Hyena Werks (DanmachixDnD SI)

[Jao]

 

[Twigtree]

How does this not have more comments?
Really great.
You going to satisfy his pack need with joining a familia ? Bamboozle all orario by joining hestia? Or are we about to see " Loki Familia and the Amazon who dared with a Hyenna" ?
So many roads, there were also the "xeno race" for the future.
Arachne wife to be saved , an economy to flip and more displays of bromanxe with ganesha like armstrong in Fullmetal alchemists.

 

[JamesEye]

Really fun read so far! I think you've done very well with the sudden inserting into wildy non human body thing.
Definitely not 100% comfortable instantly which is never going to be the case without outside fuckery but having these memories to pull on and instincts let's us see Max gradually adapt and not just angst flip flop everywhere haha.

Also love everyone's reactions to just wildy out of context abilities. I don't know much about D&D but I'm assuming a level 8 in that system isn't as crazy as level 8 in danmachi?

Love the story so far. Super interesting! Thanks for sharing

 

[The Radiance's Follower]

TFTC. I usually stay in the NSFW section because I like my fictions spicy. You have taught me the wrongs of my ways and I shall delve into both NSFW and SFW.

 

[xbox432]

Amazon who dared with a Hyenna"

Click to shrink...

Tiona WAS a bookworm in her own right, so she might actually enjoy spending time with him. Even if just as a friend.

TFTC. I usually stay in the NSFW section because I like my fictions spicy. You have taught me the wrongs of my ways and I shall delve into both NSFW and SFW.

Click to shrink...

Same for me honestly. I usually stick to SB and SV for SFW, QQ is for the NSFW. I'm immensely pleased that I stumbled across this fic as it has been really damned fun to read.

 

[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!

 

[Enthessi]

"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.

Click to shrink...

I had been pretty curious about whether you were going to make a distinction between the two considering their from different worlds or if you planned to merge the level system.

 

[Error29]

......... Are you fucking serious? I'm disappointed that it's that the thing that had him get caught. Wow, what a let down. Looking forward to him getting treated like a slave. Fucking hells

 

[Jao]

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.

Click to shrink...

Their*

 

[Drkonecharlie]

Ok I am liking the story but I can't really see what you what done with this he doesn't want to join a god or goddess but he has to because they will not stop intill he does and some not even then it kinda feels like you're setting up your character for misery

 

[Cubbyhb1]

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

The woman's attention was focused solely on the mortar and pestle in her lap that she worked with a sure, deft hand.

Click to shrink...

Something got cut.

 

[FTR2017]

Fun chapter, Loki realized that Max was a level eight artificer from his interaction with Granny--er, I mean Ma'am's ingredient shop.

Quite observant, that deity.

I am also curious as to whether he'll be getting a falna to bolster his own growth at the risk of losing all of his gains should the deity powering his falna fuck off, or if he'll remain independent and get his peak by his hard work that no one can take away from him.

I look forward to him undercutting Dian's shop for being such a selfish jackass--though he'll need some serious muscle to deal with any malcontents that try to ruin his business ... .

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

Click to shrink...

This section was left without an ending.

 

[Korst]

DnD power scaling is kind of wibbly-wobbly, so I kind of get why they'd assume the protagonist is weaker than he claims. A level 20 can take a hit from a dire rat without needing to worry, but the dire rat would still have sunk it's teeth into them. It still deals damage. Well, outside of gaining damage reduction somehow. It allows for fairly comical or badass thematic fights, but no matter how strong a DnD character gets a level 1 dire rat could still theoretically kill them if given the chance.

Meanwhile Adventures in Danmachi effectively gain damage reduction as they level; nothing that doesn't deal enough damage over their damage reduction can harm them, and even then they have fast healing against lower level enemies that gets stronger as they gain levels. In most cases it's quite literally impossible for a lower level foe cause them any real harm, let alone kill them.

 

[Perpetual Tim]

To be honest I would be way more scared of a level 8 artificer than a danmachi Lv 8 adventurer, they just don't know the difference.... yet

 

[Xcell]

......... Are you fucking serious? I'm disappointed that it's that the thing that had him get caught. Wow, what a let down. Looking forward to him getting treated like a slave. Fucking hells

Click to shrink...

He should have gotten caught earlier?? As they should have followed up with the question of what familiar he's part of?? As you cannot level up in damachi without a god tramp stamp and you have to be in the physical presence of that God. Also all the gods in damachi know each other. I'd also said this earlier in the after the previous chapter but the author clearly didn't read my comment or just ignored it for the narratives sake.

 

[paloswag]

Really great stuff, was disappointed when I got to the end. I find the main character very amusing.

I think people are going to underestimate him just because he doesn't have the durability of an adventurer, and I'm looking forward to their revelation that he could probably destroy a good chunk of the city if he felt like it. A lvl 10 right at the sweet spot of being a "champion" of whatever or wherever you are, but without the reality warping bullshit. If he continues to get dnd levels, I would expect him to become a dominating force in the city.

 

[The Radiance's Follower]

TFTC. DnD and Danmachi have very different systems. But DnD adventurers wipe the floor with Danmachi at similar levels. Even a DnD cantrip is considered powerful AKA Bell's Firebolt spell.

The only way I can see a Danmachi character winning the confrontation is if they take the DnD adventurer by surprise. They all are DnD Rogues without the stealth.

 

[ScottisI]

Are you going to break down the translation from D&D levels to Danmachi levels?
I've found your little lore-drops to be incredibly helpful understanding the setting in general.

 

[*Username*]

IIRC a god-like being from dnd can bitch slap you with a small-country destroying attack (via lore) for like 30 dmg with their physical avatar but like 1 small lvl 3 fire ball from a wizard can do like 24 dmg average . . .
wasn't there something about dnd HP being a measure of someone's "will to live"?

edit: wait so when someone shoots a laser at you in dnd and you somehow pass the dex check and take like half damage doesn't that mean dnd characters can react to light speed attacks?

 

[Jjwizzle566]

Ngl kinda annoyed that the grandmother said only her granddaughters can call her granny despite having a grandson as well, but I'll just assume that's because he's a kid from the way she beat him for what she assumed was a lie, which also annoyed me but eh.

 

[Inbetweenaction]

TFTC. DnD and Danmachi have very different systems. But DnD adventurers wipe the floor with Danmachi at similar levels. Even a DnD cantrip is considered powerful AKA Bell's Firebolt spell.

The only way I can see a Danmachi character winning the confrontation is if they take the DnD adventurer by surprise. They all are DnD Rogues without the stealth.

Click to shrink...

Nah, they have several levels of barberian to get that dr/all. And the movement speed of fuck you. And a fighters armour.

So any melee class dnd gets smeared by equivalent danmachi, but the danmach mages level as linary as any fighter.

Dnd caster classes though... especially if going thematically rather than slots, can banish your entire part to the shadow realm. Or etheral plane.

As you said, very different systems, but even rather low level Danmachi are shonen tire bullshit fighters.

 

[Viking_Berzerker]

Sometimes I read the title as Hyena Twerks.

Anyway, how powerfull are DnD compared to Danmatchi? His library of spell to call upon makes his untility unmached, but how much damage can he do?

 

[Godfire]

Mc hate Gods. Will he join Loki or one? Me personally, I don't recommend him to but I'm not the author of this fic. Anyway, great chapter.

 

[Elite_Noob]

I don't know much about DND but the idea of a hyena man artificer gives me Warhammer ratlinggun vibes of course the gun is better then a ratlings but the idea of him running around in the dungeon with that kinda setup scratches an itch I did not know I had

 

[Bigreader]

The one thing that's always annoyed me about D&D is the restrictions on characters to keep the game balanced because let's face it a 20th level artificer or Necromancer should be able to dominate a setting simply because they can call on armies of artificial or undead beings to fight for them.

 

[Samael_Von_Hohenheim]

 

[DangerDesperado]

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 Seven:
First Floor: Tools, Gnolls, Comically Large Shotguns.

(Second Floor: Existential Dread, Maniacal Laughter, Terrified Locals.)

X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X​

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!

 

[Error29]

Honestly, the amount of angst just for making a gun is ridiculous. He's in a position just a few moments from being a slave. Why is he making this whole mental trip for arming himself? I honestly never understood this type of SI or MC

 

[Jao]

Click to shrink...

@DangerDesperado are you ever going to fix the broken image?

Just copy and paste this:


[IMG]https://i.postimg.cc/MKxQhzZT/EwA4nii.png[/IMG]

 

[Jeffster64]

By the gods, A couple inches shorter than a coach gun. And he's a dog. Run boi run the atf are gonna get your ass.