The Mimic in Monsterland

“Are you sure about this Len? The risk alone is enough to give a sane man a heart attack.” The large half-elf man paused and took a deep breath. “My position on the council is already shaky at best.” He held a cup in his hands and pointed it at Len. “It’d be better if someone bothered to show every once in a while.” Jaren took a drink.

Both he and Len were standing next to a table in Jaren’s home. The room itself was pretty plain. No plant life, art, or anything to spruce up the room. Just brown wooden walls, some bookshelves lined the walls. A very function-first, style-second kind of house. Piles of handwritten books were strewn across the table.

“You know they only gave me that seat as a formality. I don’t actually have any sway here.” Jaren stopped looking at Len but drooped his head. “Yeah I know, but you do have their respect. Your opinion wouldn’t be ignored.”

“If only it were so simple. What I’m trying to accomplish. What we’re going to accomplish.” Len grabbed Jaren’s shoulder and looked him in the eye, “is no simple task, but it must be done. And besides, who ever claimed we were sane men?" Len let go of Jaren. "I’m sorry you have to face them alone but if we are to succeed I have to be out there. Scouting more talent.”

Moving back to the table, Len picked up one of the journals. “And boy did I find some talent this time.” Jaren looked at the book in Len’s hand.

“Yeah, your boy from another world. Liam Foster. What a strange name.” Jaren sat down on a chair placed near a window. “You know if it was coming from anyone else I would probably just deck them and never give it another thought. I mean from a whole different reality. That’s crazy, I can’t even imagine that.” He said in disbelief.

Len chuckled. “Yep, because that’s what you're known for, your imagination.”

”Oi oi, that's uncalled for. I happen to have a wonderful and active imagination.

“Mhmm filled with nothing but women and booze.”

Jaren looked at his cup and then over to Len. He shrugged and downed the rest of its contents in one quick gulp. After a burp everyone in the neighborhood could hear, he went on.

“When will I meet this wunderkind then?”

“Sooner rather than later. By my guess, sometime in the spring. If he hasn't been slacking.”

“And you're sure about leaving this oh so fantastic asset out there by himself for the whole winter.”

“We both know this world is cruel to those coddled by their elders. He’s got to learn to survive out there without help.”

“What level was he when you left again? Four or five?”

“Three.”

“Damn, I’d be shocked he survives the end of this moon, let alone winter.” Len made a wry smile. “Nah, I’m pretty sure he will be fine.”

Len walked over to the window Jaren sat next to and stared out. He saw a few children, maybe ten years old, running through some drills. Their instructor not far away. The youngest looking was trying his hardest to keep up, yet constantly stumbling. The kid had webbed feet, like those water bird monsters have, which made the marching especially difficult.

“Poor kid.” Jaren stood up next to him and looked just in time to see the duck footed kid fall on his face. But he got back on his feet, eyes brimming with determination.

“Yep, Brant’s youngest. Probably getting shipped out to Kailis soon. Only Capital that could use his type.”

“Really, Brant? Thought they had hooves running in their blood.”

“Monster genes are fickle. Look at me, I came from a bunch of them nasty felines. Catty bitches, all of them.”

“True.”

 

Jaren, like Len, wasn’t from Laurelhaven. He was from the plains to the south. Born to a big family down there, the Savannahs. Most had feline genes in his family. The head of the house is always a Leone splicer. Family rule. They were an especially prideful group of splicers. Len couldn’t stand them. So Jaren coming out with his Draco gene was a big scandal they swept under the rug. They disowned him. What else could they do? He was a lesser person and not fit for the Savannah name. Idiots, each and everyone of them.

Not that it seems to bother Jaren much. They probably hate how successful he became without the use of their name. None but a few even know of his noble origins.

A similar story might be playing in front of their eyes with this little awkward boy.

A knock at the door pulled Len out of his thoughts. He turned to Jaren who was already on his way to the front of the house.

Without looking back, Jaren spoke. “Don’t worry. This guest is expected, I told you about him. Unlike a certain, nosy and undesirable weed someone let grow on my porch.” Len responded with an indifferent shrug. “Ehh.”

Jaren made the right call burning the porch. Len noticed some buds had been planted on the porch while he torched it. But he wouldn’t let Jaren know that. The big bastard didn’t need anyone else to stroke his untamed ego.

“Bout time you got here.” Len returned to the table and retrieved a few of his books and loaded them into his pouch. He trusted Jaren, but some of these journals were for specific eyes only.

While he stuffed them into the pouch, he snickered with a devilish grin.

 

—

 

The young dwarf wasn’t exactly sure about what he was looking at. He was sure it was Jaren Holdsburn’s house, a simple wooden house built by the crafters union. One bedroom, one living room and an office. Toilet of course. Nothing fancy, except for his porch.

Jaren really liked his porch. He bought all this expensive furniture from some fancy gnome out of Dendrun. He had to admit it was comfortable, the most comfortable chairs he’d ever sat on, not that he sat on all that many chairs in his brief life.

But he couldn’t lie, he was hoping he could lounge on them sometime today. But that wasn’t going to happen. Because the very porch and furniture he was talking about was gone.

All that stood in front of Jaren's house was a pile of ashes. Which wouldn’t be that strange, a fire probably burned it down. What was strange was that even though there was all this ash, the front of his house had no scorch marks on it whatsoever. This ash was the only evidence that a porch even existed.

While contemplating the disappearance of Jaren’s porch, he heard some voices coming from inside the house. His ears perked up. He recognized Jaren’s voice immediately, a hard one to forget. Especially since it was the voice he heard nearly everyday for the past few months.

But the other voice was new, one he had never heard. It was a male, so he didn’t have to worry about walking in on Jaren mid… yeah. Don’t want to make that mistake again.

The boy finally got his senses together and walked up to the door. The door being a good two feet or so off the ground. He knocked. He heard familiar footsteps coming to the door. It opened, it was Jaren, looking particularly intimidating. He was already a head and a half taller than the boy, the door being off the ground wasn’t helping.

“Bout time you got here.” Jaren bellowed as per usual. “Wait did you shrink kid?” The boy nervously responded. “T-The porch.”

“Right. Ehh don’t worry about it. Listen, I've got a friend in the back who I want you to meet. He’s good and knows what’s up. Now come on.” Jaren turned around and walked back into the house. As the boy was taking the step up into the door, he heard Jaren from the other room. “Really?” The boy heard some more mumbles but once he was fully in the house Jaren returned.

With a serious expression, one the boy didn’t recognize, Jaren whispered. “Be right back. Forgot to grab something.” And left the house. The boy heard Jaren stumble while walking out the door. He grumbled something about weeds but got up and strolled away.

Even though it was the middle of the day, the house was dark, only a dim orange light came from the living room area. The boy gulped. Anxiety gripping his heart. He stammered. “Hello.” With his voice, the orange light grew. A voice followed. “Come.”

Thoroughly spooked now, the young dwarf shifted in his spot. Going any farther into the house was the last thing he wanted. No, bursting back out the door was the only thought in his mind. He turned back toward the door.

His eyes widened. A wall of flames was now covering the exit. That anxiety turned into fear as the voice said “Come,” once more. His body moved toward the light almost on its own. He rounded the corner leading to the living room.

Candles covered almost every inch of the room, all lit except for one. One in the center of the living room. That unlit candle was not alone though. A man sat behind it. He wore normal clothes, a white shirt and baggy brown pants, but his head was shrouded by a cloak. The man gestured to the ground in front of the candle. “Sit, we have much to discuss.” The man spoke in a monotone voice. A chill ran up the boy’s spine but he sat down. He was not entirely sure why.

“Now what is it you wish? What do you desire?” The emotionless man questioned. “J-Jaren just told,” but the man interrupted him. “Did I ASK what Jaren wanted?” He flinched at the outburst but stayed where he sat. “Sorry.”

“Answer the question. What do you want?” The question perplexed the boy though. He wasn’t entirely sure what to answer with so he ended up just saying something vague. “A good life, I guess.”

“Is that all? A guess?” The man snorted. “Alright this good life will cost you. Are you willing to pay? You must do something for me. A task.” He raised his head to look at the boy. But there was no face, just flames, yellow and orange flames where a face should have been.

Every instinct in the boy's body was screaming at him to run but for some reason he could not move from that spot. His mouth dried out and sweat beads rolled off his head. He gulped.

“Bring me the head of Jaren Holdsburn. And your candle shall be lit.” Both paused after the cloaked man finished.

“No,” said the dwarf.

 

The cloaked man looked into the young pup’s eyes. But for the first time, they weren’t filled with fear and timidity. Those feelings were still present but something new grew in them. The cloaked man knew what it was, he was well acquainted with it. Defiance.

 

“That is your answer.” He questioned in the same tone.

“Yes. I would never kill him or anyone just for a good life.” The boy’s words were firmer. A flush of warmth engulfed his body. What the man asked was a cost too great. Jaren was his mentor, and more importantly a friend. Sacrificing a friend for nothing but self gain was the most despicable crime he could think of.

“That is acceptable.”

The door to the house opened and the boy got up and went to look. There was no longer any fire blocking the door. Jaren stood alone in the doorway. The boy turned back to the living room and blinked. The house returned to normal. He rubbed his eyes because there had to be something wrong with them.

The candles disappeared; it looked almost as if they were never there to begin with. Daylight returned to the room. He turned back to the cloaked man but he wasn’t there. He stood up and wildly searched for the man. Until he saw someone sitting by the window. An older guy with some wheat burning in his mouth. He wore the same outfit as the cloaked man but without the cloak.

“What? Where did the candles go? Where did he go? Are you the cloaked man? What is happening?” The boy's voice was growing panicked. The man sitting by the window turned to him and smiled. “Don’t believe we’ve met. I’m…” A quick chuckle interrupted the man’s introduction. The boy turned and looked at Jaren. The big half-elf had his hand over his mouth. Quite poorly trying to hide a smile.

He couldn’t hold it for long. The man roared. A full belly laugh. So much that Jaren could barely stand. The boy's face filled with confusion as he repeated himself. “What is happening?” He turned back to the man by the window. Who was also horse laughing.

“You used the damn candles again.” Jaren wheezed. “First One’s above. You haven’t pulled that shit out in a hot minute.”

“It's a tried and true classic.” The other man spoke out. Jaren continued. “Damn I wish I could have seen his face when it was happening. Did you say the thing?” The man by the window spit the burning wheat out of his mouth. “I was worried you were going to have to mop the floor.” That comment sent Jaren into another bout of laughter.

 

The boy gave up on trying to understand these old buffoons and sat by the table. It was probably a full five minutes until they got ahold of themselves. Jaren was the first to speak. “Hoh hoooh. I needed that. Been a while since I laughed like that. You never disappoint Len.” Jaren wiped some tears out of his eyes. The human man apparently named Len sat on the other side of the table. “Sorry about that lad. Just a bit of fun.”

Jaren sat next to the boy. He put his hand on the boy's shoulder and introduced him. “This here is Fennel Blines. He’s kin to good old Herman. Ears are a bit floppier though.”

Herman was the boy’s uncle; they shared the Wulfen gene but Fennel’s ears weren’t pointed or black like his uncles. They flopped down and had a golden color to them, matching his blonde hair.

Jaren turned back to Fennel. “And you, my friend, have fallen prey to one of this man’s legendary pranks. But enough about that, I should introduce you. This is Leonard Ainsworth.”

At the mention of his name, the boy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, THE Leonard Ainsworth.” The older guy across the table just shrugged.

“You can call me Len.”