《[Book One] Querencia Quintet [Polarity/Pestilence]》 Chapter 0001 -- Prophecy The Demons Of Elsewood: 0001.01 Charley kept running as he produced a red ink marker from the pocket of his Cashmere coat. The zombies up ahead were not particularly seasoned fighters. In the ways of combat, they provided more target practice than actual challenges. Slow, chunky, and thick. Charley, while maintaining a casually otiose pace of 200 mph, advanced to an arm movement speed of 200 miles per hour. Rapidly slashing open four zombies'' carotid arteries was proven a tedious task for the troublesome teenager, his 17 year old shoulder-length black hair began swishing in the lightest of breezes and the corner of his leaf-green eyes creased, a devious grin being invoked on the young man''s handsome face. Moonlight streaked off of his brown-tanned skin, making him seem a lot older than he already was. The last birthday that he had celebrated was only held one year ago; in lieu of supposedly mandatory attendance to his boss''s wedding, Charley''s three best buddies in the whole galaxy, would rather have eaten cake with their kindergarten pranksters, rather than watch "some cow in a hideous green dress walk down the aisle." Well, in defence of Charley''s manners, the latter opinion that was expressed was not one of his own, rather, his own brother saw the situation from that point of view. Of course, on his disgustingly sweet sixteenth, Charley''s brother Manuel had only invited himself because he''d heard of the Wolfsbane Whiskey that the Clawfang Inn had in stock. Exactly one day from now, the first anniversary of that hilarious incident would be fast approaching. Not so hilarious, however, were the overtones of which that specific date would incite. The first day of April and it would already consist of grief and heartache. 2015... his father''s death. Currently it was midnight, and the only clan in sight was the Flintfell Clan, or rather, the Werewolf community. Chains glistened in the smoggy darkness, stars radiating their silver light, already enhancing the shine that was tentatively emanating from the rattling restraints, many of which where either tied down to titanium signposts, or were wrapped over and underneath the bottom of the bronze-bark Oak trees. The stumps had been given many respectful generations to settle into their roots, and the bushes that sprouted from the surfaces of said trees were either rustling just as hard as the chains had been up to this point, or they were swaying gently in the decreasingly violent winds, those air-currents having been acknowledged out loud by the Flintfell Clan''s Chief Leader, Markus Fell. Markus was finally spitting venom and blood, the aforementioned substance spewing from his mouth like liquidated Silver from a Marked Alpha''s bullet wound. A Chosen Alpha wouldn''t have a problem with these kinds of situations, but Markus had to be elected by all five clans, Mortals, Spellcasters, Bloodsuckers, Moonbearers, and Fleshflingers, all simultaneously. Markus not only acknowledged the increasingly subtle breezes that night, he also acknowledged the fact that this particular "brand" of zombies were without means of communication, their vocal chords, tonsils and tongues having been charred in the infamous fire, sooty, ash-like remains of what they would have, no, should have been. Even Charley could sympathise with pure evil, after all, two centuries ago his great great - however many greats - grandfather, was the one to spark the flames that begat this horrifically tragic war. The war of Horus, they called it. They even called the Vampires ''adaptable'', whatever the heck that had to do with the circumstance. His mother, Prisha Dunne, would have been proud of him, and her son would have been proud of his parent; biological parent, anyway. Eric, her boyfriend, would probably hand him the Flintfell family dagger, at least if he actually needed the blasted blade. Nope, in Charley''s current situation, he was safe and sound. Hearing a twig snap, he dropped down to just around the corner, after spotting what looked to be a cobblestone ledge, with some recklessly thin rope tied to the underside. A ledge, or rather, a windowsill, or that would have been the case, except there was no freaking window! The guard on top of the stairs was fast approaching, although Charley''d prefer it be by mount, rather than an on-foot/off-foot type of thing. This was far from a predicament, and it was weeks away from risky. His stealth skills had jumped upwards of at least ten or more ''margins'', but Markus had yet to explain all of the supernatural terminology to him. Charley glanced backwards, catching his cousin Markus in his peripherals. Really he was only supposed to be four years older than him, and his birthday had been celebrated 48 hours ago, but why he insisted on acting like a thirty year old CONSTANTLY, Charley had no clue. "Brainzzz." "Blue brainz ''N hamburgerzzz..." Charley frowned. He''d never heard that one before. ''Damn it, now I''m hungry,'' this was the only thought that appeared in his adolescent mind, and now he was scared that this thought would be his last. ''Human cheeseburgers for zombies? Best to consult all the chefs in the city about this.'' ''Skywalk City -- no, concentrate. Remove any and all opponents before distractions arise.'' Charley pulled out his Acid-Ant dagger and shrank to an even lower crouch, his knees now grazing dangerously near several low-cut, jagged pebbles and one almost-boulder. He stabbed the first Fleshflinger from the comfort of his bush camouflage and sighed in blissful relief. For the first time in three hours, he was alone. Time to pee! "Ahhh, now that was good!" Two minutes had passed since he last released himself of any discomfort, and Charley was chuckling. ''Glad most Fleshflingers are stupid wads of meat. At least we''re on the same page.'' stumble stumble, rustle clink clink clink clink clink ''Silence...'' Charley brought his hand to his mouth, and from behind it would have appeared to be a gesture of mystified pondering, but this was an old army tactic that he gleaned from his Uncle, Sam Rivers, not in any way related to the Colonel, except he was. Charley raised his right arm arm up, palm facing inwards, and tilted his elbow to a mere 16 or so degrees, his wrist coming even further downwards. Moving his wrist and imagining the prettiest princess of all kissing his hand, he suddenly and immediately thrust his wrist to the left, his fingers only extending at a tiny amount of only 7 degrees and his elbow only extending one degree later. Charley unexpectedly turned on the spot and saw his green-tipped dagger hurtling, whistling through the air, although the answer to the question "Did I actually hear it whistle?" was better left a mystery as the weapon found its marker, the target flopping down like a flailing fish on the deck of a pirate ship. The Jade Vines just in front of the teenager''s scowling visage were left rocking back and forth as Charley pounced at a speed of 70 mph, thrusting his legs only twice in order to reach his victim, spotting her 2000 meters from Castle Grave''s primary outer layer. Charley spotted the Fedora tipped to the right of the beautiful lady''s lovely pink locks, vibrant blue hair tips began clinging to the gravel and soil as she suddenly propped herself up onto one peach-colored elbow. The youngest soldier that was deserving of a promotion had bent down and attempted to extend his hand towards the older woman''s fingertips, "Here ma''am. Sorry about the confusion," which ultimately failed as he found her quickly backflip thrice and take off into the treeline. She would have succeeded in this endeavour, however, Dunne intended to make a game out of the chase. After all, the meals always tasted better after they had been frightened by their predators. Adrenaline enhanced the volume of the flavours. Exquisite, human, masterpiece dishes that even Gordon Ramsay would compliment. In just under ten milliseconds, the teen''s grey, spiky-matted fur burst from his normally humanoid skin. The dirt-coated fingernails had been replaced by immaculately translucent beast-like claws, claws resembling those of a Dragon''s. Thirdly, along with the venom-tipped claws, out popped talon-ish fangs, fangs that sat snuggly, tightly compacted to make up a total number of 120 wire-sharp teeth, 60 teeth each on both the top and bottom, concealed by drooling, putrid, off-white lips, turning an almost greyish color as they were shortly found and licked by a medium-rare looking, brown-ish, saliva-coated tongue, panting left to right and flopping up and down. The last feature that consisted of this Werewolf transformation was the tail. A blacker-than-grey tail promptly found the correct shade that was needed in order to match the color-scheme for tonight''s events. Tonight, just after midnight, 1:30 AM, in fact. And Charley Dunne, cousin of the Flintfell Clan''s Chief Leader, was having a hunting party. Marked Alpha The girl ran through the woods, her pink hair flashing tones of maroon and burgundy as the ghostly moon changed the pink to a darker, more neon color, seeking out different hues of red to add to its palette. ''At least we were on the same page,'' Charley mentally cackled and kept being a brilliantly casual player of the game. The woman must have been running at speeds comparable to some of the best Olympians, and still, the fastest pace he''d ever stalked, from the moment he laid eyes on her, was 4 mph. By now, half an hour had passed and it was 2:30 AM. He was getting bored. Werewolf Charley was seeking to add some own hues of red to his "color palette", metaphorically speaking, anyway. The woman didn''t slacken her pace, instead only increasing her velocity as, for the first time in a long time, Charley growled while transformed; "What is your name, puny bitch?" "D-d-don''t kill me - I - I have-" "Absolutely nothing of value to me. Nothing that would incentivize, anyway. Perhaps you could pick up the pace? I have somewhere to be and I''m already furious." "F-f-fu-screw you, stupid mutt!" For the first time in an even longer time, Charley willed his eyes, COMMANDED them, even, to let out an almost blinding yellow beam. His pupils fought as if they were jealous of the moon, which was still hanging quite high above the heads of both lady and gentleman, the fog wisping through the blackened, raised ears that were discreetly analysing every noise that they detected. The woman tripped and Charley growled as he recalled the curse words, two, almost three of them in fact, which were directed at his transformed state. ''I''ll Mark you, slut. A Marked Beta sounds tasty enough. Even if I don''t eat you, at least I''ll have one pack member again.'' Her hands began rising into the dawn-greeting misty air, and he had to supress even a twitch of his mouth at the woman''s bravery. Ignorance, perhaps? Maybe a combination of the two, however probable. Possibly even fear. "Excuse me, sir?" What do you want, mortal minded minion?" "To see you again. Your true form. Your human form." "Ahhh... nice try," Dunne began to cotton on, the concept of playing along and allowing himself to ACTUALLY be manipulated by a woman, a 27 year old nonetheless, sounding rather appetizing at that particular moment. Whether that was because he just wanted to tie her down, rip into her flesh and devour her mercilessly, or because he felt enamoured by the girl''s appearance and personality, he did not know. "I am not trying to analyse you... to study you, to deceive you. I simply would loveeee to take a look at your handsome body again!" Charley felt his eyes sting at the compliment and dropped down to all fours in a blur. His fangs began to rise up into his gums, and immediately afterwards, human teeth (molars, incisors, canines and all) shot out and replaced them. The remnants of any Werewolf Venom were quickly dissolved into flawlessly fresh skin, which was quickly rearing it''s head beneath the ever-shrinking, grey colored fur. The tail was subsequently sucked back into the Wolf''s... ew, yeah... and the charcoal color collided like sword and shield with the moon''s skeletal tints, to produce an inverted, lighter, yet still dark shade of black and white, only once more. The fully grown tailbone was replaced by a human, devolved version that our ancestors used to depend upon, thousands of years ago. The ears of a beast quickly lost all hairs (the ones that weren''t already present), thus managing to return back to brown-tanned mortal ears, lobes and all attached where they should be. And then one final feature was required to be reverted for Charley to consume his humanoid form yet again. His translucent claws, claws like those of a Dragon''s -- thank gosh the Mortals were oblivious to the existence of many creatures -- the claws of a wolf''s were suddenly and piercingly snapped off and had regenerated from nothing but specks of blood, 11 seconds later. His spare muscle mass began shooting into his arms and chest, the form that he originally possessed returning, the superhuman physique came from not only his enhanced physiology, but also at least a decade of weight lifting. Charley Dunne checked his watch for the 12th time that night. April 1st... He let a sigh escape his lips and tried to smile towards the noticeably mortified female, her pretty pink hair shaking alongside her prettier, pinker hands and legs. The 17 year old utilised his gifted senses and focused on the chattering of bone against bone, a jaw slamming up and down incessantly. He nodded and moved in towards the woman with all emotions void of negativity, a heartbeat or two skipping. His hands lowered from their "I surrender" position and Charley almost tore through the material of his black leather jacket in a flustered, clumsy attempt to snatch it from his shoulders. The beautiful female grinned a tiny grin, and with the gentleness of a butterfly, pinched the end of Dunne''s jacket sleeves, giving a polite tug, the movement being quadrupled and the clothing only agreeing to give way on the fifth pull. He inclined his forehead - rough, sticky locks of hair, bonded by rain and the person they belonged to - fell in front of his eyes. Peach skin contrasted sharply with the boy''s own, thin wrists being compared dramatically to the male''s own well-framed forearms, biceps flexing to emphasize. Boyish, emerald green eyes punctured angelical ocean blue, the female''s pupils dilated underneath the fine light of a red morning sky. A stomach rumbled and the activation of Charley Dunne''s Werewolf Super Senses crumbled the rocky doubts that it was his own hunger demanding a reprieve. A third glance was sent northwards in just as many minutes, towards blue tips and even bluer roots of a lady''s enticing, enriched curls, and the introduction of a jacket was instigated, greeting its new friend, a plain white tank top, the sleeves reaching elbow creases, as two arms fell over shoulders to frame a man''s leather overwear.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Hand against hand, fingers interwoven through fingers, racing heartbeat masking an even more alacritous heartbeat and now human-like panting, took up the middle of a pair of Birch trees, standing side by side, their branches connected as if mimicking the behaviour of two sentient beings, as if those two trees had hitherto never known intimacy, been completely oblivious of how it felt to fall in love. If wood could talk, the crispy creaks and groans were fast approaching shouting. Three leaves dropping down captured the inert security of newfound companionship. Friendship. A sparked relationship as lip collided against lip, tongue sloshed against tongue and breath warmed against breath, the frosty oxygen of a cosy four o''clock morning being tested by snowflakes, white balls of puffy, crunchy ice established the mood that was embraced yet unspoken. A lighter sky waved along with its popular seasonal clouds, white against white as if snow was competing against a chance of supressed rain. The potential for this weather was enormous. "I never did get your name?" "Oh, my name is Arabia." "Surname?" "Arabia Quintellwood." "Arabia Wood, then. Pleasure to meet you, I''m Charley." "Surname?" "Dunne. Charley Dunne." "Charley, then. Pleasure to meet you, also." Mocking scoffs interrupted the beginnings of a bird song and both heads swivelled in a general southeast direction. "Father." And a simple glance was all that it took to confirm it. The daughter of a traitor. Twenty guards, one sociopath, and an innocent citizen. Oh, and a soon-to-be dead war General. Knowledge Thirst ''It''s party time.'' The wrathful howls of Markus'' cousin could be heard, and all had identified its source; Macrobotrys Forest. His consciousness faded into focus once more, and a blink through heavy mist confirmed it; his men were only just about to break free from their blood-bursting bonds of thick chain. One stretch of Markus'' right leg had a titanium pole bent in half, and the more drawn out stretch of his left leg had the pole scrape together, making three of his soldiers, at maximum, wince and cringe at the gut-dropping metal moans. He ran as fast as it was possible for a Marked Alpha to run in their weakened state, adding on his experience and innate power levels and he came close to reaching Mach 5 speeds. Just a few thousand kilometres away from what he was aiming for. Either way, Mach 5 was his limit, for now at least, and even Mach 1 would suffice. 30 seconds later his soldiers of the Flintfell Clan were freed from their own bondage, and a swift headcount confirmed that all of the soldiers in attendance came to a total of 130 males and females, adults and children alike, many single fathers or divorced women frequently finding themselves enlisted amongst one or two groups of almost-elderly people. Succession Wolves. "Let''s leave, split up in groups of 10! A number of 13 groups in total. 3 groups take North side, 3 groups head East, 3 groups run South, and 3 groups, as silently as possible, sneak towards the West side, away from our location. The forest is 2200 metres away, let''s move out!" "Nine other people remain here with me! Let''s wait and see what happens. I need my best messenger in this Quadrant to leave alone, scout any of our casualties and report back at the current campsite! Dismissed."
The man with the bayonet sent out three more stabs underneath the teen''s left armpit, and Charley had, admittedly, been holding back up until now. A searing pain emerging from a wound shaped into an X, slashed deeply minutes prior, just underneath his tensed-up pecs, had the young adult lowering his shirt. He felt surprised that there was any clothing remaining on his figure, anything left of him at all. Supposedly, the duel-wielded blades equipped by the man were enchanted by mages of the highest Council ranks, and they had the power to slow or even totally prevent one''s healing factor from working. A fact which was more than confirmed, at least judging by the amount of open, red-raw cut marks that were pressed deeply up and down both of Charley Dunne''s forearms, the blood still richly seeping outwards, the flesh constantly being sloughed off by the pulsing pressure of his desperate veins, blue and red both working nervously to close themselves, and both working as equally as hard as each other. Charley felt sorry for himself right at the same time as an arrow seemed to be moving in slow motion. ''Adrenaline, or perhaps even a Werewolf power. Could be a new-- oh, yeah... the task at hand. Thanks, Mentor Markus!'' Charley publicly giggled at this nickname, and felt no shame of it. He thrust out his brown knees, tanned from the last time he had treated himself to something nice, for the first time in a long time, a holiday seemed perfect, just what the kid needed. A foot connected with testicles and the guard before him had his hat knocked off, yee-yee''ing in massive amounts of agony, his bayonet dropped. To make an example of the man, Charley focused on time slowing down once more. And it happened just as intended. A blinking eye became closed before it had the chance to open, the flutter of a Hummingbird''s tiny wings were freeze-framed, the second arrow nocked inside the man''s bowstring had his hand at a standstill, and a foot narrowly missing his recently-acquainted girlfriend''s head was caught, wedged solidly inside of a motionless, peachy-colored hand. He raised the downed man''s enchanted weapon and slowly slit his wrist, marking the first line in a long series of, well, lines. Cut marks. "No mercy for the weak, you fucking sorry arse bastard. You''ll pay without coins, instead I''m taking your life, and the lives of anybody and everybody whom you hold close to your heart -- if you even have one, lifeless monster." A second cut mark. A third. A fourth. A fifth, a sixth, a seventh, an eight, a ninth, a tenth. ''I wish that "Death of a thousand cuts." was true for you. No, instead of Lingchi, you get dix mille coupures. Ten thousand instead of one. And I shall sit here with a smirk and a scoff, and a bayonet under your arm, and I will slash and thrust. Foot into testicle, knife into heart, and only once I have reached the number "10,000" shall time be unpaused. The Chinese will be hiring me after this. Even the most evil of souls... will have to look at me with kindness... for what I inflict on YOU this day.'' ''I hope you are a religious man, and at that, a man saved by Jesus -- because when you pray, I want God to hear your pleas and recognize my hand as the one that rose against your own to smite you down into the most reddish depths of Hell. And I had to capitalize that word, so you know it must be fucking serious.'' Charley checked his sheets of paper. 500 tally marks on all 20 pieces. After what Charley estimated to be 12 minutes later, he unfroze time, post-double-checking to make sure he didn''t miss a single injury on the puny crybaby before his eyes. Ten thousand holes ruptured open on the man''s skin as soon as time unfroze, and Charley started to howl with enthusiastic, sadistic, ecstatic pleasure. "...AHAHAHAHAhahahaha ha ha ha ha..." The boy drew in short deep breaths, extending the time between each one more and more. "I AM THE ONE THAT KILLED HENRY QUINTELLWOOD." A final howl was rocketed back towards the campsite again, tiny pebbles kicking up dust, amongst their disruption from the powerful vibrations, the howl caused two soldiers to stumble forwards, right into the hands (and blades) of Charley Dunne. Two throats were slit in quick succession, and then a final soldier had their head pinged away and into the treetops as soon as Charley shifted his humanoid head into a wolf''s head, fangs piercing through infected-looking skin and eventually nothing, as the neck of the last guard soon became a short stump of flesh, shoulders being cut off from their attachment, and only a torso, legs and all, was found slumping to the mud patch below its once very-much-alive kneecaps. "Hey Arabia." "Yes, honey?" "How old are you?" "17, my birthday is a month and two days before your own, though. Why''d you ask?" "Oh, just wondering, nothing bad will happen to you when you are with me. No need to panic," Charley turned around and smirked, dropped both blades, and then turned back around with a reassuring smile on his face, eyes and all creasing in an attempt to convince her. "Why did you comfort me? Say nothing bad would happen?" "I said it because you are super young, but just old enough to join up on the battlefield, so I meant that, if you decide you would like to fight, the offer is open, and of course your whole life is in front of us. Both yourself and me. It would be great if we made it out of this fight together." "Yes well, unfortunately, there are hundreds more soldiers approaching." "Hey, don''t worry baby, I was fighting in my normal human form earlier on. As soon as I shift into a Werewolf, any and all injuries that I have sustained will heal. Tell me when it would be best to transform, and if you don''t do it after one minute, then I''m going to take action for myself." "We''re fighting, not convincing, Charley. They already attacked us once." "Listen, maybe they aren''t with this lot. The group from five minutes ago were a bunch of amateurs, pure Un-Mentored fighters. Could smell it on them, and I do mean that literally." Arabia Quintellwood held a pink-peach colored finger to her lips and suppressed a deep, hollow, intense sigh. The urges of a whimper threatened to follow, milliseconds afterwards she found herself approaching the Nobleman''s carriage. "Horse and cart, you''ve done well for yourself here. England, United Kingdoms. Britannia. We are the guards that have been assigned to this post, and we--" "Urkkk!" A spurting water fountain of blood began to shoot from the back of the man''s head, and the steeds began to kick blindly at the Hispanic looking woman that they saw in front of her. Arabia pushed up the woods with the man clinging protectively to her arms, as a group of a dozen soldiers galloped close to the cart, in an attempt to find the Mortal and the Moonbearer. Breaker Charley saw Markus pacing back and forth, his feet clip-clopping like the horses he''d encountered earlier. Boot heels were being scraped over concrete and appeared worn down now, much like his cousin''s own physicality. Charley flashed his eyes yellow and started to see a BPM counter near Markus'' chest, as well as a heart monitor with a line on it, ticking faster and slower, and stopping and starting, each time that Charley''s cousin turned around. Before him, just underneath the Bronze-bark Oak trees, sat a tent. Towards the left side of that tent, there was a campfire, still damp but not burning anymore. Up until this point, Charley had tried to avoid any sort of direct conflicts, but once his leaf Green eyes settled on the neon Jade Vines to the right side of the tent, he sprang into action, producing the bayonet that he had used on the man he fought against beforehand. Strongylodon macrobotrys. This would be useful... His yellow eyes were now being turned orange and Charley saw a man with a trenchcoat and a white top hat on both arms. There, in the treeline, the man still had his back turned to the boy. The teen leapt upwards, high into the air, and within 3 seconds he had reached a height of 90 meters. He pushed off of the air above him, and tucked his legs into his stomach; twisting in order to find the right posture and angle, Charley came down with his right leg, first his heel and then his toes, both connecting with the man, who must have weighed about 270 lbs. The man stumbled four-- no, five times -- and Charley Dunne had simply used at least one percent of his power. That was nothing, and he felt worried for the man, reacting like that over such a measly thrown kick. The thrust didn''t even have any momentum carried throughout it, the end stage of the pose being less than what the young man had previously hoped for. Finding himself disappointed, Charley let himself glide to the meadow below, the campsite now over his left shoulder, his body to the side of the man''s and a new circle of trees surrounding both of them. Charley pulled his top down and found that there weren''t any scars left on his body, not even any outlines remaining. "Must have healed once I killed the Nobleman," he clarified, both for himself and for the mysterious person standing tall above him. The man''s curly, fire-red hair was like a newer, more lively variation of the color that the Amber leaves were sporting, 3 of them slowly swirling down to meet 4 more of their friends on the patchy ground below his black cowboy boots. His silver-grey eyes flickered toward Charley''s Converse just then, as if judging him for his fashion choices, while simultaneously declaring, "Hey, look at me! I''m richer and better dressed than you!" Charley grabbed the white trenchcoat wrapped around the man''s right arm, and then grabbed the even whiter top hat that he had sunken his fist into. Deep inside, a rustling and bustling started to emerge, and then a few squeaks and squeals, and then the brown fur of a baby bunny rabbit, his tiny black button nose twitching from top to bottom. The baby bunny rabbit pounced up and started levitating, and then Charley realised... the man in front of him was a Mage. A Spellcaster. "Well, kid, my name''s Fitch, and my cute friend here is Zooper." His voice sounded like a Wood Watcher being toppled to the ground, a large boom whisking through the air and Earth alike, every time the man spoke his deep, rough, vibrating voice echoed past anything and everything that it could find. The man''s brown skin guided Charley towards one more conclusion; an African-American magic user... That lot had cowered before the Great Orcs long before 200 years ago, and had started hiding themselves well past 150 years after that. 50 years ago, the last ever Tribal leaders joined forces with the Flintfell Clan, and then there was no hope but to continue practicing their transformations. Of course, only thanks to Charley''s great grandparents had he learnt about his history, and while they were teaching him about that, they decided it would be nice for him to get the full education. From the age of 11 months old, Dunne had been taught everything from Geoscience to Cellular Biology, as well as many other subjects, for example; Combinatorics, Knot theories, Algebraic Topology, that sort of stuff. His favorite topic of all time had to be Quantum Mechanics. Charley said his first word as soon as he turned 1, and his birthday celebration consisted of Hoplology lessons within the main sparing quarters. His great grandfather Samuel and his great grandmother Nicole had both been Hybrids, or, if one was rude, half-breeds. His great grandfather was a mix of Vampire and Werewolf, and his great grandmother was a mix of Witch and Faerie, her wings always sparkling brightly whenever she saw her great grandson''s handsome smile. He knew they were both alive, but Charley didn''t really desire any sort of contact with them right now. The last time that Charley had spoken to either one of them was one year ago, and that was only to congratulate Charley''s eldest brother Manuel about his admission into the Spanish military. Now that Charley Dunne thought about it, why should he do something that he had no interest in? The sparing quarters were located within the Fell Mansion, Markus''s great uncle Duncan Fell having purchased it from Charley''s father, Casanova Dunne. Prisha and Casanova... Mom and Dad. What he wouldn''t sell to see them right now. A cancer diagnosis and a car crash. ''The doctors say she has one year left to live.'' Charley felt a hand on his shoulder then, Fitch''s eyes releasing a few tears and his mouth permitting a faint smile. Charley drew the man into a hug. They stayed like that for 1 minute and 30 seconds before Charley felt it was right. So he stabbed Fitch in the stomach ten times, and then rapidly began clawing at the man''s throat. The force started weighing him down, and Charley Dunne, the teenager who had turned 17 just this morning, was now finding himself flying towards a tree branch. Quickly curling up into a ball in mid-air, he spun around and twisted to the left. The right side of his body safely glided past the trunk of the Bronze-bark Oak tree, his heels kicking off from the side in order to push himself forward and down to the ground. Charley felt himself tumbling over and over into the grass and dirt below, and he released a fatigued exclamation of exasperation. He burst into full Werewolf form in just under 1 millisecond, which was of course long enough for the Mage to fire off two red energy balls at him. Charley tried dodging the first but was caught with a blackout spell to the head, and then the second blast lightly tapped his shoulder. "WEAK FOOL! YOU ..." Charley felt the onset of lassitude begin to wash over him, and all he wanted to do... was... sleep... Saviour The man removed any and all protective magical seals, his runes getting absorbed into both palms of his hands. His arms turned green and putrid and then became healthy once more. He removed his Elemental Headband and threw it into his satchel bag. His belt pouch contained a smoke bomb and he threw it into the air with a bowler''s posture, and it came down faster than he sent it up. Fitch then slid his face mask over his mouth and turned around. Straight into a much older, much more experienced Werewolf claw. And then, claws. All 9 of them that were currently hanging free just in front of him. His shield proved unsuccessful, as, without runes, Junior Mages could only perform basic level protective magic, so all he could do was set up a weaker ball of energy around his form. Even this proved to be futile though, as the man in front of him, Markus Fell, Chief Leader of the Flintfell clan, simply pounced through the defensive spell. Chapter 0002: Prophecy 2 Fitch the Mage The man began to flick his wrists and then tug the oxygen in front of him, the older werewolf proceeding to drop to his knees and growl softly in anguish. The pain inducement spell worked flawlessly, so the man began to flick his knees, making the older werewolf faceplant into the razor sharp grass, his face becoming bloody and grazed in the process. Markus Fell tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but the man was not releasing his magical hold over him. As Fitch and his bunny jumped over the man before them, a reverberating THWUNKKK was heard echoing throughout the trees and bushes. The Spellcaster turned his back but only managed to shift his body at a 15 degree angle. Then he felt himself being tackled into a Black Root tree. The Black Root snapped off at the right side and a blunt edged stake was quickly twirling to the ground under its own weight. The Black Root stake would be useful for vanquishing vampires, so the boy that was pinning Fitch suddenly dropped the stake into his satchel. Fitch breathed with a presence of disgust and regret, "Charley Dunne... More like. Charley dumb." And with the last word, the man tapped Charley''s temples in an attempt to knock him out a second time. Yet, Charley was very rapidly growing and learning. Just before the urge to sleep washed over Charley''s forehead, he stabbed his arm with a regular Ash Wood stake. The arm began expelling itself of blood, a waterfall of red tinging and tainting the immaculately fresh spring air. His arm was caught inside of a snake-like grip, and Charley glanced upwards, thus further holding his gaze on the man before him. He felt disgusted by the bitch Spellcaster and now he had the nerve to grab him, to try -- and fail at -- suppressing his limb. The boy kicked Fitch in the throat twenty times, throwing him into a shovel-made ditch with the final leg attack. He pounced toward the iron shovel, snapping off the wooden handle. He then threw the blade of the shovel at the man, pierced the man''s skin with the step of the shovel, ripped the step off inside of the man''s flesh, and Charley then thrust both the grip and the handle through Fitch''s body, leaving him to vomit on his own blue and crimson fluids, his lips getting stained and cold. Charley bit into his skin and then injected his Werewolf toxin inside the wound. KRUNCH. SNAPDid you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
That was all it took for the mage to get knocked out for a day or so. And then, Charley found himself dashing through the forest at a pace that would make Lamborghini cars jealous. His limbs were shown to be a blur to Mortals, but to Markus and Charley, their legs and arms moved at a speed of 10 miles per hour, not at all fast enough for the pair of Moonbearers. The next full moon would arrive in twenty-nine days, and already, the junior wolf was feeling its effects. Charley slowed down time and caught a bluebird in his left fist, then resumed the time to its normal tempo. The Sialia currucoides was his favorite species of bluebird, and back in 2007 he had been interested in Ornithology. That was almost seven years ago now. He pulled out his bread loaf and ripped a strip away with his fangs which quickly popped out, and then he slowed time again, spat out the strip of bread, released the bird, caught the loaf from mid-air, and resumed time once more, all while maintaining his running motion. He then slowed down as they neared the first steps of a giant mansion, the beginnings of a good time slowly creeping up on the teenager. His girlfriend ambushed him at the same time the realisation did; Charley''s graduation party was starting tonight! Her golden locks of hair shone brightly, and her blue roots still poked out through the most gorgeous tones of sandy yellow. Her red dress plunged deeply into her breasts, the neckline showing off a lot of cleavage and leaving nothing to the imagination. Four layers of frills, starting at the pretty lady''s shoulders, and ending at her waistline, completed the garment. Purple lips puckered and creased in time with grey eyeliner and black mascara-tipped eyes, scrunching inwards as the woman''s lips pulled up into a stunning grin, pearly whites sparkling heavily against the iridescent moonlight. Her Salvatore Ferragamo Flower Heel shoes blended in with the shadows of the early late-night mood. Black translucent gloves covered the woman''s polka dotted nail polish, red circles fighting with a dark green background, her fingers sharp enough to slice even the strongest of men''s hearts. She sighed and gently breathed against Charley''s lips.
"Yo yoooo, this is the D.J! WELCOME TO CHARLEY DUNNE''S 17TH BIRTHDAY PARTYYY. WE ARE NOW GOING TO BE PLAYING SUB URBAN: CRADLES. HOPE Y''ALL ENJOY THE SONG! CHEERS TO ALL THE GRADUATES OF OUR ACADEMY." The distinctive sound of an electric guitar began, the first riffs kicking in over the sound of applause which quickly died down. I see the world through eyes covered in pink Cross out-- "...Brother?" He couldn''t believe his eyes. His own sibling... here. Manuel. Charley blinked and rubbed his eyes, subsequently activating his Werewolf super senses, glowing his pupils yellow and double checking that he wasnt just seeing things. He sighed, and then, through clenched teeth, "So, Manny. How''s the army treating you?" Chapter 0003 - Prophecy 3 Manuel approached the speakers at the front of the stage, and whispered Charley Dunne''s name. His sibling turned his head, subsequently, his girlfriend did the same thing and now two pairs of eyes were on his monstrously muscular form. Arabia Quintellwood, the daughter of the German Moonbearer president. Charley, a 17 year old werewolf, trained since birth to be the perfect fighter, both brains and brawn packed away into a flawless package of boyish charm and immaculate manhood. Seemingly lacking weaknesses, Manuel would have quite the hard time pushing past his brother. "How''s the army treating you?" This was the first question presented towards the older man, although he was only older by two days. The 3rd of April, 2016. In two days this would be his own birthday party. Funny how fast time passes when a man is away from home. Even if their sacred bond had been preserved, they would have been exchanging more than piercing insults tonight. Metaphorical jabs would not convey the criticality of the situation to Charley, therefore... physical, literal jabs would need to be introduced. "I''ll try not to hurt you tonight." Now, he realised he had been arrogant, choosing to ignore the question, but honestly the Spanish militia could not have recruited a more enthusiastic person for the job of front-lines fighter. He was an active dutyman over in Puerto Rico, where the summer was cool with a beaming breeze, not a blistering scorch. He rather despised such hot temperatures, and Moonbearers had natural heat immunity after all. It was such a gift to be living this gorgeous life, full of mystery and mesmerising adventure. The actual physiological changes to the now post-mortal form were astronomically awe-inspiring. For one thing, just by blinking their eyes, a trained Werewolf could detect any and all moods by visual sense, but emotions were also noticeable by tastebuds. Furthermore, they could make walls only semi-translucent, far from transparent but still an ability nonetheless. Amaranth was currently the only known Werewolf weakness; Love-Lies-Bleeding being only one of two variations that could even begin to incapacitate their kind. Strongylodon macrobotrys, the counterbalance to the Werewolves'' vulnerability, the vampiric equivalent of their own weakness. Despite popular opinion, at least in Charley and Manuel''s world, wooden stakes would cease to fully neutralise the Bloodsuckers. The familiar, tried and true method of vanquishing the Vampires was to first poison the bloodstream with a purified form of Jade Vine, adding Quartz and Silver beforehand. Werewolves could pick up Silver, so clearly that was another myth, and therefore they were able to kill the Vampires. After poisoning the bloodstream, they would stake the heart, rarely from the front of the heart, from the rear would be sufficient to prevent any possible reactions or blocked attacks to the wooden weapons. The myth about Silver first derived from the Spellcasters, the Axis clan being the first to conjure the rumour. Then, another Spellcasting clan, the Papaya clan, added to the rumours, stating that the Werewolves were only capable of shifting under the power and influence of he Full Moon, and that they must therefore be bound to its effects. Two lies will now be solved, firstly, Silver (mainly bullets) does not weaken Werewolves. Bronze mixed with Copper does that. Secondly, any Werewolves, even Marked Werewolves (the latter being weaker than Chosen Werewolves) are able to shift with their willpower, awareness, concentration and discipline. Furthermore, rankings hold no bearing on this basic transformation ability, meaning that even Delta Moonbearers can shift with willpower, although the first 200 or so shift attempts may be painful, both for Delta wolves and Omega wolves. Beta wolves being stronger than Omega wolves, and Alpha wolves being stronger than Beta wolves, the most powerful two pack rankings are able to shift almost instantaneously, or as soon as they envision the shift, depending on potency and durability of both the user''s abilities and the user themselves. The strength and stamina boosts were simply an extra expansion to the supernatural statuses of all Moonbearer creatures, whether Hybrid/Chimera Wolves or normal, plain-Jane Uni-breeded Wolves. The Delta wolves could lift 100 lbs, when only just starting out, with practice and such the growth limit for one month''s training was a multiplier of 100, resulting in an Delta Werewolf that was capable of lifting 10,000 lbs, or approximately 4.53 tonnes, or 5 short tons if one wishes to get more specific with their calculations. Next were the Omega Werewolves, beginning at a minimum weight-lifting level of 1,000 lbs, and ending up with a multiplier of 500 or so after the same amount of practice that the Delta wolves were entitled to, this more intense training would end up resulting in a strength capacity of -- on average -- 223,000 kilograms, or around 234 tonnes, of course limited and suspended in potential for increase, until the next month of training. Thirdly there were the Beta Moonbearers, beginning at a capacity of lifting 1 million pounds (lbs), after a month''s worth of practice the training would result in a maximum anount of 453 tonnes, or once again, 453,592 kilograms. Last but most definitely not least, the Alpha Werewolves, starting with a capacity of 20 million lbs, after one whole month of practice, they were able to calmly lift a total weight amount of 9,071 tonnes. All of this is not even factoring in the additional titles, such as Chosen and Marked Moonbearers, and for example "Royal" "Nobleman" and "Peasant", so on and so forth.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
The first blow came from a left footed front-facing kick, which was delivered thrice by the bigger male of the pair. The combatants reached for the chair at the same time, Charley''s right ribs being crushed under his brother''s chest as he imposed his weight upon him. No matter how much he tried he could not unpin himself from the bully''s torso, which was beginning to feel life-threatening if he was unable to escape in time. Charley panicked even futher, and here in the midnight hour, he had managed to roll Manny to the side of his own torso, thus ridding his bones of the fat being, which was currently present right in front of his eyes. A Linkin Park song began playing then, ''Numb'' seeming to take up a portion of the lyrics. Drums bashed and smacked at the same exact time that fists connected with noses and jaws, and Charley kept swinging his barely-bruised knuckles into his older brother''s beefy, battered face. His bitch-boy smile only served to further piss off the teenager, and Charley saw his opportunity. Chair leg already in hand, metal began to scrape against impeccably smooth wooden floorboards, as the sounds of desperate, almost pleading breaths, began to drown out screams, which only grew weaker and weaker in the still of the night. A dimmed disco ball flashed overhead, dimly highlighting blood and then focusing its spotlights on any othet areas, as if even the inanimate objects surrounding the fighters were repulsed by the gruesome scene. Rubble and dust clashed and collided into Charley''s spinal chord, and he turned his head to find Fitch with both hands raised, fingertips meeting the horizon, currently, purple shadows of magick were being aimed at the liquor racks lining the back of the wall. Charley glared all the way around Mage Flame Manor, green eyes turning yellow both by the lights overhead and also by the Werewolf Super Vision ability. A heart monitor quickly popped up over his older brother''s head and Manuel sighed, hastily deducing his plan. Charley decided to switch to something that held a little more risk within itself. And then -- BANGGgggggg!! A cross, a hook, two uppercuts, four jabs to the chest, two more (one to both eye) in rapid succession as Charley brought up his right kneecap, managing to score a confidently placed black eye, causing the Spellcaster to immediately thrust one hand up towards his left cheekbone, the East-facing side of the ugly witch''s visage was currently untouched. Time to change that. Soon enough, he had him where he wanted him, a headlock. As Charley was placing himself into the crouching position, a solid BOOM of magickal energy was enough to flip him upwards and over the Mage''s hairline, his shoulder colliding with very recently polished floorboards, a clawed hand reaching up and over in order to grip a collar bone. Dunne flipped up onto his feet from a laying down position. Right in this second, the intended effect was achieved. Time, for the third instance in just a little over two days, was slowing down around Charley. Pursed lips and love-struck eyes came to a standstill, a golden dress being pulled up with both of the woman''s beautiful hands, her beet-red face buried inside Markus'' neck as she watched the scene in front of her unfold. Masochistic knife-twirls were stopped at the literal tipping point, and the handles balanced on the men''s thumbs were being suspended in thin air, merely supported by chronokinesis, the quantum forces being more than generous as one iron-tipped kitchen knife came foolishly close to poking out the eye of one man''s nephew. As Charley began to stare at said nephew, he recognized him, slowly but surely growing certain of the fact that the boy, who was no more than a few months older, was Charley''s middle school mentor. Far from the days of hopping home sweat-drenched and mud-covered, his gym instructor was seemingly annoyed by his uncle''s presence in his life. Joel Everwest. Could it really be him? Charley shook his head with anxious curiosity as his temples began to blaze and set themselves alight, the symptoms of a quantum induced headache becoming increasingly noticeable to Charley over the last half-week or so. He counted out 600 seconds, and on the 601st second, his watch-hands lazily resumed their ticking into existence, once more reminding the young man of just how mature he was now. Chapter 0004 - Prophecy 4 Castle Grave -- Outer Walls -- Main Entrance -- South-West Gates
The vampire walked past a sign that read, "Bloodsuckers Anonymous", which in hindsight, wasn''t a great title for their group. This was supposed to be a covert operation, and if The One were present, all eyes would be hypnotized by him, their minds willing to further obey and complete the assigned tasks, with twice as much intensity as was currently present. The One... an ancient Diety first discovered in the Ordovician ages, when they were first starting to form, around 440 million years prior to this very second in time. Of course, that doesn''t mean that The One is as old as 440 million years ago, just that his kind; the vampires, discovered The One at the time they did. The One, also primarily titled, "§£§à§Ù§ß§Ö§ã§Ö§ß§Ú§Ö §ä§î§Þ§í", and secondarily titled, "The Darkness Descension (Zej?cie ciemno?ci)", and then tertiary titled as, "Die Herabkunft der Dunkelheit". c. 0 seconds (13.799 ¡À 0.021 Gya; the agreed upon time within which The One founded all matter. The known Omniverse came precisely nine minutes before "c. 0 seconds (13.799 ¡À 0.021 Gya". This event was also known as "The Cosmic Causality". Despite popular opinions, The One was not malevolent in his nature, rather, frequently disappointed by what should have been ... inexorably loyal minions. They weren''t so devoted to the Monthly Movement. The one thing that Harra¨½ had learned from his time being posted here, was that nobody questioned a literal god. Not THE god, no, that title with a capital "G" was reserved for Christians. The Only Way To All Goals, also called: T.O.W.T.A.G. T.O.W.T.A.G, or just Tow-Tag, was a reflection of The One''s followers'' collective willpower. Tow-Tag was the Ash-Fade Clan''s religion. The Ash-Fade Clan were known specifically for their sharp intellectual prowess, they were admittedly the brightest in terms of mental acuity. Found within the lower ranks of the Order of Eagle, they were specialised in the skill sectors of combat manoeuvres. Their battlefield strategies were unrivalled and frequently pondered by lesser men; dimwits whom could simply not fathom the worst of their abilities, not for the life of them would they ever get close to the Clan''s secrets. A warrior''s code is not to be uttered by civilian scum. In Harra¨½''s eyes, the commoners should be thrown out with the rest of the trash, considering that they were just as worthless, and they stunk more or less the same, if not twice as much. Human embodiments of rat-shit they were ... good riddance to the wankers. A whole group of Peasant piss-pots had been spotted last week, Friday, in fact, and they had the NERVES to be standing underneath Craven''s Bridge. Let alone to be smoking there, for Plainbloods to be stinking up the area with incessant chatter, it was bad enough. He wondered how Uncle Mark would feel, with regards to the Clan''s troubles this past month, he needed to outsource advice, instead of letting biased lips speak to even further biased ears. The only words worth hearing right now would be those of family members. Mark Hastyr, Harra¨½''s uncle, and strangely enough they shared a surname as well as two middle names.
He wondered which side he fell upon, the Bloodsuckers... Or... The Moonbearers?
Charley Dunne was currently flying through the ceiling with intense momentum, suspended in a two second freefall before gravity released her potent grip on his slender, sullen body. He was feeling bitter about the present circumstances of the fight, because he was losing. And Charley knew that he was a winner. He''d come out victorious this day. As he landed, the young adult male pulled his elbows into his six-pack stomach. Then, he waited. As soon as he saw the superior Moonbearer crash through the wall, he thrust both palms toward the hole that remained in the bricks. He hit his target and soon saw his brother, Manuel Fell, flying through the air from the force of the unexpected Telekinesis.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Charley pounced from the end of the Fell Mansion to the edges of the forest of Castle Grave, passing the middle point connecting the two locations; Flintfell Fountain. A quick static-sounding flood of water passed his eardrums as he aimed a perfectly delivered A¨² Aberto kick in mid-jump, somersaulting thrice, before landing into a Queda de Quatro, further pushing his own blood brother into the dirt and grass. He flipped over a misplaced kick, grabbing Manny''s left leg and pulling his whole lower body into an Escorpi?o kick. He shifted his body weight, slamming both of his shoulders onto his older brother''s right ribcage. "GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH'' Charley slammed Manuel''s windpipe into his kneecap, and he placed both hands on his head, one on the back of his neck, and the other hand cupping his jaw with a warm palm. He pushed his right knee while simultaneously snapping Manny''s head off of his body. He placed his tongue to the stump and sucked the blood dry, before chucking the head of his deceased relative into the ditch, which was dug out of the ground nine meters diagonally behind him. The head landed and rolled, and then Charley grabbed the broken shovel pieces on the floor, quickly meshing them together and re-fitting them, the shovel being repaired. He turned, expecting to find nothing but clear patches of soil, mud, and scarce patches of crops on the earth beneath his feet. Instead, he immediately received a face full of gray ash clouds and black smoke. He supressed a single splutter, salt-flavoured saliva threatening to give away his presence as he rushed to a hiding spot behind a Black Root Oak Tree. All efforts would slowly end up being rendered almost futile, though, as the young adult male found himself being ambushed from the side of the tree that he had his pack towards. Fitch the Spellcaster launched Zooper at Charley, who furiously swatted the rabbit away with a mighty kick of his boots. As he drew his legs back from the tightly compacted blow, the once much younger boy tucked his knees underneath his pecs, lining up the crouch. As soon as the older man even so much as twitched a finger muscle, Charley launched with his full Mach 1 speed into the Mage, completely stripping his flesh from his bones, as the shockwaves from the force and utter impacts pushed back treetops and brown stumps, getting dangerously close to snapping off from the soils they were so densely rooted beneath and inside of.
THE PROPHECY A man dressed from head to toe with all white clothing gripping his legs and arms. A man dressed from head to toe with all black clothing gripping his legs and arms. The two antithesis beings shuffled to face each others'' torsos, their eyelines matching up and becoming levelled, silver glitter balls staring straight through golden glitter balls. The Acidisium Ore, forged and shaped into eyeballs, functioned just as intended. As both deities faced their respective podiums, they howled with guttural-sounding wrath. "Garanmou" "Bishyxna" Two more gods spoke their names, and white archways boom''ed and fwoosh''ed, lights that are instantly blinding to humans appeared from the empty spaces. The beings blinked, and they saw a pair within the respective lights then; in that very attosecond, two new universes had been manifested from godlike powers, the existences of both universes stemming from their eyes closing and opening.
END OF: THE PROPHECY
Chapter 0005 - Bridges: Part 1 Harra¨½ was walking through Craven''s Bridge, and he peered over the cobblestone wall to his left. He sighed and zipped towards the entrance of Castle Grave, arriving in ten seconds and stopping to crack his knuckles before entering. "This is the first board meeting of the day... I wonder how it will go, Mark?" All electronic devices are prohibited beyond this entryway. Harra¨½ Hastyr deposited the expendable burner phone into the trash can. All smoking devices and further recreational items are prohibited beyond this entryway. Harra¨½ Hastyr lightly and begrudgingly placed his cigarettes onto the Dark Seed wood. The surface of the table shook with the pressure of his fingertip and he smiled. He lifted his pinky finger [(digitus minimus manus)] and thumb from the cardboard material and stopped once more, in order to stare at the box. ''Smoking kills. If you''re human.'' Harra¨½ still chuckled at that. The most subtle way he was able to convince Plainbloods to kill each other was by getting them to kill themselves; with diseases such as cancer, and weak-minded self-indulgences. Those freaks'' willpowers truly were downright hilarious ... at times. Then it got to the point where even HE had to pity the "Ungifted". He liked that label, and, for those born with seemingly no advantages in the way of supernatural "gifts or abilities", it was almost a compliment. Some other terms he enjoyed using, included, but were not limited to; ? Vulnerables ? Generalities ? Witnesses ? The Blinded ? Oversights ? Ex-mutants ? The Pre-powered ? Exploitations ? Weaklings ? Flailers ? The Puny ? Rejectionists ? Presence Pushers ? Creature Crunchers ? Post-Poachers All weaponry and accessories accompanying such objects are prohibited beyond this entryway. Please subject your persons to a voluntary strip-search prior to attending any scheduled events. Harra¨½ flickered his eyesight from the final sign, and ended up staring at a man''s dishevelled facial hair. A white beard bunched itself upwards and over the heavy male. Heavy? Chubby. Fa -- "Fat CUNT!" Harra¨½ looked towards the pink-haired midget of a female, her scabbard resting on her forehead and threatening to cut her eyepatch. Her red and black striped shirt and a skull-and-crossbones flag on her black leather short-shorts gave away the fact that she was a pirate. Island Scavenger. She was disguised poorly, even if she was trying to blend in. "HEY! M-" "MORON" The third person now, a green mohawk-bearing tiger, was currently standing on its hind legs. Manly nipples were rising and falling in time with flexed triceps and thigh muscles. Thumbs. Two. Thumbs. Opposable. The jungle animal was currently gripping a B6 sketching pencil and a white notepad, the metal binding politely clumping the sheets of paper together. In its free hand, the blue skinned tiger was spraying some liquidated hair gel onto the aforementioned green mohawk. It was positioned in front of a mirror, and it was wearing a tuxedo. Its sharpened claws were very softly scratching its scalp, tufts of hair tipped with black and brown colors swaying from the movements of its right hand. "I see. You--" Harra¨½ began to smirk. "I what, FREAK?!" The tiger had apparently snuck up on Harra¨½, a two hundred year old... vampire. That should not have been possible. So... a navigator and geography expert, a master of stealth, and a ... whatever the overweight man was, he was clearly the leader of their group. His skills would be deduced with time. An hour or so should do the trick.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. "Freak? Listen pal! I-- "No, you listen here, you little fang-faced fuck mouth. My name is Stapha, and I don''t handle new people that willingly. So, unless you wanna be a Lion''s dead lunch, you should watch which toes you''re treading on. And at which times you do so." Harra¨½ felt himself being able to breathe again as the tiger released his grip on the shirt''s collar. Vanquisher Vampires couldn''t die, but they still had weaknesses. The need for constant oxygen being one of those weaknesses. A reluctant exhale of small relief was expressed through flared nostrils, and the Bloodsucker''s eyes stopped their stinging sensations as the room fell back to normal temperatures, whatever normal was in the eyes of immortal beings. "Stapha, you didn''t have to go that far. I''m sure he''s a kind stranger." The tiger turned his back to the Vampire. His buff, almost sculpted back. "Damn it. How emasculating..." Harra¨½ whispered this last thought for fear of being heard. "Yeah, well Axxen, he didn''t have to push me that hard." The pink haired female rolled her eyes and displayed compassion within them, staring at Harra¨½ and tilting her jaw to one side, a cute tongue appearing from parted, plump lips, decorated with purple lipstick. Axxen''s skin, tanned and darkened from its obviously pale natural tones, was outshone by the chandeliers'' lights. Harra¨½ returned an empathetic smirk and drooped his head towards his grey fur-lined hiking boots, his shoulders falling in time with a planet-busting exhale of warm winter air. His breaths would produce clouds of clear white puffs, but luckily, the Bloodsucker was inside the Headquarters. "NEXT EMPLOYEE! CALLING NEXT EMPLOYEE TO THEIR WORKSTATION." click click click click click click click click click. click. click. click. Black rubber heels stopped near a white wooden archway. "I.D. please." ''Order of Eagle Level Two ¡î Floor Eighty Clearance ¡î Twenty Years Veteran Service'' Harra¨½ punched his knee with his fist and flipped his I.D. to the second page, cracking his knuckles simultaneously. ''Order of Eagle Promotion Progress ~ 91.57% ~ Next Promotion Ranking ¡î Order of Eagle Level One point Six'' "Hey mate. Identification is required to move beyond this yellow marker. See this on the floor? Well only Level Three or lower can cross it. So if you are Level Three or above Level Two, feel free to enter. Unless you have acquired stolen documents?" Harra¨½ smirked and clicked his heels together at this assumption. "Hey asshole, today has been tedious. Nauseating. Perhaps you''d be willing to let me through?" He stared at the man''s forehead, searching for any sweat drops or frown lines as the command was being processed. "Jeez geezer, mind control only works for Werewolves. Go find a Moonbearer and come back to me. And don''t ever call me an asshole again. Understood?" Harra¨½ grinned. Just as planned... "Fine. I won''t call you an asshole, POFA-7. I''ll call you... an Australian asshole. Understood?'' Before any response could be provided by the rusty Android entity, the Bloodsucker blurred away into the tree-line of the forest. POFA; Planner of Foreign Acquaintances. Harra¨½ Hastyr always did despise the bloody things. Clusters and clumsy clumps of coding, kiddy scripter programming, all shoved away and cramped up inside hollow technological morons. Two organisations of fools, made almost entirely of Titanium. Maybe they truly were hollow, nobody above Clearance Level Zero was knowledgeable about which other materials were stored and secured behind the metallic armor. Not even Clearance Level [(C.L.)] One point One was informed of that secret. Harra¨½ was twelve years old by the time he joined the B.A. Vampires group, and he was sure Uncle Mark would be proud. By the time he turned eighteen, he had already gained Clearance Level Five, and by the time he was thirty one years old, he had achieved Clearance Level Three. Level Two was afforded an achieved by his newly inherited fortunes, some seven billion pounds. All bank notes. Right now Harra¨½ was contemplating what would occur if he were to waste half of that money solely on Clawfang Inn''s premier vodka. Alcoholic beverages were a first for the Hastyr boy, and at the age of only fourteen, the son of Othemius Hastyr was finding himself waking up with several hangovers within one day, at least three times each week. That nasty habit continued for three concrete, solid years, before the man managed to clean himself up and get rehabilitated. Seven months after Harra¨½ Hastyr''s eighteenth birthday, Othemius passed away from a rare bone disease, which caused the body''s natural bacteria to go rogue and attack its own host, the only difference between that disease and cancer being that it didn''t regenerate quite as quickly. The bone disease, which caused the antibodies to chew their way through the marrow and gums, quickly progressed into stage two; rotting of the kidneys and lungs. At age seventeen, Othemius had one kidney removed, his left kidney, and then two days before Harra¨½''s birthday, which was January third, his father''s right lung finished its complete deterioration. His funeral was held with a budget of ¡ê1,000,000, on the tenth of February. His three Aunties attended but were placed in the fourth row of the Church pews. Othemius'' disease was known as Xanavar One Two, yet it was written as ''X. 1-2''. Harra¨½ had spent 13 years, 7 months and 8 days studying and researching every single tidbit and crumb of information about X. 1-2. In the end, he became an expert in Biology, Chemistry, Physics and Meteorology. He also knew a little over half of the world''s Topology information. Chapter 0006 - Bridges: Part 2 The bed calmly slowed down to a stationary state. Together, they finally collapsed onto the pillows, and Charley moved the sheets over her. Werewolves don''t get cold, so he just stared at the ceiling. He glared at his watch; 10:34 PM. He timed out 10 seconds and watched as the big hand ticked to10:35. He hopped off the edge of the bed and bolted outside with a swish of wind. There, in the distance. He saw him. Panting heavily was avoidable, so Charley successfully kicked up a rock with his right foot and slammed it with his left knee. The rock kept spinning around. Sharp side, blunt side, sharp side, blunt side. The pointed edge of the rock narrowly missed his chin, and a small white mark, most probably grazed skin, could be seen from where he was standing. The left fist came from the right side of his head and he swivelled his torso in a 180¡ã arc. The first uppercut came from the south-east direction, and the young Moonbearer had to flip to the side. He glanced at the sword on the woman''s back. First I''ll neutralise the lady. Then I can knock the tall guy out. "A katana? What are you, a Ninja?" "No, I am not a Ninja," the thick Japanese accent pierced the cold, stormy air, "I am a Samurai. Do not discriminate against me because of my gender." "Ugh... damn feminists. I was not--" "I AM NOT. A FEMINIST!" Charley sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Do not dis--" "Yeah, heard you the first time." The Werewolf leaped into the treetops and clung onto a thick branch enmeshed with blue and red vines, the thorns protruding from the sides of the leaves and wood. He wasn''t scared, really, but yesterday was... enlightening, it had ended up providing clarity to the way Charley should feel when he was fighting. And it was exhilarating, energizing, and enchanting. He had discovered the healing factor as well as the knockout powers while punching Manuel. His supernatural experience was rapidly multiplying. The rustling echoed through the atmosphere, and the woman glanced upwards, staring through the mass of green, brown and amber. "Charley! Come out now - and your death will be swift - and mercifully delivered!"Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Silence. The breeze picked up again, and the woman drew the leftmost blade from its sheath. The tip of the sword scraped the birch tree trunk. She was a Tricenarian, and she was in supreme physical condition compared to her younger peers. Her thighs flexed and she leaped after the young adult Werewolf. Charley Dunne remained hidden within the leaves. He flicked his claws from his fingertips. A cough masked the noise and he quickly sprung up to the overhead branch, a twig snapping off in his right hand. Two raspberries fell into the snow. Gentle crushing noises travelled from 12 miles away, smashing the Moonbearer''s eardrums with the harsh sounds. The older adult male dashed around five trees and glanced up towards the boy. His lime green fringe of hair covered his eyes, masking his acknowledgement of the enemy. A crunch emanated from the white powdery substance and frost trickled down to a lower branch. The older man completed his jump with a roundhouse kick, impacting the Birch tree''s wood and making the leaves crumple near his left boot. He brought his right knee back around for a second kick before he would begin falling. Charley shook on the branch and he made sure not to breathe, or at least, if he did, he would make slow and subtle movements with his mouth. He swallowed a gargantuan gulp of air and took extra care not to wipe his sweaty palms with his coat sleeves, or else he would lose his grip and start rocketing toward the snow below him. The woman was currently swinging on Jade Vines, chopping down plants that were too thick tothrow herself from. A twentiethka-shink of her katana shot along the pathway and in between the trunks and dead (or dying) stumps. Her boot heels clicked and clacked on the cobblestone road, and she spotted a towering, jagged canyon, half a mile northeast from her current direction. She lowered her head, stared at the cabin twenty meters up the hill, and began to jog at a faster pace than before. The older man, meanwhile, was searching for the younger man... the only Moonbearer that was among the trio...
The Wanton Warrior and the Two Ton Thief
The man and the woman soon became acquainted with one another. They knocked on the door and spoke the ancient code, thereby signalling their newfound alliance with each other, and the beginning of a few beautiful days of friendship. "So, what brings you out to my part of the woods, Allie?" "Well, Blakey Boy, I''m on a ''business trip''. Why''d you ask so many questions this year? Last time--" "We don''t talk about last time. That''s reserved for Board Member Officials only. There''s a non-disclosure document." "Looks like you just broke that contract, then." "The contract wasn''t just verbal. It was soul-binding. You complete arse-hat! Allie... I swear."clink, sip, gulp. "Blakey Boy, stop breathing so -- hard." "Allie, I told you to stop ca--!" Both heads swung towards the direction of the doorway, where the silhouette of a shirtless Charley Dunne appeared. The raindrops continued sliding down his ears and chin, and he shrank the umbrella, allowing himself inside after once more (unbeknownst to himself) closing the latch again, locking all three humanoids within the cabin''s walls. Chapter 0007 - Bridges: Part 3 ONE YEAR AGO - AMERICA Indianapolis, East 34th St / Sutherland Avenue The Fird¨¨lyand Apartments, Block B FLOOR 21, ROOM 10 -- ROOM 12 19:00 PM / 7:00, Friday, May 2nd
"Queixada!" Charley saw his Cocorinha and quickly redirected his left leg down towards his shoulder blade. "Uncle -- Armada!" Charley''s uncle thrust out his right foot and the Moonbearer caught the kick, spinning twice around and predicting a mid-air body slam. His hands grabbed the two bamboo poles that were protruding from the pair of green training mats, and the boy pushed to the right, instantly making his superior relative fall to his left. The boy was laying down on the wooden floorboards, his eyes were 90% closed and he could barely even see the older male''s silhouette. Charley twitched his fingers and watched as his uncle bent down to check, then front-flipped and delivered four knee hits to his uncle''s neck. "Playing dead, hmmm? You cheating bastard!"NyAAAaaaaH!!!!Charley gripped his elbow muscle and double checked to make sure he hadn''t broken it. He immediately glanced over his shoulder at the metal bump-lined baton. He moved his gaze upwards and saw his uncle''s dark grimace bashing waves of hatred into his soul. "M-m-Markus?" Markus Fell dropped down to the ball of his one foot, the other foot currently losing the presence of a black metal-heeled combat boot. Now shoeless, he removed his socks and removed the evil look from his face. "THIS, CHARLEY! THIS... This is what your enemies will do. This is what an enemy willBE. Ruthless, indomitable, unpredictable, and antagonizing. They will plan to murder you, they will relentlessly attempt to murder you, and the day shall come where they will succeed in murdering you, prior to laughing in your STALE, LIFELESS FACE -- ABOUT MURDERING YOU!" "No... n-no, Uncle Mark... My clothes..." "Oh, blood.. yeah they''re, they''re stained. Let''s change you. I don''t want my favorite nephew being uncomfortable in his own apartments. You''re rich and I''m a legal guardian." The urge to resist smirking at that final sentence became strong for both parties.AHEMMM.hack, hack A final cough arose from each humanoid, as the doors to the walk-in closet automatically slid open. "Be nice when Fird¨¨lyand''s rebuilt. You can swap not sleeping in apartments... for not sleeping in a mansion. Whenever we train for 10 hours, you do make a bloody mess." "Well, I guess it allows me to learn from my mistakes." "You shouldn''t be making mistakes by now, then." Markus held up a green tuxedo over his nephew''s nude torso, and secretly admired the tattoo on the boy''s back. He opted to ignore it. Gotta let the kid have fun some day, right? "My suit! My sleeves expose my weapons. I need to be stealthier." "Well Char-char, maybe we can get the personal tailor to fit some old era clothes for you. 1800''s perhaps? Rural Japan sounds delightful... Ninja... Samurai... all manner of pleasant men and women protecting us with theirOWNweapons. Katanas, Tessen, Tanto?" "Uncle, when I said I wanted to inspire people... I mean--" "I know. But you''ve definitely improved. Just sign up for more combat classes!" "I''m already ''fluent'' in....sigh Capoeira, Jiu-jitsu, Kung Fu, Taekwondo, Kajukenbo, Dim Mak, Kyokushin, Pugilism, Ninjutsu, Vale Tudo, Krav Maga... And that''s ignoring linguistics knowledge. I did say I''m fluent." "Fifteen years training... You''re 16 now. It''s quite impressive."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. "Nope, it''s..." I glanced into the mirror and began matting my hair and brushing it backwards, "a bunch of time applied wisely and fruitfully. My loved ones doing all they can, in order for me to be as secure and happy as possible." drrrrk drrrrk. drrrrk drrrrk."Let me answer that, Charley. Be back right away."
PRESENT DAY - ENGLAND, UNITED KINGDOM, GREAT BRITAIN, EUROPE.
West Brompton SW10, London, Rango Road, Steep Street Kento-Kamma Kourts, Royal Oaksbridge Tennis Klub Seat 7B, Stand 2A, Table 09 23:14 PM / 11:14 PM, Tuesday, April 5th, 2016 (Manuel''s 17th Birthday)
JOELEVERWEST
My sweater and tracksuit trousers were ever so lightly swaying within the breeze of the tennis courts. The current match was Rafael Nadal versus Andy Murray, Tim Weir versus Jack Devine and Greg Weir versus Conor Smith. I kicked my feet up onto the chair in front of me, and my daughter''s pretty face was caught in a lovely grin. "Hey, princess. Are you cold?" Her polo shirt was barely covering the crease of her elbow, and her full forearm was exposed to the cold air of the Spring night. "Naw daddy, I''m goo''h, thank''z thou''gh!" "Hey nigger, shut up or I''ll shut you up! Tryin'' ta'' watch this damn first round! First game of tonight! Fuckin'' niggers, man..." My face rapidly began to heat up and I clenched my fists, subsequently cutting my palms upon hearing this appalling language. I stared over my seats at the culprit and became aware of which row he was sat within. The same one as mine... He was a Caucasian teenager, most likely thirteen years of age, and he was wearing a red jacket with the hood pulled over his head. He probably had a shit haircut anyway. I took four deep breaths and turned back around, clutching my daughter''s hand without raising either of our arms. I thumbed the pistol inside of my waistband and clicked my shoes together, suddenly becoming way calmer thanks to the simple piece of metal held in my black jeans pants. It could either kill someone, or protect them. Luckily, I wasn''t opposed toeitheroutcome of choice on that particularly fateful night.
??? H??? ???¨º?
PLAYER SET MATCH POINTS
MURRAY, ANDY 1 2 +15 (x 1)
NADAL, RAFAEL 1 2 +0
I glanced back down at my impeccably pale white sneakers. My favorite player was losing... damnit! I stopped slapping the edge of my chair with my left hand and was still holding Gretel''s hand with my right. Her mother, Karli, was currently at the nightclub, and she was almost always pre-occupied with a new work colleague or.... client, this did make some huge wads of dough, but we were bored of the "happy family" routines. I wouldn''t be happy unless I got a divorce. She wouldn''t be happy unless my daughter and I were both out of the country together. Chapter 0008 -- Bridges Part 4 PRESENT DAY - ENGLAND, UNITED KINGDOM, GREAT BRITAIN, EUROPE.
West Brompton SW10, London, Rango Road, Steep Street Kento-Kamma Kourts, Royal Oaksbridge Tennis Klub Seat 7B, Stand 2A, Table 09 23:14 PM / 11:14 PM, Tuesday, April 5th, 2016 (Manuel''s 17th Birthday)
13 Days Earlier -- March 23rd, 2016 9:07 PM
What is wrong with my daughter? I''d only tried to inform her of my stance on such matters! PFFT, foolishly arrogant! Maybe she is on her period? Or... hmmm... pregnant? I saw a test that said "Positive". I am confident in confirming this lie, sometime next month perhaps. To be truthfully honest, I don''t care whether or not the bitch dies, but, well, I did promise them... didn''t I? sigh five years ago, I wouldn''t have hated her, but, they were once again right... nothing good lasts permanently. Anyways, I better make sure my soldiers know which location to diverge upon once the preliminary final is certified as an official test mission. In six days, my team will be prepared for deployment. I''ll make sure of it. Cause I never fail. I''m the king in that way. Success is my spirit animal. Nyehehehehehehe!
I shall clean my eyes sometime tonight. The last time I checked, it was midnight. I''ve been crying for hours now. Why did my father speak that way? If I had only informed him of Sanjit''s party, maybe.... we wouldn''t be here now. I blessed him with my life and he just threw that away for nothing special. I was a replacement.Itisnot fair. WhyamIalways theone thatgets hurt?Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Three Days Ago, March 20th, 1:00 PM NYC Napalmcorp Rocker Studios, Germanic Offices, Section 2
"§Á §Ú§ß§Õ§Ú§Û§ã§Ü§Ú§Û §é§Ö§Ý§à§Ó§Ö§Ü. §Á §Ô§à§Ó§à§â§ð §á§à-§â§å§ã§ã§Ü§Ú. §±§Ñ§Ü§Ú§ã§ä§Ñ§ß§ã§Ü§Ú§Ö §Õ§â§å§Ù§î§ñ - §Ý§å§é§ê§Ú§Ö." "Okay, Sanjit. Thank you for coming in to the interview. This session is now over." "§¬§à§Ô§Õ§Ñ §Ó§í §ã§Ó§ñ§Ø§Ö§ä§Ö§ã§î §ã§à §Þ§ß§à§Û? §®§ß§Ö §ß§å§Ø§ß§à §Ù§ß§Ñ§ä§î, §á§à§Ý§å§é§Ú§Ý §Ý§Ú §ñ §ï§ä§å §â§Ñ§Ò§à§ä§å." "Don''t worry about not receiving a phone call. We shall inform you of our decision within three weeks. There are a lot of candidates and we don''t feel comfortable rushing our selection process. Please take this leaflet here." She hand me piece of paper, it say about job offer from other company. Very nice. Blue and red cover with green pages on inside. I shake hand and wish good day to woman. Her name Linda Pearl. My name Sanjit Woodlin.§³§Ñ§ß§Ø§Ú§ä §£§å§Õ§Ý§Ú§ß. I open door. Arabia see me from across street. I look at New York Billboard city advert and I smile. I see my§¢§à§Ý§î§ê§à§Û §±§Ñ§á§Ñ§ê§Ñ face on advert. Grandfather. Mahmoud Shaheel. He turn recent widow just last year. Anyway, so, I turn back to my ex-girlfriend. Her hair shine in sun but I not impressed. She always been attractive but I need to leave. So I run home -- four and half mile away from current location. Address is Park Hyatt. Presidential Suite. Amount thirty thousand for cost. Rich, inherit grandma''s money, also older sister fortune after she dead.
"SANJO!" I called out my ex-boyfriend''s funny nickname. He mustn''t have heard me. I shouted again and he continued running, this time flagging down a taxi. The right-hand passenger side door opened and he entered the back, swiftly slumping his weight onto the brown leather seat. Flashes of blue became illuminated under streetlamps as the car''s metallic sheen flickered down the road and around the corner. I myself took a hard right and quickly hopped into an open car. I wouldn''t usually steal cars but I was really desperate. "E.Durable Torx Security T6ScrewdriverTR6." A bit small, but...thud thunk thwock thwack ... click "Finally." I strapped my seatbelt around my left shoulder and slammed the door, quickly pressing my foot hard onto the gas pedal.
Chapter 0009: Cabin -- 01 PRESENT DAY -- AMERICA Indianapolis,East 34th St / Sutherland Avenue The Fird¨¨lyand Apartments, Block B FLOOR 21, ROOM 10 -- ROOM 12 19:00 PM / 7:00, Friday, May 2nd
THE UNITED KINGDOM ENGLAND Vixen Avenue Suffolk, Kesgrave Somewhere NearLegion Green, Loyale Lane,Kesgrave,Ipswich,IP5 1NN 03:05 AM, Wednesday, April 6th, 2016
Rohan Slick. That''s my name. As for where I was on the First of July last year? I was mining some Oxydenium Ore. Inside The Acquired Vehemence Mines, for short; A.V.M. I saw Demmarld Nen Smart enter the courtroom and tap his cane three times to signal his introduction. "All those present please rise. Remain standing for the duration of the defendant''s first testimony. Thank you." "First victim of the attack. Millage Kram. Please step forth. Begin relaying your own version of events, and let''s see where the evening takes us." "Okay. Well, that day, at around 9:30 AM, I had managed to procure some primary evidence of the blackmailing schemes. All plans and procedures had been carefully detailed -- blueprints and maps that were very meticulously planted, scheduled and ordered -- with the intent for the very last two actions to inevitably lead to my sister''s downfall. My two daughters had previously selected two prime examples of forgery. These items were later handed to the officers that had been stationed seven blocks down the road." "Could you please tell me more about that night -- such as the suspect''s personality? What about his family? His abilities? Appearance?"This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. To start off I''d like to announce this; I know the name of the Kore-King Killer. But to arrive near that point, we have to go way back... the birth of my husband''s stepsister... And how she gained immortality without gaining vampirism."
France, 1347 Place Boivin,Saint-Etienne Monday, February 28 1:13AM
" Bonjour, ma ch¨¦rie. Je n''ai pas pu dormir la nuit derni¨¨re. Je ¨¦tait rest¨¦ ¨¦veill¨¦. J''avais peur d''une embuscade." "Ne faites pas attention ¨¤ ?a. Maintenant, nous devons commencer le rituel du sacrifice. Ensuite, nous pourrons nous adapter ¨¤ la deuxi¨¨me ¨¦tape. C''est l''heure de la position hypnotique. ?a devrait t''aider ¨¤ t''entra?ner au Chi psychique." "O¨´ est l''enfant ? Toujours dans ton ventre?" "Oui, Grashi, la fille est vivante. Mon estomac est presque rempli de s¨¦rum impr¨¦gnant." "Tr¨¨s bien, alors. Il est temps de l''ouvrir." "A?e! ?a me pique la peau! ARR¨ºTE DE ME FAIRE DU MAL. S''IL VOUS PLA?T. ARGH." "ARR¨ºTE DE CRIER. ILS NOUS ENTENDRONT. CETTE NAISSANCE SE VOULAIT DISCR¨¨TE. CACH¨¦ AUX YEUX DE L''ORDRE."
Nine Minutes Later
"Enfin, c''est fini... merci Seigneur!" "Eh bien? Vous voulez donner un nom ¨¤ votre enfant?" "Oui... Je vais l''appeler...." "Quoi, ma ch¨¦rie? Quel nom pour votre beau b¨¦b¨¦?" "A partir d''aujourd''hui, que ma reine soit connue sous le nom d''Arabia." "Arabia. ?a a l''air d¨¦licieux. Et son nom de famille?" "Son nom de famille ? Eh bien... Quintellwood. Quin pour quintuplet, c''est la cinqui¨¨me. Pr¨¦venez ensuite pour information ou relais. Et du bois. Du bois pour sa gloire naturelle, ses feuilles qui soufflent dans la brise." "Arabia Quintellwood."
"That was her name." "Well, Kram, thank you for your preliminary testimony. All those standing, please be seated." "And so it begins."
"Hey man. What''s up?" "Aahh, Samuel. Wassup?" "Not much Hacker. What about you?" "I''m busting mah own shots. I ain''t afraid to tear up this whole block if I have to. Gonna find the adolescent freak." "Which one? There are three of them." "Aahh, we can forget about Manuel for now. And Arabia Wood is off limits. The Boss told me so himself. Nah, for now, let''s take out the martial arts master." "Well you''ll have to be quick, buddy. Charlie''s gonna move faster than a bullet." "Oh, don''t worry about that, Sam. Who needs guns to kill the boy when you have his family members?" "What are you thinking about doing?" "Naahh, I''ve already done that shit." "DONE WHAT?! TELL ME NOW!!" The resounding echo of a torso colliding into concrete ripped through the alleyway. A sadistic twist of the corner of Hacker''s lip, now growing wider, was cut off prematurely by his own declaration of war. "Paid him." "Who did you pay, buddy? Please?" "Markus. I paid Markus Fell." "How much?" "As much as Harra¨½ gave me. And let me tell you... ahahahaha -- the payment wasnotvoluntary." Chapter 0010: Cabin -- 02 "Glorious Lammas! Have a Glorious Lammas! Get your bread here! I say dear boy... Madam? Monsieur... two? Ahhh... ten pounds! Ten pounds for two kilos of bread and milk! Buy four and get a discount I tell you!!" "I''m fine, thank you. Just the two. I''m thirsty. Uhh. How much for bigger milk bottles with the food bundle?" "It''s seventy pence extra for a half litre." "Take eighty pennies, then." ¡è "Thank you." "Are you good at carrying things? Not too heavy?" "No siree. I''m working out with 100 kilograms of weights on each side. It is not too heavy. Appreciate the gesture. Good day to you and your delicious food stall!" "Would you also like 400 teabags for your first purchase? Free -- on the house!" "Yes please. I tell you brother, this weather..." Fingerless gloves were instantly thrust into the pockets of a black trenchcoat. "Too much snow for you? Mister..." "Rivers. Sam Rivers." "Edward Indigo. It is my highest pleasure to meet your acquaintance!"This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. A clammy, soot-stained pale hand made contact with brown fingers and both arms shook with steadiness and accuracy.
5 Minutes Later
"So, what brings you to this wonderful city? South London is a great place but Southwark''s Tate Modern isnt much to look at. Me, I''m an art enthusiast myself, but... still." "Funny you should mention that. I''m in town for guitar practice. I am a singer-songwriter. Music is a fine art, one of the best in fact, and..." "And what? Wh--" "No!SILENCE boy. I hear something." A clawed finger was raised in the air now. Edward sighed and pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, then tilted his head back and to the left."The right side of myself. There."Edward began to point with his thumb now, bringing the clawed finger on his left hand to his chin and resting his jaw securely on his palm.Edward glanced upwards with a sincere sense of arduous adventure. He was proudly aware of the tedious nature these three tasks would present, yet he was prepared for it. He turned to his newfound ally, Samuel S. R. Rivers, and he grinned. The 63 year old man was in peak condition, for both his age and his species. An Aetherisum Combination ... basically, their own name for someone being a mixture of more than one supernatural creature. Being... a Duo-brid, for example. Or a Tres-brid. He was an Aethered werewolf (50%) and Orken creature. Orkens were a race of green-ish tribes, and their personalities were also green. These seven foot tall beings were obsessed with recycling, protecting the environment, and so on. Orkens had ears that were more pointy than the Elven tribes, bellies that only Ogrens could hope to fill, teeth that Tailens (Dragons) would be jealous of, and tracking and hunting capabilities that Darkens (Were-Beasts) should be aiming for. Their roars and tempers were not so friendly, though. The Orken-Wolf began to shift, and Edward blinked. Time slowed down to one attosecond. Samuel was now stood there, his grey-spotted white fur being puffed up to the extremes.