The village streets were empty, the moon hidden behind monsoon clouds.
The Orang Minyak moved like a shadow in an oil slick. He was naked, covered from head to toe in black, magical grease that made him impossible to grab and invisible in the dark. Oil Cloak. He was a predator of opportunity, seeking an unlock window.
Relying on his stealth, he turned a corner—and walked straight into a wall of fur.
Bultungin, the Were-Hyena, was patrolling his territory. He stood on two legs, hunched and muscular, smelling of dried blood and savannah dust. Skin-Switch Veil.
The Slippery Fight
Bultungin didn't roar. He giggled—a low, manic sound. He lunged.
Bone-Famine Maw.
His jaws, strong enough to crush femur bones, snapped shut on the Orang Minyak’s arm.
Squelch.
The Oily Man slipped right out of the bite like a wet bar of soap. The grease was supernatural, reacting to pressure by becoming frictionless.
The Orang Minyak laughed, a greasy, bubbling sound. He scrambled up the side of a wooden house, his oily hands finding purchase where there was none. Nocturnal Infiltration.
"Too slow, dog!"
The Nose Knows
Bultungin wiped his mouth. The oil tasted vile. But now, he had the scent.
The Oily Man thought he could hide on the roof. He flattened himself against the shingles, blending with the night.
Bultungin didn't look. He sniffed. The smell of rancid coconut oil and dark magic was a beacon. He leaped, crashing onto the roof with enough force to shatter tiles.
The Orang Minyak tried to slide away again, but Bultungin didn't bite this time. He used his claws to slash the roof beams, causing the entire structure to collapse.
The Oily Man fell, landing hard in the debris. Before he could slip away, Bultungin was on him. The hyena didn't try to hold him; he just stomped. A heavy foot crushed the Orang Minyak’s knee. You can't slide if you can't walk.
The giggling started again, louder this time.