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The Malady of Manticore's

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1The Malady of Manticore's Empty The Malady of Manticore's on 11/05/14, 01:51 am

The marketplace was alive with activity. Every vendor for miles around was here today to sell their newest and greatest product. This happened every few months. It was an initiative to spur progress and economic stability. Each vendor creates something new, and sells it to an investor. The investor in turn gets a percentage of the earnings that the vendor makes on the product from there on out. A great idea to be sure; if you’re rich. Those who made modest livings couldn’t afford to invest in the products that the vendors sold. All in all, it was just a way for the rich to get richer.

Altair wasn’t a big fan of the way people were being taken advantage of. Just because you were poor, it meant that you weren’t worthy to have power. Altair dreamt of a world where people took care of each other, just like when he lived back in his home tribe. It was nice there. Everybody cared about everybody else, and always had your best interests in mind. Even when families fought, it was more of a rivalry than actual grievances. He wished he could let people know about this kind of life; just show them what it felt like to have everyone care about you.

While Altair pondered this, a rather disheveled man came up to the job board and posted a new request. Altair had a free day today, so he figured he might as well make some money. He approached the man and asked what he could do for him. ”Oh, um, it’s nothing. Just some disturbances in Yambala forest recently. Nothing to worry about…” He said loud enough for others to hear and then pulled Altair close. ”Ok, we got ourselves a serious problem in Yambala forest. People have been getting killed and eaten there, and the only guy who escaped said it was a Manticore that did it. You look like a strong lad. Do you think you can handle it without making too much fuss? It would be disastrous if the townsfolk found out.” He looked Altair straight in the eye for a moment, and Altair nodded. ”Good, Good. Now there are a few things you should know…”


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2The Malady of Manticore's Empty Re: The Malady of Manticore's on 11/05/14, 01:52 am

The air was thick with fog this particular morning in Yambala forest, making it very difficult for Altair to see anything. The man who had offered him the job had chosen two other men to help out, but in this fog, they had gotten separated quite easily. Altair shuffled along blindly, trying not to run into any trees or trip over any low bushes. The fog was just starting to lift in the morning sun, when Altair heard two men scream. Fearing the worst, Altair ran over to where he had heard the screams emanate from. What he saw when he got there nearly made him vomit.

Standing over the mutilated bodies of his two companions, was a large beast. It had the face of a man, the body of a lion, the wings of an eagle, and the tail of a scorpion. It was covered in the blood of its prey, and was licking its lips languorously. It sniffed the air, and slowly turned to face Altair. The face was that of a young man, which meant from what his employer had told him that it was a young Manticore. This would be tough, but it could have been worse. Unlike normal men, Manticore only get stronger and faster with age, meaning that although he had the vigor of youth, the Manticore would be severely weaker than its older counterpart. It looked Altair for a while before smiling. ”These were your friends were they not?”’ It said the word ‘friends’ in a way that dripped with contempt. As though having such a thing was beyond pitiful. It then stood and began to walk slowly around Altair. ”You know, it might interest you that their blood had the terrier of disloyal men. They meant to betray you, and take the money for your job for themselves. Doesn’t that make you angry? Doesn’t that make you just want to kill something? Doesn’t that fill you with RAGE!?” The Manticore had gotten behind Altair at that point, and leapt at full speed at his back. Altair had seen the attack coming however, and given the opening, delivered a rising uppercut with his Rod to the Manticore’s chin. It recoiled, and began its walk around Altair once again.


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3The Malady of Manticore's Empty Re: The Malady of Manticore's on 11/05/14, 01:53 am

[color=#ff0000]”Well aren’t you full of surprises. That rather hurt. But then, I like prey that put up a fight. And how interesting. You use a blunt object rather than the blades of your formers. Their choice was a poor one it seems. Altair interrupted the Manticore then saying, ”They were good men. They had families, and loved ones. What makes you think you can just take their lives? Don’t try to tell me that you just hunted them for food. I can see it in your eyes. You enjoyed killing them didn’t you?” The Manticore stopped for a moment and smiled. ”But of course I enjoyed it. Just as you would enjoy eating the cooked flesh of a buck. I prefer my meat raw however. It preserves their feelings of terror as I cut open their chests.” Altair shifted. This beast was unlike anything he had faced before. It was smart, and immensely powerful. Altair would have a hard time killing it by himself. But the beast had a unique flaw. Like the villains from his favorite stories, it loved to monologue.

The moment it began to speak again Altair used Kuma o Korosu, a technique for killing bears, and struck it in the base of its skull. It immediately retaliated by striking with its tail at Altair’s chest. Altair then used Jakkaru o Korosu to strike the tail at its joints, crushing it. The attack was still fast enough to get through however and stabbed Altair in the right shoulder. He could feel his collarbone break from the force of the strike, and then came the pain. It felt like someone had put a hot iron on his shoulder. He watched as purple tracery crisscrossed along his skin, causing the pain to spread. He fought through it however, and got up to finish the job. He landed another blow to the creatures head, killing it instantly. He then looked to the two men who were to be his companions on this job. They were unrecognizable, except for their dog tags. They were military men. He took the tags back into town with him, and gave them to the man who offered the job. They would be missed.


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