Were Written by Khystra *For those who are offended by harsh language or violence, other ideas about creation, monsters, demons, things that go bump in the night, or the possibility of living cars, don't read this.* " In the beginning, darkness covered the world, and all was Chaos. In this Chaos existed corrupt beings, twisted in mind and spirit. They thrived in this darkness, taking from it the sustenance they required to continue their fetid existence. Unfortunately, they were not alone. There also existed, the Others. The Others lived in conjunction with the dark beasts, surviving as best they could in a cheerless world. They had magical powers as well, all that lived there did. After a long period of anguish and suffering, they realized that they no longer had the will to live in such a fashion. They began to fade into the mist, back into the nothingness from whence they came. The Elders, those that watched over All, did not want the Others to disappear. But in their depressed condition, the Others could not see any reason to continue such a bleak existence. So, the Elders gave them reason, creating new life within the Others, new young life which could not exist without help. When the Others viewed this new life, their children, they found new resolve to continue on. However, the dark realm in which they lived was inadequate for their offspring's needs. They needed a place free of the evil beasts, a place where warmth could aid in their children's lives and growth. They marshaled their powers together, splitting open the darkness which covered everything, and allowed Light to wash over All. When this healing Light touched the dark beasts, they wailed in fear and pain, as the Light laid bare their blackened souls and forced them to see not only what they were, but also the long road they had traveled to get to this point. And what could lie ahead of them, if they were willing to change. So long had they lived without love and Light, that the mere thought of change terrified them. They ran from the harbinger of this new age, into the dark, dank pits of the Nether realms, never to see the Light again. Time passed, as time does, and the Others flourished, exploring the new land, carving out homes, and bringing love, laughter, and life to the blighted landscape. Down in the Nether realms, the dark beasts wailed their anger at the desecration of their once foul home. They marshaled their powers, as the Others had, in order to bring about the fall of Light. They succeeded, only in part. The land itself did not want to relinquish the Light life-giver, and would not allow the dark beasts to bring it back in full. For half a cycle, the Light would reign, and for the other half, the darkness would return. But with Light near, the darkness lost the ability to destroy, to bring about the death and destruction it once had. Now, the Others needn't fear it, for it allowed the respite of sleep, and rejuvenation. The dark beasts roared in fury at their loss and failure, and joining the last of their magic, funneled this fading energy into a scant number of their kind. These creatures were of such power that they could bring themselves across into the Light. These beings would have the ability to withstand the killer Light, and wreak havoc on the Others. It was quickly discovered, this horrible corruption. In order to combat such a menace, a warrior clan was created, using magic from a language and race which existed before time itself. The Were- the Demon Hunters." - Verse 2, Nature Spirit History ~*~ The young man looked up, sensing imminent danger. A rustling twisted his head around, a snarl rippling his lips, the bloody scalpel falling from his fingers, and clattering to the floor. His victim, a five year old girl named Cyan, prayed with fading strength that her mommy had come to rescue her from the boogedy man. The growl begin slowly, building rapidly to a sound no sane and very few insane people would ever want to hear. As the growl-roar reached its crescendo, bright octarine-tinted energy arced through the air, surrounding a slim form standing silhouetted in the doorway. The energy danced across the figure's clothes, rearranging them into shaggy fire-red fur and large grasping claws. "Were," the young man whispered, and sloughed his own form, revealed a hunched and frightening beast underneath. As his ancestors before him, he was a demon, sent from the Nether realms into the Light, to destroy the one thing that had true meaning to the Others, their reason for living- their children. "You're gonna pay for this, you scum-sucking pus-bucket!" The Were hissed, claws raised as another spell was conjured. The scaled and bunched monster hocked and spat at the Were's feet. "Fuck you," it said, and charged. The Were was caught off guard, but still managed to side-step the clumsy assault. The demon yowled as the Were raked razor-sharp claws down its exposed flank. The demon stumbled, going to its knees. Arms raised, the Were began to chant in the archaic tongue that harnessed the clan's magic. The chant caused whorls of eldritch energy to form in the heavy air. Ozone scented the demon's death as the power built. The arcane energy peaked, surrounded the demon, and ate into his form. Down to his blackened, dead soul. "Noooo! You bitch! What are you doing to meeeee?!" The demon wailed, unable to cope with the realization that all the evil, horrible things he had done could be burned away so easily. He was reduced, in a matter of seconds, to a pile a foul smelling ashes. There would be no return for this demon. Not now, not ever. The Were stopped the chant, and walked up to the dying child, blinking back the tears at what the demon had done to her. "Mommeeee . . ." Cyan cried, her voice fading as she began to die. The Were grabbed the tiny, blood-stained hand. "I won't let you die," the soft, feminine voice whispered, and began to chant again, this time to allow the child the return of her Light. ~*~ Wanda hugged her husband Terry, and cried. In between ragged sobs, she begged God to return her baby to her. Never before had she felt such pain, the loss of her child was almost more than she could bear. The detectives shook their heads and tried not to watch the heart-rending scene. They knew that the couple's daughter had been taken by the serial killer who had been stalking the children in the city. Now they could only wait until that demon in a human skin dumped the battered and mutilated body in the Hudson River. They were trying so hard to catch the monster, but the guy was smoke. Maybe he'd mess up. But maybe's seldom were. A soft knock at the door startled Wanda and Terry, as both detectives drew their sidearms. The knock repeated. The nearest detective hung up his weapon, sidled to the door, and opened it slowly. "Mommy!" Cyan cried, running up to her sobbing mother. She was healthy, bright-eyed, and completely unharmed. The Were had made sure to wipe all memories of her ordeal from the child's mind. Wanda swooped up her child and hugged her close, thanking God for her safe return. The Were was used to God being thanked instead of her. But it was reward enough to see another child saved. A long time ago, her people had made a promise to help the human race, and damned if she was going to stop now. ~*~ It was storming outside Lucky's Bar and Grill, and storming inside, as well. But it was the Blues Brothers, not Mother Nature behind this gale. The joint was really rocking, wind notwithstanding. There were almost enough entities to pack the place, but who would turn down a chance to see the Blues Brothers? Honestly? I didn't think so. Robyn stood behind the bar (it was the only place she could stand without getting stepped on), thoroughly enjoying herself. Of course, as a matter of principle, she usually enjoyed herself in everything she did. It was less stressful. She was pointedly ignoring the big pink cake box at the end of the bar. It was whimpering again. It had been delivered by a frail, but extremely pretty woman earlier in the day. The woman had dropped off the box, given instructions to the nearest bowl of peanuts, and collapsed. (The woman, not the peanuts). Nikki checked her vitals, and had just pronounced her dead when she sat up in a most un-corpse-like fashion. Nikki was a little stunned, but not really surprised. No one here was dead until they were totally dead. The not-corpse girl thanked them ever-so kindly, coughed up a large portion of what appeared to be her left lung, and left the bar. Nikki and Robyn eyed the lung-chunk for a long moment, and then proclaimed simultaneously, "Not my mess." The lung-chunk had remained on the floor for the rest of the day, and well into the concert. Then, it had undergone a quiet metamorphosis involving a stray burst of magic, being temporarily sucked through a pin-prick-sized hole into a paisley pocketed universe, and a dousing from a gin and tonic. Now it lurked in a dark corner, and plotted its revenge against humanity, or possibly to star in a Broadway production, whichever it had a chance to do first. Now, Robyn just ignored the cake box. The owner of the lung chunk said (to the peanuts) that when someone named Excel showed up, Robyn was supposed to cook up the contents of the box. But the box kept . . . whimpering . . . Robyn continued to watch the band, and continued ignoring the box. She ignored it a lot. Between sets, the band, the audience, and the owners became aware of a commotion outside the bar. A screech. A series of car-horn honks that sounded like swearing. And then, the unmistakable crunch of crumpling metal and the tinkle of broken glass. Several people rushed to the windows to see if it was their car which had made those sounds. The front door, which had been left unlatched, bump-shuddered open a few millimeters. No one noticed this, they were trying to see through the sheeting rain outside. Nobody but Robyn and Nikki, that is. The door settled back into its normal position, then bumped open again, a little farther. "What is that?" Robyn asked. Nikki shrugged. "Can't tell, maybe it's the wind, 'cause I'm sure not . . ." she paused, scrunching up her nose. "What was that?" "What was what?" Robyn eyed Nikki curiously. "Don't know. It felt like an animal, but then . . . it was just gone." Meanwhile the door juddered forward again, maybe a couple inches this time. "If that's a velociraptor on the other side of the door, I'm outta here." Robyn said, hopping nimbly behind the bar. Nikki frowned, trying to get a handle on what she was feeling. "I don't think it is." she muttered distractedly as the door bumped inwards again. Just as the raptor in Jurassic Park did, whatever was messing with the door grew annoyed with the door's lack of cooperation, and pushed it in. Commotion in the bar ceased with the sound of splintering wood as the front end of a very old car slammed the door open. It was a rain-soaked midnight blue metallic 1957 Plymouth Fury. It was at an extremely awkward angle, but had managed to wedge one side of its hood, two headlights, and a section of shiny chrome bumper in the doorway. "See?" Nikki offered, sliding past Robyn and scampering over the bar, "not a raptor," However, whether it was or wasn't a raptor, it was wedged in her front door. Its engine was rumbling, almost as if it were growling at her. Nikki ignored it, and walked forward. The car didn't move. Nikki got another flash of animal thought patterns, and this time, located its source. It was coming from the car. "Why are you in our doorway?" she asked it, almost conversationally. {{it's not going to answer you, it's a car}} Robyn sent to her, but Nikki waved her thoughts aside. It was going to answer. Somehow, anyway. The car stood its ground. It was either very brave, or stuck in the doorway. It honked softly, warning Nikki to stay back. Nikki stopped. Everyone else in the bar had stopped too, all watching Nikki and the car. Nikki tilted her head and repeated her question. The car honked again, but there was no warning this time. Now it sounded lost and sad. Nikki was surprised a honking horn could show so much emotion. The car's tires ground as it tried to change position. Not to get in, though. To see inside the bar. "Who are you looking for? A man or a woman?" The car honked on 'woman'. "Your woman?" Another honk in the affirmative. Nikki realized that the car was sort of a dog. A big metal dog, who had lost its master. And then, attracted by the sight or sound, had come to the bar to see if she was there. There was something lying on the car's dashboard. Nikki's sharp eyes identified it. A flyer, for the concert tonite. That was the connection. The car knew about what was happening at the bar tonite, because it's mistress had wanted to come. Obviously, she wasn't here. Or she would have responded to her car driving through the front door. "I'm sorry, she's not here." Nikki explained, after a long look around the room. The car looked crestfallen. It sagged on its chassis, front bumper almost touching the ground. It slowly withdrew from the doorway and began to backtrack its way across the parking lot. It parked itself forlornly under a tree and doused its lights. It was still low on its chassis, Robyn could swear it was crying. Nikki closed the front door, propping it up in its splintered frame. "Now that," she said, "was weird." "I feel sorry for that car." Robyn shook her head, and turned to the crowd. "C'mon guys!" she said with forced enthusiasm, "I thought we were having fun!" The Blues Brothers got the message instantly, and cranked it back up. Robyn and Nikki tried to forget what had just happened, but it wouldn't work. Robyn had never seen such devotion in a car before . . . except maybe for hers. If she put her mind to it, she could remember hearing something about a Plymouth Fury that could move on its own. But, hadn't that one been hostile? She shook her head again, and went back to enjoying the music. Down on the floor, the chunk of lung slithered between stamping feet, to the door. Using a surprisingly sophisticated pseudopod, it pulled a chip of something blue and glittering from the splintered door jamb. It was paint from the car. And before the lung-chunk's very feelers, it was changing color. ~*~ The band finished its second set, and took a break. A few people had left, to check on their cars, but most were crowded around the bar lining up for drinks. Robyn had extricated herself from the bar, tired of the orders. No one ordered her, thank you all the same. No sooner had she passed the front door than it was blown off its hinges in a shower of octarine sparks and wooden splinters. "What, is this- pick on Lucky's day?" She growled, and stopped dead in her tracks. There was a big white wolf in the doorway. Now, wolves are not unknown at Lucky's. Quite the opposite, in fact. But this was no ordinary wolf. For starters, it was about the same size as a Dodge Ram 2500. And, upon closer inspection, it also had two tails. The wolf turned towards Robyn, fixing her with its large amber eyes. "You," it growled. It's voice was familiar, but Robyn couldn't completely place it. "Me?" Robyn replied. "Where is the wolf-girl?" It wasn't a question, not really. "What wolf-girl?" {{Answer a question with a question, what are you, four?}} Robyn could almost hear Nikki smirking in that one. "My daughter. Where is she? What have you done with her?" The wolf could only get her muzzle through the opening where the door used to be, but Robyn had no doubt that if the wolf really, really wanted to, she could get in. "Moro?" Talon blipped into reality in front of the wolf. The wolf looked momentarily surprised. "Talon?" she replied, and shook herself. And changed shape. One moment, there was a huge white wolf standing in the doorway, the next, there was a very tall, pale woman standing in its place. Strangely enough, she fit right in with the rest of the crowd. True, she was about six foot five, had long, flowing white hair down to her toes, reflecting eyes, and a tail sticking out of the back of her simple white dress, but she just seemed . . . right. "If Talon is here, then this is not the place I thought it was. My daughter is not in danger. I will remain here until she arrives," The wolf-woman, Moro, surveyed the damage she had caused. "My apologies. I was distraught," she directed this to Robyn. Robyn shrugged. This was normal, here, at least. As Moro walked towards the bar, she waved a languid hand over her shoulder. Octarine flared, and the door was as good as new. And I mean, totally new. As if it had just been carved. "That was fast," Nikki observed. Talon's turn to shrug. "Wolf magic, huh. They're all a bunch of perfectionists," "You called us showoffs, I believe," Moro murmured dryly. "That was a long time ago, Moro," Talon frowned slightly. Moro blinked. "Doesn't seem so long ago to me," "Of course it doesn't, you're immortal," "And you aren't?" Talon refused to comment on that little statement. The commotion subsided, and the Blues Brothers started another set. Robyn decided to just ignore everything, and just enjoy the music. She didn't need to worry. The bar was no longer wrecked, and there was no longer a giant wolf looking at her like she was a hors d'oeuvre. This resolution lasted exactly 2.45 songs. Because, 0.45 of the way into the third song, the front window overlooking the dance floor blew inwards in a shower of octarine sparks, and razor shards. "Why me?" Robyn asked beseechingly. The glass was accompanied by a roiling mass of slimy skin and flying red fur. The crowd scattered as the pile hit the dance floor. Suddenly, the mass broke apart as the owner of the flying red fur kicked the owner of the slime in the giblets and propelled them halfway through the far wall. The owner of the slime kicked clawed feet weakly, trying to remove itself from solid oak planking and a thoroughly ruined painting depicting Atlanteans doing rude things to each other. It finally succeeded, showing itself to be a battered chaos demon with a set of horns on it that would do a Texas Longhorn proud. Also, its skin appeared to be . . . moving. Like it was a separate entity (it was), and that if given half a chance, it would leave the demon to be pummeled, alone (it would). "Eugh, wet dog," Nikki observed, and the owner of the red fur cast her a sidelong dirty look. Well, the owner of the red fur did smell like wet dog. Because, for all intents and purposes, that's exactly what it was. Well . . . sort of. Red Fur was vaguely humanoid, mostly not. Five fingers, five toes, bipedal, that's where the similarities ended. Red Fur was tall, at least seven and half feet worth of tall, but was slightly hunched over. Long legs, bent backward like a wolf's. Humanoid arms, but twice as long as the legs, so that the knuckles almost touched the ground. Thick chest and neck, and topped with a wolf's head, twice normal size. The creature also sported what looked like a lion's mane. Green eyes glinting with animal intelligence surveyed the room for a moment, then the creature shook itself (very deliberately), and turned back to face the chaos demon. "Calli-bear, my child! I was worried!" Moro exclaimed, rising to her feet. "Please don't call me that," the creature, Calli-bear, growled, grabbing the chaos demon by the horns. "Your kid?" Talon asked. "Whatever happened to San?" Moro eyed Talon skeptically. "That was six thousand years ago. San may have been my daughter, but she was a mortal," "And that one's not?" "Count the tails," "One . . . two? You procreated?" "Always, the gentleman, aren't you? Yes, I did. That is Khystra Callen, my daughter," "Much more dignified than Calli-bear," Throughout this conversation, Calli-bear was beating the living daylights out of the demon. Upon entering Lucky's (in a most undignified manner), Calli-bear decided to forgo the usual vaporization by octarine, there were too many potential accidents wandering around. And, she was miffed that she'd missed the beginning of the show. So, she was going to take it out of the demon's hide. Only problem was, she hadn't reached it yet. The chaos demon had a skin-parasite. Literally, a parasitic skin had attached itself to the demon, and was foiling some of the punches Calli-bear was offering up. Not for long. Calli-bear grabbed the demon's right wrist in a vise-like grip, and snapped the demon like a damp towel, and off came the skin. She tossed it over her shoulder. It couldn't survive long, not unless it found another chaos demon to latch onto. And besides her target (which was out of the question, thank you) there wasn't another chaos demon around. There was, however, a ratty wolf-dog in a dusty corner, licking himself in a very rude manner, hunching protectively over a Sailor Moon sticker book. The skin made for the wolf-dog like a thing possessed (it was), and wrapped its slimy self around its new host. No one stopped it. What was the point? All the wolf-dog contributed anymore was his smell. The wolf-dog yelped, trying to get away. No luck there. The skin sunk parasitic hooks through the wolf-dog's matted fur, and into the beast beneath. The wolf-dog lost control of his functions and ruined his sticker book. The skin then forced the wolf-dog to his feet, leapt through the broken window, and scuttled off into the rain-soaked night (good riddance). Meanwhile, Calli-Bear had the demon by the horns. Literally. "I think you owe these kind people something for making me wreck their window, don't you?" There was a growl, a grunt, and then awful rip-rending-tearing noise that I refuse to describe because it was too disgusting. Then there was a crunch, and Calli-Bear was left holding the demon's horns. The demon meanwhile, had its claws wrapped around the top of its head, fruitlessly trying to keep its minuscule brains inside its head. The brains crawled between the gaps in the demon's fingers, leapt to the floor, and began fornicating wildly with the lung -chunk (who had no objections whatsoever). Now, being brainless has never stopped anything or anyone before (just look at Ralph Kline), and it wasn't about to stop the demon now. It roared, made an obscene gesture and rushed Calli-Bear. Calli-Bear stopped its awkward progress by sinking her enormous claws into its shoulders. It yowled. "Now then, I'm going to fry you now. I couldn't just blast you before, because I might hit someone. Besides, everyone knows what happens when musical instruments and loose octarine are in the same room at the same time," (remember Mount St. Helen's?) "But now, there won't be any loose octarine," Pause "Please feel free to die screaming. In fact, I insist," Zzap. No more demon. All that remained was a pile of foul-smelling ashes, which were instantly devoured by the demon-brain and the lung-chunk (everyone likes to snack after sex). "There. Done," Pause, turn. "Oh, hi mom," Another pause, longer, more embarrassing. "Mom?!" Calli-Bear shook herself, and transformed into a human. 5"9, black hair with red bangs, blue eyes, pink kimono. "I was worried, Calli-Bear. It was a very powerful chaos demon. It killed many children," Moro explained. Nikki and Robin exchanged looks and thoughts. {{Children?}} "No worries Mom, I had it all in claw. And please stop calling me Calli-Bear. I'm not a pup anymore," Frown. "She's right, Moro. She doesn't look like a Calli-Bear, not to me. And I'm a great judge of character," Talon said proudly. Moro eyed him skeptically. Then she turned and looked at her daughter. "Ooh, I hate it when your right," "She looks more like just "Bear", to me," Talon continued. Calli-Bear smiled. "Bear. I like Bear," "Bear it is, then," Pause. "Bear, fix all the damage you did, then go console your car," "Blue came looking for me here?" "Yes, Blue came looking for you. You know how that car worries. But you're changing the subject. Fix the damage you did, Bear," Ooh, that was a Mommy-order that time. "Yes, Mom," Bear turned, raised one hand, and FLASH, everything was fixed. And the chaos demon's horns were mounted neatly on the wall behind the stage. "There, fixed. Be right back," A flash of octarine sparks, and a shimmer of a purple-ish glow (the color of magic) and Bear was gone. "Nice floor show!" Nikki yelled, also cuing the band. They started back up. A moment later, Bear returned. She sat down next to her mother and Nikki noticed that she also sported a tail. When Bear was settled, Nikki asked a question. "What'll happen to Fang?" Bear frowned. "Who?" "The ratty mutt that skin ran off with," Nikki explained. "Is he a chaos demon?" Bear asked. Robin's turn to frown. "No, just chaotic," It was obvious that neither Robyn, nor anyone else in the room (demon brain and lung-chunk included) held any love for this Fang person. Bear shrugged. "Then nothing will happen," Pause. "Well, he won't die, anyway. The skin will get a temporary fix from him, realize he's not a chaos demon, go into a spasm, and die. Die, suppurate, rot, the whole enchilada. Fang'll survive, but he'll be really slimy when he gets back," Robyn smiled. "Good," Bear sniffed the air. "I smell dog," She looked over at the cake box. Got up, sauntered over, and opened said cake box. An extremely adorable little white mop-dog leapt out of the box and into Bear's arms. "Why was this sweet little dog in a cake box?" Behind her, the door flew open. A psychotic blond stood there. "Gimme back my lunch!" Bear set the little dog behind her on the bar, and turned to face the blond. {{Must be Excel}} Robyn sent Nikki, who nodded. Bear grinned, showing way too many teeth. "Make me." The End (for now) Main * Profiles * Fanfics * Creativity * Awards * Links/Rings