Fearmonger (KdM Map Game)

Description
A young child growing up in the tail end of the Lepai Civil War suddenly comes across a solider for the Inde Agallate. They have business in his house, and it isn't pleasant...

Fearmonger
“Awééʼ Nizhóní, come here! Do you think you can help mommy with something?”

The child smiled and nodded. Nothing in this world pleased him more than helping his family members with some task.

“Sure!” he smiled.

Bichóhí’s Mother smiled and patted him on the back.

“Could you go fetch some firewood from the shed outside, once your father and brothers come home we’ll eat dinner.”

“Sure thing!” Bichóhí replied, and scurried off to get the wood.

It was a cold, brisk afternoon. The sky was pale, with clouds coated in orange floating on by. He wrapped his cloak around him, and went to grab the wood. A few moments later, he was done, and was preparing to head inside, when he saw a distant figure riding towards him. Odd, he was definitely shorter than his father, and his father had left with multiple people. Unless....

“Hello?” Bichóhí cried out, “Are you my ataa’?”

The man continued riding towards him, before coming to a halt a few meters away from him. He was dark, darker than most people he knew. His skin was etched with wrinkles, no doubt from his days in the sun. Though his clothes were plain, he wore elegant silver jewelry around his neck. In addition, over his shirt, there was a strange sort of covering, which consisted of two sheets of weaved cotton hanging from his neck covering his torso.

The man started down at him, eyes peering over every single feature of his body in a quick calculated gaze.

“No, child, I am not your ataa’. I have come to ask you of the men in your family. I would like to have a talk with your grandmother if I could.”

Right then, as if on cue, Bichóhí’s Mother poked her head out of the door and said, “Hello? Awééʼ Nizhóní? What’s taking so long?”

She quickly became quiet after seeing the warrior talking to her son.

“What business do you have here? We are a simple family. What is it that you need?”

“I have received information concerning some of the men in this household. I have come here to check if the rumors are true.”

Bichóhí’s Mother shooed Bichóhí inside, and then slammed the door shut. Bichóhí could feel sweat dripping from his forehead. Why is this scary man here? What could he be here for? He would learn soon enough.

His mother came in after a few tense, nerve-wracking minutes. She came in looking very different than when he had exited the Hogan. Her expression was completely changed, her posture was odd.

“We have to go.”

“Why?” Bichóhí asked, “Why do we have to leave?”

Bichóhí’s Mother stared Bichóhí right in the eyes, sending shivers down the child’s spine. She grasped his soldiers and kneeled down to match his height.

“Do not ask questions, Bichóhí, just know that we must leave. They’re coming for your father.”

“You mean...Ataa’?” Bichóhí asked. Why his father? He had never done anything wrong. He was a good, honest, and humble man, providing food for his family and paying taxes to the Binanit’a’i, the chieftain of Lepai

“Don’t ask questions, but I have one thing to say. You may never see this place again,” his mother answered.

Bichóhí was confused, and rightfully so. Why did he have to leave?

“But, but, what about our amá sání? They’re old, they can’t walk. They can’t be carried, we only have 2 uncles in the house, and 4 old women.”

“They must stay. They won’t go after old women.”

“But-”

“No more questions. We need to go”

The family hastily grabbed some jars and sacks, and set off, leaving the four old women to stay in the Hogan. As they walked out, they saw a dozen horses plodding, with 4 men handcuffed with a rope following them. Bichóhí squinted for a moment, until realizing that those men were his father and brothers.

“Ata-,” he cried out, before he was quickly stopped by his mother via a hand around his mouth.

One of the men on horseback heard the noise, and turned around. He pointed at the group, his arm reminiscent of an owl, an omen of death for the Lepai.

“Well well, who do we have here. You are a bit too late, friends. I presume you haven’t seen the exorcism of a Wechuge before? Well, if you haven’t, then now’s the time,” the same man which visited their home before said.

“W-what are you going to do to my husband?” Bichóhí’s Mother said, clearly panicking.

“Your husband, you say?” the man smirked, “Well, you have made the wrong choice. He is a Wechuge, one of the fowl beasts which the Hero Twins failed to kill. We are continuing their good work by killing him.”

“W-what e-evidence do you have for him being a Wechuge?”

“He admitted to being one. He looks like one as well.”

Bichóhí’s Mother stared at her husband in shock. Him, a Wechuge? Improbable, but not impossible.

“Wh-where are you from? I mean, truly from. Are you truly a Wechuge as these people say?”

“My family, we’re Tanpachoa, I thought you knew this already. I thought you didn’t care.”

“But, but that’s south of the Tó Baʼáadi, no?”

“Yes, but, many of the Diné live south of the Tó Baʼáadi as well. Please, don’t let this influence your opinion of me. Please, I’m not a Wechuge. I just said that I was Tanpachoa, I never said anything about being Aztec. I have never thought of eating human flesh. These men, they're wrong, they’re completely wrong!”

It was at this point that the warrior hit Bichóhí’s father in the head. Though it was becoming dark, Bichóhí could swear that he saw that there was some sort of dark liquid oozing from his father’s head. His eyes grew wide.

“Dirty heathen,” the warrior said as he spat in Bichóhí’s Father’s hair, “You, a Wechuge, dare accuse me of deceit? It does not matter to me if you are a Wechuge or not, it matters to me that it's in your blood, and the transformation could occur any moment. I should kill you on the spot. Be thankful I have not ordered your entire family killed.”

“We, we’re good people, we live like you do, we’re not Wechuge…” Bichóhí’s Father mumbled, “Our family, and those in the home, we’re good people…”

The warriors eyes widened, “So, you have other family, where? In the hogan? Are they dirty Wechuge scum like you?”

“No, no, they’re not, please, don’t kill the old women…” The man slurred, eyes half open.

It was too late. The warrior was already looking at his men. He turned his gaze towards the Hogan. Though it was dark, his expression was clear. Pure disgust.

“Burn the Hogan, burn that accursed thing!” He said to his men. He then turned back to the group, smirking.

“So, your elders are gone. Some may not have an ounce of Wechuge blood in them, but they’re dead regardless. Actually,” he remarked while pulling out an axe, “I have no idea if you’re Wechuge or not. I should kill all of you, just to be safe. But that’ll come later. I promised an exorcism, and you lot will get one.”

Bichóhí’s Mother crumpled onto the floor, sobbing wildly. The rest of the group was not much better off. All around him, Bichóhí could see his relatives, his loved ones, distraught and in fear. The darkness of the night was suddenly interrupted by a burst of fire coming from the Hogan now engulfed in a dance of flames. From inside, he could hear wails and screeches as his family was burnt alive.

“Well, that was some of our firewood gone. No worry, there’s a forest next to here. Well, then, for the actual exorcism. You, set up a pyre. We must do this properly.”

His men began setting a crude structure made from the logs of the Hogan and some of their own supplies. It resembled a cross, though with extra protuberances at the end facing perpendicularly. They laid it down, and set a bed of firewood and firestarters beneath it. Bichóhí’s Father was suddenly grabbed, and carried by 4 men, each holding a limb, and placed upon the structure. Before he could react, he was bound to it.

Some other men, including the head warrior, began reciting a prayer.

 ''“House of Dawn, restore the humanity of these men, recover them happily, let their interiors become warm, as they are meant to be. Let us and them walk in beauty as it happens. May you forgive them of their broken taboos.”''

As they said this, they set Bichóhí’s Father alight. His screams drowned out much of the prayer. It was a horrible, piercing sound. It rang in the ears of those that were there. After a few moments of pure terror, the screams subsided, as the man’s lungs had ceased functioning from the smoke.

“Take the ashes once the entire body is burnt. We cannot have something as precious as Wechuge ashes go under our noses, lads. Now, for the rest of those poor souls...Kill them all.”

It was at this moment that Bichóhí began to run. He didn’t know where he was running, he just knew that he had to run, run away from the slaughter of his family members. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The men were so engrossed in the horrific act of slaughter that they didn’t pay him leaving any mind. He could hear the wailing of his family members as they were brutally cut down, one by one. He didn’t dare to look back, for fear that he would see the corpses of his loved ones. It was only when he couldn't hear the screams and see the flames that he bothered to slow down.

As his rush of adrenalin began to ebb away, he felt his legs cramp and become sore. They soon gave way, and he was left crumpled on the ground, heart pounding in his chest, lungs exhausted, and with a throbbing pain in his side. Upon looking around, he realized that he had ran directly into the forest. With the all-encompassing darkness, and tall trees surrounding him, Bichóhí couldn’t make out where he was. Pulling his cloak around him, he curled up next to a tree and began to doze off.

_____

As his family was dead or dying, a spear was thrust into a man’s chest. Almost instantly, his body went limp. With that final stabbing, the entire household was either dead or missing.

“Did any of them get away?”

“Four ran into the woods, three were shot by Naakaaii. The one who got away is the son of the Wechuge himself.”

“No worry, he won’t survive for long. I doubt that he’ll be alive by the time the week is over.”

Of course, the man was wrong. The child was still alive, after a week, after a month, even after a year. And in a world like this, being wrong can cost you your life.