Monster Party Book Seven: There's some things you're never gonna help or change, but hunger is something we can turn around!

Chapter Twelve: Hum Hallelujah, just off the key of reason.

A wolfpack hunts with cunning and a level of tactical acumen that can at times rival the complex march and counter march maneuvers of human armies at war.

At what point do the wolves reveal themselves to the prey, and do they reveal their pack's full strength or just some of its members, hoping to possibly to lure the prey into fleeing towards their concealed packmates? When do they chase and exhaust, when do they go in for the kill, and how can they best avoid whatever manner of defenses the prey has?

A well planned hunt could at times be almost as much deadly dance as brutal slaughter.

The sight of four not quite half starved (probably only a quarter starved, which for G'Henna was positively plump) bovines chewing away at whatever vegetation they could find would bring both joy and trepidation to any true wolf's heart.

Here was prey sure enough, yet how to get the maximum amount of meat for the minimum amount of being maimed in the process?

Such was a matter for considerable consideration and careful planning….

"YOU ARE MADE OF MEAT AND MY PACK IS HUNGRY!" Then there was the Alexander Diamondclaw approach to the hunting.

The silver furred wolfman monster howled his declaration of swiftly coming death, and then charged.

Alone.

He'd been very clear to Gavin on this particular point, and only when the alpha rolled over to show his belly had the silver haired man been certain that the wolf understood.

The cattle unsurprisingly lifted their heads from the ground and turned to face the swiftly approaching threat. Then the largest bull lowered its own head, leveling a pair of horns the size your average short sword.

It snorted in contempt, revealing that its teeth were surprisingly sharp for a herbivore.

Its companions did likewise and the four animals pounded their hooves against the dusty ground stampeding towards the crazy wolf who had dared to attack them by itself.

Alexander loped along on all fours, his strides eating up distance at a tremendous speed. As big as he was in his current form, he was still smaller than the largest of the bovines charging towards him.

That was why rather than take the bull by the horns, he jumped clear over the four very surprised animals.

Wolves could jump, but Alexander could leap across simply ludicrous distances when he had a proper running start.

He sailed easily over the confused cattle, who awkwardly tried to turn first their heads and then their bodies to continue the stampede. Stampedes much like a block of charging infantry were notoriously hard to stop though. They could turn, but they did not stop, and they certainly didn't preform an abrupt about face.

Which was more was more less exactly what Alexander did mid leap, twisting himself around so that instead of looking away from the cattle, he was focused on their backsides.

His claws gouged out plumes of dust and chunks of dirt as he landed, sliding a few inches as he bled off his momentum, but then his was body was still.

The stillness lasted for only a brief flicker before he was off again, racing at the back of the bovines.

He got in among with almost contemptuous ease, and tore at their haunches in between dodging their flailing blind kicks.

One of the bovine beasts could not longer support its own weight and collapsed to the ground.

That reduced the small herd down to three, and created still more angels of attack for Alexander.

With another (much smaller) leap her managed to land on the back of his target. No normal wolf would ever be large enough to so easily force a cow to the ground beneath its own bulk, but Alexander Diamondclaw was no normal wolf. His jaws found ready purchase in the beast's throat and there was a small fountain of red as he ripped it to shreds.

That meant he now only had a pair of foes left.

A pair of foes who were still struggling to try and turn around to face him. Alexander's claws soon plunged deeply into one bull's back and he began to tear away huge chunks of its flesh until he was able to get at the animal's spine.

One more swift stroke severed it, and brought the mighty beast to the ground. Then there was only a single bull left, and this no longer a hunt, but a slaughter. With a relaxed smile (or a hungry bearing of his fangs) on his face, Alexander got in close enough to grab the bull's head, and twisted. Its neck snapped and the beast died a few moments later.

Then he lopped back over to the animal whose legs he had previously savaged, as this one was still alive. Suffice to say, he soon rectified that particular problem.

That done, he turned and let loose with a long howl to call his packmates.

Gavin and the other wolves eagerly hurried over to the scrumptious feast that Alexander had prepared for them with Madar following a much more sedate pace.

By the time the priest/Circle of the Darkness member arrived Alexander had finished transforming back to his human form.

Twenty six hungry eyes gazed up at Alexander as the wolves gathered in a hodge podge random formation around the dead animals.

"They're for you. All for you. You need it a lot more than I do since I can still get by on fruits and grains." He insisted.

Still the wolves stared at him. He didn't need them to say a single word, the look in their eyes was more than loud enough.

The Alpha ate first.

"Fine, if it will really make you feel more comfortable." Alexander transformed one of his hands into a furry paw, used it to tear of a small chunk of meat from one of the fallen bovines and quickly consumed it.

This seemed satisfy the wolves' need for the something approaching the traditional feeding order, as they now fell upon the four dead animals with a vengeance. Despite how they'd silently protested that Alexander go first, the dozen the other wolves started ripping and chewing the same moment that Gavin did.

Sure enough, laid out before them was enough fresh flesh that no one would be going hungry, not even omegas.

"That's a handy trick." Madar congratulated Alexander on the ease with which he had dispatched the small herd.

"Oh you wouldn't believe." The silver haired man agreed once he finished chewing up the bite he'd taken.

"The wolves look to you a lot differently than they did with me. Once I could talk with them, I managed to reach a few tenuous agreements with Bill, but that was it. He was simply smart enough to realize that having me guaranteed to bring them some food every so often was a better arrangement than having to risk life and limb raiding my family's farm. Still, Bill and his pack, they only tolerated me, if that. I brought out food, left it where he wanted, and if I didn't head off they'd start howling at me to go.

Gavin, and the others, they love you." The priest noted with a certain amount of longing in his eyes.

"If you want to be loved, get a dog. Wolves only love their own. I just happen to be 'their own' to them." Alexander admitted.

"Anyway, you were going to tell me about the Son of Rust?" He pressed a moment later, wanting to bring the conversation back to where it had been going before hunger had interrupted.

Madar gave the wolves one quick glance, then slowly nodded his head.

"The Son of Rust is the one who founded the Circle of Darkness. When Rega banished and sealed away Zhakata the Provider, Yagno Petrovna inevitably decided the that the Provider could not be real.

He decreed that Zhakata had only one aspect, declared preaching of the Provider to be heresy, and all statues the Provider were relegated to the Avenue of False Gods. The people of G'Henna fell in line, and did what we were told. For a while, even the idea of Zhakata the Provider was lost to the people of G'Henna.

Then the Son of Rust was the one who rediscovered Zhakata the Provider." Madar finally was able to explain.

"How did he come to be known as the Son of Rust?" Alexander inquired.

"One night during a storm he sought shelter from the thunder and lashing rain inside an abandoned temple. There among the rust he discovered a statue that had been broken into many pieces. He was struck by a strange desire, and spent the entire night slowly reassembling the statue.

When dawn came, he knelt before a statue of Zhakata the Provider. That was when he knew that there had to be more than scrabbling for existence in this world, there had to be more than starvation and suffering." Madar answered.

Alexander twitched his head slightly.

"I'd like to meet this Son of Rust." He pondered, wondering if the man in question was still alive.

"He understandably tends to be a bit on the reclusive side, I've only met himself twice myself. Still, if we manage to free Zhakata the Provider I'm sure the Son will come to you on bended knee to offer his thanks." Madar gently rebuffed the request.

Alexander could accept that for the moment. After all, he didn't expect the Circle of Darkness' leader to step out from behind a rock and introduce himself just because it would be convenient.

"Does it feel empowering, to have a part of a god so close to you?" Madar suddenly asked, his eyes closing in on the dark jewel around the silver haired man's throat.

Alexander scoffed and momentarily lifted the necklace up over his head and free from his throat, though still keeping a tight grip on it.

"This thing? I hate to disappoint you Madar, but I've dealt with magical artifacts far more powerful in the past, or at least ones that felt far more powerful. I've seen a staff that with a single touch could make someone holding it crazy enough to think they were a god! All this thing seems to be is an especially fancy accessory." Alexander huffed.

"Well, I hope it is only refusing to flaunt its power, and will come into its own when the time is right. If that isn't the black stone we were told of, the one used to seal Zhakata the Provider away, then we're all wasting a lot of time." Madar muttered, kicking despondently at the ground while Alexander returned the Eye of Zhakata to its place around his neck.

"This place isn't entirely without its charms, there's fresh air, no bells, no inquisitors, so long as you take the correct magical precautions the heat doesn't bother you to much." Alexander admitted.

It was clear that he wasn't the only one who had taken those particular "precautions" given that Madar's wasn't sweating profusely at the moment.

"Just between the two of us, because I'm sure Bolsh would need at least an hour to tell me what he thought the weather would be like tomorrow, does the Circle of Darkness know anything important about where Zhakata the Provider is supposed to be held? It's location on a map for example would be nice, otherwise we're going to spend a lot of time wandering around out here." Alexander pointed out.

Madar awkwardly looked around to make sure that there was no one else in earshot other than Gavin and his packmates.

"Just between you, me, and your furry friends, it was once one of the largest temples ever built to Zhakata outside of Zhukar. The place was originally built to honor Zhakata in both of his aspects, Devourer and Provider alike. The few bits and pieces of information we've been able to find were hardly explicit, but I'd be surprise if the place hasn't been altered now to appeal only to the Devourer aspect so as to better trap the Provider." Madar admitted.

Alexander nodded slowly in agreement. That made about as much sense as anything else he was likely to hear when dealing with gods.

"If this does work, if Zhakata the Provider really is trapped in that temple, we find it, we free him, he showers us with gifts, we use said gifts to take control of Zhukar away from Rega and the Inquisition, what comes next?" Alexander asked, though he didn't wait to hear Madar's answer before turning his attention back towards the feasting wolfpack.

"This… this has all grown far too strange for my liking. Things used to be different Alexander. Some things I know only because they'd passed down to me by my father or my grandfather, but still, things used to be different.

G'Henna was always a hard land, but it didn't used to be quite so brutal, not the land, and not the faith of Zhakata. There was a time when G'Henna had other lands on its borders, instead of strange rolling clouds of mist as far as the eye can see. There were once times when my family would exchange some of is cows for casks our neighbors brew.

There was a time when, when we weren't afraid of everything and everyone! I still don't know what I'm going to do when all is said and done, but I'd like it if my life at least got a little simpler." The priest sighed.

"Simpler would be good. Simpler would be good, but I can't remember the last time that my life got any simpler though." Alexander reluctantly reflected.

Then he slowly turned around to face the other man once again.

"Lets go back to the Mongrelmen Camp." Th silver haired man declared.

Several lupine head's rose from their meal and one half spit a few chunks of meat to let loose with a rather mournful "awwoo?" of confusion.

"Okay lets go back in another five minutes." He amended, having momentarily forgotten that Gavin and the others hadn't finished eating yet.

XXX XXX XXX

"Why do you still believe?" Cal Wright couldn't help but ask Kiryl when (eventually) the sermon that Bolsh had been delivering broke up and the Circle of Darkness decided to focus on more mundane matters.

For the entire length of his sermon Kiryl had paid attention, no matter how banal or self serving the priest's proclamations had been.

Kiryl looked like he might be slightly younger than Cal, though estimating the age of a mongrelman was extremely difficult given how their various animal features blended with their human ones.

"Zhakata did this to me. How could I doubt his power after that?" Kiryl answered with a surprisingly calm and unruffled air.

"Fair enough, but how can you still worship him after that? I don't worship the Clockmaker, and that's without spending every day of my adult life being chased by gigantic gears." The alchemist clarified his initial question.

"The Clockmaker?" Kiryl repeated the name slowly, tilting his head to the side slightly.

Well slightly at first, some owlish features of his body actually allowed him to tilt his head to a far greater degree than Cal felt comfortable watching.

He tried his best not to think about what must have been done to Kiryl's neck to make such a thing a possible, even while he was inevitably looking directly at it.

"The world is a vast complex machine, too strange and too bizarre to have come about by pure random chance. Pure random chance just can't possibly explain the idea that there are places were you can walk into a cloud of mist and walk out five feet to the left of where you started. Magic that precise, that taunting, it must have had some sort of sentient hand in its creation, even if not an especially benevolent one.

The Clockmaker is what Lamordian's call the being who crafted the world, who gave the gears of reality their very first wind. After that, the machine was so perfect that it could keep spinning on indefinitely, at least to a mortal perceptive, without his help.

Maybe he comes back every aeon or so and give the gears another crank just to make sure things keep spinning along and entropy doesn't reduce us to a lifeless ball of ice and dirt, but beyond that he doesn't care.

Maybe he's off building other universes, or maybe he's just so proud of how well things turned out that he wouldn't dare try to upset his own creation's working with further direct tampering. The Clockmaker doesn't hate, he doesn't help, he doesn't care about us any of us any more than we could care about the tiniest grain of sand.

As I previously mentioned, he doesn't try to smite the people who displease him with gigantic daemons made of intricate gears, its one of his more appealing traits." Cal explained.

Kiryl tilted his head still further, it wasp practically upside down now, and even though he didn't seem to be in any pain Cal still wanted to wince mightily.

"That's what everyone 'believes' where you're from." Kiryl pressed.

"Pretty much." Cal responded.

"The people there must be very cold." Kiryl ruminated.

"Oh you have no idea, say what you will about how the rest of the Core tends to be full of monsters that are trying to kill, maim, or suck out your soul, if not some combination of all three, it is generally pretty warm." The Lamordian admitted.

Kiryl shook his head slowly, but thankfully only after untwisting his neck.

"Not what I meant. I wouldn't even want to believe, let alone worship, a god with so little interest in what he has brought about. Zhakata cares.

He cares enough to grant power o those who believe in him, to let them preform miracles. Reduced to only Zhakata the Devourer though, he only knows how to take an interest in the affairs of mortals rather than 'care' for them. He is a rabid wolf, lashing out in pain and suffering, rather than the beast that hunts to provide for its pack." Kiryl insisted.

"I know somebody you really shouldn't make that analogy to." Cal couldn't help but insist with a sardonic smile tugging slightly at his lips.

Then he reset his expression back to a more neutral one and continued his questioning.

"Yagno Petrovna, Bolsh the Blessed, even if you believe in a Zhakata that is greater than Zhakata the Devourer, why would anyone ever want to listen to people like that? No offense..." Cal promptly fell back on the age old, world wide, tactic of tagging "no offense" to the end of a statement that had very much been meant to offend; this was an especially common variant where the offense was aimed at a group the person you were talking to was a part of, but not especially at said person in particular.

"The sky is green." Kiryl answered with a strange serenity.

Cal took a brief moment to tilt his head up to make sure that the world hadn't gone all topsy turvy (even more so than usual) on him recently.

"No, I'm pretty sure it's blue." He insisted, helpless before (what he considered to be) the innate Lamordian urge to correct obviously factually incorrect statements whenever they presented themselves.

"How often do you look up at the sky? Would have ever bothered to think about its color if I hadn't said it was green? That is the power and the glory of Zhakata.

To hear one who is incorrect speak about him, it lights a fire in the mind and gives one inspiration that was not there before. The mind thinks, considers, and ponders in ways it never had before so that it can properly refute the statement. To hear a lie spoken about Zhakata can help you understand him just as much as the truth." Kiryl declared solemnly.

Cal blinked a few times and then shrugged. He had heard crazier theories when it came to religion.

End Chapter.

AN: Ooph, this chapter should not have taken as long to write and post as it did. Sorry about that guys, been busy playing video games on my weekends and not proofreading. I'm sorry that this, one of the most important Monster Party stories is getting a little bit (a lot) dragged out. Hopefully the next chapter will come quicker and hopefully the extra time between chapters at least gives me a bit more time to consider what I want to have happen in each chapter even when I'm not actively writing them.

Anyway, if you're wondering, no Alexander didn't just go and kill some random farmer's animals. In point of fact, those aren't even normal bovines, as pointed out, their teeth are strangely sharp, and that's because they're not just "feral" (as feral as bovines get) but that have become carnivorous pack predators that trample their prey to death.

By the way, I am aware that Cal's argument has a distinct "the human eye is too perfectly designed for it to be a result of evolution" air about it. No that is not an argument that I support, at all. Yes that's a comparison that Cal would find horrifyingly insulting and abhorrent if he knew about it in full.

That said, much like the silver arm bands back in Nosos, characters in these stories act will act without the same context for knowledge that we have. Cal coming to the conclusion that they world he lives in is too damn weird to be the result of natural non-magical/non-divine phenomenon, is entirely the correct conclusion SO LONG AS YOU ARE IN RAVENLOFT!

Really it can technically apply to any D&D setting but it is especially true in Ravenloft where you don't have to look very hard to find things that just flat out don't make sense. The Shadow Rift is a big one, but another big one is how the world actually flat. It is impossible to go east by going west, or north by going south or you get the idea, Ravenloft is completely flat, and out at the edges of it there are huge rolling fog banks that if your lucky will just spit you back out again should you go into them.

To say nothing of Pocket Domains which are somehow "in Ravenloft" despite the fact that they are completely adrift geographically and impossible to enter unless the Mists want you to, with Nosos being the worst offender as it can sometimes connect to the Core, but tends to do so in various different places. If there was a "phantom country" that suddenly popped up in a different place every few years… yeah I'd have a hard time believing that some divine hand wasn't involved in that!

Also ironically, while Cal comments on how he hasn't been spending "every day of my adult life being chased by gigantic gears" he actually kind of has. If you substitute the Dark Powers for the Clockmaker (a not entirely unreasonable substitution, though the Dark Powers are a bit more active than the Clockmaker, though like the Clockmaker they don't give you magic if you worship them) he's spent a lot of his time getting caught up in those particular "gears" without realizing it.

On the other hand one could also argue that he's been doing a major service to said Clockmaker, since Cal and friends serve to clean the "dirt" out of the "gears" or at least give them another firm crank by killing off/seriously inconveniencing darklords. That's what Ravenloft is there for after all, to make the darklord's suffer and the group has been doing a pretty good job of that if you haven't noticed.