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

Epilogue: Here's to going to bed not hungry, here's to changing the story, here's to bigger hearts and brighter days!

The sun rose over the city of Zhukar.

Quiet ruled throughout the streets, the city's countless bells remained still, silenced by decree of the realm's new god. Fenrir had decreed that there would be no bells rung, and so no bells were rung.

So great were the people's conviction that some of the largest and loudest of the bells that had once been rung in praise of Zhakata were already being taken down and melted into their base metals. While the city's former leader slept fitfully in the High Temple of Fenrir, the Wolf's mouthpiece had instead eventually decided (after being pestered by countless different proprietors vying for his patronage) to simply return to the exact same guesting house he had originally stayed at. Already many spoke of the astounding humility and compassion that the silver haired Alpha had shown in choosing to sleep among the city's people rather than holding himself aloof.

Countless numbers of those who had worried that they might never live to see another sunrise turned their eyes upwards in relief at their deliverance. Then many of them turned their eyes toward the city's great temple.

Already the building had been defaced even beyond the damage done to it in Malistroi's assault. Some fresh converts to the cause of the Chained Wolf had torn loose the large sculpture of a human finger bone which had proudly declared the structure's dedication to the beast god Zhakata.

Alas the convert's zeal had outstripped their knowledge and lacking a proper holy symbol to put in its place they simply painted the word "Fenrir" over and over in silver.

Still, out of pure reflex come the morning's light many people had gathered their food and in a silent procession headed to the temple.

At its gates they were turned away by very insistent guards whose new Alpha had explained to them at great detail what an unpleasant fate would await those who still clung to the heresy of Zhakata worship. A few people unable to convince the guards to take their food no matter how they persisted simply tossed it upon the ground and departed. A great many more returned back home still carrying that which Zhakata would have claimed.

As still more people rose from slumber the city slowly began to return to life. A city's worth of workshops faced no end of perspective business, be it rearing the damage Malistroi had done or producing icons of Fenrir.

These first icons were crude, no two exactly alike, but all depicted a powerful wolf with as much of a noble bearing as the craftsman could impart.

Still other citizens began to ponder how best to show their devotion to Fenrir, given that the ringing of bells was strictly forbidden.

As word of where the wolf god's silver haired Alpha had chosen to sleep slowly circulated it did not take them long to decide.

They had been given no prayers to recite, no official time or gathering, and so they made do with what little they had.

"FEN-RIR! FEN-RIR! FEN-RIR! FEN-RIR! FEN-RIR!" The crowd completely surrounding the Alpha's guesting house chanted their new god's name over and over again.

Alexander Diamondclaw thus gained all of about half an hour's sleep between when the peeling of the city's bells would have awakened him under Zhakata's dominion, and when the chanting of his new packmates did it today.

None the less, the silver haired man awoke with a smile on his lips, as his ears drank in the cries of his adoring public.

"FEN-RIR! FEN-RIR! FEN-RIR! FEN-RIR! FEN-RIR!" The words came again and again and again, as if the chanters intended to continue until they collapsed in utter and complete exhaustion.

"You're enjoying this too much." Florence Bastien promptly concluded.

"No, I think I'm enjoying this exactly the right amount." Alexander insisted.

Then after taking a moment to put on an eye-patch, he practically skipped down the stairs (still naked from the waist up) to face his followers.

"FEN-RIR! ALEXANDER! FEN-RIR! ALEXANDER! FEN-RIR! ALEXANDER! FEN-RIR! ALEXANDER! FEN-RIR!" The crowd bellowed, their voices rising to a fever pitch at the sight of their Alpha.

"People of Zhukar the Chained Wolf has granted me a vision last night!" Alexander proclaimed raising his hands dramatically.

Instantly those parts of the crowd that could hear him fell silent, and its more outlying elements followed suit shortly after.

"In this dream, I saw the great wolf's battle with Zhakata! It was a struggle even greater than that against the demon Malistroi! I saw how as Fenrir seized the beast god's throat and crushed the life from it, a great wave rippled outwards! In its wake, every single statue of Zhakata crumbled unto dust! Then I realized, this was not a vision, but an order from the Chained Wolf to his pack! Let not one single statue of Zhakata remain standing within the walls of this city! Let every icon of the dead god be ground be smashed to rubble! Death to the statues of the dead god!" Alexander commanded.

"Death to the statues of the dead god!" The crowd chanted back at him.

"Death to the statues of the dead god!" The words rippled outward, and within an hour there would not be a single ear within the city that had not heard those words.

The crowd then began to disperse, intending to arm themselves with sledgehammers, picks, or any other suitable tools with which they could prove their devotion to Fenrir's cause.

"You know, gods tend to get sort of short shrift back home, but BALL LIGHTING I've never seen anything like that!" Callan Wright couldn't help but admit.

The alchemist hadn't wanted to miss the show (not that he would have been able to avoid overhearing Alexander's words even if he'd stayed in his room) and so had quickly positioned himself just out of sight behind the guesting house's door.

"Alex, since Fenrir worship is going to be the new law of the land, can you make sure that nobody ends up destroying that statue of Bastet we found? She's sort of a bipedal 'beast' after all and I wouldn't want anyone to get confused. In fact do you think you could tell some people to shine it up a little? Maybe even give it a fresh coat of paint?" James Firecat suggested (popping up behind the Lamordian) timidly.

"This is an important matter that requires great consideration, Devi, set up the aura of silence." Alexander, insisted, even though the elf had yet to show her presence.

Sure enough though (she'd joined Cal in heading downstairs) Devi stepped out behind the door as well and produced a rune covered lantern from her bag of holding, lit its wick, and placed it upon the ground.

Now secure that the magic would prevent any but those standing within a few feet of the lantern from hearing his words Alexander answered.

"I'll have them build two new statues of Bastet! Then I'll demand three of Kali! After that I'll order them to create the grandest clock the Core has ever seen! Though of course Fenrir's statues will always be the biggest and most numerous." He declared triumphantly, his exuberant hand gestures perhaps reducing how much use the silencing lantern would be.

"All hail Alpha Alexander Diamondclaw, long may he reign, may he sire many pups!" Praised Mirri Catwarrior as she also popped her head out from behind the (quite crowded) door.

"Good to know all this new found political and theological power isn't going to your head Boss." Cal pointed out sarcastically.

"What's the point of having power if you aren't going to use it? If these people are going to throw themselves at the feet of whatever holy man can put on the best show for them, well then it might as well be me. Yagno Petrovna got to boss around the entire country for decades in the name of Zhakata. Now it's my turn to do so in the name of Fenrir!" The silver haired man insisted with great relish.

"You know, a different man might think that the people of Zhukar deserve a chance to decide their own fate, rather than just trading one tyrant for another." The dryad suggested.

There was a long pause.

Then Alexander, Cal, Devi, and Mirri broke into laughter.

"When the people of G'Henna were given a chance to choose their fate, they decided to worship Yagno Petrovna as a holy man and follow a religion that embraced mass suicide by starvation. If a nation is so stupid that it needs someone's foot on their throat to remind them that eating is an important part of life, it should consider itself lucky to have me for its tyrant." Alexander insisted.

"Isn't tyranny typically a bad thing though?" James couldn't help but ask.

"Isn't Jacqueline Renier the tyrant of Richemulot?" Alexander countered.

"Well she's the Grande Dame, its different..." The young werecat insisted.

Though exactly how it was different beyond titles was a concept he had trouble articulating.

Alexander nodded sagely at James' silent confusion, and then heaved a sigh of contentment.

"Look, I realize that this isn't exactly a situation that's ideal for keeping my ego in check. That said, do any of you really think I can do a worse job ruling G'Henna than Yagno Petrovna did? Because if you do, I'll go take a long walk into a fog bank and we'll see where the Mists feel like sending me." The silver haired man offered sincerely.

"You know what's worse than spilling blood? Not even bothering to drink it." Mirri declared in a surprisingly apt metaphor.

"So the plan is that you're going to be the benevolent kind of tyrant then? I mean, Jacqueline's done loads of good for Richemulot after all..." James added his own somewhat timid support.

"Boss, you're the Boss, you're always the Boss, the only thing that has changed is now everyone else is smart enough to realize it." Cal as ever failed to shy away from stating the obvious.

"The weak are ever at the mercy of the strong. Continue to show your customary mercy." Devi decided.

"Whatever power you wield, do not rule G'Henna as a human tyrant. Rule it as the Alpha Wolf." Florence insisted.

"Five for five! Let none, who used to follow the dead god Zhakata, dare oppose Alexander Diamondclaw the Fang of Fenrir!" The silver haired man proudly proclaimed with a triumphant fist pump.

This deep conversation dealt with, Devi extinguished the lantern dispelling its magic.

Then Alexander cupped a hand to his mouth and let loose with a loud bellow.

"Who among you wish to serve Fenrir?" He cried out to the city at large.

Less than a minute later the Fang of Fenrir was surrounded by many of his new supplicants.

"How may we serve the Chained Wolf?" One of them pleaded eagerly.

"I go to my new High Temple, and I need an appropriate entourage." Alexander explained.

"Boss, is this a pitchforks and torches kind of mob?" Cal inquired, reaching an arm towards Devi's bag of holding.

"No, it's a friendly mob." Alexander insisted.

Then he tilted his head to the side slightly, a little surprised at the sudden crestfallen look on the blond haired man's face.

"You look more than a little disappointed..." He couldn't help but note.

"Look, I'm a Lamordian Alchemist. Do you really think that I'm going to get another chance to be part of a mob waving pitchforks and torches instead of having to run from one?" He admitted, kicking forlornly at the dust.

"Change of plans, Devi, pitchforks and torches for everyone! Just make sure to wave them in a friendly way." Alexander decided.

What was the point of having power if you didn't use it to help your friends?

XXX XXX XXX

Thus, torches and pitchforks were in waved in as friendly a manner as possible.

The mob armed with torches and pitchforks being the standard unit of civil outrage all across the Core (and even to places beyond the Core like Zhakata) the former Sword's of Zhakata quickly threw wide the temple gates before the Fang of Fenrir.

XXX XXX XXX

"Hello Alexander..." Whimpered Yagno Petrovna.

He did not fall on his back and show the silver haired man his throat in a gesture of lupine submission, but he was doing an impressive job at the human equivalent.

Gone was air of mysticism that had hung about him during their previous encounters, now he was just an old man, a frightened old man.

He crouched in one corner of his room, trying to take up as little space as possible, as if desperately hoping that he might somehow avoid notice.

"Hello Yagno Petrovna." The Fang of Fenrir returned the greeting a great deal more confidently.

"How… how can you be like this? I have wracked my brain in meditation all night and found not a single answer. How could you have not have felt a burning desire to tell me, to tell everyone, of Fenrir at every turn?" Yagno pleaded, the sheer scope of his confusion forcing his eyes wide open.

Alexander could point out that he'd told Yagno about Fenrir back during their meeting in the temple when he'd been disguised as a priest, but decided against it. Not when he'd spent some of his spare time thinking up a much better answer to the question (or at least one like it) already.

"Imagine a canteen with its lid screwed on tight lying atop a table. You can look at it for hours on end, but unless you bother to unscrew the lid and look inside you won't have a clue to what it holds. Now, imagine a sieve placed on that same table next to the canteen. Both of them have water poured into them by a man who then leaves the room. Another man enters the room and looks at the table. Which object is really 'full' Yagno?" Alexander answered.

Sure enough, the former High Priest of Zhakata was able to recognize the moral of this particular parable and touched his head to the floor in supplication.

Alexander crossed the distance between them and planted a hand on Yagno's shoulder. In other situations it might have been used as a gesture of camaraderie or solidarity. In this one, Alexander made sure to squeeze softly enough that he didn't break Yagno's shoulder, but precious little softer.

"With Fenrir's ascension there are going to be some changes in G'Henna." He insisted.

"Of course." Yagno agreed instantly.

"Fenrir was able to undo Malistroi's magic, but not your own. Not because he lacked the power or the will though. No, Fenrir has made it very clear to me why he did not transform the mongrelmen back to humans… because that is to be your hunt Yagno. You will personally undo what you have done in the name of Zhakata. You will make them human again." Alexander insisted.

"All of them?" Yagno asked, his lip quivering slightly.

"Did I fucking stutter?" Alexander shot back as his single green eye bore deeply into Yagno's frightened countenance.

"But… I'm not sure, even with the blessings of the great Fenrir, I'm not sure if I am strong enough." Yagno babbled.

"Well then, you best get started. Luckily I know exactly where and how you can do it." Alexander promised in a not at all reassuring manner.

He strode out of the room and returned ten seconds later with a mongrelman in tow.

"Yagno Petrovna, Petchko son of Callian, Petchko son of Callian, Yagno Petrovna. You've already met of course." Alexander reintroduced the darklord of G'Henna to the Vistani youth whose body and mind he had twisted.

"Yagno." Petchko said slowly.

It was hard for Petchko to truly believe what stood before him. The Yagno Petrovna who now cowered before Alexander Diamondclaw was but a pale shadow of the man whose fiery speeches he had once been swayed… once been bespelled by.

"Repeat after me Yagno." Alexander insisted.

Yagno nodded and at beckoning gesture slowly rose to his feet.

"In the name of Fenrir the great Chained Wolf." Alexander intoned.

"In the name of Fenrir the great Chained Wolf." Yagno slowly repeated.

"I restore to you, all that Zhakata ever took." Alexander insisted.

"I restore to you all that Zhakata ever took." Yagno said slowly, and then ran his fingers gently across Petchko's face.

Petchko's body was twisted and transformed by Yagno's touch again. A strange wind blew through the room though it had no open windows. A spectral copy of Petchko that bore the appearance of a young man rather than a misshapen monster drifted in through a solid wall. It settled gently upon Petchko's shoulders, and slowly his body changed to match it.

Petchko shook himself heavily as if casting off the last of Zhakata's foul enchantment, and just like that he bore the features of a handsome young vistana rather than a mongrelman.

"Yagno this man will be your beta for G'Henna. He will offer you wisdom in all things, and a wise and worthy alpha will in turn offer consideration to those words." Alexander insisted.

He did not explain what would happen to Yagno if he failed.

"Of course." Yagno agreed again.

"Petchko, give Yagno whatever aid he requires so that he can commit himself wholly to the task of returning the other mongrelmen to their former shapes." Alexander insisted as he gave Petchko son of Callian one of the actually friendly shoulder pats.

XXX XXX XXX

"Hail Fenrir and hail lord Alexander Diamondclaw the Fang of Fenrir! Hail to the Silver Furred Wolf, and his silver haired servant!" Declared one of the countless worshipers that Alexander had been accosted by in the streets of Zhukar.

The only thing that made this one any different was his size, and the fact that when Alexander was content to simply pass him by with a nonchalant wave, the man reached out and seized Alexander by the shoulder. Alexander Diamondclaw was a tall man… but his grateful practitioner was both taller of stature and wider of shoulder.

"Do you not recognize me Lord?" He pleaded with Alexander.

"Zhukar is a big city..." Alexander said, not quite certain how best to let down this giant of a man lightly.

To his surprise the man laughed uproariously and slapped him on the back.

"I should be surprised if you did recognize me! For it was only a few hours ago I was returned to my proper shape by the grace of Fenrir!" The man proclaimed joyously.

Alexander took another look at him. He'd only met one bipedal being (well two, but Malistroi was obviously out of the running) in G'Henna that had been anywhere near this man's size.

"Wahrg?" He suggested awkwardly.

"It is William once again Lord Alexander! I know you have already purchased lodgings at another guesting house, but you must, you must come to see mine! By the blessed fur of Fenrir, the cruel cowards in Zhakata's Inquisition did not steal it from my wife when they took me away to be transformed for demanding payment if they wanted to house their servants!" William explained, his face beaming with joy.

"William… if I visited your guesting house just because I helped you, then I would have to trudge across the city to every single one in Zhukar. I simply don't have the time." Alexander insisted.

"It is not just about me. It is about about my wife. She's, she's been with the Circle since near the start..." William pleaded as he squeezed Alexander all the tighter, making the green eyed man extremely grateful for his considerable constitution.

That particular fact meant very little to Alexander, he'd had no great love for the Circle of Darkness even before he'd discovered they had been created only to serve as a pawn in Rega's plans. Still, he needed to figure out a way to extricate himself from this conversation, and then extricate himself from William's grip.

Alas, Alexander's mind was coming up blank on this particular issue.

Given how many brilliant plans he'd managed to concoct since his arrival in G'Henna, he supposed it deserved a day off and he might have to just bite this particular bullet.

"All right William, if it really means that much to you I'll see your guesting house." The silver haired man sighed.

XXX XXX XXX

William's guesting house proved to be as unexciting a place to visit as Alexander had expected. There were rooms, there were beds, there was a complete absence of anything resembling a kitchen, there was an overly enthusiastic wife who insisted on showering Alexander with praise, both for helping reunite her with her husband and for bringing the word of Fenrir to G'Henna.

There was also a very well concealed trap door.

A very well concealed trapdoor that lead into a basement.

In that basement were barrels, many many barrels.

"I didn't even know about this myself..." William admitted, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"Like I said, she was working with the Circle of Darkness long before I was. She turned our guesting house into a hidden into a supply stockpile.. There's more food down here than in some entire blocks of Zhukar. I was hoping you could advise us on what best to do with it..." William declared proudly.

"If you'll accept coin for it, I'll buy it off of you and see to it that it gets spread around." Alexander promised William as he slowly walked down the row of barrels.

As he did so, he gently wrapped his hand against the barrels, just to make sure that they weren't empty.

Then his keen ears heard a distinctly "sloshy" sound from within one of the barrels.

"What… what is in this one?" Alexander inquired.

"Your guess is as good as mine Lord Diamondclaw." William admitted.

Alexander hefted the heavy barrel off of its rack, and gently placed it on the ground. With slow and delicate movements Alexander removed the barrel's lid. His nostrils flared and he breathed in the smell. The wonderful hoppy smell.

"This, this is a barrel full of G'Hennan liquor!" The silver haired man gasped.

"Guess it is." William agreed.

Alexander crouched low and dunked his entire head into the barrel.

It's good to be the Fang.

XXX XXX XXX

Dear Dame Renier:

This week I learned an important lesson about hunger. Not just the kind of hunger that has to deal with food, but a hunger to be accepted, to be apart of something greater than yourself. People will do crazy things if they think its the only way to fit in, especially if the price of not fitting in is pretty high itself. But at the end of the day that doesn't make it any less of a stupid decision to worship a God who doesn't want you to eat on days that have an "N" in them. Heck, at the end of the day Yagno Petrovna was so hungry for a god to believe in that he took the first one he could find! Given how many gods there are out there who would really want to worship some kind of evil snarling beast? Rather than do that, why couldn't you just find a cheerful goddess who gave out ear scratches? I guess what I'm saying is that if Bastet didn't exist I would need to create her...

PS: I hope that this letter finds you in good health and that you never find yourself hungering for anything as badly as Yagno Petrovna hungered for a god!

PPS: Alexander insisted that I include this, because otherwise I wouldn't, but have you heard the good word of Fenrir the Chained Wolf? I tried to press him for what exactly the "good word" in question was, but so far all he's told me is "woof" at the moment. I also told him you don't really go into the god bothering business, but he insisted that I make you aware just in case you wanted to get in on a promising new religion while it's still getting started.

PPPS: Surprisingly it turns out that G'henna is now located in the Sea of Sorrows, I'll send you another letter with the exact location once we make back to dry land. In the mean time I'd suggest you start gathering together a nice sized grain shipment, they really need it and I'm sure they'd love to start up the distilleries again. If you're lucky you might be able to convince them to let us be their main distributor throughout the Core! Also I inherited a one twelfth share of all the material wealth previously belonging to the Church of the Zhakata the Devourer. Did you know if you bake a big enough pie then even a slice of it can end up being bigger than an entire normal sized pie? Well a one twelfth share of all Zhakata's material wealth is a lot like that except its profit instead of pastry. Once we get back to the mainland and I can find someone, (who Florence will use her magic on to make sure can be trusted) expect a coachman hauling a lot of foreign (but still quite solidly gold) currency to arrive. I know that there is more to wealth and prestige than a shower of scandals so great you can swim in them, which is why I'm sure you can put this stuff to better use than I can. Maybe you could lower taxes... Actually, better idea, just buy everyone in the country a loaf of bread, I think I've seen enough hunger to last me a lifetime...

Your Faithful Servant

Longhair.

XXX XXX XXX

Somewhere out beyond the Mists there is a river that isn't a river.

Its source is not from lakes, waterfalls, seas, or oceans, in fact it isn't made of water to begin it. It is made of saliva, saliva that drips from the mouth of a titanic silver furred wolf.

This wolf is not large in the sense that it is the size of a bear, it is not large in the sense that it is the size of an elephant, there are ocean going whales that are still smaller than this wolf. It lays upon the ground with all four of its limbs bound tightly, barely able to so much as flick its tail back and forth, and yet even that could have been enough to batter down a castle's walls.

No chains of steel, no manacles of iron, no bonds of metal hold this wolf, instead it is tightly encircled by a bright ribbon that seems to be delicate as a strand of silk. Yet for all the wolf's horrific strength it can not break free of the ribbon.

Yet.

The wolf is helpless, a powerful sword has been jammed into its mouth to force it open, and its saliva spreads forming a river. The wolf does little but sit and occasionally strain against the ribbon, the ribbon of seemingly impossible strength that can hold back the wolf's might.

One day the ribbon will finally snap, one day the wolf will be free… but it is not going to be today, it is not going to be for a time beyond any measure of human reckoning. Yet there will be a time all the same, because the wolf is too mighty for anything as paltry and pathetic as the passage of time to weaken, let alone slay it.

Barely able to move, the wolf sat and rested with its single remaining eye closed, having grown tired of watching its unchanging surroundings. That was why it did not immediately noticed when they did actually change.

A man began to approach the wolf.

The 'man' was nearly as fine an example of humanity as the wolf was of lupineity. He was of a great height, his muscles well developed in the extreme, his shoulder's broad and his bearing confident. Yet as majestic a figure as the man was, there was simply no getting past the fact that he had been horribly maimed.

His right hand was completely missing, that arm abruptly terminated in an awkward stump. So it was with one hand alone that the man pulled his massive sled, upon which were stacked half a dozen oxen which were as large as some small elephants.

The faintest twinges of a smile touched the man's face as he approached gigantic wolf with an air of confidence that no ordinary man could have possibly possessed in his situation.

When the beast did not not deign to rouse itself in the slightest at his approach, he decided to take matters into his own hands… well hand.

Letting go of the rope he'd been using to pull the sleigh, the man used his remaining hand to gently wrap the wolf's nose.

"Monster do you really intend to sleep all day?" He called out with a strange air of joviality in his voice.

There was no response, the wolf remained still as a statue, only the gentle heaving of its enormous flanks proved that it was still very much alive.

The one armed man sighed and shook his head.

"Well, if you don't want want all this meat, I know two much less lazy wolves who do..." The man pointed out with just a touch of smugness in his tone.

Slowly the wolf's left eye opened, its right never would, there was nothing left to open. Upon the great beast's face there was a massive crater where its missing eye had been completely carved out.

That single amber golden orb looked down upon the man, fixing him with a look of ominous intent.

"If I remove the sword from your mouth to feed you, will you let me place it there again when I am finished?" The man asked of the wolf.

The beast was silent and sill.

"Wag your tail once for no, twice for yes. Keep in mind, you'll have a pretty hard time killing my father if your nothing but skin and bones, assuming you're even strong enough to break free..." The man needled the beast.

The wolf's tail wagged once, then very slowly it wagged a second time. It then twisted its neck slightly so that the one armed man would have an easier time to withdrawing the blade that had been used to prop its mouth open.

The man tossed the sword upon the ground without a second thought and the wolf promptly snapped its mouth shut and swallowed mightily. Then it yawed and gave a fresh series of tugs against the ribbon which held it, but no matter how its mountainous muscles bulged it could not break free.

"I was busy." The wolf snarled contemptuously, its voice strangely human and refined as opposed to the bestial growl one might have expected.

"Well, now you can be busy eating." The man offered.

Then with astounding ease, he grabbed one of the oxen he'd brought with it and hurled it into the air.

The wolf's jaws opened and he snapped the ox up in one single bite, swallowing the tremendous animal in a single clean gulp.

"Bigger. Bring something bigger next time, I want a chance to work my teeth..." The wolf insisted.

"There's precious few things in this world or any other that you'd actually need to chew Monster." The man pointed out before grabbing another ox and tossing it to the hungry wolf.

This one was consumed just as quickly as the first had been.

"I'll chew your father. Not that I'll need to, but because he deserves it. Because I want to..." The wolf insisted, and as it spoke it made yet another futile attempt at escaping from the ribbon.

"There are many worse deaths than to die gloriously in battle against a foe of your stature." The one handed man reflected.

"Well, thank you for pissing on the one thing I have to look forward to in in my entire life. Would you like to smear crap on my fur next?" The wolf inquired with a tremendous huff of its nostrils, generating enough forced to have knocked a lesser man clean off his feet.

The one handed man weathered the blast of wind though and simply grabbed another ox to feed to the wolf.

The beast consumed them all one by one, none of them requiring any true effort on its part.

"What were you doing… when I first arrived?" The one handed man eventually asked after he tossed the final animal.

His voice took an an almost plaintive tone, as if he deeply regretted asking the question yet could not resist his curiosity.

The wolf was silent for a long while, and then it finally answered.

"Seeing through my missing eye..." The beast growled, yet sounded more morose than angry.

"Does your right eye see a better world than your left one?" The man asked, his own voice equally downcast.

"What a tremendously difficult task that would be! Of course my missing eye sees a better world than the one that is still in my skull!" The wolf scoffed.

"What is it like there?" The one armed man asked, his voice hesitant, as if expecting the beast to lunge at him, or at least promptly terminate their conversation.

But the wolf continued to speak.

"It is a world unlike any you ever told me of. It is full of people, wolves, and monsters, but empty of gods." The wolf declared smugly, warming to the subject.

"Empty of gods? How can a world be empty of gods?" The one handed man sounded rather disturbed by that particular possibility.

"How do you expect a common beast to answer such a question? The world is empty of gods, that is simply how it is, much as my sister's prison is cold and my brother's is wet. People might still offer their prayers, but no gods walk the world, only men and monsters." The wolf insisted.

"You being the greatest of the later of course." The one handed man surmised.

"Oh without question. I am always the greatest, in this world or any other! My brother you managed to best by honest combat… me… you had to resort to trickery and deceit." The wolf spat those final words with such vehemence it was a wonder they didn't emerge as boiling acid.

The pair exchanged pained looks with one another.

There would be no reconciliation, no forgiveness between them. There would only be vengeance and suffering. Such was what the fates had willed, and such was what they both desired, both felt it was justified and right.

"How many foes have fallen before you?" The man asked trying to steer the conversation onto less painful ground.

"Hah! How many stars are there in the sky?" The wolf boasted, his chest swelling with pride.

"Tell me of your greatest victories then." The man asked, seeming to draw strength and comfort from the wolf's own boisterous words.

"The world is so empty of gods that I have been able to make them imagine me to be one!" The wold declared happily.

"Here I thought I raised you better Monster. Your father's blood must be finally showing itself if you would engage in such a great deception." The man chuckled.

"It was not my idea." The wolf insisted with a shake of its head.

"It was, his idea, the man whose head I see out of. Though I would be lying if I did not admit that the sheer absurdity of it did appealed to me. Besides, it is good practice." The wolf insisted.

"Practice?" The man was confused.

"It seems that there's more than one way to kill a god all things considered. All his followers, all his temples, they are one and all mine now. No one will ever speak of him again except to describe how I triumphed over him. Together, I and the man have killed the god Zhakata, and I never even needed to lay a claw on him." The wolf snickered.

"The man, what is he like?" The one armed man asked.

"Better than you." The wolf answered instantly.

"I'm glad to hear it." The man replied, and his smile was not the least bit forced.

End Book.

AN: I'd like to make one thing clear, I came up with Alexander's demand "Death to the statues of the dead god" before Charlottesville happened. Yes, I am that lazy/yes I tend to be so slap dash in my writing that I will write scenes I like before I bother to write the ones I need to move the story along/post another chapter. I was not trying to be topical or directly political (that's what my Nosos story is for, if I ever get back to writing it which probably won't be until certain other events takes take place) at the time of their writing. However as is often said about Lord of the Rings, just because a story is not written as allegory, does not mean that it lack applicability to a situation.

Also, if you couldn't figure it out, yes that was Fenrir's real body (minus his right eye of course) and his companion was Tyr. Tyr and Fenrir's relationship can be described/interpreted many ways, and the one that I like to go with is not so much Norse Old Yeller (because that implies a lack of agency on Fenrir's part which is manifestly not the case) but rather the tragedy of a good honest man forced to make Sophie's Choice between his father and his adopted son.

He went with the one who he actually had ties of blood with (and had known for longer than a year at the time, (a lot longer than a year given how long Gods live for) which was a perfectly reasonable choice at the time. A perfectly reasonable choice that lead to Fenrir finding out how it feels when the only person in the world who actually likes you, the only person in the world who actually cares for you, decides to betray your trust and imprison you for some "crime" that you haven't even committed yet.

Thanks to Odin's paranoia there were no "good" choices for Tyr, so he went with the one whose price he could most willingly pay. If it helps you get a grasp of his character, I was going to write a side story that took place when Fenrir was initially chained and the end of it the big twist was this... Fenrir so badly loves his father/brother/companion Tyr that he can't bring himself to claim the hand (the right hand, the most important sword wielding hand) of someone who taught him everything he knows about battle, honor and justice and opens his mouth to let Tyr withdraw his hand.

At which point Tyr tells Fenrir that he will stand there and starve rather than leave with both of his hands intact after the dishonor that he has done to the wolf. Fenrir not wanting Tyr to die and having been told that the only way to avoid him killing himself is to maim Tyr, bites down on his hand.

I know this qualifies as show don't tell, but that side story was for the most part just a sympathetic retelling of how badly Fenrir was emotionally wounded by what the Æsir did to him, the point is that it clarifies the nature of Tyr's character and how he viewed the loss of his hand as an appropriate maiming to represent the way he had lost the right to call himself a god of honor after what he had done to Fenrir.

So if you're wondering why Fenrir might possibly get along pretty well enough with Alex that they haven't driven each other insane yet despite one being a god the other being mortal, one being a wolf the other being a man… well look at the above story, look back on how Alex tends to treat transformations/using his powers… and the answer might start to be a little more obvious.

By the way this epilogue actually broke with tradition in some ways, not just because we had a scene after the letter, but because the letter itself was different. It was not actually directly based on any of Twilight Sparkle's letters to Princess Celestia, even if it does retain the rough form. However Friendship is Magic is obviously never going to do a show about the dangers/side effects of famine /hunger so I made one up whole cloth, and I do still like the results.

Finally, Alex is probably being a bit unfair to the people of G'Henna, there is little reason to believe that they existed before Yagno Petrovna became a darklord, and so they were probably made whole cloth by the Dark Powers. Not only that, but they were probably made with some sort of magical genetic defect along the line of what the Word Bearers from Warhammer 40K suffer from where they can not feel emotionally healthy unless they have something vastly greater than themselves to believe in. They were a people who CRAVED to have a god the way that a normal human craves food.

On the other hand, there's no reason that Alex could possibly know that, so from his point of view they're a country of idiots who fell in behind the first con man they came across. So, now that he's in town and running a better con he deserves their praise/obedience, and they should be grateful that it isn't someone worse. The later might sound conceited, but on the other hand yesterday those people were worshiping Yagno Petrovna, they really should be grateful to be given the chance to worship Alexander Diamondclaw and Fenrir instead of Yagno and Zhakata!