What it Means to be a Monster

“Listen well, you pieces of shit!

By decree of His Royal Excellency, King Dyrrus, you lot are henceforth presented

with an important ultimatum—”



“Under His Grace, you shitty fucks may

choose to serve and forfeit your land and

manpower to the kingdom

Or alternatively, rot in hell.”



“By this fortune imparted by the Great Dyrrus Himself, witnessed by the Six Virtuous Gods,

you shits have one week to choose.”

.

.

.

—Thus was the will of the king, imparted to a crowd by royal messenger.



The decree which upturned the monotony of life. But not for the humans, not for the demihumans, not for the commoners, nobles, not even the animals that calmly grazed on pasture.



it was a decree directed to the monsters. A message imparted to the monster tribes themselves, simultaneously.



It was a decree which provided a choice for monsters that lived in the kingdom's borders and beyond.



A decree that would be fought against.

A decree that cared little for those affected.

A decree scorned and belittled by many on the monsters side.

A decree that few would accept.



This is a story of the few.