Monster

Barioths. Majestic creatures aren’t they? These pseudo-wyverns are feared even by experienced hunters due to their relentless ferocity and incredible speed. What most people don’t know however, is that all Barioths carry a terrible curse. It is not currently known what are the specifics of it, why it can only afflict some, but it is rumored to exist.
Now, let me tell you a story, the story of a particularly unfortunate hunter in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He was a regular hunter like any other; had a nice record, a few hunts to his name, the kid had a bright
future ahead of him. A certain day he decided to hunt a Barioth, as he needed some spikes for his next weapon; he dressed himself in his recently crafted G. Baggi armor, grabbed his favorite great sword, a Ravager Blade if I remember correctly, and headed to the tundra. Soon enough he found a Barioth, eating a Popo, apparently off-guard. The hunter seized the opportunity to unleash a powerful charged attack from his sword, which surprised the monster. In its surprise it toppled backwards, giving the hunter another chance to hit it with a powerful blow. It broke off one the monster’s tusks, and the monster, still confused from the sudden attacks tried to get some distance. The hunter stuffed the tusk in his pouch and sheathed his sword, awaiting the monster’s next move. Much to his surprise, the monster instead turned away from him in an attempt to flee. It was much too early for a monster this strong to run away, the hunter thought; he realized something might be wrong with it. If he were to care about the well being of monsters every time he went to hunt it certainly would not be his profession, so he proceeded to wail on the fleeing monster.
The monster suddenly went limp and fell to the ground. It caught the hunter off-guard, which made him hesitate, even for a moment. It was the biggest mistake he would ever get to commit. The monster used his tail to swipe the hunter off his feet in this single moment of hesitation. It then hit the downed hunter in the chest with the very end of its tail, piercing the hunter’s torso with its spikes. The hunter passed out.
He woke up still in the tundra, under a snow-covered tree. He searched his chest for wounds, but there were none. Oddly enough there was a clear hole in his chest piece, meaning that fight and its conclusion really did happen. He thought about returning to his village and getting some rest before trying again, but that Barioth was clearly weakened enough, and now it was personal. He ventured deeper into the tundra, but the Barioth was nowhere to be seen. The hunter kept looking, but eventually he felt an intense pain on his chest. Taking off his chest piece in desperation, he still saw no wound, despite the terrible pain. Nothing he could do made the pain go away. He drank a few potions and felt slightly better, but the pain was still very much present. And then he saw it, the Barioth, staring at him from a distance, sitting on a tall rock. It was just quietly ogling him. The hunter was unsure what to do; his first thought was jump at the monster and finally settle things, but his debilitating pain made him carefully consider his next move. In the cold tundra, the two just stood still staring each other for what seemed like an eternity. The hunter then realized he could not win if he did anything reckless. He was after all still suffering with his mysterious pain and lacked his chest piece. He sat down, hoping the monster would either run away or finish him quickly. Much to his surprise the monster instead descended from the rock and slowly approached him. He noticed the broken tusk on the monster’s mouth and remembered he still had it. He considered taunting the monster with it, trying to get some satisfaction before his death. As soon as he took the tusk out the monster stopped for a moment. It worked, he though, that probably got to him. The monster resumed approaching him, and as he got close the hunter closed his eyes awaiting a final blow. The blow did not come, and he soon felt something pressing against his side. It was the Barioth, who had now laid down right beside him and drifted off to sleep. He could not believe it. This is my chance, he thought, I should finish it right now. But he could not bring himself to do it.

It was very much unlike him to hesitate like this. A sleeping monster is just asking for a devastating blow, he always believed that. He unsheathed his sword and tried to bring himself to finally just kill the damn thing, but he simply could not. Frustrated, he sheathed his sword once more and just sat down next to the monster. His chest pain was barely noticeable by now. He put his chest piece back on and just let the Barioth rest for the time being. I’ll hunt it when it’s stronger, he thought.
As soon as he tried leaving the monster his chest pains returned. He tried getting closer to the monster to see if that would make it any better, but it did not, and the hunter found himself consumed by the excruciating pain once more, only this time around it seemed to be spreading. There was something wrong with his chest and shoulders, so he now removed both his chest piece and his vambraces. His torso was abysmally pale and it seemed like scales were starting to take form on it. His shoulders were covered with scales and had a multitude of small black spikes coming out from them. His forearms had spiky appendages coming out from their sides. The pain soon reached his head. His teeth fell off in a most painful manner, and he grew new sharper teeth. He could feel his neck slowly extending and his head changing shape. Soon his canines were replaced by laminated tusks, which grew by thrusting themselves out, re-positioning his maxilla with each thrust. His ear reshaped itself, and scales covered his face, adding shells at the end of his lower jaw. The pain was unbearable, and he screamed with each little change. That woke up the sleeping Barioth, but the monster could do nothing, so instead it ignored the panicking man and slowly walked away. Soon the man could no longer stand straight, and as he fell to all fours, his hands became sharp black claws. Most of his body was covered in scales or shells, and the appendages on his forearms grew outwards into sharp spikes and wings. His toes grew into claws, and his feet extended themselves. As he was about to pass out, he felt a burst of pain on the lower end of his spine, his tail slowly extending as he passed out from the strain.
He woke up exactly where he had passed out, unsurprisingly enough. Still drowsy, his first thought was to get back to his village and tell them everything that had happened. He tried to stand up, but that only reminded him he was now a quadruped wyvern. He panicked again. He looked at his own arms. Those were definitely Barioth wings, no other way around it, and that over there was definitely a Barioth’s tail. At least I got some spikes now, he jokingly thought to himself, doing his best not to panic once more. He felt his tusks with his tongue, almost cutting it. He wondered where that Barioth went, for he had matters to settle with it. It was the one who got him into this; it might just know how to get him out. He once again found it sleeping atop an icy wall. The hunter woke up the monster with a roar. The monster looked at him, confused. I should try communicating with it, the hunter thought. It proved to be rather unsuccessful, as roars are not a very effective method of communication. The Barioth, still missing a tusk, approached the hunter, who then noticed how small he was compared to an actual Barioth. It seemed playful, somehow. For some reason the hunter felt like he could understand the monster’s intentions, but he was not all too sure of that. Of course it’s not going to help me out of this, the hunter thought, what was I thinking. He then considered attacking the monster in revenge for what he did to him, but it seemed the monster was not at all aware of what it had done. The hunter just ignored the monster’s invitation to play and walked away. He wondered what he should do. He had already heard frightening tales of unfortunate hunters becoming monsters, but he always thought of them as campfire stories, and none of them ever ended with the hunter returning to his original form. He could obviously not return to his village in this state, he’d just get hunted down as soon as he got close. There was no one to ask for help, he was alone. In the cold tundra, the hunter, who was no longer a hunter, found himself alone.

After some time he noticed his hunger getting to him. He did not have the strength to fight anything, as the transformation really drained his energy. He hoped the other Barioth would hunt soon so it could eat from its kills. Luckily enough, he caught it hunting once again. Just a few hours ago they were in the same position, he realized. The Barioth was eating, unsuspecting that a hunter was about to attack it, and the hunter was sneaking up on it, unsuspecting that soon his life would take a sudden change. It slowly approached the distracted monster. As he got close the monster noticed him and took a small step to the side, giving the hunter some room to eat the slain Popo. It was horrifying, absolutely disgusting, but the hunter felt an urge to gorge himself on the entrails. He could not feel any taste, but it was simply pleasant to him, and he felt his strength gradually returning. He sometimes stopped at the realization of what he was doing, but his hunger made him keep eating until there was nothing but bones left. With his strength refueled, he realized there was no way out of this, and the best he could do was to adapt and stay alive. Maybe they would find what remained of his equipment in snow somewhere and send a party to search for him, or maybe they would just give up, but either way he had to stay alive. His worst fear was that they could send hunters after him. The thought of killing his fellow hunters did not please him in the slightest.
He could move around regularly, but he wondered if he was capable of pouncing or flying. He tried pouncing the air a few times, but it proved to be quite difficult to stay firm and not slip after a jump. The other Barioth showed up right as he was trying to keep his balance after a pounce, and gave him a look of disapproval. It then pounced to show him how it was done. He paid attention to its movement, and tried copying it, getting a generally more successful result than his previous tries. The Barioth gave him a mocking look, which then turned into a look of approval. The hunter then tried doing a tailswipe, which was surprisingly easy, as it did not require that much movement of the tail itself. Precisely controlling his tail was still rather difficult regardless. He then tried flying. Jumping up and extending his forearm wings, he flailed around in the air for a bit before falling down shamefully. At this point he was sure that if monsters could actually laugh that Barioth would be in tears right now. Thankfully that Barioth was willing to help, so it extended its wings and made a proper flapping motion with a single wing. Copying that motion once again proved to be successful, and soon the hunter found himself a few meters above the ground. The Barioth joined him and gave him a friendly roar. He was unsure how to proceed with this. He had no reason to befriend the beast that took his life away from him, but at the same time, the beast had no reason to befriend the hunter that almost killed it. He decided to just go along with it and roared back. The Barioth looked pleased. Soon they both descended, and from that day onward the hunter lived as a monster. He found himself a cozy cave to rest in, practiced his flight and attacks, and gradually he was becoming a simple beast.

About a year later, while he was roaming the tundra looking for food, he found his old equipment. Covered by snow, still damaged, it was exactly where he had left it. Not missing a single part. That part of the tundra was not popular among hunters, so it was not all that surprising that nobody had found it yet. He had seen a few hunters pass by occasionally, but none of them ever found his equipment. He was now as big as an average Barioth, indistinguishable from one. The other Barioth had grown back its tusk, and every day they would hang around, hunt together, and play a little sometimes. He got used to that life by now. He fondly remembers his hunting days, but that’s just the past now, no point in getting worked up over it. He occasionally feels the urge to bite something with his large tusks, but the Popo are enough to satiate it. About a year and a half after his transformation some hunters were finally sent to hunt a Barioth in that tundra. There were just two of them, a lancer and a gunner. He hid himself as they looked for a monster to slay. Soon the other Barioth approached them. As they started attacking it and it ferociously roared, the new Barioth revealed himself and pounced the gunner. He still did not want to kill a fellow hunter, despite his current state. He then remembered what the other Barioth did to turn him, so he threw the gunner on her back and tried stabbing her with the spikes on his tail. He successfully stabbed her to death. The lancer, who was currently busy dealing with the other monster, saw his friend bleeding profusely and let a scream of rage. It did not save him, and soon he was knocked unconscious. The beast did all he could to stop the bleeding, but he had stabbed her in a very vital spot. It was likely too late for her.  The very thought of killing a hunter hit him incredibly hard. And then he realized. He realized he really was a monster now. He realized there was no turning back. He realized what he had become. And so, on the cold cold tundra, the particularly unfortunate hunter finally gave in to his bestial urges and became a true monster.