Horse flesh.

Just a trace, but undeniably there. Carried in on the northern-! No, north easterly wind! I drop to all fours and start sniffling along the ground to be sure, but the smell definitely fades in intensity the lower I am. Meaning the scent could only be brought in with the wind.

Looks like I have my heading.

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Turns out I didn't have to go all that far, because after only about half a mile of hiking through the woods, I found a small dirt road neatly slicing the forest in half.

While the scent that drew me here was old, by several days at least, there were other smells that were far fresher. The earthy, sour tang of unwashed bodies was abundant here; The most recent being only a few hours old. It appears like I've stumbled across a fairly popular route.

Looks like I have a few options here. I could wait around for someone to pass by so that I could stop them and ask a few questions; Based on the sheer number of different scents around I probably wouldn't even have to wait all that long. It would also be a good way to gauge their (and by extension the locals) reaction to interacting with a gnoll. Exandria would be ideal, as I'll most likely be treated as any other race there, albeit a more violent and primitive one.

But God forbid, if I'm in one of the more mainline 5e realms? It'll be "Kill the demon spawn!" first and ask questions never.

Eugh, ok, so the first option is to wait here and test the waters so to speak on where I stand both physically in the world and with the populace at large.

My second option is to be a bit more proactive and seek out the freshest scent here, which appears to be multiple individuals traveling together westward to parts unknown. Trying to interact with a group would be less than ideal if they turn out to be hostile. But that also eliminates the uncertainty of waiting around in the hope that someone happens by this spot in a timely manner.

The last option I can think of, would be to just spin on my heel and march on back into the woods and live as a hermit. While that sounds like it would be terrible in the immediate- I'm willing to bet that with enough time and effort, Maedmux's skill as an artificer would enable me to build a pretty kick ass homestead for myself.

The only thing- well, two things actually that prevent me from seriously considering that plan both stem from the same source. The first being a gnoll's inherent need for a pack.

I can feel the desire to be part of a tribe like a physical force weighing down upon me even now. Manifesting as a creeping dread running down my spine, and pooling in my belly at the fact that I don't have at least one trusted pack mate here to watch my back as I sit here on the side of some random road.

Gnoll's are social creatures, they need allies as much as they need food and shelter.

And speaking of food…

My hand goes to my empty stomach, currently twisting itself in knots in rebellion over not having eaten anything all day. That would be my second reason for tracking down the group heading west. I don't think I would have the patience to sit here all day waiting for someone to pass by, not without chewing my own arm off or something. The curse of Yeenoghu upon gnoll kind rearing its ugly head.

With my course decided for me by my gnawing hunger and newly chronic loneliness, I rose from my hiding place in some bushes along the road, and started walking west. Hopefully new friends and good food awaited me.

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~​

It only took a few minutes into my journey before the silence started to grate on me. I was so used to doing nearly everything with a pair of earbuds in; That the mere thought of walking potentially miles in silence was anathema to me.

So, with nothing but the cheerful clinks and clanks of my equipment as it bounced up and down in time with my march to keep my company; I decided to test the pipes of my new body by belting out 'Dogface soldier' as loud as I could.

And as it turns out? Gnoll's can in fact hold a tune.

Or at least Maedmux here can. Provided the song is sung in a deep bass and literally nothing else. I tried running the scales to find my new vocal range, and It looks like a mid-baritone is the absolute highest I can get my voice to go.

Which tracks, I suppose, when you consider that I kinda sound like Johnny Cash now… Well, I'd sound like Johnny If his breakfast consisted of broken glass and nails, washed down with a pack of cigs and a cup of motor oil.

Seriously, no matter how hard I try to talk from the throat, I always end up growling out whatever I'm saying from deep in my chest. Which adds a snarling, animalistic undertone to anything I sing or say.

On one hand, my rendition of Elvis Presley's 'It's Now or Never' sounded more like a snarled-out threat than any love song. But on the other hand, Ed Sheeran's 'I See Fire' sounds amazing when it sounds like it's being sung by the dragon.

My chuckle at the image of Smaug waxing poetically about what it's like for his victims to die at his own claw, was interrupted by a sound just at the edge of my hearing.

Stopping dead, and with ears twitching like crazy, the disturbance became clear.

Voices.

A lot of voices.

Picking up the pace, I sped past a slight bend in the road and could see a break in the tree line in the distance.

A short jog later brings me to the edge of the forest, and the vista that greets me is breathtaking. A seemingly endless grassy plain spread out before me. An infinite ocean of waist-high grass, gently blowing in a breeze carrying just the barest hint of brine from the actual sea. And while a few trees and rivers did dot the landscape, only one feature truly commanded my attention.

Slicing the horizon in half was a walled city of colossal size. With a gentle circular curve, the pure white walls that must be at least thirty or forty feet high, go on for several miles in both directions before disappearing from view. Interspaced along the wall were gates that must have been several stories tall.

While the walls are too high for me to get a glimpse at what the interior of the city looks like, they aren't nearly tall enough to hide the city's most distinctive feature. A monstrously tall stone spire juts out of the center of the city and towards the sky, easily as large as only the tallest of modern skyscrapers back home.

An unimaginable amount of people spread out from every single one of the gates in lines miles long; All of them waiting for their chance to enter the city. One undulating mass of bodies, animals, and wagons all blurring together into a single entity of colors, shapes, and sound.

…I can't think of a single city that matches the one in front of me in any of the campaigns I've played. Neither Exandria nor the Forgotten Realms have a city that comes close to the one that currently lies before me.

So why the hell does it look so familiar?

Damnit, this is going to drive me up the wall! I swear I feel like I've even seen this city before, but for the life of me I can't say when. That Tower…

Ugh, It's just on the tip of my tongue! But that could be any number of generic wizardly towers, that shits practically fantasy boilerplate!

Whatever, I can just go down there and ask someone from the crowd where the hell I ended up. Provided they don't immediately try and kill me for the crime of being a gnoll.

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I was feeling less and less sure of my grand plan of 'marching down there and introducing myself to see what happens' by the second.

Tall and lanky elves, short and stout dwarves, animal-folk half breeds (or maybe Shifters) of all types, and of course, your bog-standard humans.

Nothing but the garden variety fantasy races as far as the eye can see. There was not a single non-humanoid being in that crowd of thousands.

No freedom loving bird-folk soaring overhead.

No playfully curious tabaxi wandering the crowds and causing mischief.

No proud yet genuine dragonborn trading war stories with anyone who will listen.

And certainly no gnolls.

A fantasy world, with fantasy cities and fantasy people, but no actual fantasy races? The whole scene just looked wrong, like looking at a painting that had specific colors purposely ripped out of it, making the art look uneven and washed out.

Are there other races out there somewhere in the world- and I just had the unbelievably bad luck of ending up near some sort of humanoid supremacist city? Or do they not exist at all, making me completely unique?

Both options would be equally terrible, if for different reasons…

The unease coiling in my gut turned to outright terror as I drew closer to the main road and saw exactly how many of these people were armed to the teeth with fantasy firepower; From swords and steel plate to mage staffs and flowing robes, and everything in between. Even the most unassuming of them were packing some manner of medieval weaponry.

I nervously pulled up my hood and tugged it down as far as it would go but held no delusions as to its ability to maintain my anonymity. Not when my muzzle stuck out half a foot from my face.

My other hand went to my chest and grasped a particular potion. One of the only reasons I felt confident enough to try and pull this stupid stunt. A small vial of Liquid Courage, or would Liquid Cowardice be more apt?

A potion of invisibility, my one 'get out of jail free' card.

As I nervously rubbed my thumb across the cork lid of the potion, the caravan I chose for my test trundled closer to where my path met the road.

A modestly sized convoy of a few covered wagons escorted by people of various races marching with the exhausted, yet anticipatory demeanor of someone whose destination is in sight after many, many days on the road.

Even from where I stood, I could hear the quiet chatter of the group picking up in volume with excitement as the city drew near. Through the chitchat, however, one sentence rang out like a gunshot.

"Mama Look, a doggy!"

There, right in the middle of the pack, was a small boy holding a woman's hand…

Pointing right at me.

As my eyes roamed up to the woman's face, also now looking at me, I had a realization.

I've never actually seen someone go pale like that before.

I mean, it's a common enough descriptor in books. 'The blood drained from their face' and other such expressions are used constantly. But not once, in my entire existence have I ever seen such an idiom be so apt for what just happened to the poor woman in front of me.

Her strangled gasp cut through the good cheer of her fellows like a knife, and the whole convoy stuttered to a stop.

Her fellows' confusion equally turned to horror when they spotted me as well.

And then there was silence.

The noise of the crowd further ahead seemed to dim and then fade away completely as we stared each other down.

Shit.

Ok, not the reaction I was hoping for, but I can still salvage this; I just have to speak their language. Hell, this should be easy! I've watched Game of Thrones, I've been to a Ren Faire, I even did high school theater for a year! Just gotta' throw in some thee's and thou's, maybe say 'hail travelers' and 'how fair thee' and I'll have these guys thinking I've been a fantasy land native for all my life!

Oh man, was it this hot out a second ago? Why is my mouth so dry all of the sudden? I nervously ran my tongue over my fangs before deciding to break the ice with all these people just silently staring at me.

"W-what's up?"

Double shit.

In a flash, the now ghostly white woman shoved her son behind her back, while her comrades drew their weapons with practiced but shaking hands and rushed forward into a defensive semi-circle around the wagons, yelling at the top of their lungs all the while.

"Loup Garou!"

"Where the hell did it come from!"

"Forget that! Where are the rest of them?! They always hunt in packs!"

"Form up on me! Standard line!"

"Protect Tyche!"

"A monster this close to Orario?! What the hell is Ganesha even doing?!"

"Is that thing wearing clothes?! And did it just fuckin' talk?!"

But over their screams and the barked commands of a man with dog ears, one word pierced the air like a banshee's wail.

"MONSTER!"

Triple shit.

At this point, I could see other groups further along the road also turning around to see what the commotion was. Some of them had even drawn their own weapons and were full fucking tilt sprinting this way.

Quadruple shit.

Man, the risk I took was calculated, but apparently gnolls come preloaded with dyscalculia.

Even if I popped my invis. potion, there's not a snowball's chance in an Archdevil's arsehole that I can get away before I'm filled with enough arrows that I'll look more like a hedgehog than hyena. Already, I can see a halfling with a crossbow longer than he is tall posting up on me from the top of a wagon; Not to mention the archers' yard worth of elven and human bowman starting to draw right now.

Can't retreat, definitely can't go forward; I can't go off the road either, the grass will give me away immediately…

Only one thing I can really do.

"I SURRENDER!"

With my arms up, eyes firmly shut, and throat sore from how loud I just yelled, I waited for the inevitable hammer to fall- literally or figuratively; For an arrow to take me in the gut, or a sword to run me through, or any number of dumb ways to die in this ye ol' fantasy world. I waited for something to end my new life before it even began because I'm an impatient idiot who couldn't wait a few hours to gather more information.

But no attack came.

The only sound I could hear was the wind blowing across the plains, and the collective heart beats of thousands.

After what was definitely an eternity, and not a few seconds (I would know, I counted), I squinted open one eye to peek. And was met with an honest to God 'record scratch, freeze frame' moment.

As far as I could see, all manner of warriors and travelers stopped dead in their tracks, gapping, actually open mouth gapping at me.

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Author notes:

Before I give a loose description of Maedmux's character and classes, I just want to give a quick preface on how I'll be using the DnD system.

While the rules and regulations of DnD make for a great game, that's really all they're good for. Trying to write with or around rules designed to create a fair and balanced rpg just becomes boring and tedious after a while. So instead, I'll be treating them more as guidelines rather than hard and fast rules. Sure, limiting an artificer to only a few infusions makes sense when in the scope of a game; It's important to ensure that an artificer doesn't become a game breaking magical item printer.

But trying to manage rules like that in a story, along with things like spell slots and other such game mechanics usually turns DnD fics into yawn-fest laundry lists of doing a 'thing' for X amount of time to produce 'Y', or casting a spell but then just- not being able to do anything else until the character goes to bed because 'reasons'.

So instead, this story will aim to be a realistic and deeply technical, fantasy crafting centered fic, where the mc is governed loosely by DnD rules while powered by a generic mana pool. One that's quantity and usage will be calculated behind the scenes.

Cantrips and normal spells (such as Infusions/enchantments) will all draw from this pool (obviously at different rates depending on intensity of the cantrip or the level of spell) and their effects can last indefinitely depending on how much material/mana was used in its creation.

So without further ado, let me introduce you to Maedmux (his background, spells, and inventory will be revealed as the story progresses)((Don't expect these levels to make that much of a difference on the story, it's just a rough idea of where Maedmux is starting out)):

(A lot of this homebrew was created with the help of GM Binder)

First Class:
Lvl 8 Artificer (Battlesmith)

Second Class:
Lvl 2 Wizard (Order of Scribes)

Ability Scores:
(I got some nutty rolls for this PC)
STR:20
DEX:7
CON:10
INT:16
WIS:12
CHA:11

Racial Traits:

• Beastfolk Senses: Proficiency in Perception.
• Hyaenid build: +1 to STR and CON.
• Darkvision: 60 feet
• Life expectancy: 80+ years (The homebrew I came up with has Exandria gnolls age at the same rate as humans just for convenience sake)((I checked, but couldn't find an official life expectancy for Exandrian gnolls, the closest I found was during the show when the Mighty Nein met an 'elderly' gnoll named Covak, but he refused to give his age.))
• Bite: Can replace unarmed strike, Piercing 1d6+STR mod.
• Ferocious: Proficiency in intimidation.
• Scavenger: Can safely eat raw or rotten food, advantage on saving throws against disease and poisons.
• All Fours: As an action, a gnoll can either stow (bonus action) or discard anything that's in their hands and drop on all fours to double their current speed, but any speed modifiers are also doubled. When on all fours, the Shove action becomes Tackle. A Tackled enemy is skill checked similarly to a Shove. If they fail, they are then Tackled and can either be knocked prone, or grappled by the gnoll. A Bite on a successfully Tackled enemy does 1d8+STR mod.
• Subrace: Dustpaw. After generations of living side-by-side with the other races of Tal'Dorei, this tribe of gnolls have largely bucked the evil impulses and curses laid upon their kind by the Demon Lord Yeenoghu. With the pack adopting and being adopted in turn by the people of Turst Fields, they have become more than just savage gnolls, but Hyena-folk in truth. Though they are still very much beholden to their bottomless stomachs. Much to the amusement and dismay of their neighbors, who may or may not be missing a chicken or two. Villager: +1 to CHA, Proficiency in one of the following skills of your choice: Insight, Animal Handling, Medicine, Perception, or Survival.

Item Proficiencies:
Armor
Light & medium armor + shields
Weapons
Firearms, Martial & simple weapons
Tools
Alchemist, Jewelers, Leatherworker, Smiths, Masonry, Thieves, Tinker, Wood Carver, and Glassblower tools

Skill Proficiencies:

• Arcana
• Investigation
• Medicine
• Perception
• Intimidation

Languages:
Common, Abyssal, Gnomish, and Gnollish (oral only).

Alignment
Chaotic Good.

Physical characteristics:
Male, Medium Sized, Speed: 30 feet, 7.6 feet tall, beige/brown hair with spots, black skin, 23 yrs old, and 320 Ibs.

Personality Traits:
(I rolled a few more times than strictly necessary just to really flush out the character)
Quirks:

• I sometimes forget how frightening I appear to others.
• I am very demonstrative. Others tend to learn rather suddenly how I feel about them, for good or ill.
• I am very competitive, I love to compete against strangers and allies alike.
• I can't stand solitude, I always keep my companions close by.

Ideals:

• Freedom is absolute. I will never bow to a tyrant, and will always aid others in gaining their own freedom.
• I greatly distrust or fear the influence of most higher powers.

Bonds:

• My tools are symbols of my past life, and I carry them so that I will never

forget my roots.

• I am highly protective of my friends and distrustful of everyone else.

Flaws:

• I think the best diplomatic policy for disagreements of any degree is extraordinary violence.

Background Feature:
Military Rank: 'Sergeant' (Non-com Battesmith/Quartermaster in the Westruun's Militia/Republic of Tal'Dorei military)

Feats:

Metamagic Adept

• Extended Spell
• Empowered Spell

Feat:

• Gunner

Artificer Initiate:

• Tinkers tool
• Mending
• Identify

And if you want to know what he looks like visually, I based him on the first photo in this GM Binder homebrew catalog.

(I drew the thumbnail before I actually started writing the story and decided that an all brown hyena was boring, but I don't feel like going back and changing the art so now I need to figure out a way to explain away the discrepancy in story lol.)

 

[DangerDesperado]

Hyena Werks, A proud Orario Company.

DanmachiXDnD Nonhuman semi SI

X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X

Chapter Two:
The Movers and Shakers
(Jailhouse Blues Part One)

X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X​

~"...Oh, no-body knows, the trouble I've seen
Nobody knows, but Yeenoghu!~"

"Oh, for Ganesha's sake would you shut up already!"

The mook with the white domino mask and silly orange-colored clothes went ignored as I continued to crow out some good ol' Louis Armstrong at the top of my lungs. You don't interrupt one of Mr. Armstrong's masterpieces.

I wrapped my shackled hands around the bars of my cell and craned my long neck through the gap just so I could finish the rest of the song- right in his ear.

The way he was white knuckling that halberd of his told me he probably didn't appreciate my singing skills.

Hmpf, everyone's a critic.

Too bad they refused to give me a cup of water when I asked, how am I supposed to sing prison songs without something to bang along the bars?

After I finished the last note (I held it extra long, just for them); I put a hand to my bare chest and let loose a dramatic sigh as I leaned up against the bars, the handful of guards surrounding my cell flinching at my sudden movement.

"Ah, but what else is a gnoll to do but sing his laments after he's been so wrongfully arrested! Oh, 'tis a true travesty of justice when one is locked away, innocent of the crimes he is accused of! Innocent, yet doomed to spend forevermore- imprisoned within this decrepit crypt!"

"You've been in there-" The same guard ground out through gritted teeth. "For an hour."

"An eternity!" I threw my hands in the air, howling like a pastor preaching a fiery gospel. "Eons and ages pass as I waste away within these accursed walls! I have been damned by forces beyond comprehension, forced to watch as infinity hastens ever onward-"

"What would It take to get you to shut up?" The guard interjected before I could really get going.

In an instant, I dropped my drama club act and deadpanned. "Food."

The guard actually face-palmed with a groan before turning to face me fully. "I already told you; I can't give you anything until Ganesha returns. You'll merely have to be patient."

I stuck my head back through the bars until I was face to face with the masked man. "I don't think you understand, friend, I'm so hungry right now- I can't even see straight."

At his scoff I leaned forward until I was straining against the bars.

"Look at me Steve, I'm starving here- wasting away until, soon enough, I'll be nothing but a withered pile of fur and bones. Honestly, I'm starting to think that I could eat the leather from your boots and ask for seconds. Hell, I'd say that shoe leather sounds like a five-star meal right about now."

"My names not Stev-"

"You won't tell me your name, so now you're Steve. So, Steve, are you going to get me something to eat? Or am I going to have to resort to-" I drop my voice an octave into a husky whisper. "-desperate measures."

The now dubbed Steve scowled and took a step back away from the cell, gripping his halberd even harder.

"And what do you mean by desperate measures, beast?"

I groaned and let myself slip down the bars until I was lying in a sad puddle on the ground, giving Steve the biggest, most pitiful puppy dog eyes a gnoll has ever, or will ever make.

"Cry and beg until you give in, and I am warning you all now, I'm a really ugly crier-"

I continued on while Steve shot a death glare at one of the other guards who snorted at my threat.

"-Snot bubbles, choking sobs, gasping breaths- the whole nine yards, it's really, really hard to listen to."

Steve only rolled his eyes behind his mask and turned back around, continuing his oh so busy job of staring at the stone wall and looking angry. For my part, I couldn't help another painful whimper escape my lips as my stomach continued to feel like it was eating me from the inside out.

I wasn't quite at the point yet where I was willing to completely throw away my dignity and make good on my threat, but that time was rapidly approaching. Misery loves company though, so if I'm going to be miserable, you better be damn well sure Stevie boy here is going to be right there alongside me.

To a chorus of groans from the guards, I close my eyes and start warbling out another song from where I lay on the floor.

~Ah, Marty Robins, you magnificent bastard.

My ears pricked up at the sound of multiple sets of footsteps coming from further down the hallway, but I continued singing as if I didn't hear the group approaching. They even let me finish the piece before someone spoke up.

"You're not a Loup Garou."

I blew a snort out my nose before lazily cracking open my eyes. "Why do you people keep calling me a werewo- What in the Nine Hells are you wearing?!"

A crowd of people had entered the room, but only five people stood directly before me. And out of the five of them, only two were even remotely dressed like actual human beings.

The first was a woman with vivid, scarlet hair, wearing a pair of shockingly tight leather pants and a low, low, cut collared shirt; She was also rocking an absurdly large eye patch that covered most of the right side of her face. The other one was another woman dressed in a tasteful cocktail dress with inexplicably snow-white hair, even though she didn't look a day over twenty-five.

And those two were the normal ones.

Front and center of the group was an absolutely shredded dude wearing nothing but a half-strapped toga, enough gold bling to Mr. T to shame, and an elephant shaped domino mask of all things. Props to the guy, though, he made that toga work for him.

I don't swing that way… but Greek God indeed.

Beside him was a normal enough looking old man who only stood out because of the blindingly white and gold robe he wore. Hovering in the back of the group must have been the old man's evil twin, because all I could see of them was the pitch black hooded robe they wore that covered them head to toe.

But, easily the most egregious one of the lot was the shorter girl with ginger hair; Who was wearing nothing but booty shorts, a bra band, and some ridiculous hooded shawl thing that looked like someone skinned the top half off a hoodie, and draped it across her shoulders.

Who the hell let her walk out the door dressed like that?

The whole room watched as the shorty wearing less clothes than a starving lady-of-the-night bent over and busted a gut laughing at whatever expression was plastered across my muzzle.

The woman in the dress put a gloved hand to her lips and gave a small, aristocratic giggle as she looked upon her howling peer with cold, apathetic eyes.

"See, Loki? Even monsters think your sense of fashion is… incongruous."

Identical scowls appeared on both the now named Loki and I's faces. She opened her mouth to retort, but I beat her to the punch with a chest deep growl that felt like it shook the very earth.

"Don't call me that."

Deafening silence followed my snarled-out command as it reverberated around the room.

The bravado, the amusement, the clinical detachment, the apathetic indifference, and the simple curiosity… All the emotions on the faces of these strangers slipped into something else, something primal, as I slowly heaved myself back onto my feet. Only as my full bulk filled up the cell from floor to ceiling, when my ears were pushed flat against the roof of my cell did they realize-

I was absolutely nothing like the Loup Garou they thought they knew.

I stared the woman who spoke down, glaring directly into her violet eyes that reflected only the tiniest amount of fear.

"I am not a monster."

Practically a whisper in comparison, yet the words were all the more impactful for it.

The Greek God guy recovered the fastest from the silence that followed.

The confident, ear to ear grin that had disappeared from his face was now back with a vengeance. He pulled his arms up akimbo and spoke with a smile wide enough to look painful. "Sorry about that, my friend! We meant no offense of course! This is new for all of us, why, when we heard that a talking mons-" he cut himself off with a cough when he saw my expression darken and hastily moved to correct himself "-I mean… an alternate mortal was captured outside the gates, we just had to come and speak with you!"

I raised a furry brow at the term 'Alternate Mortal' before scowling even harder when it finally registered what exactly he had said. "Ok, first of all, I wasn't 'captured'- I surrendered after those lunatics on the road attacked me out of nowhere." I ignored the quick side-eye the group gave each other to continue my rant. "Secondly, I am a gnoll, not a monster, or a beast, or whatever else people keep calling me! Seriously, how have you people never even heard of a gnoll before?!"

I took a deep breath before continuing. "And thirdly!" I wrapped my hands around the bars once more and leaned down until I was eye level with the Elephant Man. "Can you please tell me where I am?"

The man just looked at me with dumbfounded, open mouth disbelief, his smile far more strained this time. "You… Do not know where you are?"

"NO!" I cried to the heavens, throwing up my arms for good measure. "No one will tell me anything! I tried asking those people outside the city and they jumped me for it! Your man here-" I gave a dismissive wave in Steve's direction "-and his goon squad wouldn't say anything either! So no, mister Elephant Man, I don't know where I am, who you are, or why people keep calling me a monster. So, if you could please, please, tell me- I would greatly appreciate it."

Tirade over, I crossed my arms over my chest with a huff and leaned back, watching as the group of strangers seemed to have a hushed conversation with each other; Using little more than their eyes and short hand movements.

My eyes drifted over to the rest of the group that had followed the five into the room but had stayed along the edges and all but out of sight. Most of them looked like your stereotypical group of wacky and zany fantasy denizens. The group came in all genders, sizes, and races; Just as diverse as the people themselves was the kinds of weaponry they were toting around.

The personal retinue of the five in front of me, most likely.

I spied a blonde girl near the middle of the pack staring off into space with only slightly more life in her eyes than a dead fish. The only reason I even noticed her at all was because she was wearing the most impractical armor both Maedmux and I had ever seen; Only a tiny breast plate that purposely left half her chest exposed. It was like she was just asking for someone to slip a knife in and puncture a lung or something.

There was only one person in this room who would ever allow their guard to walk around like that.

My eyes snapped back to the previously (and disconcertedly) named Loki, who had been staring at me this entire time while her peers argued over what I said. Instead of looking away, that vulpine smirk of hers just grew and she threw a wink my way.

Or at least I think she did, it was kinda' hard to tell with her eyes all… squinty like that.

Wait a minute.

I slowly panned back to the blonde girl. The tall, amber eyed, VERY FUCKING FAMILIAR GIRL.

Round city.

Giant Tower.

Dead eyed blond with the titty window armor.

Oh no.

I closed my eyes and rested by forehead on the cool iron bars of my cell.

"Excuse me." Even to my own sensitive ears, my voice sounded so very, very small; Yet the room was rendered silent regardless. "Can you please just… Tell me the name of this city?"

"The Labyrinth City" I crack open my eyes and stare at Loki as she speaks. She isn't smiling now. "Orario."

That was certainly not the name of any DnD city that I know of…

So that means-

A shudder runs up my back, and then suddenly I'm on my ass.

My legs gave out.

Not in a million years would I have recognized that name without context. But in conjunction with what I've seen of the city, and that show's poster girl…

…

…I got dropped into fucking Danmachi.

…

It was there- Had been there. The idea of going home.

The idle hope that this whole thing was at worst… transient. That, even if waking up as a gnoll; On the bank of some random pond in the middle of nowhere wasn't just some bizarre dream-

I could still go home one day.

DnD is literally founded on the basis that reality is made of innumerable worlds and universes. In the back of my mind, I figured that even if I was trapped in the body of some seven-foot-tall hyena-man, there was a chance, no matter how miniscule it was, that I would eventually find my way back. That after whatever grand adventure I was put here for- I could… hijack a mind flayer ship or something and jump worlds until I was back.

But here?

In this place?

In this world that I only know of tangentially?

Loki's voice cut off my train of thought. "That ring a bell to you, Mr. Hyena man?"

I looked up to see her casually leaning up on the bars, close enough for me to reach out and grab if I felt like it.

Instead, I just dragged my hands through the fur on my head, and down my face until they fell off the end of my muzzle and into my lap with a plop.

I only ever watched half of the first episode, and even that was a fucking chore to get through, with its stop motion animation and the unbearable use of all the worst anime troupes, crammed into a twenty-minute runtime. I knew next to nothing about the setting, but I guess I picked up enough through osmosis to be able to recognize the 'number one' waifu of this God-forsaken setting…

What else do I remember about this hellhole… Other than the main character of this harem show being an actual child.

Fuck.

Alright, Something-something Gods walk the earth, and are nothing but hedonistic animals- something-something the giant dungeon at the center of the city is sentient and actively wants to kill everything that lives and breathes, but the people of this world treat it as nothing more than their own personal piggy bank.

There was something else too, something about the Gods being able to detect lies? I'll have to be careful with my words just in case.

"I'm not familiar with the name, no." The truth, I'm absolutely not familiar with this world. "But… I feel like I would have at least heard of a city of this size, even in passing." With a shuddering breath I continued "Sorry- I just… I just realized how far away from home I am."

The Gods, because what else could they be, in front of me all shared one more glance before the Elephant man walked up to the bars and joined Loki. Gone was his face splitting grin; Instead, there was a smaller, more sincere smile. "We probably should have started with names then, huh?"

His All Might-esque smile was back once more as he stuck a thumb to his chest. "I- Am- Ganesha! God of the Ganesha Familia, monster tamers extraordinaire! Though, I am here today under the authority granted to my Familia as this city's guardians!" He leaned slightly forward, and added much more softly "And what is your name young man?"

That… is a good question. Do I give them my old name, or do I introduce myself as Maedmux? There's probably nothing inherently wrong with admitting that I was once human, but at the same time- a large part of me just… doesn't want to bother.

It might be easier in the long run to simply… be Maedmux, and lay myself aside, so to speak. To just fully embrace this new lease on life with arms wide open. I can't exactly move on if I let my past haunt me like this. Not to mention, if I ever need to for some reason, I can always admit to once being human later. But I can't exactly put that genie back into the bottle once it's out.

So, I need to decide right now.

Am I a human soul puppeting a gnoll's body?

Or am I Maedmux, a gnoll who literally met his maker and became more for it?

…

With a fortifying breath, I slowly clambered back to my feet. Put one hand over my heart, and gave a shallow curtsy; Though even from my bow, I still towered over everyone else in the room.

The words flowed naturally from my lips. "Greetings, Pack Lord Ganesha. My name is Maedmux Maddic Mokit Scurwin Scorchfur Menace Limpet, formerly of the Dustpaw pack of Turst Fields; Adopted son of Eldon Maddic, late of Westruun, and an adept ranked artificer. It is a pleasure to meet you."

I rose from my bow to an utterly befuddled crowd. Agape mouths and wide eyes met my own as I scanned the room, before looking back at Ganesha with a smile and extending my arm for a shake. "Though most people just call me Max."

Ganesha stared at my paw for only a second before throwing his head back and laughing. Sticking his own arm through the gap in the bars, his hand met my own with a loud clap and a very enthusiastic shake. "Well met, Max!-"

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted all the guards wearing orange visibly tense when my hand met their God's, but other than that they stayed silent.

Ganesha took the chance to introduce himself and each of his fellow Gods.

Freya and Loki, the contentious contenders for the title of strongest Familia, or God aligned adventuring group, in the city.

The Goddess, Hephaestus as well as the God Dian Cecht, the de-facto leaders of the smithing and healing factions within the city, respectively.

And wasn't that a mind fuck? Leave it to the trashy harem world to gender-bend the God of The Forge into… That. Loki was also a chick, but honesty? From what little I know of Norse mythology, that kinda' tracks.

The one in the black robe was only introduced as 'Fels' and was simply there as a representative of the head honcho of the city, Ouranos, who was 'currently indisposed'.

The reason why the two crafting Gods were there at all was made evident when Dian Cecht, with a cocky smirk pulling at his lips, pulled out a vial of one of my elixirs from the pocket of his robe. I had to physically clamp a paw around my muzzle to choke back a snarl at the idea of these fuckers messing around with my things; Getting their dirty claws all over my equipment!

If the God noticed my rage at his thievery, he gamely ignored it as he held the potion up and gave it a little shake. "I was invited to assist in your case when the guards found a multitude of potions of unknown make or function on your… person." The sneer in his voice could have been heard by the fucking deaf. "After a short investigation, it was found that these potions were extremely effective, and some had effects that were wholly unique-"

At that, not even an adamantium muzzle could have stopped the ferocious growl that exploded from my being, or the hissed words that followed. "You mother fucker, I brewed every single one of those potions. I know how much is in each vial down to the last millimeter. And if you wasted so much as a single fucking drop of any of them, I am going to shove my furry foot so far up your fuckin' ass, that you will be coughing up fur balls for the rest of your miserable life."

All I could hear was blood roaring in my ears. It was as if liquid fire was coursing in my veins; All I wanted to do was tear my way through the bars with my bare paws and rip into this shithead until his blood soaked my claws, and his flesh filled my-.

-Oh, fuck me.

The incessant want to eat this man's flesh and chew on his bones snapped me back to myself. I could still feel the righteous anger boiling in my soul at this man for so grievously wronging me. But it was smothered by the nauseating knowledge that I wanted to eat another sentient being.

I guess that answers the question of whether or not I inherited the gnoll blood rage.

It only took seconds, literally a few words and flashing one of my things, to get me angry enough to consider cannibalism. I'm… I'm going to really need to work on my self-control.

A lot.

Damnit, do they even have therapists in anime purdah land?

I bit down on my hand hard, and just spent a minute or so carefully cycling my breathing before I felt calm enough to re-engage. At this point, the relaxed atmosphere that had been slowly building was thoroughly trashed, and all the guards had their hands firmly on their weapons.

Keeping as firm of a lid as I could on my emotions, I slowly ground out. "Which ones, and how much of them did you use?"

He hesitated a second before answering. "Well, of the health potions, I used up a flask of red liquid labeled 'LG' and another labeled 'HG' in their entirety, I figured they stood for 'Low' and 'High' grade respectively…" I opened my mouth to reply, but he quickly rushed to add "But don't worry! Provided you are cleared of any wrongdoing, the Dian Cecht Familia will of course compensate you for the monetary value of all the potions tested!"

I simply stared at him in reply. Waiting for him to continue, but when he didn't, I was forced to bring up the elephant in the room myself. "And of the other potions you used?"

With a flinch and refusal to meet my eyes, he muttered "I also tested an amber colored phial labeled with 'FGS' but was unable to ascertain its effects… And a completely clear potion labeled 'INV', the latter of which turned the rat I was testing on completely invisible; The effect lasted a full hour! I was going to ask you where you found such marvelous creations, but if you were the one to make them!-"

His voice had risen in excitement towards the end, before being cut off by a pointed cough from Freya.

But I just continued to stare at him.

And stare.

And stare.

And stare.

"You used…" horrified disbelief lacing every whispered word. "My one dose of the Invisibility potion… on a rat."

With his hesitant nod, I slowly, slowly swung my head around to Loki, who was still leaning on the bars, her foxlike eyes dancing with endless amusement. "Miss Loki, can you please tell me, in your local currency, what the average cost would be for a single meal at a tavern?"

Her cheshire grin only grew larger as she answered, already knowing where I was going with this. "Most places round' here probably cost, oh, about three hundred Valis a meal. A run-of-the-mill health potion would set ya' back five hundred. And a custom weapon from Hephaestus here starts at around hundred thirty mill'."

I absently nodded my thanks as I ran the numbers in my head. My friends and I had once calculated what a single DnD GP would be in USD as a joke once, and we got about a hundred bucks or so per gold piece for a conversion. So, if I was to use local potion prices as a base, compared to the cost of a meal…

And if I already know that a DnD potion costs roughly five grand USD…

I swung my head back towards Dian, and with the flattest deadpan I could manage while simultaneously stomping down the fiery rage in my heart, I spoke. "You owe me a minimum seventeen million Valis."

"S-seventeen-!" Dian immediately started sputtering in shock, but I interrupted him.

"A minimum of seventeen million. A potion of Invisibility with a dosage of one-hour retails at a minimum of five thousand gold pieces. With an exchange rate of about three thousand Valis per 'GP', that's fifteen mill' right there. But in places without access to proper alchemists? I've seen them go for over twenty-five grand at auction. Add in the costs for the other potions you pissed away on vermin and well." I leaned forward until I was eye level with the Fucker who wasted what could be completely priceless, irreplaceable potions if I can't find comparable ingredients in this world. "You owe me a lot of money, Cecht."

I ignored his stammered indignations and the chortling crowd (read Loki and her mooks) to look directly at Hephaestus. "And let me guess, you got pulled into this because of all my equipment, right? I don't suppose you also were messing around with my things? Testing the durability of my tools by trying to break them over your knee, perhaps?"

Hephaestus merely scoffed at my question, but the small smile on her lips proved she found the by-play entertaining, at least. "I was asked to come in to take a look at your tools, yes. You take good care of your kit for a traveling smith, Mister Maddic."

Not surprised in the slightest that the God-dess of the Forge knew a traveling craftsman when she saw one; I simply gave her a shallow bow in thanks. "I take great pride in my craft, Miss Hephaestus."

She glanced over to a still red-faced Dian Cecht and snorted "Clearly."

I looked at the rest of the Gods "So, where do we go from here? Have I proven that I'm not some random, mindless 'monster' yet? Are you going to let me out?"

They shared a look, before Ganesha spoke up. "Before I pass judgment, we have some questions for you, Max. And just to let you know, as the official Guardian of Orario, it is ultimately up to me whether or not you are granted access to the city. If I deem you too dangerous to be allowed within our walls, it will be the Denatus that decides your fate."

A shiver ran up my spine at his use of 'fate', and the last vestiges of anger I was feeling was stamped out by fear as the reality of my position finally started to sink in. Not trusting my voice, I simply nodded, even if I wasn't quite sure what the Denatus was.

"Excellent!" Ganesha clapped his hands together and pointed at one of the people that had followed him in. "Tivra here will be our official registrar for this interrogation and will be recording everything said by both parties from now on. Please note that this recording will be presented to the Denatus as part of the official report. And with that, let's begin."

He paused to take a breath, and I saw a change come over his being. The almost wrestling-heel like personality was gone with the wind, and the cold steel of a veteran of a thousand wars defending his home had taken its place.

"On the twenty-third day of Thargelion in the year of the Gods Decent, one-thousand, and two, an individual of unknown species was spotted approaching our city of Orario from the north-eastern gate. Nearby travelers, assuming the being was some breed of monster, attacked. The being in question surrendered without a fight, surprising the locals enough that they actually ceased their aggressions. The suspect was then taken into custody by on-duty Ganesha Familia members without further incident."

"I, Ganesha, will personally be conducting this interview with the Gods and Goddesses Freya, Loki, Hephaestus, and Dian Cecht aiding me in a consultatory position as subject matter experts. Will the mortal being questioned please give their full name for the record."

The rapid scratching of the registrar's quill on his scroll filled the room as Ganesha looked at me expectantly.

"Uh, do you want my full name? Or just my legal name? because my full name is more of a cultural thing than something I would sign on an official document…"

"In that case, only your legal name will suffice."

"Ok Then, I am Maedmux 'Max' Maddic, née Dustpaw."

Ganesha nodded with a hum, letting the scribe catch up, before continuing. "And where did you say you were from, Mister Maddic?"

I fought to ignore the spike of real heartache that question invoked while dutifully responding with Mux's backstory. "I was born in the Village of Trust Fields, but I was raised in the city of Westruun. A provincial capital of the Republic of Tal'Dorei."

Some of the other Gods gasped, no doubt detecting the 'truth' in my words. But if Ganesha was surprised by what he had heard, he didn't show it. "I'm afraid I am not familiar with this 'Tal'Dorei'... Can you please elaborate?"

I raised an eyebrow, knowing full well they wouldn't, but I still needed to act the part. "You don't know the continent Tal'Dorei? Maybe you know of it under a different name, like Gwessar?" As all the Gods, and a few of the guards shook their heads, I continued, injecting a bit of panic into my voice. "Issylra? Marquet?! Wildemount?! The Teeth?! None of them?!

"...I'm afraid not, Mister Maddic." Ganesha said soothingly, filling the weighty silence that followed my shouting. "Let's start smaller and work our way up from there. Like what do you do for a living?"

I thought it would be far harder to dredge up Maedmux's completely fabricated backstory, but all the tiny details and facts that I wrote to satisfy my slave driver of a DM seemed to come to me with almost supernatural ease.

Pretending to take a moment to gather myself, I gave them a sheepish smile. "Well, I am currently a, uh- transient artificer; But I held the rank of sergeant when I served as a senior Battlesmith with the Shields of the Plain, Westruuns volunteer militia."

Both Ganesha and Hephaestus raised an eyebrow at the term Battlesmith, but it was Ganesha who spoke first. "We'll come back to your time in the service in a moment, but that is the second time you've used the term 'artificer', could you please elaborate?"

"Sure." I nodded, obviously these guys probably just call their magic craftsmen something generic like 'enchantors', or something, so it'll only be a matter of clearing up semantics. "An artificer is a multifaceted craftsman who specializes in manufacturing enchanted or magical goods and equipment for a wid-"

My textbook description of the class was interrupted by a loud crack. My head snapped up at the unexpected noise to see the registrar standing there with a broken quill and ink dripping down the scroll in their hands. An absolutely gobsmacked expression on his face. In fact, everyone was staring at me like I had grown a second head.

"What? Do you guys not have anything similar?" Why the hell are they looking at me like that? There's no way a setting like Danmachi doesn't have magic weapons!

It was Hephaestus who spoke this time, an evaluating gleam in her eye. "Magical weapon creation is a pretty advanced Skill, Mister Maddic. If you wouldn't mind me asking, what level are you?"

Oh- that's right! They did have levels here, didn't they? They showed the protagonist leveling up via that loli Goddess straddling him and using a magic tramp stamp or something… God, did I mention how much I hate the fact that I apparently ended up in some PG-thirteen, head empty- drown in OPPAI anime yet?

Though, if there are levels here, maybe this place isn't as divorced from DnD as I remembered…

"I don't mind at all Miss Hephaestus, I recently made level eight as an artificer a few weeks ago."

X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X​

Author notes will be under part 2

 

[DangerDesperado]

Hyena Werks, A proud Orario Company.

DanmachiXDnD Nonhuman semi SI

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Chapter Three:
Squeaking Past The Divine Border Patrol
(Jailhouse Blues Part Two)

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Record scratch.

Freeze Frame.

Utterly dead silence.

Over two dozen faces looked back at me, frozen in a fascinating mix of horror, awe, and even excitement in a few of them. The five original guards that were with Steve looked like someone had just tap-danced over their collective graves as they white-knuckled their weapons.

I could actually hear the collective heartbeats of everyone in the room skyrocket at the word 'eight'. And a bitterly pungent smell that Max's memory told me was fear filled my nose.

One of the few exceptions was a newcomer who had been hovering behind Freya the whole time. Almost as tall as I was, he also had a pair of triangular furry ears perched on top of his head. He was built like a brick house, and armed with a comically large single edged sword.

While his face was entirely blank, an unmistakable spark of anticipation shone in his russet colored eyes.

Tearing my eyes from the stranger, I addressed the room. "Why are you all looking at me like that?" I huffed, feeling a bit unnerved at all the attention. "Level eight isn't that high, is it?"

Someone in the crowd audibly choked, and Dian Cecht looked like he'd swallowed his tongue.

"What level do your people consider high, then, Max?" Ganesha asked, and while what little I could see of his face was expressionless, the intensity of his voice took me off guard.

Realizing I might have just majorly fucked up some how, I tripped over my words to answer. "W-well, most people agree that one becomes world class at around level twelve to fifteen, but level twenty is believed to be the peak of mortal achievement."

"Max." The Elephant masked God of Wisdom and luck breathed out, his shock coloring his words. "The highest level ever recorded in our history is nine… The highest level adventure alive..." He gave a nod over his shoulder to the man behind Freya. "Is Ottar here at level seven."

A small 'Oh' slipped out of my mouth at the information.

Oh, I fucked up bad.

There's no God damned way that we're using a similar leveling system, because I know that some of the characters here were able to do your standard anime bullshit; Like running so fast that they vanish, or cut someone so quickly that all they do is put their hand on their sword and the bad guy falls apart at the seams in an explosion of blood.

Either I had outed myself as far more alien then they can imagine or…

Or maybe… Maybe I can use this.

As long as I never, ever, correct their misconception… Who's to say I'm not a level eight super gnoll capable of bending their strongest fighter over my digitigrade knee and beating his ass like he owes me money.

I took the chance to gauge how the other Gods were taking this information. Dian Cecht looked like he'd just lost at cards with Death himself, and he'd had come to collect; Hephaestus was biting her lip, looking as though she was physically holding herself back from asking a million and one questions; Loki was looking at me like her next ten birthdays had all come at once, with me as the sole gift; And Freya had a calculative gleam in her eye, like some business mogul eyeing up their next less-than-legal business acquisition.

Or perhaps like how a lion looks at a particularly juicy gazelle.

Ganesha himself was simply staring at me, his eyes inscrutable behind the orange lenses of his mask. The only clue I had to his thoughts was the firm set to his jaw.

It wasn't until they started moving that I remembered that Fels in the black cloak was there at all. Their cloak seemed to blow in a non-existent breeze as they walked up to the bars of my cell.

In an ethereal voice that echoed with a strange timber, they spoke. I would have liked to say they sounded appropriately spooky for someone wearing the Grim Reapers cloak, but unfortunately, they sounded like a robot speaking into a desk fan.

"You didn't hurt anyone."

I quirked a brow at the complete non-sequitur, at my voiceless request for elaboration they continued.

"For all your power, you didn't fight back when threatened by those travelers; You just surrendered and let yourself be led away in chains?"

"Yes?" I questioned, wondering where they were going with this. "I wasn't about to fight a bunch of random merchants without a damned good reason. All I wanted was to do was ask them where we were and what the name of this city was." With a mirthless chuckle I added. "Not to mention surrendering seemed to have worked out just fine for me, I got to skip that big fuck-off line out there, after all."

"Or at least it would have been perfect." I amended, making sure to shoot Cecht a dirty look as I did. "if someone didn't go and muck around with things that did not belong to them."

And, as it turns out, a hyena man roughly the size of a grizzly bear has one mean looking glare.

While Dian, the already light skinned Irish man, paled even further, somehow and took a big step back- Fels, for their part simply nodded, apparently satisfied with my answer because they simply stepped back behind the rest of the Gods and remained silent.

Ganesha opened his mouth, no doubt to continue the interrogation, but the registrar spoke up before he could. "Um, Lord Ganesha?" Tivra held up his broken quill and now thoroughly soaked parchment. "I uh- broke my Blood Pen…"

While Ganesha released a small sigh, I took a closer look at the now ruined writing instrument.

What I thought was a mundane quill was actually an intricately crafted feather pen, with beautiful silver filigree trailing up and down its length. Scarlet ink ran from its reservoir and all across the man's hand in a small river.

Well, it would be a crying shame to leave such a gorgeous stylograph in such a state.

I stuck my open palm through the bars. "Pass it here, I'll take a look."

At Ganesha's reassuring nod, Tivra placed the broken halves of his pen in my paw before scurrying back. Hephaestus on the other hand had pressed herself up against the bars to take a better look, much to the dismay of her familia.

With the quill in hand, it was clear to see that the break was almost perfectly clean, so this should be an easy enough fix. I carefully nudged the pieces across my palm until they were lined up, and closed my fist to hold them in place. My other hand went to the cord wrapped around my neck.

My necklace was one of the only things the guards let me keep (the other being my pants) when they dragged me in here; And that was under the snarled threat that I would bite the hand off of any man that tried.

At a glance, it was nothing but a bunch of tribal trinkets woven onto a strap of thick leather into some crude jewelry.

A pair of fangs and claws, yellowed with age; Stones and chunks of metal of various types, such as a couple of lodestones and a small scrap of iron; The contour feathers of several species of birds; There was even a small strip of pork rind tied into a knot and looped through the middle.

Most people would dismiss it as nothing other than sentimental baubles.

Others would call it a bunch of trash.

But anyone from any of the multiverses of DnD would know exactly what they're looking at.

With my hand on the lodestones, and with a subtly breathed 'Mend', I could feel it in my belly as a small pinch of my mana was burned to fuel the spell, altering reality itself.

The magic manipulated the very molecules of the pen. Forcing them to merge with their fellows until what was once broken was made whole.

I opened my fist to reveal a perfectly repaired pen.

The Goddess of the Forge audibly gasped and snatched up the pen from my hand before Tivra could even take a step forward.

Her rapid fire muttering filled the room as she held it up, but even with my big-ass ears I could only catch one word in ten. I did hear something about a 'perfect atomic bond' but other than that it was mostly technobabble that even Maedmux was having trouble following.

While Hephaestus freaked out over a pen, I waved to get Tivra's attention, and gestured for him to pass over the ruined transcript. After only a moment, he acquiesced and handed it to me.

One pass of prestidigitation later and the excess ink sloughed off (right on to the ground, whoops), leaving behind the already written words untouched. All I had to do was focus on the idea that only the puddle of ink was the problem, but not the ink used on the words, and the spell did the rest.

As I gave the scroll back to a thankful Tivra, Ganesha started speaking with a sigh. "You know Max, you aren't making this easy on me." At my questioning look he continued. "On one hand, you haven't done anything wrong; In fact, you've been nothing but cooperative, helpful even." He added after another glance at the pristine pen and scroll.

"On the other hand… I'm not sure I have the authority to make such a decision alone. Granting access to even a lone level four or five is one thing." He barks a humorless laugh at the mere thought of a solo first class adventure running around outside of Orario unchecked. "But a level eight? That would have to go through the council I'm afraid."

I scratched my chin in thought as he and the rest watched uneasily, gauging how I would take the news no doubt.

"Alright, but answer me truthfully." I said and crouched down slightly until we were eye level. "Would you be so reluctant to let me in if I was a level eight human?"

"No." He said after a moment of thought. "You would have most likely been granted access after a short debate, but it wouldn't have been a case that needed to be put before the Denatus."

With a nod I stood up fully. "I appreciate your honesty. Do you have any more questions or are you ready to give your verdict?"

"I think we've all had enough world shattering answers for today, so I'll save the rest of my questions for another time." He said with a sigh. "Instead, I'm only going to ask you two more and then we'll go from there."

He leaned forward and put his hands on the bars as he stared me down. "Firstly, how did you end up outside of Orario?"

Even with the gravitas of the question, and knowing how my answer would directly shape my future with these people, the only answer I could offer him was a shrug. "I wish I knew. Last night I went to sleep, and when I woke up I was in some random glade a couple of miles out of town. There were no tracks or trails of any kind leading to or from the clearing, so I have no Idea how I ended up there. I followed my nose until I found a road, which took me to your city. I decided to go down and ask the locals some questions, and you know the rest."

Gashesha groaned with a muttered "Truth" just under his breath, before he collected himself. "The others won't like it when all I can report is that you have no idea how you ended up here, but if you don't know then you don't know.

But the question I must have an answer for however, is: Do you bear any ill will or hostile intent towards Orario or her people?"

My eyes widened in shock. "God no! I just wanted to ask some questions, and maybe find an inn or something to stay the night! I mean, I'd defend myself if I had absolutely no choice, but I'm not here to cause trouble or anything…"

Time passed, either a moment or an hour I couldn't say. Just me staring into the opaque lens of his mask. Begging, imploring him to understand without words that I wasn't dangerous.

With a sigh of relief the spell was broken, and Guardian of Orario leaned back and let some of the tension drain from his body.

"Then I am ready to make my verdict, I have already heard the opinions and recommendations by my fellow Gods before the interview, so unless any of them would like to change their opinion?.." When all four of them shook their heads in the negative, Ganesha continued. "Then with the power invested in me by my fellow Gods, and the people of Orario, I hereby grant you probationary admittance to the city. You will have to wait until the official hearing during the Denatus as to whether or not a more permanent offer, such as citizenship, is extended to you."

He then waved up Steve, who took out a key and opened my cell door without ceremony.

That's it? These people meet what should be an individual from a completely new species of basically unknown strength, power, or allegiance and they just… Welcome them into their home? I expected to be cooling my heels in this cell for days at best, but only an hour or so later and a few questions and its 'Come on in!'?

The Gods must put a lot of faith into their ability to discern truth from lies…

Damnit, After the absolute roller coaster of a day I've been having, I don't really feel like organizing my already spent emotions too much. So I'll just settle on optimistically grateful.

I still haven't really had a chance to just sit and… Decompress yet. To mourn my lost humanity, taken without warning or reason.

From trying to find shelter, to the mortal terror of staring down a fantasy firing squad, and then straight to an interrogation…

Up till now, momentum, and the slim hope that this is nothing but some crazy dream have been the only things keeping me going.

I'm self aware enough to know that writing this whole thing off as just a dream is ludicrous. From the second I opened my eyes in that clearing, I knew this was no hallucination, but what else could I believe?

No God descended and told me of some epic destiny I must fulfill. No ROB sauntered into my life and told me I was its new plaything.

For all I know, Maedmux hit his head and I'm only the hallucinated alter ego created by brain damage and an overactive imagination.

But, fuck is it a weight off my shoulders too hear those words. If only because I can take shelter off the list of problems I'm facing.

Only like a billion to go.

I gave a respectful nod and a small smile to Ganesha as I ducked under the door frame to stand in the hallway. "Then I thank you for your mercy and hospitality, Pack Lord."

As Steve worked to remove my shackles; Ganesha beamed a smile back, his serious demeanor vanishing with the wind now that the interrogation was done. "Don't mention it, Max, I'm sure the rest of the Gods will see reason. Then you'll be welcome to live here if you so wish."

"I'll want to be able to see a map first, but if I can't figure out where I am or how to get back home… I might just take you up on that."

The God reached up and clapped a hand on my shoulder with a smile. "We'll do what we can to help you; In the meantime, let's get you your things back from lockup."

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Ganesha quietly led me through a chaotic mess of corridors and staircases, clearly lost in thought as he navigated the passages with practices ease; I could hear murmurs from the group as they following behind at a slight distance, but I couldn't be bothered to listen in as I focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

Eventually we passed through a steel grate flanked by two guards, arriving at a large antechamber. At the center of the room were rows upon rows of wooden tables stacked high with all manner of confiscated goods and contraband.

And there, on the table closest to the door, was my gear. Dark leather bandoliers and belts heaped in a messy pile, while all of my potions and tools were lined up in neat rows in front of them.

Trotting past Ganesha and up to the table, I let Max's muscle memory take the lead. With practiced ease, I started pulling on my equipment and In less than a couple of minutes I was slotting the last heath potion into its holster. Seeing the four empty spots where my stolen potions used to be rekindled a small spark of anger in my heart. So while shooting Cecht another look, I popped open the Arcane Lock on my custom hip-Bag Of Holding with a snap of my fingers, and stuck my arm up to the elbow into the seemingly empty pouch.

Thanks to Max's memories I knew that all I needed to do was simply visualize what I wanted to pull out and- there we go. Like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, I withdrew my paw grasping a fist full of potions, two vials Health, one of Fire-Giant Strength, and a Psionic Fortitude.

After I tucked the vials away and locked my bag back up, I turned back to the crowd to see them once again gapping at me, or more specifically, the bag on my hip.

Alright, this bit was kinda funny at first but it's getting old fast. How the hell am I going to blend in if something as innocuous as a Bag of Holding was mind boggling to them? What are they going to say when I finally build a homunculus? A Steel Defender?

And God help me if they find out about the magical WMD I'm packing in this little satchel.

"Let me guess, you guys don't have Bags of Holding around here?" As one, the group just mutely shook their heads, getting an amused snort out of me. "Then I guess that's an untapped market I can make some gold in… provided I'm allowed to stay in your fine city, of course." I added with a cheeky grin and a wink, not bothering with subtlety at this point in my day.

"We checked that bag, several times, for hidden pockets or a false bottom. The only thing noticeable about it was its suspicious weight, but I know for a fact it was empty." Ganesha trailed off, his unasked question hanging in the air.

I pulled the bag in question off my hip and held it up to the crowd, might as well hawk my future wares while I have the attention of some of the most powerful people in the city. "These are fairly common back home, they're enchanted items connected to a pocket dimension in an alternate plane. They vary, naturally, in quality- which affects how much one can safely carry, but my bag here can hold about five-hundred pounds worth of goods without ever weighing more than fifteen. I made this one myself, and had it locked with magic, so only I could access its contents."

The Gods were obviously impressed.

But the adventurers standing behind them?

They were practically salivating.

I could see the want, the greed, in their eyes. Even Dead Eye'd Ais was looking at the bag with interest.

I could very well imagine why. If I remember correctly, then Danmachi was basically about 'adventures' who go down into the Big Bad Dungeon day after day to kill monsters and collect their riches to bring back up to the surface. Like glorified miners who just happened to be digging up particularly hostile rocks.

A bag that could increase the amount of loot they could carry out by an order of magnitude would be a complete game changer.

I shot another smirk at the Gods as I clipped my bag back onto my belt; Knowing that if nothing else, I had made prospective customers out of five of the most powerful people in the city.

People who will be more than willing to fight for me in this 'Denatus' of theirs, which I can only assume to be a governing body of some kind.

"So…" I started, drawing out the 'o'. "What exactly does probationary admittance entail? And am I officially free to go?"

Ganesha nodded with a hum. "You can leave here and enter the city whenever you wish. Probationary status simply means that technically, you are only a visitor to the city. So, any crimes you possibly commit would be investigated far more critically, and judged even more harshly, than a citizen who is in good standing might otherwise be."

With a breath he continued. "Other than that? Public services which are normally free to use such as access to The Great Library and the various bath houses will require a modest fee. And entry to other places like Babel or the Dungeon itself would be out-right denied to you. You lucked out with the timing of your arrival, though, because the next Denatus is only next week."

Nothing too unreasonable then, I simply have to keep my nose clean for a week and I should be fine. "Then I guess that's it then, If you guys have nothing else you need from me, I'll just be on my way…."

The elephant masked God flinched. "That might be a problem- While you are legally allowed in the city, if the people of Orario saw you just wandering around… They might, well, take offense per say. Before we came down here to meet you, it was decided that the best way to avoid any panic or bloodshed, is to have either Loki or Freya here take temporary-" He strains the last word, looking at the Goddesses in question as he does. "-Custody of you, just until the Denatus. Then we can officially introduce you to the populace at large."

I open my mouth to protest, but he continues before I could interrupt. "I know it's unfair, but If the people see you in the company of one of our strongest familias, they'll feel a lot safer, and less likely to attack out of fear."

Damnit.

I shut my mouth with a click and huff out my nose in frustration.

As much as I hate the idea of being stuck with one of these Gods, Ganeshas right… If the reactions of the people at the gate is any indication, then the folks in the city will probably just try to kill me on sight.

"All right." I muttered with a sigh, already resigned to dealing with walking neurosis in front of me for the foreseeable future; Causing Ganesha to beam at my easy acceptance. "I get to choose though?"

At his nod, I eyed my two options up.

On one hand, I have Loki, the Goddess of Mischief and trickery, infamous for her (his?) desire to spread chaos across the world. They are also known for their predisposition to banging animals and giants alike; Spawning children destined to eat the sun and moon… Or something, I don't fucking know. Norse mythology is weird.

Now, I seriously doubt that that last part made it into Danmachi, but the being in front of me was inspired by the original tale, so it's probably safe to assume that her overall personality will match.

On the other hand, I have Freya. Who is also from Norse mythology, which is about the sum total knowledge I have on her. I want to say she's the wife of Odin, as well as the Goddess of conflict and fertility- but I'm not sure if that's right.

The choice should be easy, either I go with silk-stockings over here, who probably bleed blue if I bit her; Or I go with the degenerate dressed, as Freya put it, 'incongruously'.

By all accounts, Freya would be a perfectly fine choice for a temporary host. Clearly respected, wealthy, and with a strong familia; An excellent shield to put between myself and the bloodthirsty masses.

But then why am I so hesitant to go with her? I couldn't quite articulate exactly what I was feeling, but some animal instinct within me was absolutely screaming danger when I looked into her silver eyes.

Something about those apathetic, glassy orbs just raised my hackles like nothing else.

I looked back and forth between the Goddesses as I absently scratched my chin. "And you two are ok with putting me up for a week?"

Freya answered with a titter. "I was the one who suggested allowing one of us to host you. It was contingent on Ganesha allowing you in, of course. But we all know that letting you wander free after the debacle at the gate would be disastrous."

I gave a non-committal hum, still none too pleased to hear that they had already planned this out. The part that I was really hung up on though, was what the hell their stake in all of this? I get why Ganesha, and to an extent, the other Gods are worried about a potential danger like myself enough to give me all this special attention. But to care enough to take responsibility of a complete stranger? I just couldn't figure out what their game was.

"If it makes ya' choice any easier-" Loki spoke up, a grin clear in her voice. "-My familia and I were plannin' on going out for drinks after this…"

Damnit… Hearing those magic words after the day I've had?

"I could go for a drink." I admitted, causing Loki's smirk to grow even more smug. But even mentioning something food adjacent had my stomach making its displeasure at still being empty known to all.

My blush would have been atomic if my fur didn't completely hide it.

"-And maybe we can grab a bite to eat as well, my treat." Loki amended with a snicker, driving my mortification to new heights.

"Oh Please." Freya sneered, shooting a dispassionate glare at Loki before refocusing on me. "You don't have to settle for whatever tavern swill she'll slap in front of you. I have Orario's finest cooks under my employ, as well as a fully stocked wine cellar with the finest vintages from all across Gekai."

I huffed a fake laugh, but internally I could feel an unease that bordered on pure panic curling in my belly. Why the hell did they want to host me so badly? Shouldn't they be more nervous if they think I'm such a high level?

Something in me is already howling at the mere thought of being in close contact with these self-proclaimed Gods. Their insistence on having me stay with them is only giving credence to that nameless thing's fears.

The fear that the attention of Deities can only bring suffering.

I gave the haughty woman a long look before speaking. "I'm sure your cellar is filled with fancy drinks with fancier names that I can't even pronounce, much less afford. I'm a simple gnoll with simple needs, Freya, I just want a cold beer and warm food."

I turned back to Loki, eager to get away from the Goddess of War, and even more excited at the prospect of food. "To be honest, some bar food sounds pretty damn good to me. So if it's truly no trouble, then I would prefer to stay with you for the time being."

"No trouble at all, mister Maddic, my home is your home." The trickster Goddess said with a triumphant smile as she stuck out her hand to me.

I took her hand and gave it a single shake. "Then I am in your care, Pack Lord Loki."

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Author Notes:
Ah, misunderstandings. A poor author's cop out.

(Major, major spoilers ahead, most of the things discussed below will be touched upon in later chapters, but this is here incase anyones confused by the cut/timeline)

Max is just now realizing how truely Out of Context he is to this setting, and is planning on milking that for all its worth. Or at least until the natives cotton on.

Ganesha was at home doing Ganesha things when he's called to a guard barracks by his familia when they reported 'capturing' a talking monster. At this point in the timeline Ganesha, Fels, and Ouranos should have already been working together for a while on making the people of Orario more comfortable with monsters, in order to pave the way for xenos eventually living on the surface.

Ganesha, thinking that someone jumped the gun by catching a xeno and openly parading it around, rushes over, only to be shown a pile of confiscated high-end adventure and craftsmen equipment, and a singing 7 foot tall hyena man. Realizing that this might be more than just some poor xeno getting nabbed, he calls in Fels, and eventually Hephaestus and Dian Cecht to take a look at Max's stuff, and tell him what he's looking at.

Loki, perpetually bored and looking for entertainment, heard about the scuffle at the gate and came sniffing around. Freya, not willing to let her rival go around unchecked, followed.

Ganesha happily invited the two most powerful Goddesses in the city into the discussion when Dian Cecht started singing the praises of Max's potions, and Hephaestus confirmed that his gear was extremely well made and expensive, indicating means and wealth that a monster simply couldn't have.

The group discuss the best way to interact with Max, and come up with multiple contingencies and scenarios before going down and spying on him for a bit. All they see is Max harmlessly bugging the guards before they decide to make themselves known.

In that pre interview before they meet Max, they agree that leaving a giant hyena man to his own devices, in a city built around the idea of killing things that don't look human would be a terrible idea. They also agree that, if Max is deemed safe, the Freya or Loki families would be the best place to stash said hyena man while they broke the news to the people so they could slowly and safely introduce Max to the population at large.

So while Hephaestus and Dian Cecht would love to have access to the mysterious monster craftsman, they agree (for now) that only the strongest exploration familias would be entrusted to both protect Max from the people, and vice versa should Max prove to be dangerous.

Freya wasn't actually interested in Max himself when she was called in to help, and was only as interested as she was because of the minor novelty of possibly having a talking monster in her little reverse harem/personal slave army. It wasn't until she heard his level that she actively planned on trying to gain his service, if for no other reason than to deny her rivals his help. The problem is, she already knows she's shot herself in the foot with that monster comment, and her overall attitude in the interview. So now she's playing catch up in terms of winning the loyalty of the living WMD that just blundered up to their gates. The only problem for her is that she can't overtly use her 'Charms' in the presence of so many other influential Gods in case she's caught.

Loki on the other hand was just as happy to be pulling one over on her rival, as she was to get to have the chance to meet a friendly, sapient monster. So finding out the monster in question is actually a 'high level' friendly monster is just a bonus in her eyes. Getting chosen to host him is both ammunition she can use to brag to the other Gods, as well as a prime chance to sink her hooks into Max and hopefully bring him into her familia.

Max, trusting his instincts that tell him that both the Goddesses are bad news but Freya's worse, decides to go gracefully with the lesser of two evils (for now).

And yes, I know Blood Pens are magical items, so Mend shouldn't have worked. That will become relevant.

 

[DangerDesperado]

Hyena Werks, A proud Orario Company.

DanmachiXDnD Nonhuman semi SI

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Chapter Four:
A Dinner Date with a Nice Girl (and Seven of Her Closest Friends)

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The sun was just setting when we left the guard house they were keeping me in. A solid stream of people still walked the streets despite the late hour, rushing to finish their tasks before nightfall.

Though all of that came to a screeching halt as we passed.

It's probably a good thing that these people haven't invented cars yet, because there would have definitely been wrecks as people stopped dead to gawk at us.

Or more specifically, at me.

Loki, her crew, and I were making our way towards 'the best bar in Orario', or so she says. My money is on some hole in the ground.

Orario itself was shockingly clean and organized. I don't know why I was half expecting this place to look like King's Landing or something. But I was pleasantly surprised to find that not to be the case.

Well paved cobblestone streets lined with beautifully made half-timbered homes and stores. The whole place reminded me of some cheery, small European town more than anything else.

With the crowd scrambling to get out of our way, we made good time. And soon arrived at, in spite of my expectations, a cozy-looking pub with white plaster walls and intricately carved wooden furnishings. The cheerful murmur and delightful smells of a busy restaurant drifted out its open door.

A sign, written with some of the worst handwriting I have ever seen, declared this bar to be named… "'The Hostess of Fertility?' Just what kind of establishment are you taking me to, Loki?"

The Goddess in question just gave me a side eye and a grin. "Be careful with that kinda' talk, Maedmux, or else Mama Mia might decide she's serving hyena stew tonight. Mia named it in honor of Demeter, in thanks for her help in getting them started."

I hid a flinch at being called that stupid name, and simply made an understanding hum as we stepped through the door, her familia hot on our heels. The room, predictably, went quiet when Loki and her posse entered, and then went wide-eyed when they saw me duck through the door to follow her in.

One of the few people who didn't look all too shocked was the woman standing behind the bar. Roughly six feet of bulging muscles and thick calluses, she hadn't even opened her mouth and I could tell she was the epitome of an old battle axe.

All she did was raise a brow as she looked me up and down, before crossing her arms and snorting with a good-natured smirk. "You house trained, Fido?"

My indignant "Hey!" went ignored as Loki laughed and answered for me. "He's with me, Mama Mia. Ganesha's already given Max here the A-OK, so he'll be staying with my familia for a bit."

Loki said the last part a little louder than strictly necessary, directing her voice towards the room. Is that your game, Loki? Showing me off to the city, staking your claim?

Some form of communication passed between the Goddess and proprietress as, after a moment, she only grunted before nodding towards an empty table. "Fine, he can stay, but if he bites anyone, I'm blaming you."

The Goddess of Mischief simply waved her off as she and her familia started towards the table, I puffed a disgruntled snort at the now named Mama Mia before joining them.

The wooden stool groaned worryingly under my weight, but it held. Across from me, Loki glanced at my seat and gave me a knowing grin.

Before the Goddess's colorful collection of misfits could even finish seating themselves, a raven-haired cat-shifter wearing a green smock and a brittle smile came around with a tray of drinks. With supernatural grace and speed that only a 'high level' anime character could possess, she set the table, making sure to put specific drinks in front of Loki's familia.

The bar itself was still unnervingly silent, the other patrons still just staring at us with… Varied expressions. Every squeak and scuff of the cat girl's shoes thundered out like gunshots in the tense atmosphere.

It wasn't until she served everyone else did she waver. Her already strained grin faltered as she stood before me, empty tray in hand. While not entirely hostile, there was certainly no warmth in her eyes. Turning to Loki, she asked. "And him? What will he have?"

"He!" I interjected, before the Goddess could speak for me. "Can speak for himself. And I would like-" Wait, shit. What did people even drink back in Ye' Olden Tymes? Ale? I don't even know what ale is! I doubt this place has anything on draft, and they'll probably think I'm speaking in tongues if I ask for an IPA…

Oh! I know! "-A mug of Mead, please." Thanks, Skyrim!

The cat girl just raised a single, well-manicured eyebrow, but otherwise didn't acknowledge my long ass pause. She simply gave a small curtsy and stalked off behind the bar.

Loki, on the other hand, held no conniptions to pointing out my hesitation.

"What's the matter, Max? Do ya' not have ah' favorite poison?" She asked with a chortle as the waitress came back with my drink in a glass mug, which impressed me. I figured glass would be worth a fortune here.

I waited until the girl had finished setting down my drink before answering with a faux haughty sniff. "It's not that, I'm merely a refined gnoll with refined tastes. I drink the best, and only the best. But ordering a bottle of the finest brandy on someone else's dole is usually frowned upon in polite company."

Loki's grin grew wide as I spoke, and through a laugh she asked. "Yet here you are, Mister Moneybags, slumming it with us plebeians. What, you didn't care enough about the high life if you had to go with Freya to live it?"

My only answer was a sharp grin and a wink as I lifted up my drink for a sip, which nearly instantly became a full gulp because- holy shit, was it good. I think I just found my new favorite booze.

As I physically held myself back from lapping up the liquid ambrosia in my paws like a dog, someone spoke up.

"You really aren't a monster, are you?"

Looking back up from my cup of sweet honeyed nectar and at Loki's familia, my eyes were drawn to the speaker. The shortest of the lot, he was blonde haired and blue eyed, with a childlike appearance. But something about his eyes, or maybe it was just the way he held himself, told me he was far older than he appeared.

A halfling then.

"How about-" I said, while carefully setting down my already dangerously empty mug while licking my chops to get every last drop. "-You tell me exactly what one of these 'monsters' of yours are, and I will be able to tell you if I match their description in any way."

He stared into his drink with a stoney expression for a moment before looking up at me. It wasn't until his navy-blue eyes met my own from over the rim of his own mug did he acquiesce. "Monsters are creatures made of pure, unadulterated malice. Birthed from the walls of The Dungeon, they seek nothing but the complete, and total eradication of all sapient life."

He swirled his drink and took a sip before continuing. "While they come in thousands of different forms, all of them are naught but thoughtless, crazed beasts- no, less than beasts; Beasts at least have some form of sentience to them. They, however, are nothing but a scourge upon the world and all her people. For as long as our history can remember, we have been at war with The Dungeon and its creatures without end. Thankfully, with the help of our patron Gods and Goddesses, Adventurers like myself- and those you see in this room, have risen up to defend Gekai by fighting the monsters in their very home."

It was only after a pregnant pause did he add. "We hold the line, at any cost, to prevent monsters from escaping and spreading destruction and misery. As they did before…"

The whole bar, including myself, hung onto his every last word, and the grim picture they painted.

What the hell!? I thought this was just some trashy harem story? So why does it sound like this dude's describing the lore of some knock-off Dark Souls?!

The next to speak was an almost painfully stereotypical elf. With grass-green hair, aristocratic cheekbones, and a chin sharp enough to cut diamonds. And not to mention the knife-ears sticking half-a-foot from the side of her head.

With the cadence and prose of an Ivy-League professor giving a lecture, she followed where her comrade left off. "Biologically speaking, monsters are automata made of pure magic. They aren't exactly birthed by The Dungeon as they are manufactured; Created for the singular task of killing everything they can reach."

With a breath, she continued. "As beings of magic, they do not actually need, and some do not even have, functional organs. Any body parts a monster has, that is traditionally used to maintain the life and function of a natural born being, are simply vestigial features. Left over from when The Dungeon copied some other, actual living creature for its fell creations. Instead, they are powered by condensed magic in the form of a crystal deep in a monster's body. Which provides just enough energy to complete its task of murdering anything in sight. If the power source is removed, the body falls apart as the magical bonds holding it together fail."

And with a tiny smirk she added "Those crystals, along with various other parts of monsters, are coincidentally quite valuable for multiple different applications."

I nervously finished the rest of my drink, because holy fuck did this sound way worse than I thought this setting was about, before speaking. "Well… I can tell you right now, under no uncertain terms, that gnolls match none of the characteristics you just described. We come into the world the usual way, ya' know? When a mommy gnoll and a daddy gnoll love each other very much-"

I ignored Loki's, and a few other people's snorts, as I continued. "-And I certainly don't have any magic crystals in my chest. If you cut me open all you'd get would be a lot of blood and about three-hundred pounds of dead gnoll."

Loki's familia, as well as pretty much everyone else in the bar, turned to look at the Goddesses in question. And at her nod, collectively let out a sigh that was equal parts relief, and a muted disbelief.

"So, you're just some funny lookin' mortal?" The one who spoke this time was your quintessential dwarf. Short, muscular, wearing plate armor, and sporting a magnificent beard.

I huffed a laugh as I held up my empty mug to the waitress, wordlessly asking for a refill. "I don't know about the 'funny' part, but last time I checked? Yes, I'm as flesh and blood as anyone else."

I could almost physically feel the atmosphere warming as I spoke and as the people took the Goddess's approval at face value. The firm frowns and scowls of the crowds were slowly easing into neutrality, or even slight optimism.

It was then it struck me that Loki was absolutely doing this on purpose. Giving me a chance to introduce and explain myself to a small portion of the public in a safe manner. Allowing me to get my metaphorical foot in the door of public acceptance.

It also meant that I owed her.

I owed a God a favor.

Ignorant of my inner turmoil and disgust, Loki's familia took the chance to introduce themselves.

The halfling, or Pallum, as he called himself, Finn Deimne. Level six and Loki's top dog.

The Elf, Riviera Ljos Alf, the second in command and also level six.

Gareth Landrock, which was an absolutely amazing name for a Dwarf, and the third in command. Again a level six.

And then there was the 'Executives' which I understood to be basically officers who all had achieved level five.

Ais Wallenstein, a normal human; Tione and Tiona Hiryute (There is not a chance in hell that I remember which one is which), the Amazoness (They said it like it was a separate species, but they just looked and smelled like darker-skinned humans to me) sisters; and finally Bete Loga, the white-haired wolf-shifter (he introduced him as a 'werewolf' but when I asked if he wanted a cure for his lycanthropy, they all looked at me like I was the insane one).

It was around this time that the waitress came back with not only my drink, but a whole heaping tray laden down with food. I had to physically push my lips together to avoid drooling all over myself.

I was not successful.

When she finished setting out a feast fit for a king, a plate stacked high with glazed ribs ended up placed just in reach. As everyone else dug in, I wiped away a long string of drool and grabbed an entire rack in my paws and dug in.

It was absolutely delicious. With a fruity, honey glaze- it was just the right blend of tender and crunchy. The meat quite literally fell apart in my mouth, it was so good…

Wait, crunchy?

I opened my eyes and saw that I had just bit into the fuckin' side of it like it was a burger. And was eating it, bones and all, without any issues whatsoever.

I looked up to see my dinner mates looking at me with varying levels of disgust and amusement.

I simply… Shrugged and continued chewing. I'm a growing gnoll, after all, I have needs.

So invested was I in inhaling the food in front of me that I didn't even notice the proprietress approaching until she clapped me on the back with a meaty whack! That nearly sent me face first into the stew I was guzzling.

Laughing as uproariously as she was, she could hardly form a sentence. But she eventually got it out.

"Now this here is a customer!" She shouted back towards the bar where yet another cat girl, this time with orange-hair, was sticking her head through the serving window. Damn, this place is just chock full of cat-shifters. "He likes your cooking so much that he didn't even leave the bones, May!"

I would have retorted with something snappy and witty, but… I was too busy eating to waste time on mere words.

Dinner continued quickly and mostly peacefully. Bete and I did get into a brief scuffle over the last chicken leg, but I stood victorious when I shot some prestidigitation created sparks in his face and stole my prize when he flinched back.

But all too soon was the food all gone, and it only felt like I had a light snack. I stared mournfully at my empty plate, debating whether or not it would be worth it to try and lick up those last few crumbs when Loki spoke up.

"So, Max." When I looked up to meet her eyes she continued. "You said you served in the army for a spell?" She trailed off leadingly.

"Not so much an army-" I corrected. "Just a glorified militia. The Shields of the Plain served as both law enforcement for Westruun, and as local peacekeepers to the surrounding area. And before you ask, I never saw any real action during my service, just a few anti-bandit operations here and there where I served as a Battlesmith. Usually though I was simply an attached smith dressed in a quartermaster's sash."

The rest of the restaurant, which had started to go back to normal as we ate, had fallen silent once again as they stopped to listen to our discussion. The nosey blighters.

Gareth raised one gloriously bushy eyebrow. "What in the blazes is a battlesmith?"

"Just a fancy name for a combat medic." I answered simply, not feeling like delving into the intricacies of the role, nor having to explain what exactly a Steel Defender is.

"So you're a healer then?" Rivera asked while leaning forward, clearly interested.

I shot her what I hoped was a mysterious smile while picking up my drink. "Among other things, yes. Da' always said a man should never just be one thing."

"And would that have been your natural born father, or your adopted one, if you don't mind me asking?" Loki asked boldly, if not unkindly.

I gave her a considering look as I rapped my claws against my glass mug, wondering if she was going somewhere with this, or if she was just genuinely curious. I also took a moment to set aside my unease at how easy it was for me to recall all this information.

It… It almost didn't feel like I was even acting anymore.

Suppressing a shiver I answered. "The adopted one, I never knew my birth parents." At their questioning looks I lowered my head to stare at the table as I elaborated. "They died when I was still a closed eyed pup… Murdered by some thrice-damned Ravagers as they defended Turst Fields from whatever evil those animals had in store for us."

No one in this room other than me knew what a Ravager was, but just the name itself was enough to get an idea.

"Normally-" I looked back up with dry eyes. "-I would have just been adopted communally by the pack itself. But one of the travelers my parents died defending offered to take me in and get me a better life in the 'big city'." I mimed with air quotes, Westrunn might have been a local capital, but in reality, it only had a population of thirty-thousand or so. Even less after the Chroma Crisis. "The pack agreed in my stead, and Eldon Maddic became my father, and eventually my mentor. He taught me almost everything I know." I finished with a sigh.

The group was silent for a moment, before Bete threw back the rest of his drink and gave me an almost commiserating look. But it was one of the Amazoness twins who spoke. "Must have been weird being raised by a human like that…"

"Human?" I looked at her incredulously. "My da' was a gnome, I was raised by him and his family."

It was their turn to look at me in surprise. In fact, the whole bar was looking at me in complete shock.

Loki, who was in the middle of taking a drink, started coughing like crazy after she inhaled it in surprise. In between gasps she choked out. "Y-you were raised by g-gnomes?!"

"Yein, ni- hisgî of arn drin- of golda." I said simply with a nod.

The Goddess just stared at me bugged-eyed, before suddenly bursting into full blown, gut busting laughter.
It wasn't long before the whole bar followed suit.

Finn and Gareth were barely holding each other up, crying actual tears of laughter as they clung to each other. Bete simply had his head down while he pounded the table with his fist. The twins just gaped at me with their mouths hanging wide open.

Rivera had closed her eyes and clamped a hand over her mouth, but all could see her shoulders shaking in suppressed mirth.

There was a loud crash as one of the other patrons slipped from his chair, holding his stomach as he roared with laughter.

Mama Mia, who was only just holding herself up on the counter of the bar, was only just able to wheeze out "P-please tell me, please, that you have a family p-painting on you!"

As the laughter renewed in intensity, I just looked around, ears pinned back, and totally lost.

Voicing my confusion, I asked the room. "What? What's so funny about being raised by gnomes?"
"S-stop!" Loki begged through her laughter as she hunched over the table, grasping her stomach. "I-I can't breathe!"

Someone from the back of the room screamed out. "I can see the family resemblance, Tiny!"

Another voice called back "You can? I don't know, I don't see his extra, extra large red hat!"

More and more snipes and wise cracks came from the heckling crowd, but I didn't get any of them.

Fine then, if they don't want to tell me…

I started to reach across the table, pulling all of the other's plates that still had food towards me while they laughed themselves silly. Loki's familia made no move to stop me as I had myself a whole second dinner.

I was licking my lips and contemplating taking the plates from nearby diners when the group finally started to control themselves. Still red-faced and hiccupping with laughter, they seemed to have a hard time looking at me directly without breaking into more chortles.

Loki, still slightly shaking, and refusing to meet my eyes as she stubbornly stared at a spot above my head, asked. "Well… Do you?"

"Do I what?" I huffed while I crossed my arms.

"Do you have a painting of your f-family with you?"

I straightened up a bit in my chair to make her meet my eyes, but she immediately tilted her head even further back until she was basically staring at the ceiling. But in the split second where our eyes did meet, she actually 'snrk t'd' at me before quickly looking away.

There is no way I can ever admit to having that pocket-watch.

"No-"

With a gasp she threw herself forward before pointing a dramatic finger at me.

"He LIES!" She slammed both her hands on the table and leaned as far over it as she could. "Lemme see it."

Now it was my turn to stare at the ceiling. "Nope." I declared defiantly, making sure to pop the P as I refused to look at the Goddess. "Not gonna' happen."

I stood as proud and unmoved as a lighthouse in a hurricane while boos and hisses fell upon me from the crowd, all demanding to see the picture.

Loki gritted her teeth and growled before leaning back, a thoroughly entertained glint in her eye. "I could order my familia to go and take it from you, Max."

"You could." I admitted, before dropping my chin and giving her my absolute best 'serial killer' grin; Making sure to show as many teeth as I conceivably could. "If you think your boys here could pull it off."

Our staredown lasted only a moment before Loki tossed her head back and giggled some more. "Oh, Max-" She said as she propped herself up on her elbows, her own signature smirk on full display. "We are going to get along like a house on fire, you and I."

I didn't bother replying, save for giving her familia a subtle glance to see how they were reacting to this verbal game of chicken.

They… Didn't seem all too concerned, actually. They're probably used to their Goddess poking and prodding people like this.

Other than still recovering from laughing so hard, the only one actually doing anything was one of the twins, who was looking for what happened to the rest of her meal.

As she searched high and low for her dinner, I stealthy nudged the pile of incriminating plates towards Bete while he was distracted by taking a pull on his own drink.

The rest of the group, the other patrons included, watched with great anticipation when she finally noticed the evidence stacked in front of the poor, innocent wolf-shifter.

There were no words, just action.

A truly gorgeous flying leap took her clear over the table and directly around the wolf-man's chest as she brought them both to the floor with a screamed battlecry.

She then proceeded to beat the ever living shit, out of the guiltless Bete.

And I learned exactly what separates a human from an amazoness.

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"I said I was sorry!"

Both Tiona and Bete glared daggers at me from their seats, the latter of which still looked a bit roughed up around the edges despite the Mend Wounds I hit him with.

The only reason why they both haven't jumped me yet was because of how I folded Bete in half with a hastily summoned Floating Disk.

The werewolf, after crawling out from underneath the amazoness, leaped at me. In a panic, I instinctively cast the spell. He slammed stomach first into the direct edge of the nearly invisible platform going full speed, causing him to nearly lose his dinner all over the floor.

So now I'm carefully moving my chair to make sure the barrier is still in between me and at least one of them, for my own protection.

I was trying to look at anything but the two so rightfully angry at me when my eyes fell upon Rivera, who was also staring at me incredibly intently.

"Mister Maddic…" She began, carefully weighing her words as she glanced at the shimmering platform. "If I'm not mistaken, was that the fifth spell you've demonstrated?" As soon as the word 'fifth' fell from her lips the bar went eerily quiet again. Even Bete and Tiona zeroed back in on the conversation. "Provided it's not too much to ask, how many spells do you know?"

"The fifth spell?-" I asked to buy time, still trying to gauge why everyone here was so concerned about a few cantrips.

"Well, there was that repair spell, that cleaning spell-" She said with a disbelieving scoff for some reason. "-Then there were those sparks you threw at dinner, that barrier, and finally the healing spell…"

"The cleaning and sparks are actually the same spell." I said absently as I scratched my arm with a nervous tick. Everyone was really focused on us now.

"Four, then. You still haven't answered my question."

Ok, being fairly 'honest' so far has been working out. But why do I feel like admitting I have well north of a hundred spells logged away in my spellbook might be pushing it? Maybe I should actually fish for some info myself this time.

"Oh, no more than most people my level. How many spells do you know, Miss Alf?" I said with a shaky smile.

I don't think spy craft, or subtly on any level will ever be one of my strong suits.

The elf in question just gave me a look and answered with deadpanned "Nine." Which seemed a bit low for a wizard as leveled as her, but what do I know about this place?

The end of the conversation did not mean an end to the staring. In fact, it seemed to get even worse as everyone in the tavern just kept looking at me.

Loki opening her mouth was almost a welcomed reprieve… For about all of about a second.

"And how many spells do people in your homeland know by your level, Mister Maddic."

Shit.

They know.

Or at least, They suspect.…

I simply continued to silently stare down the barrel of Loki's stupidly smug face, while simultaneously trying to prevent any hint of the blown panic attack I'm having from showing up on my face.

My eyes darted to Riveria before going back to the Goddess of Mischief. Is having nine spells considered a lot, or is it average for a level six in Danmachi? Or is it even a low amount? She did say it in a weird way…

Should I refuse to answer here? Though… I guess refusal is an answer all of its own.

You know what? Fuck it. What's one more truth they pull from me today?

"Off the top of my head, I'm afraid I couldn't give you an exact answer, but I know around a hundred and fifty spells currently."

The crowd, in its entirety, slowly swiveled their heads as if they were all robots towards Loki.

For her part, Loki just continued to stare.

And stare.

And stare.

Until a small snicker broke through her lips.

The crowd let loose a collective sigh or relief at her confirming that I'm lying.

But then that snicker became a small giggle.

Which grew into a chuckle.

Which grew into a laugh.

And then Loki was on the floor howling with laughter.

The crowd slowly turned their heads back to me.

And they stared.

And stared.

And stared.

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It took almost a full five minutes before Loki pulled herself off the floor.

In that time, I could only stare at the far wall, with my hands balled up in my lap, waiting for these strangers to stop staring at me.

"Oh, mister Maddic, you really need to learn when to shut your mouth." Loki giggled out, still wiping tears from her eyes. "By this time next week, I'm sure you'll be beating off Gods and their familia offers with a stick."

Her voice dropped an octave while her usually lidded eyes opened properly for the first time. "Most of them aren't going to take 'no' for an answer, though."

Taking the warning in the spirit it was given, I only gave her a solemn nod.

And then, just like that, the moment was gone. Loki returned to her usual nonchalant expression as she leaned back in her chair. "Ya' don't have to worry about that for now though. 'Visitors' like yerself aren't allowed to join any Orario aligned familias, though I'm sure many of the really interested parties are going to start sendin' ya 'gifts', anyway. Tryin' to get on your good side"

"I'm afraid they will be left disappointed." I growled out. "I have no interest in serving any God."

Loki seemed truly taken aback. "None at all? That's a pretty hard stance you're takin' Max…" She leaned forward a bit. "Makes me wonder who gave ya' your falna then."

Ah yes, that magical tramp stamp that Gods give to their followers so they can collect monster souls, or something, and level up with them…

Something I sure as shit do not have.

"Let's just say-" I said after a moment, picking my words with extreme care while rapping my claws on the table. "That gnolls have a very long, and very complex history with Deities, and leave it at that, OK?"

The Goddess of Mischief could only cross her arms with a pout, muttering under her breath. "Oh, now he learns to shut his trap." Before looking back at me, her squinted eyes glaring at me with feigned irritation.

But we both know that she's actually delighted. Just being given all the answers is no fun, after all.

"I suppose it's gettin' late anyhow." She eventually conceded, but I knew that she was far from done prying for information. Standing up and taking a bulging leather pouch from her belt, she carelessly tossed it on the table where it fell with a bang, accompanied by the cheerful clinking of gold coins.

"All right, gang, let's make tracks, we still need to get Max here settled in." She said as she waved farewell to Mia.

Mia herself called out over the rising din as the patrons began gossiping about what had been discussed. "Have a good night folks, and you can come back anytime Max, just be sure to bring that appetite of yours… And a deep purse!" She finished with a laugh.

I gave her an extremely serious nod as I passed, because I was one-hundred percent coming back here when I could.

And as we sauntered out into the night, I only had one question on my mind.

"But seriously, what's so funny about being raised by gnomes?"

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For those who aren't aware, gnomes in Danmachi look, and dress, just like garden gnomes. So everyone in the bar was absolutely imagining that a family photo would look something like this.

So with that, the prologue finally comes to a close. The story will finally start picking up with the next few chapters. With Max doing some research about the world so he doesnt get caught out in a lie, as well as looking at the various plants and metals of Danmachi and getting excited on what he could build with them.

And the various reactions to Orario welcoming an individual who is not, in fact, an intelligent monster, but is actually from a completely new, and very exciting, new race of mortals.

 

[DangerDesperado]

Hyena Werks, A proud Orario Company.

DanmachiXDnD Nonhuman semi SI

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Chapter Five:
Hitting The Books (And Other Exciting Developments)

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Out of all the physical problems that I could imagine arising from being forced into an entirely new body, sleeping arrangements would certainly not be one of them.

Everything else had felt so natural. Even with my legs shaped completely different, I had not tripped or stumbled once since waking up in that glade. Nor had I any trouble breathing, eating, or anything else that came to mind that had been changed so fundamentally with my new mortal shell.

Nevertheless, here I am, laying restlessly on some feather-stuffed guest bed deep within the castle-like home of the Loki familia.

I've been tossing and turning for hours. But no matter how I orient myself, sleep still eluded me. Partly due to not being able to find any position comfortable enough…

But mostly because I couldn't stop running through one particular part of the conversation at dinner in my mind.

Where the hell did that information about Max's parents come from? When I had written Maedmux's back story, I had only bothered to say he'd been raised by gnomes, and that he was originally from Turst Fields. Not once did I ever bother to come up with a reason as to exactly why he had been adopted, other than saying his parents were dead.

So why did I say all that stuff about Ravagers? And far more importantly- Why did it not even feel like a lie? Why do I feel a small twinge of… Regret? Sadness? Anger? In my chest when I think of them?

I rolled over onto my back to stare at the timbered ceiling… Before quickly turning back over when that arrangement started pulling painfully on my tail.

Loki did not call me out on the falsehood.

Meaning that she was either playing her cards close to her chest…

Or that it wasn't actually a lie.

I was only joking when I said that stuff about me being some figment of Max's imagination… But what if I was closer to the mark than I thought? I already had his instincts, his muscle memory, and his skills… Why wouldn't I have gotten some of his ego as well? Perhaps there's more of Max in my head than I originally thought.

Or maybe it's the opposite, and it is actually less of me in Max's head…

Fuck, thats going to keep me up for hours.

Giving up on getting any sleep tonight as a lost cause, I heaved myself out of bed and started pulling on my equipment. When I finished gearing up, I padded to the door and out into the corridor.

Even at this ungodly hour, the castle was still well lit. Ornamental scones along the walls held small, uncut crystals that glowed with a warm, orange light. I had to admit, it was far easier on the eyes than those harsh led's I was so used to living with.

I started Swiveling my ears around, and even through the thick stone walls of the building, I could hear the soft breathing and murmurs of people sleeping in their rooms. But there was a noise that drew my immediate attention. The sound of splashing water accompanied by a quiet humming.

Tiptoeing down the hall, with a hand on my smithing tools to hold them in place, I approached the noise. Peeking around a corner, I was met with a human woman wearing a black smock, her back to me as she mopped the floor, quietly singing under her breath.

A servant, or maid perhaps.

Perfect.

I stepped around the corner with a quiet cough to get her attention. She sedately swung her head in my direction, a patient smile on her face that quickly vanished when she saw exactly who was trying to get her attention.

Her mop slipped through limp fingers to crash to the marble floor with a booming echo in the empty passageway. We both flinched as the sound reverberated down the hallway.

We stood in silence as my ears whirled back and forth, checking to see if the noise woke anyone up. I heard a few grunts and mutters as people startled in their sleep, but no-one left their bed to check on the sound.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I gave her a sheepish smile. "Sorry for the fright, miss. I was just hoping to ask you for directions to the library, if Loki has one." I whispered to her, still worried about waking anyone up.

With a hand grasping her heart, she gave me an extremely forced smile as she bent down to pick up the mop, her panic-filled eyes never straying from me. "O-Of course sir, just head back down the way you came until you reach the grand staircase, take a left at the bottom and follow the hallway until you reach the end, the entrance will be on your right…"

I thanked her with a nod and went to follow her directions. I could feel her eyes boring into the back of my head all the way down the corridor until I was out of sight.

After ghosting through the mansion as quietly as I could, I found the doorway exactly where she said it would be. The beautifully carved double doors of solid oak opened soundlessly on well oiled hinges, revealing…

An absolute mess.

To be fair, the library was enchanting, in its own way. The floor to vaulted ceiling shelves were almost bursting with books of all sizes and colors. While comfortable looking armchairs dotted the room, creating the perfect places to curl up and read. And the unmistakable aroma of ink and dry paper suffused the chamber down to the very stones.

It was almost exactly how I pictured the library at Hogwarts to look like.

The only problem?

With only a glance I was able to tell that there were precisely zero attempts to organize the collection of books here. Combat manuals sat side by side with books on mathematics. Monster bestiaries were grouped with old maps of The Dungeon. And raunchy romance novels were piled high with a few books on magical theory interspaced throughout.

I wasn't expecting them to be using the Dewey Decimal system or anything, but I mean, come on! How the hell is anyone supposed to get anything done around here if they're library looks like this!

I guess it is pretty on brand for the Goddess of chaos to have a… well, chaotic library.

Ooh, wait a second, is that a plant encyclopedia?

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"What do you mean he just 'disappeared'." Riviera Ljos Alf practically hissed as almost the entirety of Loki's command was in Finns office, surrounding poor Arcs Ākusu. Who, despite it still being a crisp morning in early spring, had a very visible sheen of sweat across his forehead as he stood at attention in the middle of the room.

Audibly gulping, Arcs stammered out. "Just t-that ma'am, when I went to check on him this morning… I was unable to locate Maedmux…"

"And, pray tell, how did a gigantic, walking, talking, hyena-man sneak past you in the dead of night?" Finn bit out from his seat at his desk, hands steepled under his chin and navy-blue eyes blazing with fury.

"It might have been when I was distracted…" Arcs muttered, refusing to look any of his superiors in the face.

"Distracted with?..." Loki asked leadingly from her seat on Finn's desk, with her legs crossed and her signature smirk nowhere to be seen.

Knowing lying was futile, Arcs could only hang his head and admit with a whisper. "He might have left after I fell asleep…"

Everyone in the room groaned before Finn turned to Gareth. "And the night guards didn't see anything?"

"Aye-" Gareth said from his place leaning against the wall. "-Talked with them me'self at dawn, before anyone told me he was missing. It was just the usual report, none of em' said they saw-"

Before he could finish, the door was thrown open by one of their Second String officers, Anakitty Autumn. A young cat person with rich, sable hair, and her longsword proudly strapped to her hip; A mundane maid with eyes downcast following hesitantly in her wake.

"I found him."

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The executives of the Loki familia cut an impressive sight as they marched down to the library, the morning sun playing across their arms and armor as it shone through the windows of the mansion. The rest of the familia had to scramble out of the way of the group as they hurried down the staircase and towards the west wing.

Finn, leading the charge, didn't pause when he reached the library doors. He simply shoved them open and strode into the room without breaking stride.

He did freeze, however, when he and the group saw exactly what their wayward gnoll was up to.

Max was sitting hunched over at one of the tables, with his nose buried in a book that looked ridiculously tiny in his large paws. Even his ears were perked and tilted forwards, as if he was listening to the book as well as reading it. The hyena-man was so absorbed in his studies that he appeared to be utterly oblivious to their presence.

Piled high on both sides of the gnoll were books of seemingly every subject under the sun. One of which was actually opened and floating next to Max's head, as if gravity just forgot to assert itself on that particular object.

The most eye-catching display of magic, however, was the ghostly blue, slightly transparent paw that was carefully grasping a small quill made from an exquisite ruby-red feather. The phantom appendage was literally flying across the paper of the notebook it was writing in. Not once pausing to re-ink itself despite filling almost an entire page in the short time the group had been watching it.

It was one thing to hear, and have his goddess confirm, that a being has near a hundred spells in his repertoire. But it is a different beast entirely to actually see how versatile one could be with that kind of allowance for choices.

Most mages in the world would balk at the idea of wasting one of their three precious spell slots with something as pedestrian as a third hand.

But if that's just one spell out of as many as someone could ever possibly need? Why wouldn't you have spells for cleaning, or fixing broken trinkets, or for any of the other minor parlor tricks Max has displayed thus far.

But in his heart, Finn knew that Max had far, far more dangerous spells in reserve than just a puff of colorful sparks or a floating shield.

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I take back almost every bad thought I had about Loki and her amazing library!

Even if none of it was organized, she still had what must have been a book or reference source for every single subject ever. From all the various sub-genres of stories to world almanacs and atlases; Biographies of all types for pretty much every major (and many minor) God and mortal since Ouranos first descended; Encyclopedias for any discipline you could think of; And more adventure handbooks and journals than you could shake a stick at.

I had already gone over the almanacs, and learned that this world is actually just one gigantic supercontinent, with only a few outlying islands dotting the coasts. The largest of which is only about the size of Japan.

I also learned that Orario is located a fair clip inland, with the ocean being several miles away. In order to facilitate trade to and from the city for its Dungeon produced goods, a sister city was built along the coast. Pretty much everything imported or exported by the Labyrinth city goes through the port town of Melen first.

I was planning on learning about some of the various countries and polities highlighted by the maps, but I got distracted reading that plant encyclopedia I found.

As it turns out? I shouldn't have been too concerned about sourcing potion ingredients here. One of the first entries under the fungi category was the Amaranth Blight. The book described it as a 'red capped, poisonous mushroom with yellow spots. Potentially fatal if ingested.'

It was almost word for word the description of a Red Amanita Mushroom.

I would need to get my hands on a sample of one to be a hundred percent sure, but I'm fairly confident that it's the same species. The book also pointed out that, while some people claimed the fungus had medicinal properties, most major healing familia's deny that the mushrooms have any practical use.

Which means I'll be pretty much uncontested when It comes to sourcing ingredients for my healing potions… Or at least until the other Gods suss out how I'm making them and steal the recipe from me.

Though, learning that healing potions in this world had to be brewed in a completely different way than my own had my paws physically itching to get my claws on their techniques in turn.

I wonder if I could use the debt Dian owes me to bully him into coughing up his secrets…

Putting that train of thought to the side, I went back to comparing the source book in front of me to what I knew.

This White-leafed Kite plant sounded suspiciously like Cats Tongue, Silver Lis was definitely just Dreamlily, and Akarigoke appeared to have a lot in common with Lightning Moss…

My list continued to grow as I grouped plants into categories. What plants I definitely recognized; What plants I thought I knew; And the most exciting section- ones that were wholly unfamiliar to me.

Like this Crystal Drop fruit that's only found on one specific level in The Dungeon, for instance. While its rarity meant that its taste and magical attributes are widely speculated, all agree that the fruit gave off radiation in the form of a wintery, bluish-white light.

The fact that it glows has to mean it's biomagically active in some way… Or that it's actually mundanely radioactive and is actively killing anyone who touches the things, let alone eats one.

But the book doesn't mention any fatalities resulting from consuming the fruit, though, so I can probably rule that out for now. Which leaves some sort of mana consumption or bleed in the form of light, but without having an example in paw…

What I wouldn't do to have one to experiment with right now~

This is all just so exciting, I couldn't help bouncing my hind-paws up and down on the carpet in pure exhilaration. I've been looking at this whole isekai'd thing completely wrong! An entirely new world filled to the brim with new and extraordinary forms of magical life! Oh, all of the incredible potions I'll be able to brew with access to these utterly sui generis ingredients!

And I haven't even touched the encyclopedia on metals and ores sitting next to me yet! Who knows what kind of-

"Whatcha' readin?"

"FUCK ME!"

I felt my very soul leave my body when a husky feminine voice whispered right into my extremely sensitive ear. My carefully stacked pile of books came crashing down around me when my full-body flinch caused my knees to slam into the table.

Not to mention my Mage Hand ripped a big hole in my notebook with the Wizardly Quill I had stuck its grasp.

I stared in dismay at my ruined work before shooting the Pest a sour glare.

Loki, was of course, in stitches rolling around on the ground.

Past her and standing in the doorway was a crowd of people. Most of whom were part of the group I had met last night, but there were a few new faces as well.

With a put upon sigh, I plucked the book on Dungeon monsters I had cast Levitate on out of the air and carefully placed it in front of me, and then slapped a paw on my notebook with a quick Mend on my lips. Which thankfully repaired it fully, so I wasn't out hours of work.

From her place still lying on the ground, the Goddess of Being-A-Pain-In-My-Fluffy-Ass giggled out. "Ya' know, Max, for someone with such big ears, you're surprisingly easy to sneak up on!"

I only glowered at her prone form for a moment before grinding out. "Oh! Good morning Loki, how did you sleep last night? You slept Fine? That's good to hear! Me? I had a little trouble falling asleep last night so I decided to do some light reading, but other than that I had a great night! Thanks for asking-" I bit out the last part, still glaring at the totally unrepentant she-devil.

"-That is how you say hello to people first thing in the bloody morning." I finished as I leaned down in my seat to make sure we were face to face.

All she did was stick a pinky in her ear, wiggle it around, then flicked away nothing while giving me the biggest shit eating grin I have ever seen. "Nahhh~ That sounds boring, I like my way a lot more."

Before I could either blow a gasket, or drop dead of an aneurysm, whichever came first, the Goddess continued. "And 'light reading'? You got half my library in front of ya', Max."

Rubbing my still sore knees, I glanced back at the table still covered in scattered books and was forced to admit, she might have had a point…

Before I could muster up a response, someone from the crowd spoke up.

"You gave us quite the fright this morning, mister Maddic." I looked up to see Finn slowly approaching the table, his eyes bouncing from me to my still open notebook. "When we woke up with you missing, we didn't know what to…" He trailed off, his brow furrowing in confusion when he got close enough to get a good look at my notes.

"...I'm sorry for prying, but, what language is that?" Finn asked while tilting his head, as if changing his perspective would help him comprehend the harsh scratches and jagged lines of Abyssal.

I could see the ears of the group still hanging out in the doorway perk up at that, with some of them leaning forward to get a better look.

"I'm sorry-'' I started, but was interrupted with a jaw cracking yawn. Of course, now I'm tired. "-But my lawyer has recently advised me that I should keep my mouth shut on these kinds of matters."

As I pulled the notebook towards me and flipped it shut, I heard a groan from the ground as Loki heaved herself up with the table. "Now I really wish I hadn't said anything. Because we'd probably have learned everything from his favorite color to his most embarrassing childhood memory by now…"

I, the rational, mature adult that I am, just stuck my tongue out at her as I bent down to pick up the books that had fallen.

"And to answer your unfinished, unspoken, and passive-aggressively asked question, mister Deimne-" I said through an armful of books, ignoring the slightly amused huff I got from the pallum. "-I was under the impression that I was free to go anywhere on the premises as long as I stayed away from the executive suites."

"You are, of course, allowed to go where you please…" He waited until I bent back up and made eye contact with him. "We just politely request that you let someone know before you disappear for hours on end. As your guardians and hosts for the week, your safety is very important to us."

"Technically, I did, let that maid know where I was heading…"

"So you did, Max, so you did." Finn said with the same enthusiasm as a tired, workaholic dad congratulating his kid on their macaroni art. "Just… Please keep one of us executives in the loop?"

I, of course, readily agreed. But the smirk and a conspiratorial wink I added caused him to roll his eyes at the ceiling, clearly praying for strength.

"Well, if that's all-" I started, flicking the plant book back open with a flourish and skimming to where I left off. "-I have some reading to finish."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Loki bend sideways to read the title of the book, before she let out a melodramatic moan and flopped across the table. "'The Dungeoneer's Botanical'? Oh, Max! Say it isn't so! Don't tell me you've secretly been a nerd this whole time!?" She fake sobbed with the back of her hand to her forehead like some pearl-clutching Victorian lady about to faint.

I felt both my eyebrows raise when she said 'nerd' because, the last time I checked, nerd was certainly not a word that should have been in the vocabulary of some medieval society… Unless my highschool social studies class lied to me and history was a lot cooler than I thought it was.

But historical inaccuracies aside, she did just give me the perfect setup…

"Excuse me-" I said at last with a small smile playing at the edge of my lips. "- I am not a nerd. My ma' said that there is nothing shameful about being smart."

The Goddess spied my suppressed grin and let out a relieved sigh as she put a hand to her heart. "Oh, thank myself, I thought you might have actually been boring there for a second. But seriously, come on- we've got some things we need to do today and we wasted enough time lookin' for ya."

Instantly I felt a spike of irritation pierce my previously good mood at this God presuming to be able to order me around. I had to bite back a growl as I simply gestured to the book in my paws. "I am serious. I'm in the middle of very important work right now, I don't have time to play with you."

"Ho ho~" she drawled with her usual vulpine smirk back firmly on her face, either not noticing, or more likely simply ignoring my souring mood. "Even if I said that our first destination… Is the dining room to go and grab some breakfast?"

Damnit.

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"Shoew-" I gasped through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, much to the revulsion to pretty much everyone in the room. Hey, not all of us can have those small little mouths and flabby cheeks to hide food and stuff. "Waff els diff yoo-"

"Please! Please, mister Maddic- swallow first." Begged one of the lower ranked officers I hadn't been introduced to yet, some girl with matching scarlet colored hair and eyes.

She, together with the rest of Loki's executives, were seated across from me along a wooden table in their familia's communal cafeteria.

Complying with her polite request, I titled my head back and forcefully swallowed, before continuing to talk to Loki and her crowd as If I hadn't been interrupted. "-Have planned for the day?"

Loki meaningfully looked between me and the egg flecked table around me before sighing with a grin. "You mean besides setting up a table with a designated 'splash zone' for you to eat at? The first thing I had planned was a little visit to the Dian Cecht familia."

At my questioning look she explained. "It'll be best to go and get your money from him now, rather than later. Before he has a chance to try and weasel out of it or dig in his heels in that stubborn way of his." She waited for my understanding nod before continuing. "And then we'll give you a short tour of the city, and maybe hit up the market on the way back. Give ya' a chance to spend all that cold, hard, Valis you'll be getting from the old man." She finished with a smirk, already knowing she had me hook, line, and sinker.

While I definitely needed the money, and finding a place to replenish my crafting materials and ingredient stock sounded appealing; I was already feeling incredibly antsy with how much time I was spending with this God. It helped slightly how un-Godlike she acted, almost to the point where I could forget for a brief time that she was some unknowable, extrinsic immortal. One whose thoughts and goals we fleeting mortals could only begin to guess at.

Yet, there was this unnameable weight to her presence that just screamed Divinity bearing down on my very being at all times. It left Maedmux squirming in his skin to be interacting so closely with such a creature.

But I needed the Goddess, for now at least. So I swallowed my discomfort… Along with another mouthful of eggs from my breakfast-bucket.

I had been given a plate at first, but then Loki said the magical incantation of All-You-Can-Eat. So after my fifth trip up to the serving window to get another heaping portion of food, the cook on duty threw her hands up in defeat, and went off to grab a metal bucket from somewhere. Which she then proceeded to fill to the brim with eggs and sausages and give to me with a cocky smirk…

Consequently, that nameless chef is now my favorite person in the whole wide world.

And I would unironically die for her.

"How's that sound, big guy?" Loki asked, interrupting my plans to propose to the cook on my next trip up.

I gave her a small shrug, but I couldn't quite keep the growing smirk from my lips. "Sure, playing 'Debt Collector' actually sounds kinda fun."

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"Loki?"

"Ya', Max?"

"I thought you guys said that the Dian Cecht familia was a medical organization…"

Loki gave me a confused glance. "They are. His familia is one of the greatest healing practices in all of Gekai. Practitioners the world over use Cecht's potions as the gold standard for quality and pricing. Not to mention they're one of the few familia's in existence that can produce high-functioning magical prosthetics." She answered, a questioning tilt to her voice. Probably wondering what my problem was.

The problem being that I was expecting them to be based out of a hospital or something. Or maybe some sort of cathedral-like building the clerics of yore would have plied their trade from.

I certainly was not expecting to be led by Loki and her gang of hanger-ons to one of the most vulgar and ostentatious displays of wealth I have ever had the misfortune to be blinded by.

And it truly was blinding.

We stood before a solid adamantine gate that barred the way to an absolutely monolithic, gold and marbled pleasure palace. The mansion made Arabian kings look down-right modest with its gleaming walls and meticulously manicured lawn, dotted with bushes carefully sculpted into statues of Dian Cecht himself in various poses alongside frothing fountains encrusted with precious gems.

I had to literally hold up a hand and squint to avoid burning out my retinas from all the sunlight being bounced around. "Well, he certainly lives in a humble abode for someone working in the healthcare industry..."

Sure, Loki's familia also lived in the utter lap of luxury with their 'Twilight Manor'. But at least they had the decency to tastefully display their wealth with that Hogwarts-esc castle of theirs.

But the building in front of me was nothing but pure, unadulterated, decadence.

Loki just snorted out a laugh as she led me past the gate and towards a far less pretentious looking store front attached to the outer wall of Dian's estate. "Being the foremost in the field of medicine definitely has its perks. C'mon, let's go get you your money."

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Author Notes:

Arcs is actually a canon member of the Loki familia, but pretty much all that I could learn about him is his first name and that he wears some silly looking armor, so I just used the Romaji spelling of his name for his last name. So now in my AU he's Arcs Arcs, adventure extraordinaire. I'll probably be using that trick a lot lol, there are so many recurring background characters who only get a name and nothing else.

Also, fun fact, hyenas do not wag their tails! I did an embarrassing amount of research on hyena social cues to better write a gnoll. Some of the few things I learned that they use their tails for in social settings is they either tuck it in submission, or flick it when greeting a superior. Or so says all the websites I checked when writing this.

And yes, that was in fact a red vs blue joke.

Now for some more behind the curtains dnd talk:

Something else that always bugged me about dnd was how a spell would cost the same amount of 'energy' no matter the usage or intensity of what is being affected. Take the levitate spell, for instance. Whether you're using it to make a feather float or a 500 Lb stone block, it's still going to cost you a second spell slot. For this fic, I've made it so a spell can purposefully be cast in either direction in terms of power. ie Max can cast Levitate as a level 1 spell, but it would only be able to lift a 250 Lb object up to 10 feet at a time for instance. Or he could put the same amount of power as a cantrip into it and only be able to lift a 10 pound object. Alternatively, he could cast it as a level 3 for reduced returns. As he would only be able to lift a 600 Lb object 25 feet in the air. These rules only apply to spells that do not already have the ability to be cast with higher spell slots, like magic missile for instance.

And in terms of concentration, he gets the time allotted by the DnD book for 'free'. In this case, it would be 10 mins of being able to levitate an object for the cost of a level 2 spell. When the time runs out, he can then choose to continue pumping in additional energy to maintain the effect, at an exponentially increasing cost, or let the effect run out and recast it without the compounding mana cost.

Next time, on Hyena Werks, Max shakes down a God for a handful of spare coins and pocket lint, and the gang goes on a shopping spree!.

 

[DangerDesperado]

Quick Authors note: I had made edits to chapter two on RR a month ago that I forgot to copy over to my Docs, so a piece of important info didn't get carried over. The only important thing that changed was the last sentence of the chapter. I have made the edits to the rest of the sites I've uploaded to.

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Hyena Werks, A proud Orario Company.

DanmachiXDnD Nonhuman semi SI

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Chapter Six:
Shaking Down an Old Man For His Pocket Change.
(And Other Fun, Wholesome Activities)

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For all of Dian Cecht's grandiose displays of wealth, his store was an almost shockingly normal pharmacy, albeit a more old fashioned one with a magical veneer.

Murky-brown glass bottles filled with solutions to every ailment a person could suffer from lined the wooden shelves all throughout the store. While the cabinets hugging the walls held the fancier, more expensive clear-glass phials and crystal decanters behind protective glass doors.

Off to the side of the sales counter was a small sitting area that looked, bizarrely enough, as though it was lifted straight from a modern hospital's waiting room.

The only people currently in the store was a vaguely familiar looking clerk, a silver haired woman dressed kinda like a turn of the century nurse out of the early nineteen-hundreds. And a group of three armed and armored, slightly haggard looking human men at the counter.

Our group's entrance went ignored as we came up behind the three while they haggled peacefully, if fiercely, with the clerk over the sale of what they kept referring to as 'purple moth wings'.

The only acknowledgment we received was from the girl as her eyes flicked briefly to me, then Loki, and then right back to the adventurers in front of us to continue bartering without so much as a hint of hesitation.

Thankfully, it wasn't long before they concluded their business. Leaving both parties equally unhappy with the deal, as only the best compromises do. The three men didn't even give us a glance as they stormed out with a smaller bag of gold than they hoped for in hand, muttering darkly all the while.

The clerk's frown didn't ease an inch as Loki and I approached the counter. In fact, her eyes grew harder as the Goddess draped herself over the counter while giving the nurse a sickly sweet smile. "Good morning miss Teasanare~" She sing-songed out. "Max and I are lookin' for the old man, is he in?"

"Lord Dian Cecht-'' She deadpanned, not letting an iota of emotion leak into her voice at the Goddess's flippant attitude. "-Is currently busy, and will be unavailable for the foreseeable future. I would be happy to help you schedule an appointment ahead of time, however."

Loki simply leaned even further forward until she was standing on her tippy toes to be face to face with the clerk, her grin remaining firmly on her face. "Tsk-tsk, miss Teasanare, you should know that you can't lie to me. We all know that he can spare just a few minutes to meet with his fellow God."

The now named Teasanare remained impassive as she stared Loki down. But it wasn't until her eyes flashed towards Loki's familia standing behind her did she give in. "Very well, I will go and see if he is available, please excuse me."

As she walked off behind a door labeled as 'employees only' it finally struck me where I knew her from. She had been present at my interrogation yesterday, standing behind Dian Cecht.

If she was strong enough to be Dian Cecht's personal guard, then why was she wasting her time acting as a sales clerk? Couldn't they have foisted that scut work off to one of their subordinates?

I didn't have long to ponder the question as Teasanare came back with her God in tow after only a few minutes of waiting.

His already strained smile at Loki's presence became even more brittle when he saw me standing next to her. "Good morning Lady Loki, mister Maddic. I'm afraid I am in the middle of some rather important experiments right now, so I will only be able to spare a moment or two. But regardless… To what do I owe the honor of a visit from one of my most loyal customers in person?" The man finished with a closed mouth smile that seemed particularly forced.

"You know exactly why we're here, Dian." She said with a gesture towards me. "I seem to recall a particular promise you made to my friend here yesterday."

Dian Cechts eyes flicked to me again before they went back to the Goddess. "Ah, yes- the possible restitution for those potions I investigated at Ganesha's request."

Loki and I shared a pointed look. I guess the Goddess had this guy's personality nailed down, because he was absolutely going to try to get out of paying me.

"Well, I was reviewing Orario's customs and immigration laws, and as it so happens, one must be a citizen to be eligible to receive compensation for any damages incurred during a goods and assets seizure." He said with a hint of the same cockyness I saw from him during the interrogation. "And any hypothetical monetary compensation would be paid for by Lord Ganesha's familia as they are the ones who took you into custody. So I'm afraid you'll have to speak with them about getting money for your damaged goods." He concluded with ersatz chagrin.

"But my potions were not destroyed, they were used- by you." I spoke up for the first time since entering the store, forcing Dian to look at me. "I seriously doubt Ganesha directly ordered you to start dumping all of my hard work down the throats of some rodents."

"I was asked to verify the function and quality of your potions, mister Maddic, and that is what I did." He said in a huff while crossing his arms. "And while I admit that I may have been a bit… overzealous in my task, I can hardly be held responsible for simply aiding Lord Ganesha's investigation. Now, as much as I would love to stand here and argue with you two all day about who owes who what, I have time sensitive research that I must return to. So unless you-"

"You will pay me-" I spat, my anger that had been bubbling under the surface at his contemptuous attitude immediately exploding into an unholy fury at this God's attempted dismissal. "-Or, I will sell my potions to Loki and her allies at a loss and undercut your whole familia."

Maybe I was still a tad bitter at this God wrecking my shit… or hell, maybe I was just
cranky over not getting any sleep last night. But either way I was not letting this fucking God get away with disparaging me like that.

"How does that sound, Lady Loki?!" I asked with malicious fervor while swinging my head to face the Goddess, who was wearing an equally malevolent grin before Dian could respond. "With me as an in-house alchemist to make all your potions, you wouldn't need Dian Cecht at all! I would be able to handle all your medical and material needs for free!"

I don't recall ever being a particularly vindictive person before Max and I became one. Or at least I wasn't the kind of guy who would cut off his own nose to spite his face, as I always figured it was quicker and easier to simply cut my losses and distance myself from whoever had wronged me.

But apparently Max definitely was the kinda' man to toss himself off a bridge if he thought it would piss off the people watching, because I was fully prepared to go through with my threat and willingly chain myself to Loki. Just to enact some petty revenge against the being in front of me.

And I think both of them detected the truth in my words as Dian Cecht and Loki's faces filled with dread and glee, respectively.

"N-now wait a minute!" The God of Healing stumbled over his words in a rush to speak before Loki could, clearly alarmed about how quickly my mood changed. "There's no need for any rash action! As I said, Ganesha would normally be the one paying for your potions. But if you are in need of funds now my Familia would of course be happy to front you the money and then collect the debt from Ganesha later on your behalf!" He finished with a very labored smile, his eyes filled with desperate panic and furious anger in equal measure.

I only stared at him for a moment before letting a vicious, toothy grin come over my muzzle. I knew that I might be making a powerful enemy this day, but the utter euphoria that came over my being from 'beating' a God with only a few words washed any and all conniptions I had away. "That sounds more than agreeable, Pack Lord Dian Crecht."

The God gave me a sour look before having a hushed conversation with the clerk whose name I had already forgotten. After which she disappeared behind the door once more.

The God's gave a token effort for polite conversation to each other in the awkward silence that followed. With Dian inquiring about how Loki's latest expedition went and how his potions performed and so on. I was too busy struggling to read the labels on all the bottles behind the counter to pay too much attention.

They were all written with the same God-awful handwriting I had seen so far, so it was like trying to read hieroglyphs that were penned by a kindergartener with especially bad ADHD than any discernible work of the English language.

The bottles all contained various Dungeon produced ingredients. Ranging from monster parts like 'Unicorn Horns' and 'Blue Papilo dust' to dried plants and preserved herbs. Some of which I even recognized from my reading last night; Such as Powdered Silver Lis petals and dried Akarigoke.

Before I could inquire about the cost of some samples, the clerk came back with a jingling cloth pouch bulging with the unmistakable shape of gold coins.

As she passed over the weighty purse without fanfare, I gave Dian a considering look as I exaggeratingly weighed the bag in one hand. "You know, Cecht… I suddenly seem to recall something else you owe me. Because I distinctly remember that you still have one of my potions that I forgot to take off you after my interrogation."

Dian's already pale face whitened further at my words, his hand making an aborted twitch towards his pocket. "A-a potion? I'm afraid that I have no idea-"

"That's a lie~" Loki gibly whispered out at my side before the God of Healing could dig himself deeper.

I just wordlessly held out my paw to him, to which he reluctantly took one of my vials, that was now three-quarter empty, out of his pocket and placed it in my palm while refusing to look me in the eyes.

Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

I spared a glance at the small pinch of red liquid still sloshing around in the flask before continuing to stare at this fucking thief. "...Time sensitive experiments, huh?"

Before my swiftly rising anger could get the better of me, Dian, also anticipating the coming explosion, quickly reached over to the cash register, pulled out a fistfull of gold coins and wordlessly dropped the money down in front of me.

I didn't even justify the money with a look. I let the God sweat under my furious glare for a moment before gesturing to the rows and rows of bottles behind him with a small nod. "I think I want something else as payment from you, thief."

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I left the store not too long after that with a definite spring in my step, the Loki familia on my heels. My BoH now held more money than I had ever even seen in either life… More money than I knew what to do with to be honest. Along with several samples of Dungeon ingredients that I absolutely knew what I was going to do with.

I still felt a red hot anger burning away in my chest at that thief trying to reverse engineer my work. But it was tempered by the knowledge that, when I found a place to work from, I was going to utterly destroy that Being's life's work by tearing his monopoly on medicine to itty-bitty shreds in my claws.

My diabolical plans for global domination of the medical field via affordable healthcare and ethical business practices was interrupted when Loki brushed past me, her hands folded behind her head and an ear to ear grin on her lips. "C'mon, Max. We have a bit of walking to do if we're going to give you the grand tour. Oh, and wipe that creepy grin off your face, you're starting to freak me out..."

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With the denizens of Orario still scrambling to get out of our way, we made good time through the city.

The first stop on the tour was, of course, the ginormous tower that jutted up from the center of the city. The Tower of Babel, which was a very… interesting name, was fifty stories of nothing but stone, mortar, and magic that quite literally overshadowed everything else in the city.

Something I couldn't have appreciated until I saw it up close was the incredibly complex carvings that traced the stone all the way up the tower. With each 'story' of the tower being dedicated to a certain cultural motif. From Egyptian hieroglyphs to Roman columns and everything in between, all the reliefs were rendered with an uncanny, bordering on inhuman attention to detail.

With my probationary status, I wasn't allowed to actually enter the tower, but apparently it was filled with stores that catered almost exclusively to adventures. With the rest of the space that was left over being dedicated as luxury apartments for the ultra-rich Gods of Orario.

The Tower served a second purpose other than being an overpriced shopping mall, though. It also acted as a magically reinforced gate to the Dungeon. Through means only known to its original creator, as well as the Gods that destroyed and rebuilt it in their image, Babel effectively sealed the fell labyrinth below. Preventing it from realizing is millenia long quest of global genocide by flooding the surface with unending hordes of its monstrous creations.

After a brief walk around the picturesque plaza that surrounded the tower, I was taken to The Pantheon, the headquarters for the 'Guild'. When I asked Loki what they were the guild of, she cryptically answered "everything". Thankfully Riveria's chimed-in explanation was much less ambiguous. In short, they were basically the 'civilian government' of the city, or at least as close to one as a city that was overflowing with actual Gods could get. They're primary function, however, was managing and advising adventures as they plied their trade by delving the Dungeons depths.

When I first heard that it was the 'adventurer's guild', I was expecting to be shown your classic, slightly seedy tavern. One with a gruff, wise cracking former adventurer with more scars than unblemished skin running the bar cum bounty table. A place where plucky young adventurers could go in and pick a quest from a cork board full of jobs written on little pieces of paper. All the while grizzled veterans could gather around shoddily made tables and swap war stories over a drink… Or something like that.

So my disappointment was immeasurable and my day ruined when the Loki familia ushered me into a building that was indistinguishable from an entirely ordinary, modern-day bank. Complete with glossy marble floors that smelt of fresh wax and a customer counter that ran the length of the room; Manned by clerks dressed in identical suit vests, collared shirts, and fake smiles.

The pure banality of it all left me dragging my paws with my head hung in defeat as I followed Loki through the Pantheon's gilded halls to be introduced to an elf that reeked of fear. Royman Mardeel, the head honcho of the place under the ever mysterious Ouranos.

In defiance of the usual elven stereotypes of grace and beauty, Roy was a short, rotund elf who struggled not to waddle as he led us through the Guild's, well… gilded halls. Though his immaculately fitted suit and vest was clearly a cut above what the rest of the guild workers wore.

His terrified green eyes never left my own as he introduced himself while dabbing his profusely sweating forehead with a silk handkerchief. He only began to calm down a bit as I returned his greetings in Maedmux's best 'Lord-of-the-Manor' act, complete with my full name and a sweeping bow.

We didn't stay for long after that, with Roy giving an abridged rundown of Guild services that would be available to me if I'm granted citizenship. As well as what services are offered to adventures in general.

Roy proved to be a wealth of information as I inquired into the possibility of setting up my very own store in the city. He was, dare I even say, helpful- when it came to bringing me up to speed on local ordinance and laws. Before we left he even promised to help me get in contact with people who were currently selling land!

The next few stops went by without incident, as Loki was briefly showing me to some important landmarks, such as the Amphitheatron, which was just a relatively small Roman Colosseum with a weird name. Along with the entrance to the city's 'bad side of town', Daedalus Street. With Finn warning me to never venture into its labyrinthian depths if I didn't want to be shanked in the liver for my spare change.

The tour ended at an open air market that ran the entire length of one of the streets that run through the city from the gate to the tower. The din was deafening as people of all races were hawking their wares from colorful tents, stalls, and buildings with open fronts. Thousands of others walked the promenade as they bustled to and fro between merchants.

Not even my presence here was enough to interrupt the unending flow of coins and commerce, with people only sparing me a glance before noticing the Loki familia by my side and hustling off to continue their business.

The charming atmosphere was 'slightly blemished', however, by the ungodly stench of the solid mass of humans in front of me. Not even the alluring aroma of spiced meat and other foods being sold fresh could cover up the stink of thousands of bodies all crowded together like this.

Instead, it all mingled and mixed to create an utterly disgusting new smell.

Change of plans, forget health potions or weapons- The first thing I'm making when I get established is deodorant.

Loki glanced over at me and had a good chuckle at my miserable expression. With both paws clasped firmly over my nose, and my ears pressed flat, I must have looked like a kicked puppy.

It took some enticing on the Loki familias part, but they eventually convinced me to at least walk the thoroughfare to see if anything caught my eye. Most of it was useless knick knacks and keepsakes that only suckers- or tourists who also happened to be suckers could be tricked into buying.

Anything worthwhile was already being sold by dedicated shops run by wealthy familias, so I didn't hold much hope for finding anything interesting in this obvious tourist trap. I did spy some Dungeon ingredients being sold directly by a group of cagey-looking adventurers, but it wasn't until we were already halfway down the street did I see something actually worth my while.

Sitting criss-crossed on a thread-bare blanket was an elderly woman dressed in a frayed brown robe and gray shawl. Her weathered skin and calloused hands spoke to a long life of hard work.

The woman's attention was focused solely on the mortar and pestle in her lap that she worked with a sure, deft hand. But what had actually caught my eye from all the way across the street was the other stuff on the blanket. Weaved baskets and clay pots filled to the brim with all manner of herbs and fungi, both mundane and magical, surrounded the old lady.

It was a truly impressive collection of alchemy ingredients that ran the gauntlet from banal to deadly.

Ranging from sticks of cinnamon to stalks of Angels Trumpet.

Bushels of Fluxweed to Foxglove flowers.

Dittany clippings to full Death-caps.

And with just a glance I could tell that all of it had been clearly harvested and preserved by a true master in the field.

Even from where I stood, I could still smell the cloying scent of countless herbs and spices that clung to the woman like a second skin.

Before I knew it, my paws had taken me right up to the edge of her blanket, until I was practically looming ominously over the woman and her herbs. As my shadow fell across her small form, the old lady finally deigned to look up from her work.

Her deeply wrinkled face didn't shift a single whit as we made eye contact, save for slightly raising a wispy eyebrow before turning back to the stone mortar with a snort.

"And here I was thinking that my grandson had been pilfering my mushroom stock after he came home rambling on about some pet monster walking around the city…" Her eyes flicked past me, no doubt seeing the Loki familia at my back before returning to my face. "I guess I owe him an apology for tanning his hide, then."

I was too busy mentally cataloging her goods to give her monster comment any mind. She had enough here to keep me in stock for months! With just what she had out on display was enough to make hundreds of different potions!

I gave her a toothy grin as I spoke. "Say, Granny, how much fo-'' Before I could finish, her hand holding the pestle snapped with blistering speed. Catching me right in the fucking shin with the small stone club. I heard the smack of stone on flesh before I even registered her arm moving and felt the ecompaning flash of searing pain.

Leaping back with a howl while clutching my shin, I snarled at the lunatic who attacked me out of the blue. "WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR MALFUN-"

A threatening gesture with her pestle shut me up right quick as the lady glared at me from under her shawl. "Now listen here, welp, the only one who can call me 'granny' is my adorable granddaughters. To everyone else I'm 'ma'am' and nothing else, you got that?!" She hissed with a wiggle of her pestle that she was still holding pinched between her thumb and forefinger as if it was a fencing blade.

I gave my aching leg one last rub before easing it back onto the ground while giving the crazy lady a sour look. A part of me wanted me to puff up and get angry… But a much larger part of Max demanded that we give this strong, venerable Matriarch her due. So with pinned back ears and a dipped head, I muttered a quiet "Yes, Ma'am…"

"What was that!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" I yelped with a flinch at her unexpected yell, unconsciously snapping to attention with my ears perked forward and my paws clasped behind my back.

"Hmpf, better." She grunted as she went back to grinding what I could now see was poppy seeds in her mortar. "Now, are you here to buy anything, or are you just here to scare away all my customers?"

A quick glance over my shoulder proved her right, as we were apparently causing quite the scene. With a ring of people who stopped to rubberneck at the sinister looking hyena-man getting taken to task by a little old lady.

"Uh, yes Ma'am. I was hoping to purchase…" I couldn't help but trail off with a shiver as she glared at me with a gimlet eye; How can this geriatric herbalist be so intimidating? She's just sitting there, but she's doing it menacingly somehow!

"...pretty much everything you have?"

Surprise flashed on her face for only a moment before it slowly morphed into a gap-toothed smirk that pulled on her laugh lines.

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"Ya' know you just got hustled, right?"

I only spared Loki a quick side-eye before turning back to the mushroom-filled glass jar in my paw.

Red Amanita Mushrooms, or Amaranth Blight's, as they called them here, are actually fairly difficult to gather despite their relative abundance in nature.

With their delicate caps that are easily crushed by even the most delicate of hands. And their soft, spongey stalks that were quick to rip and tear if pulled up even slightly incorrectly.

A damaged shroom' loses much of its potency as the various fluids inside leaked out. Not to mention improperly collected ingredients are harder to work with and spoil a lot faster when they're all torn up.

Max had spent more than his fair share of time on his hands and knees rooting along the forest floor and haggling over goods in the shops of accomplished alchemists to recognize quality when he saw it.

And these were quality.

Expertly gathered, and perfectly preserved, the glistening red mushrooms were easily first-rate ingredients. Ones that would have been sold at a premium to only privileged alchemists back in Exandria.

If I'm being entirely honest with myself, I seriously doubt that I could have harvested them myself in this good of a condition, with Max's instincts guiding my hand or not.

"No… No I didn't." I finally rumbled out in a low voice as I carefully slipped the jar into my bag. While the old la- I mean Ma'am? Miss?- slowly folded up her now empty blanket with an ear to ear grin on her face and a small fortune in her pocket. The crowd surrounding us had swelled as onlookers watched me load the entirety of this woman's stock into my hip pouch like the world's greatest magician.

Loki's lack of response caused me to look over only to see her staring at me intently, the fox-like smirk that I had grown accustomed to had been replaced with a focused frown.

As the silence stretched between us and the staredown became less intense and more awkward, I finally broke and spoke up. "What's with that look?"

She held her severe expression for only a beat longer before her cheshire-esc grin swept across her face once more. There was a certain gleam in her eye that I couldn't readily identify, but if I had to guess, I would say she just had some sort of revelation.

"Oh, nothing~" She said with an amused tilt as she folded her hands behind her head and started sauntering off. "Just had a funny thought s'all, nothin' to worry your big furry head about, Max."

I looked over my shoulder to see if her familia knew what that was about only to be met with a bunch of equally thoughtful expressions. Ones that ranged from extremely confused to down-right suspicious.

What the hell did I do?

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The only other stop we made as a group was when I spotted a metal wholesaler called Gobannus's Foundry. Their typical business was exporting Dungeon farmed ores and metal ingots to Melen for global distribution, but the foreman on site was more than happy to sell me a few ingots of quality steel after I flashed a bag of money in his face. I was even able to get a single bar of adamanitie for the absurd cost of eight-hundred thousand Valis. A price to which I only agreed after Gareth assured me that was the standard going-rate for the material.

I also inquired about the possibility of getting some samples of Orichalcum and Mythril, but I was damn near laughed out of the building. Apparently high end material like that is almost guaranteed to be scooped up by the ultra-wealthy crafting familias as soon as it was brought to the surface. Finn informed me that it was not uncommon for massive bidding wars to erupt right outside the entrance over finds such as a chunk of Orichalcum ore.

Looks like I'll have to get creative if I want to get my own supply of the good stuff.

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Not much happened after that, or at least nothing of importance. Loki tried to cajole me into buying some useless trinkets and such, and the twins did cajole me into buying them all a couple of rounds of drinks later that night. Not at the Hostess of Fertility though, this time they took me to a place called Hibachitei. Which was nice, but not nearly as good as Mama Mia's place.

There were no dramatic face-offs or intense lines of questioning. Just polite small talk as I was formally introduced to the rest of Loki's command. It honestly felt more like a business dinner than a tavern trip with a bunch of bona-fide, badass adventurers.

So, at the end of the day, dead tired and with my eyes hanging out of my head- I stared at my bed with trepidation. After last night I was forced to admit defeat, because no matter how hard I wanted to maintain some veneer of my old self, trying to sleep the same way I used to as a human was not gonna work…

Ah hell, alright, show me how it's done, Max.

Leaning back into his instincts, I started gathering up all the blankets and pillows into a pile until I had one big messy nest; Which I then crawled into and curled up like a dog after patting it down tight.

I was out like a light the second my head hit my fore-paws.

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"So, are ya' finally going to tell us what's got you smiling like that?" Gareth grunted out as he folded his arms over his chest plate and leaned up against his usual spot against the wall.

Loki, from her seat on Finn's desk, only gave him a closed-eyed grin before turning to the rest of her officers seated in front of her. "Not yet, not yet. First I wanna hear from Cruz, did ya' hear any interesting rumors while we were out and about?"

The blond haired, dog ear'd Second String officer in question gave his Goddess a rueful smile as he casually leaned back in his chair. "I'm almost sorry to say this, because I know we will never hear the end of it, but your plan seems to be working perfectly, Lady Loki. While I heard everything from Maedmux actually being a cursed werewolf who can only be freed by true love's first kiss- To him being the unholy love child between a monster and a man.

Hell, I even heard someone claim that Maedmux had been raised by actual hyenas before he was taken in by Salamander spirits, of all things... But I think that the rumors have spread far enough that people in Orario won't immediately mistake him as a Dungeon monster…"

"...Also, most people are under the impression he's already part of our familia." He added to his report after a moment's pause.

"It's pretty much been the only thing people have been talking about." His peer, Narvi Roll quickly jumped in before anyone else could comment. "A whole new species of mortals in Genkai…" The scarlet haired girl trailed off, letting the statement hang in the air.

Incredible.

Fantastical.

Unprecedented.

These words and many more like them were at the forefront of everyone's minds in Finn's office. For more than a thousand years it was common knowledge that there was nothing beyond Genkai's shores but an endless ocean. And any who dared question that belief and set sail to see what lay beyond the horizon were, without exception, never heard from again.

And so for the past thousand years the people and Gods of Genkai knew they were alone in this world.

But now a being more alien than they could comprehend had quite literally appeared right on their doorstep. Upending everything they thought they knew about their world in the process.

The moment of silence as everyone sat and contemplated what this could mean for them and their future was broken when the newest addition to Loki's officers, Lefiya, a young elven mage, spoke up. "W-what did Mister Landrock mean when he asked about your smile, Lady Loki?"

The Goddess huffed a small, amused snort before speaking. "I noticed something very interesting about our new friend while we were showing him the market. I was just smiling because I finally had another piece to add to the puzzle that is Maedmux Maddic, s'all."

"It must have been something I missed, so If you could please stop with your infernal teasing and enlighten your less observant children, I would be much obliged, Lady Loki." Gareth said with amused exasperation.

"Hmmm… Would anyone else like to help their fellow Executive? Finn, Bete, I know that at least you two saw the same thing I did."

The two adventurers shared a look before Bete answered his Goddess while tapping his claws against his armored grieves in agitation. …"He's not actually level eight."

Loki shot up from her lounging slouch with an ear to ear grin while dramatically pointing a finger at the werewolf. "Ding ding ding! We have a winner! One hundred points to mister Loga!"

The Goddess then leaned forward until she was barely on the edge of Finn's desk, just so she could speak directly to her officers. "For those of you who missed it, when we were at the market, Max met Granny Arnica. She gave him her usual spiel after giving him a little love tap on the leg. There's no way a real First-Class adventurer would have gotten hit by something like that, let alone hurt by it…"

Loki then dropped her voice into a whisper, just to emphasize the point. "A little poke from a retired, elderly, level three had him howling in pain."

"Whoa, wait a second!" Raul Nord, a young, dark haired human man shouted in alarm. "Didn't he flat out tell you he's a level eight? Are you saying he's able to lie to Gods?"

"Ah, He did say he was level eight… But he didn't say he was a level eight adventurer, did he?" Loki asked, with a near manic grin and a gleam in her eye that only spelled trouble to those in the room that spotted it. "He specifically said that he was a level eight artificer."

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Author Notes:

Sorry about how long this took to get out, it was a three way rumble between IRL stuff, writer's block, and I really did not like this chapter or where it was going. Especially how I keep writing Dian into being a 1 dimensional villain, but in my defense, the God is an unredeemable asshole in both danmachi, and his own mythology… So I guess it tracks?

But regardless, I felt like I needed this chapter here to establish some important places and recurring characters, as well as add some more hints to the depth of which the MC and Max influence each other.

And yes, I consider them two different people.

Or, maybe like, 1 and a half people.

1 and a quarter at least.

Anyway, moving on…

I plan for the story to start to pick up from here, with a lot of the next week being glossed over and abbreviated with only a few important moments fleshed out.

Also I've seen a lot of discussion on how Dnd and Danmachi leveling systems compare and how Max would stack up against the natives, so I hope this chapter can shed a little light on how I imagine a DnD character would fare physically against anime-land heroes that have been turned into gacha game demi-gods. Max may have been a physical power house back in Exandria, but here? he will have to use his head if he wants to thrive in this new world.

Next time on Hyena Werks, Max flexes his artificer muscles for once!

 

[DangerDesperado]

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Hyena Werks, A proud Orario Company.

DanmachiXDnD Nonhuman semi SI

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Chapter Seven:
First Floor: Tools, Gnolls, Comically Large Shotguns.

(Second Floor: Existential Dread, Maniacal Laughter, Terrified Locals.)

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PA-ting!

The other day was… a wake up call, of sorts.

PA-ting!

I had asked around the Loki familia, hunting down more information on that herbalist I had met in town.

Arnica Syllis, or 'Granny Syllis' as she's known to everyone else, is a loving mother of six and a grandmother to fifteen. While these days she sells herbs that she and her family collects for a living, In her heyday, she had been a level three adventurer with the Demeter familia.

PA-ting!

An affectionate poke by someone's kindly old grandmama who was only kidding around had felt like she just broke my leg.

Tink-ting-tink!

I already figured these people were going to be physically stronger than me- faster too… But there was no way for me to know how outclassed I was until that moment.

PSHesstsss-

Yesterday, I had been invited to spectate the Loki familia as they held spars between members. Watching the lower ranks fight was like having front row seats to a whole show of no-holds-barred, cinematic as hell fight scenes straight out of a Hollywood blockbuster.

Scratch that, it was more like fight scenes out of a Bollywood flick. People were doing fucking backflips to jump over attacks, while somehow delivering crushing counterstrikes while they were still in mid-air!

During one matchup, I had watched as two spearmen went back and forth in an epic, blow for blow battle that sent sparks arching feet away from the edge of their blades; While in the sparring ring next to them, an archer did a kickflip off his partner's shield so she could fire an arrow from the hip while still upside down.

Battles out of myth and legend had been raging all across the training yard of Loki's estate, and they had the balls to look me in the eyes and say it was only some "friendly spars".

It had been utter madness. But the higher rank matches between the Second Strings and above?

I couldn't even tell what the hell had happened.

Two Second String combatants would face off against each other… And then just blur into color and indistinct shapes as they moved almost too fast for my eyes to follow. There would be a brief flash of light and the clang of metal on metal, and then one would be on the ground, gasping for breath.

The fights between Executives were even worse. I couldn't even distinguish between the two combatants as they clashed over and over again. The only thing I could recognize was the ringing reports of their weapons crashing against each other with enough force to generate a small gale right there in the training yard.

And the bitch of it all was? Every single time I glanced over at Loki, she was watching me right back, carefully gauging my reaction to her little army as they showed off with feats of inhuman skill and martial prowess.

Not once did I ever see her looking in another direction or even at her familia as they trained.

I don't know what she was looking for, but I'm almost certain it wasn't anything good.

Shaking myself from my memories, I pulled back my tongs from the bucket of rapeseed oil at my side, revealing a slightly steaming rod of blackened metal.

What had once been a flat bar of high carbon steel had been meticulously hammered and rolled over itself until it was forged into a long hollow pole over the course of the last half-hour or so. I gave the piece a few shakes to get the last bits of oil off before setting it back onto my mobile anvil…

…Which was just a pretentious name for a solid brick of steel with a few square holes punched in it. Right now, it was perched precariously on some wooden bench I had commandeered in one of the courtyards surrounding Loki's castle.

With one paw holding the rod in place with the tongs, my other one went to the small hunk of iron tied to my necklace. I felt a chunk of my mana burn away as I concentrated on forming the Heat Metal spell, and before long, the steel rod began to grow hotter and hotter until it was glowing cherry red.

Taking up my planishing hammer once more, I set to work flattening out the edges of the piece. My blows fell with the force and steady cadence of a mechanical drop hammer as I made my way down the length of steel, humming a song under my breath as I went.

Losing myself to the extremely therapeutic process of hitting things really hard, I let my mind wander back to the past couple of days.

Loki and her familia had majorly stepped up the little information game we had been playing back and forth. While they never quite crossed the line into being pushy, per say, they were definitely persistent.

I had been bombarded with probing and leading questions on a near constant basis, forcing me to remain constantly on guard as I weaved, ducked, and dodged around their unending inquiries with a social grace that I didn't think was even possible for Max, let alone my socially inept ass.

I was inordinately proud of some of the utter bullshit I was pulling out of thin air. Like when Loki cornered me at breakfast the day after our market trip and just flat out asked me who gave me my falna. I looked her right in her squinty eyes and told her that Moradin the Allhammer is "My patron God".

Which is even technically true! Max is a nominal devotee to the dwarven God, though he is not exactly the most zealous of followers, to put it lightly.

And with that little half truth, I had the Trickster Goddess completely distracted as she demanded more information on a God she had never heard of, loudly decrying it as impossible even as I told her no detectable lies while regaling the Goddess with stories about a God of crafting and family from a different reality.

'Baffle them with bullshit' quickly became my go-to strategy when it came to dealing with the nosier of Loki's crew. I spent a few hours alone describing, and in some cases even sketching out pictures of some of the many races of Exandria to Riveria just to get out of answering her questions on my personal life and what I had been doing up until I arrived at Orario.

I zoned back in just long enough to quench and reheat the metal before getting lost in my thoughts again.

To be honest… I wasn't exactly sure why I was keeping up this game of verbal cat and mouse. I knew that building this rickety, wavering tower of half-truths and white lies was almost certainly going to end poorly.

But if I had to justify the skullduggery to myself… Then I would say that the lies are a necessary form of self-defense. I knew that one of the only things keeping me free right now was the veil mystery and mystique I had stumbled ass-backwards into building up around myself.

My real strength and skills were still largely unknown to these people… But the second that paper thin defense was torn away the Gods of this city would try to press gang me into their service.

And speaking of self-defense...

After a final quench, I held the barrel up to my eye and looked down its length to ensure that it hadn't warped or bent as it cooled. Satisfied that it was still perfectly straight, I took my ryndon-haired brush and started to forcefully buff the outside of the tube.

A part of me hated-

No, not a part...

I despised this.

I didn't want to be the one who introduced firearms to this world.

I didn't want to be the one who potentially sends this world down the well-worn path my own had stumbled down.

I didn't want to be the father of modern combat, with its world encompassing wars fought all along the entire borders of nations rather than pitched battles between champions that this world is familiar with.

Wars where death is delivered by disposable soldiers using cheap guns to fire cheaper bullets… Where victory was only measured by enemies killed and losses sustained.

~"Let it never be said-"~

But I loathed the idea of being a slave more.

~"That we died like dogs!-"~

That day at Loki's training yard told me, in no uncertain terms, that I simply wasn't strong enough to stop one of Orario's familias from doing whatever they wanted to me if they so wished.

I could train from dawn to dusk; I could practice nothing but the art of combat until I dropped, and then practice some more. I could do nothing for the rest of my life but hone Max's body to a razor's edge.

And it wouldn't even be remotely enough.

Even with my new physique and its prodigious strength, I will never be able to match the sheer might granted by a God given falna.

From the second a God etches the small slice of their divinity onto someone's soul, it enhances every single physical attribute of the recipient. Speed, strength, and dexterity- Even their appearance is pushed beyond the limits of mankind.

And with every descent into the Dungeon, with every monster slain and their essence stolen, they grew even stronger. Every point on their falna another step on their path to becoming a demigod.

Another step towards True Divinity.

And while we mere mortals will never be able to Physically challenge a demigod, well, as they say…

God may have created man-

But it was Colt that made 'em equal.

So I stoked my anger, marshaled all of Max's strength and skill, and allowed my fear to smother my sense of morality as I continued my work.

I justified my actions with the knowledge that they would have inevitably stumbled across the idea of firearms on their own as I took a hand drill and smoothed out the bore of my gun.

I disregarded the social and political upheaval I knew I might unleash if this device spreads as I set the newly polished barrel down next to its previously completed sibling and took up my chisel and started forging out the triggers and springs.

I ignored Gareth, my warden for the day, and his occasional questions on what I was making as I slid a carpenter's plane down a length of solid maple, slowly shaving it down into shape.

The dwarf remained oblivious to the horrors I was crafting before his very eyes as I carefully installed the trigger assembly into the forged action with a surgeon's steady hand.

Hell, the world would probably remain ignorant to what I had wrought this day for decades, if not centuries to come.

In fact, they may even praise me. A whole new kind of weapon to wield against the Dungeon. A new tool for those unblessed by the Gods to defend themselves with against the roaming monsters that still lurked on the surface.

What I do today may very well cement my place in this world's history for all time.

…But, long after I'm dead and buried.

When the Dungeon breathed its last.

When the people of this world no longer fear what lurks in the dark beyond their cities and towns.

When these people realize that the unblessed now possess the power to challenge those demigods uplifted by the Gods themselves…

Will they turn my creations against one another?

I shook myself free of the morbid thoughts that have haunted my waking moments since I realized what I would need to do in order to protect myself in this world.

There's no guarantee that these people will make the same mistakes that my own did. Not when they have actual immortal Gods by their side to guide their hands and shape their society. I seriously doubt that the few Deities I've met so far would willingly allow their "children" to descend down the dark path I've envisioned.

And just because guns themselves are simple enough to recreate, doesn't mean I'm going to make it easy for some wannabe warlord to steal the idea.

Because If there is one thing I can at least try to black box, it will be of course, the most important component of any firearm.

The propellant.

You can over or under engineer a gun all you want; From a simple tube with one end blocked to some kraut watchmaker's space magic made manifest.

But without the right type of 'bang'? Then all you've made is at best, a very ineffective club.

And at worst? A needlessly complicated bomb.

The technological height of Exandria's (and by extension Max's) ability to make a piece of metal fly out a barrel really fast, begins and ends with black powder. As far as Max knows (or cares), the substance was only created some fifty odd years ago by some dusty old noble from Whitestone.

Max didn't care one whit about who made it or where it came from. All he cares about is that black powder goes 'boom' really well, and making things go 'boom' makes Max a very happy gnoll indeed.

I know, however, that firearms were unleashed upon the unsuspecting realm of Exandria when Percival De Rolo unwittingly made a deal with the shadow demon Orthax. Percy then became the conduit and thrall through which Orthax introduced a whole new way to wage war. All just to increase it's influence on the world as new cycles of hatred and vengeance were created.

As I was hammering in the axle that would hold the hinge plates together, I felt a shiver run down my spine as I drew uncomfortable parallels between Orthax and myself both using someone else's body in order to introduce these weapons to a new world.

I stamped down hard on that train of thought before I could lose myself once more to another spiral of self pity and loathing.

Just because I was making a gun did not mean I was going to make it easy for someone else to recreate it.

Which means that, other than the small cask of it Max brought with him from Exandria, making more black powder is a no-go. It would be far too simple for someone to track my purchases and work backwards from there.

Guncotton, on the other hand, might just work.

I would need to set up a small laboratory to make it, but with Max's alchemy skills and my knowledge? I should easily be able to make both sulphuric and nitric acid. I mean, if the guy who originally invented guncotton discovered the stuff by accidentally blowing up his kitchen, then Max and I should absolutely be able to get a small cottage industry going.

I was torn from my thoughts by someone shouting my name from across the courtyard.

Both Gareth and I looked up to see the bright eye'd rookie that I had conscripted into being my gopher for the day running towards us, a large sack thrown over his shoulder.

The red-faced kid dropped his cargo at his feet with a wince inducing crash as he went down with his hands on his knees, huffing and puffing all the while.

"Did… Did you run all the way here?" I asked him incredulously while pulling the sack towards myself, I had him getting things from all over the city!

"Y-yes sir." he managed through gasping breaths. "You said you needed this stuff as soon as possible."

Gareth and I shared a disbelieving look before he burst into guffawing laughter. I only shook my head in muted amusement at the obvious FNG as I reached into the sack and pulled out a carefully wrapped package wrapped in brown paper and twine.

With a single swipe of a claw I cut the rope and unfolded the package to reveal a whole set of monster stones of assorted sizes and purities. Carefully pinching one of the smaller ones between the pads of my fingers, I held up the gently glowing, lilac colored crystal to my eye.

Deep within the depths of the uncut gem, a small spark of amber light shone out, playing across the sharp edges and angled lines of the stone in a mesmerizing display of warm colors.

With nothing but a glance, I could tell already that these 'monster stones' were not only comparable to residuum for its capacity for storing and directing magical energies- These Monster stones were, in many ways, actually superior in terms of magical energy storage to crystal volume ratio. A residuum crystal of a similar size to the one in my hand would barely be able to store enough energy to power a cantrip level spell.

This stone, according to the locals, held enough juice to power a magical device such as a refrigerator for years. Which reminds me… I still need to find the time to get one of these 'magitech' devices for myself to crack 'em open and see what makes it tick…

Physically shaking the distracting thoughts away once more, I wrapped up the gems and started pulling out the other items I asked what's-his-face to grab for me. It was just a bunch of odds and ends that I forgot to grab the other day, like some wood lacquer, paper, and the aforementioned monster stones.

But one of the more interesting things I had asked for was some specifically ordered monster parts.

Finding a group of several glass jars tied together, I pulled the bundle free and popped open the one I was looking for. Shaking out a couple of Hellhound fangs onto my open palm, I pushed around the bone-white teeth across my hand to see them for multiple angles.

The wolf-like monsters these were pulled from are apparently textbook examples of 'glass-cannons'. According to the book I found that mentioned them, they were physically unimpressive, but packed a devastating magical fire breath attack that could kill all but the strongest adventurers with ease. Their attacks are so deadly, in fact, enchanted fire-resistant gear was considered obligatory for anyone delving down to where they dwelled on the 'Middle Floors', regardless of level or ability.

The fangs themselves held value because a small part of that elemental fire lingered on in the creature's teeth. The locals used them for a wide range of applications. From heating elements in homes to ignition elements for kitchen stoves.

Adventurers occasionally used them as raw ingredients for making their equipment, crafting them into specialty gear, mainly weapons. Hellhound fangs, however, are considered to be a poor choice compared to some of the other monster drops that could be obtained on the Middle Floors, such as Crystal Mantis Wings or Infant Dragon Claws.

The reason why I was so interested in them? Well-

Pinching the end of one in my fingers, I dragged it forcefully over my anvil; Causing fiery sparks to fly off the tooth as it was yanked across the plate of steel, leaving a small trail of flames in its wake.

I inspected the tip of the lightly smoking piece of bone before I felt an ear-to-fluffy ear grin grow across my face, flashing my own fangs in excitement.

Oh yes, this will do just fine.

Taking a small strip of steel in my paws, I used brute force to crimp the metal into a ring around the fang. Repeating the process with another fang, I spot welded the rings to a small curved shaft with a brief Heat Metal spell.

Setting those aside for the moment, I took my two barrels and laid them side by side. Carefully placing another piece of steel in between them, I again used my magic to meticulously heat small patches of the rib until it was white-hot; Then clamping it all together with my bare paws and a whole lot of elbow grease.

I let the now joined barrels cool for a moment before picking up the wooden forend and sliding down the guides I forged onto the bottom of the barrels. To secure the piece I hammered in a nail across the grip and through a set of loops in the barrels.

Repeating that for securing the grip to the action itself, I then took up the fangs I had crafted into hammers and slotted them into the already prepared holes, carefully pushing them into the action until tension from the trigger assembly held them in place.

After that? Connecting the barrels with the action was as simple as holding the two halves together and hammering in the hinge pin.

And with that, the gun was complete.

I gave the finished piece that I held in my paws an inspection with a critical eye. Trying to find any imperfections or faults, but finding none.

Leaning back in satisfaction, I took in the weapon in its entirety.

While it was definitely longer than the average sawed-off shotgun, it was still a few inches short of a true coach gun.

The brown lacquered maple wood forend ran the entire length of the barrel, but for the actual stock, I decided to just use a pistol grip, forgoing a shouldered one entirely.

The trigger guard was oversized by necessity so I could fit my large fingers. Max wanted to go even further and up-armor the whole assembly until it was functionally a giant pair of knuckle dusters, with a shotgun half-hazardly stapled onto the end of it.

We compromised with an a thick full finger guard and an heavy steel pommel that was perfect for helping people who fucked around, find out.

The most distinctive aspect of the whole weapon was the Hellhound fangs being used as hammers. The twin, slightly yellowed teeth pressed up against the breech block lent the weapon a primal, savage flair that Max really, really liked.

With the magical canines supplying the primer spark, I was able to neatly sidestep the need for a flintlock (Or Allhammer forbid a matchlock) mechanism. I wouldn't have to worry about fiddling around trying to prime a flash pan or any or such nonsense in the middle of a battle.

Depressing the release lever, the gun slid open with a buttery smoothness that had Max crooning with pride, revealing its yawning breech.

When I set out to create something to defend myself with, I went into it with the intent to make something using a normal, sane caliber; Twelve, eight gauge at most.

But Max wanted boom.

So I had found myself making the bore just slightly wider with every roll of the steel.

Selecting a mandrel that was a bit bigger than what I imagined.

Using a hand drill that was only a little larger than the one I planned on.

And the end result was… This.

I stuck my giant, furry thumb into the chamber… And I still had room to wiggle it around.

I wasn't going to waste time melting a bar of lead just to measure the bore, but if I had to make an educated guess on what the end result was?

It was easily something well north of a four gauge shotgun.

This- this monster might even be a two bore.

And that scared me… As much as it excited me.

With a flick of my wrist the ridiculously heavy barrels flipped up and slammed home onto the oversized locking lug with a satisfying 'thunk'.

"You're starting to creep me out, laddie…"

I looked up at Gareth questioningly, but when I noticed him staring directly at my mouth. I… Oh… I Think I've been grinning like a God-damned lunatic this whole time. All the while humming a dark tune through my bared teeth.

The kid who I had running around town was still here, though he looked a bit green around the gills as his eyes darted nervously between my serial killer smile and the still unnamed shotgun.

I shrugged and ignored them both as I set the gun down on my anvil and pulled out another jar from the sack the kid brought me. Inside was a slightly viscous, cobalt blue liquid that sloshed about as I shook it.

The acid of a deep Dungeon slime.

Well, they called them 'Oozes' here but as that's a dumb name, so I'm going to keep calling it a slime.

I popped the lid off the jar and set it carefully down on my anvil beside my gun before reaching into my BoH and pulling out one of the most expensive pieces of kit I own.

I unrolled the leather wallet holding my jeweler's tools down on the bench and pulled one of the finer scribers free.

Dipping the tip of the tool in the acid I started etching deep grooves into the barrel of the gun with a rock steady paw.

In the tabletop game, an artificer's infusions are fairly generic in their wording and rather… succinct, when it comes to explaining how the magic actually interacts with whatever you're enchanting.

Take, for instance, the Enhance Weapon infusion. The enchantment adds a plus one to any attack rolls taken with the weapon. It becomes plus two after level ten, but it never addresses how the weapon is improved by the magic.

Is the sword now supernaturally sharp? Does a bow now have an increased draw weight? Does this gun now shoot… Harder, somehow?

Thankfully, Max has the answer to all my questions.

There is no such thing as a 'Sword of +2'

All of the infusions that I know and love from the game? They are made up, gross simplifications of highly scientific and precise art of artificing.

In short: Artificers use exotic materials and their own innate magic to impose their will on the universe. But what is far more important than expensive ingredients and an expansive mana pool to draw from… Is an intimate understanding of math and physics.

I'm sure a more traditional artificer would put this all in a more flowery, romantic way, but to Max? Studying the inner workings of the universe was just like learning more about your enemy and carefully noting down all his weaknesses so you can more effectively beat his ass at a later date.

So until we can reduce the very Fabric of Reality into a hideously weeping mess curled up in the corner, watching on helplessly as we break the laws of physics over our digitigrade knee with a smile; We will continue to hone our knowledge and our skill as one would hone a blade.

But for now, we will have to settle for this.

The jagged lines of abyssal ran down the full length of the barrel, carefully dictating instructions, nay, demands to reality; That whatever is placed within the chamber of this weapon will have reduced friction, and any chemical reactions that occur inside will take place at a greatly increased rate.

After I repeated the process on the other barrel, I packed up the acid and my tools before taking one of the larger monster stones in my paw.

Reaching back into my bag, I pulled out a contraption that was visually similar to an old school coffee bean grinder. With a large steel base with a curved spinning arm mounted to the side. The whole device was already connected to a glass jar.

I held the monster stone down against the whetstone of the Residuum grinder and started spinning the arm slowly. Small sparks of pure magic shot out from the stone as I steadily ground it down into a fine powder, filling up the jar.

It took two more stones until I felt I had enough material to work with.

Unscrewing the jar from the grinder, I tucked it firmly between my legs while yanking out my hunting knife from the sheath on the small of my back.

Gareth started in shock and the kid quickly looked away when I drew the blade against my palm without hesitation and started squeezing the rapidly swelling blood into the jar.

Pain is, of course, temporary.

Artificing is forever.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the dwarf repeatedly open and close his mouth in aborted attempts at a question as I mixed the solution into a fine paste, delicately injecting mana into it as I worked. Although there are better magical binding agents out there; Blood, especially the blood of the crafter themselves, works well enough in a pinch.

When it was settled, the syrupy compound was glowing a sinister crimson. With my bare paws I scooped out a dollop on the tip of one of my claws and started stuffing it into the acid etchings I made, infusing it further with yet more mana as I went.

The finished product sat proudly on the bench; The Demonic script pulsating with a malevolent, blood red light.

https://imgur.com/Rw1vJ1T

Now the only thing left to do was make some ammo.

Thankfully, Max had already bought a bullet mold when he was in Whitestone, so it was a simple matter of using Heat Metal on a crucible until the ingot of lead I placed in it melted. And then scooping out the molten metal and pouring it into the pliers like mold.

It took a very tedious half an hour of pouring the metal, waiting for it to harden, and then dropping the scorching hot balls into my bucket of rapeseed to cool them down. But eventually I had used up the whole ingot and was rewarded with a good amount of roughly double-naught sized buckshot.

Taking some of the paper the kid brought me, I rolled it up into a cylinder and sealed it with glue. I couldn't help shooting Gareth a hesitant glance as I pulled the small wine cask full of gunpowder out of my bag.

When I tipped the cask over and opened the spigot, I was planning on using a sensible load of a eight, maybe ten dram charge of powder, at most.

But I couldn't stop pouring.

I watched on in mounting horror as I dumped more, and more, and more powder into the cartridge.

Forget P+, I was already at Bubba's Pissing Hot Loads and rapidly encroaching on the forbidden realm of Drunk Uncle Cletus's Fiery Fuckin' Specials before Max was happy with the absolutely absurd amount of powder crammed into the shot-glass sized cylinder of paper.

Before I could even register what we had just done, Max took a fistfull of shot, rolled them in a second piece of paper, haphazardly forced the wadded up shot into the cartridge, and sealed the whole thing shut with a lick.

I was in shock… In awe, of the monstrous evil we had just fashioned in but a few short seconds. What should have been a normal charge of propellent and steel balls had been corrupted, twisted into something more, something unnatural.

The innocent, lumpy looking wad of paper sat there in my paw, menacingly. Bending space and time around it like it was the fucking One True Ring. And like the Ring, It had been crafted with all of Max's cruelty, his malice, and his will to make things go boom.

…Naturally, I made twenty more.

X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X​

Gareth and I stood at one of their familia's archery ranges, where they had generously set me up with a straw dummy that someone had draped an old iron cuirass over.

The adventurers who had been previously training had gathered into a small crowd to watch, curious as to what I had been making all day.

As I forcefully crammed two paper shells into the chamber and swung the shotgun closed, I glanced up towards the mansion to see Loki and Finn watching from his office window.

With a deep, steading breath I cocked back one of the hammers with my thumb. Keeping the gun down low by my waist, I took aim, and pulled the trigger.

It did not go 'bang'.

it did not fire with a 'crack'.

And It did not 'roar'.

When the fanged hammer fell, there was a split second delay, and then the gun fucking exploded.

At that moment, my world was only fire and smoke. The acrid, bitter tang of burnt powder filled my nose and burnt my eyes. The recoil damn near sent me on my ass, with the gun leaping back right into my chest. I looked down to make sure I still had all my fingers, and was pleasantly surprised to find that not only was I still whole, but that the gun itself survived as well.

As the wind blew away the lingering haze of smoke, I was finally able to see the result of all my hard work.

The top half of the dummy was simply… Gone.

It was as if a giant beast had taken a messy bite out of the target; Leaving only ruined remains of half a breast plate and chunks of steel strewn about, as well as a few tufts of straw drifting sadly towards the ground.

Beyond the dummy, I could see that even the far wall of the courtyard was pockmarked with holes. The damage highlighted by the cloud of stone dust still hovering in the air.

I looked back and forth between the gun in my paws and the destruction it had wrought several times before a small giggle bubbled up from within me.

That giggle became a snicker.

Which grew into a chuckle.

And then suddenly I was full blown howling with glee.

And I laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

From this distance I couldn't see what expression was on Loki's face, and to be honest, I wasn't quite sure what expression was on my own face.

but I made damn sure I was looking right in her eyes when I leveled my gun a second time and blew away what was left of the dummy.

You're not the only one with power here, Loki.

X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X​

Author notes:

https://imgur.com/a/I5lyyYY
Art by myself.

And that is a wrap folks!

Man, I spent a ridiculous amount of time watching youtube videos and reading wiki articles trying to depict a somewhat realistic process for designing, building, and using a breech loading, magical black powder firearm. I don't think I was 100% accurate, and I'm even not sure what I ended up making would even be feasible.

But I think with the power of magic and friendship, the Boom Stick might just be functional

But anywho… Time for some fun facts about this fic!

I originally wanted to call this fic Gnoll and Void, but someone beat me to the punch with their short webcomic. Also, it was originally set to take place in The Wandering Inn, twenty years before canon. But I just got plain depressed when I was doing my research on the deep lore of the world with how grimdark, bordering on grimderp that story is (I still love it all the same); So I hard pivoted towards a slightly friendlier setting.

Next chapter, barring any sudden brain blasts, will be the Denatus and its consequences!

 

[DangerDesperado]

Author notes: Hey Kids, I'm back with the milk… Except milks really expensive right now (thanks Obama) so instead I bought 500 cigarettes and a handle of rubbing alcohol.


Bon apatite

X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X​

Hyena Werks, A proud Orario Company.


DanmachiXDnD Nonhuman semi SI

X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X

Chapter Eight:
Delusions and Grandeur.

(Pride Flavored Prejudice)

X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X

​

"Nifty toy."


I looked up from my fiddling with the fanged hammers on what I had been calling 'The Boom Stick' in my head to see Loki and Finn making their way towards us across the courtyard.


While Finn was observing the remains of the dummy with an expressionless face, the Goddess herself was laser focused on the shotgun in my paws. "I've heard of those 'firelocks' making waves down in Kaios, but I was led to believe they were gimmicky, mostly useless things, which…" Her eyes briefly flicked over to the ruined stone wall in the distance. "Your version certainly isn't."


Wut.


WHUT.


THEY'VE HAD GUNS THIS WHOLE TIME!?


But- I went through that whole spiritual journey thing! For days I had been wracked with indecision and guilt over whether or not I should go all Ash Williams on their primitive asses!


AND THEY ALREADY HAD THEM THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME!


Before I could snap my shotgun over my knee in incandescent rage, someone from the crowd spoke up.

"You recognize that thing, Lady Loki?"


Loki hummed with a nod as she drew yet closer to me, rubbing her chin in thought. "They're supposed to be all the rage these days among the sultans of Kaios. Pretty much all of the Desert kingdoms of any note have a regiment or two that use 'em. Though, I'm pretty sure their ones aren't powerful enough to turn a breastplate into iron filings… Nor do they glow red with evil lookin' runes." She finished with a wry smile and a raised eyebrow.


I puffed out a snort through my nose in frustration at my own stupidity as I hefted the hand-held artillery piece up to rest on my shoulder. If I had just bothered to ask someone if they had guns, I could have skipped my own self flagellating pity party and started working on something actually impressive.

Instead, I let my own indecision and guilt hamstring me into building, what is in essence, just a sawed-off punt gun.


Whatever, if anything else, it will make a half-decent sidearm when I finally transition onto getting some real firepower.


Like an even bigger, magazine-fed shotgun.


Witha' huge bayonet-


No-


A belt-fed one with an underslung chainsaw.


Shaking away the increasingly impractical, yet incredibly cool ideas for weapons and refocusing back to Loki's implied question. I simply returned her raised eyebrow with one of my own. "I did tell you I was an artificer, right? Making enchanted weapons is kinda' my whole thing."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Finn's head snap around to stare at me, but it was Loki's suddenly hawkish gaze that kept my undivided attention.


"When you say enchanted…" Loki's captain trailed off, his brows furrowing in focus as he tried to read the fell language scrawled across the gun.


But before he could continue, his Goddess cut him off with an unsubtle elbow to the ribs. "-And just what is your firelock enchanted to do, Max?" She asked with a sickly sweet grin and an air of faux innocence, as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

I looked back and forth between her and her stone-faced captain, trying to find the trap in their words, because make no mistake, there absolutely was a proverbial pitfall here. Something I've learned after days of dealing with their word games, was that they had weaponized my ignorance of this world.


"Oh, ya' know, standard stuff. Decreased projectile friction so that air resistance isn't as much of a factor. As well as a bit of code on the end to help speed along chemical reactions. Like I said, standard stuff." I finished with a feigned casual shrug, yet still closely watching their faces for any tells.

I must have failed a perception check or something, because other than a small twitch of Loki's lips, both of them were unreadable. Instead of inquiring further, the Goddess in question simply held out her hands and made grabby motions towards the gun. "Lemme' take a gander, Max."

Deciding there was no harm in letting her hold the gun as there was no ammo in it, I passed her the shotgun grip first.


The second I let go of my end, her eyes bugged out and her arms trembled trying to hold it up. The Goddess struggled with it, red in the face, for a few moments before Finn eventually swooped in and took it from her.


"What the hell!" She finally gasped out after recovering from her surprise workout session. "That thing weighs a ton, Max!"


Finn weighed in appreciably in one hand, not looking at all bothered by the weight, before passing it back to me with a nod. Accepting it back with grace, I turned back to Loki. "A ton? It's like- forty-five, fifty pounds at most. Maybe you just need to work out more." I finished with a teasing lilt, cradling the shotgun across my chest.


Damn, I really need to make a holster or something for this thing; It kinda was a bit awkward to hold.


Loki gave me a gimlet eye for a moment before shrugging while a good natured smirk tugged at her lips. "Ya, ya, I get enough guff from my own familia about my health, I don't need to hear it from you too, mister hyena-man."


She then leaned forward a bit, her eye's cracking open just enough for me to her almost luminescent red pupils shining in manic excitement. "But never mind that, let's see how your toy does against some real armor. Gareth!"


The dwarf in question only grunted in affirmation, before making his way down the range, grabbing a spare dummy from the wall as he went. After setting up the target, he unbuckled and pulled off his own, off-white colored cuirass and draped it over the strawman with an affectionate pat.

When he was safely back over on our side of the range, I gave him a questioning look. "You sure? I don't want to wreck your gear…"


I felt some creeping unease when he threw his head back and started laughing uproariously. "Don't worry a bit, Max. If you manage to scratch the paint I'll be mightily impressed."


With a shrug I pulled out two more shells and crammed them into the chamber. Alright, don't come crying to me when I turn your expensive armor into swiss cheese, then.

Posting up, I took a second to shake out my still slightly sore wrists before taking aim.


Feeling a bit braver this time around, I cocked both hammers, let a savage grin grow over my muzzle, and squeezed both triggers with an almost manic zeal.


In a repeat performance, the gun thundered out its righteous fury, bathing the courtyard in smoke and lead. When the smoke and acrid stench of rotten eggs finally cleared, I could see that the straw sticking out from under the breast plate was simply no more, reduced to ash and dust.


But the armor itself?


Almost in a trance, I felt myself pad forward, headless of the rest of Loki's familia.


Dangingling listlessly from a single strap, the armor swung in a slight breeze. From where I stood, I could see the result of several buckshot that had struck the piece. The lead shot had pancaked itself all across the surface of the metal, sticking fast through sheer friction.


Absently, I stuck a claw under one of the rounds and worked it off, revealing the unblemished paintwork underneath.


Working with increasing fever, I pried all of the lead from the armor to reveal that it was…


…Completely, and utterly unharmed.

X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X

​

Finn watched absentmindedly as Loki fiddled around with a small chunk of warped and pitted steel while they waited for the rest of her command to shuffle in.


There was a tiny frown tugging at her lips and her brows were pulled together in apprehension as she stared off into space. The pallum knew that his Goddess would never allow the rest of her familia to see the uncertainty and inner turmoil that was currently written across her face; And the second that door opened, the only thing his fellow executives would see the unflappable and irreverent Goddess they all knew and loved.


But for the moment, when it was just the two of them…


"Valis for your thoughts?"

Almost as if she was coming out of a trance, the Goddess startled before shooting her captain a look. "What? Oh, nothing… It's just- I think I finally figured out our resident 'gnoll', but I need to hear from Gareth first before I'm sure… He still hole'd up in his room?"


"Last I checked? Yes." Finn said with a sigh. After that weapon of his failed to so much as scratch Gareth's armor earlier today, Max had locked himself in his room and refused to come out. Only leaving for short stints to go down to the cafeteria for dinner or to get more books from the library.

"Anakitty said she heard him banging around, but other than that we have no idea what he's doing in there."

"'Banging around'? What, is he throwing a temper tantrum?" She asked with a small smile upon her lips, a bit of her usual self shining through her dreary countenance.


"No, she said it was 'rhythmic and steady'. So I would guess that he's making something." Finn answered with a smile of his own, glad to see his Goddess was still happy enough to joke around despite the stress of the last few days.

Loki opened her mouth, probably to make a rude comment about what other activities could result in a rhythmic banging sound; But whatever she was about to say was lost in the commotion of Finn's door being carelessly thrown open by Bete sauntering in, along with the rest of Loki's command filing in on the gray-haired werewolf's heels.


When everyone was settled into their usual spots around the room, Loki started the meeting off without preamble. "Gareth, report. I want to hear everything."


With a gruff "Yes Ma'am", the dwarf gave his full account on what happened ever since he was told to be their guest's chaperone for the day. From Max conscripting one of their level ones, Morel Taji, into being his personal peon for the day; Along with a detailed list of everything the gnoll asked the young recruit to buy for him, and how much money the gnoll gave the boy to cover the cost.


To then describe how, at roughly eight in the morning, Max commandeered a bench in one of the auxiliary gardens, and didn't leave until about three in the afternoon.


It wasn't until Gareth was detailing the exact steps the artificer took when building his weapon did Loki interrupt him.


"His own blood?"


"Aye, watched him slice his palm open and all- started spreadin' the stuff like jam on toast. Down right creepy to watch." The dwarf finished with an exaggerated shudder.



For her part, the Goddess didn't respond. Only putting a hand to her chin while her eyebrows scrunched up in thought. For more than a minute they sat in total silence before Tione hesitantly broke the lull in conversation.

"My lady?.."


"I think-" Loki suddenly started, unintentionally interrupting her executive as she stood from her seat and began pacing in front of Finn's desk. "-I finally know what Max is. A non-humanoid being, one chock full of magical power, an expert at creating enchanted objects… And uses parts from his own body to do so…"


Trailing off, the Goddess continued to pace while her children watched on nervously; Unused to seeing her so out of sorts.


"Max… May not be a mortal afterall- or at least- not as we think of them." Stopping mid stride, Loki turned to face her command. "I think that Max might actually be closer to a Spirit..."

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Saying I "Underestimated them" would be a gross, unbelievable understatement of the last few days.


This whole time I've been treating these people like they're some podunk, ass-backwards, pats-on-the-head stupid- drooling primitives who would be blown away by the mere concept of a steam engine or a printing press.


Who the fuck am I to think that I could upend this entire world with naught but the work of an afternoon? Good to know I guess, that the second I gained a tiny spec of real power- Scratch that, the second I gained a modicum of potential- unrealized power, I immediately developed a fucking God-complex and started deluding myself into thinking that I was weighing the fates of nations in my paws.


With a growling sigh I crumpled up another page filled with designs for a scroll-fed, spell slinging machine gun from my notebook and tossed it over my shoulder; Where it fell to the ground to join the other crossed out and abandoned ideas for increasingly ridiculous and/or impractical weapons littering the room.


I was so very, very wrong.


No, not wrong- I have been willfully refusing to accept the reality of my situation. I haven't been dropped into just any old fantasy world, no. I was now stuck in a shonen fantasy world, where swordsmen single handedly decimated entire armies on the regular, and the power of friendship is usually the solution to all problems.


With a derisive snort, I started sketching out a rough design for a mythril rod firing rail-gun; That outta' punch a nice clean hole through Gareth's fancy armor.


As I fleshed out an idea for monster stone powered capacitors, my mind drifted back to my behavior these past few days. I had been treating this whole thing as if I was interacting with uncontacted island tribals, who's lives would be irreparably ruined by some of the knowledge kicking around in the combined head of a middling artificer and a twenty-first century office jockey.


What a fucking joke.


These people have been fighting a war for over a millenia against an eldritch, unknowable enemy whose size and strength is quite literally incomprehensible. What is a piddly little slug thrower in the face of an endless horde of monsters capable of running roughshod over any modern military?


Nothing. A quirky gimmick at best.


A mild curiosity that would quickly be forgotten about in favor of the tried and true method of throwing falna graced adventures at the problem. The natives here don't use guns not because they're too stupid to conceive of an idea that my people thought of over half a millennium ago; They just don't use them because guns are infinitely less efficient against monsters then when using a falna enhanced sword or bow is far simpler, and far more effective.


When I inevitably reached the part that had sunken all my other previous plans, I once again tore out the page with a snarl. See, for all of the innumerable ideas for weapons that are swimming in Max and I's head, they all suffer from the exact same fatal flaw.


I just didn't have enough time.


Not enough time to draw up the scrolls needed for the machine gun; Not enough time to find a power source capable of feeding something as power hungry as a rail gun; Not enough time to put together enough Bag's of Holdings for the portal grenades I had planned on pitching to my DM as a funny homebrew. Not enough time to put together a Steel Defender; Not even enough time to forge out some adamantine flechette rounds for the Boom Stick.


With a groan I let my wizardly quill to fade into aether and buried my face into my paws.


The Denatus is only a few days away… And I don't have a fuckin' thing to show for it.

While I think I know Loki enough at this point to confidently say that she wouldn't use force to put a falna on my back, there are plenty of others who absolutely would be more than willing to stick their 'divine essence' where it's not welcome. If for no other reason than to get their grubby paws on someone who can make Bags of Holding, because God knows that those are one of the only useful things I've shown to be able to make.


And that's another thing…


Giving up on workshopping ideas as a lost cause for tonight, I flipped my notebook shut and pushed myself away from the desk with a growl.


Padding my way over to the one window in my room, I took in the scene. Overlooking one of Loki's many well manicured gardens, the view from my room was quite honestly, breathtaking. In the dead of night, the once colorful courtyard was now dyed in the baby blues and light grays reflected by the river of stars that hung overhead.


A sight that was all but extinct back home, save for only the most remote of regions; The never ending cosmos stretched across the sky unimpeded. Thanks to the practically non-existent light pollution here, the Milky Way (if it even was my own galaxy) was visible to me in a way that I hadn't seen in a long, long time.


Probably not since I was out camping as a kid with my family…


Max, on the other hand, was well acquainted with the virgin night sky. Especially after spending countless hours sleeping under the stars as he and his party traveled across Exandria on one wacky adventure or another.


Oh, damnit- now I've gone and made myself sad, thinking of them again.


Actually… Now that I think of it, our friends are probably the one thing Max and I have in common. We were, in essence, friends with the same people, afterall.


Or at least, we were fundamentally friends with the same people.


Physically shaking away the discordant memories between Max's friends- the puppets, and my friends- the puppeteers, I carefully reviewed my subconscious hitches between me and Max that have been happening with increasing frequency.


It has become abundantly clear that whatever saw fit to stick me and Max together, had not done so cleanly. There is a gap- a definite divide between the two of us. I- Don't even know if what I've been experiencing these past few days has been just some sort of- echo- a lingering ego… Or if Max is actually still here, in me, somewhere.


Regardless, there was a jagged, torn line separating man from gnoll somewhere in my mind- in my soul.


And somewhere deep in my atrophied, yet Max's well honed instincts I- We knew that letting some Deity fitz around all willy nilly with our soul by branding us with a falna, as damaged as it is, would be a horrifically terrible idea.


Turning away from the window, I started making way dejectedly towards my bed, deciding to get some shut-eye and push all of current Max's problems firmly onto future Max's lap when I froze.


Waitahminute.


"...Portal grenades?!"

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Author notes:


Hey sorry about the delay. I'm not the biggest fan of this chapter, and a large reason for this chapter taking so long to come out was how many times i rewrote it. But I feel like I'm at the point where I needed to post something just to get past this part.


So I feel like this chapter should be treated more like a translational interlude, as I never planned it, because it was supposed to cut directly to the Denatus. But as a helpfully commenter pointed out- there are in fact guns in danmachi, just they're- as far as I can tell- only mentioned once off-handley as being for sale in a foreign market in an spinoff LN.


Regardless- I felt like I should acknowledge their existence a bit with this chapter.


Only one more establishing chapter to go before the story starts in earnest.