Disclaimer: I am not the owner of Worm or the Nightbane setting. I make no money for this, it was written for my and other's enjoyment. Primarily my own.
Parahuman, it is a term created to label those who had powers. Such people have an additional part in their brain. No one knows why some people have the potential to become one while others don't. Or at least, if anyone does know they aren't speaking. Since their first appearance in the eighties the world has changed. It had become darker, more hopeless. Gangs had arisen which no normal police officer could hope to face. Seemingly unstoppable mass murderers who cut a bloody swath across the USA too had become the norm. And then there are the Endbringers.
Endbringers are called such because they are unstoppable, unkillable, and are driving humanity towards it's inevitable extinction. Not that the public at large knows this last fact. There are three of them. One of fire, one of water, and one that came from the vastness of space. Each has destroyed cities, sometimes whole countries. With each appearance many on both sides of the conflict, hero and villain, die. When one of these monstrosities appears it's a good day if only a third of the defenders parishes.
What gives someone the chance to become a parahuman may not be known. But what actually gives a person their powers sure is. These events are called trigger events. If one were to imagine the worst possible day they could possible have, they might be close. Such events are traumatic and always leave mental scars. Is it any wonder that villains outnumber heroes in most major cities? Parahumans got their powers after all when they hit rock bottom. When things get so hard the person brakes, that is when the rare man or women suddenly gets powers.
This is a relatively new phenomenon. Parahumans have only existed for three decades or so. A drop in the bucket when compared to the history of mankind. The world thinks the appearance of Scion was the first time something extraordinary had occurred. The public is wrong. Dead wrong in fact. There's a shadow war which has raged for as long as mankind has existed. This war is for the heart, soul, and very life of humanity. In this hidden conflict champions are rare. And we lose far more often then we win.
But if no one were to fight, then the monsters would have free reign. And make no mistake, for the monsters you disregard as myth and legend are all too real. When old maps said "here there be dragons" it wasn't superstition. When Stephen King wrote his novel Needful Things he was documenting actual events. And Wes Craven didn't just write a horror movie for New Line Cinima, he was putting out a warning. As for me, I hunt that which stalks humanity. I walk in dark places so you can live safe in the light. And when I fall, others will take up the torch.
You who read this, know that it's now your turn. If you're holding it, I am dead. And if you can read it, you are already in my world. It doesn't matter if you want to fight or not, you wont be given a choice. For like me, you are the bane of the Night. And like me Evil will seek your death or corruption. So heed my words. Learn to harness your gifts, and regardless of how horrific they may seem they are indeed gifts. I can't know what gifts you have, but there are some that all Nightbane possess. And I will guide you as you discover what you can do.
To start with, I have to apologize. You aren't human, not anymore. And maybe you never were. That's something that's never been proven one way or the other. I call you the Bane of the Night or Nightbane because that is what our kind are. There are stories, old stories mind you, that speak of a formless shifter that was nearly killed. This formless one was nether male nor female, it just was. It was attacked by something, the tales aren't clear what exactly this 'something' was. It was merely called "the lords of night".
According to legend, we are the fragments of the Formless One. Or maybe descendants of it. I'm not entirely sure. Either way, us Nightbane share similarities with parahumns. We're born to humans, and we initially appear human. Or maybe we are human initially. As I said, this is unclear. Either way, until a specific moment we're indistinguishable from the rest of humanity. That all changes when we first shift. The cause is different for everyone. I know someone who first shifted when his baby daughter was stolen by the fae. I shifted for the first time when a werewolf tried to kill my family. Someone else I know shifted the first time when her husband revealed he was a mage.
The point is that it's not always the worst moment of your life, unlike with parahumans. Usually however it occurs during an encounter with the supernatural. Note that I said "encounter", not "attack by". Such encounters aren't always hostile. And you'll find allies in places and beings you might not have expected. Speaking of shifting, I imagine you're still in your true form. Or as you might be thinking of it, your monster form. You'll probably be glad to know that you're not stuck like that. We can indeed resume our human appearance. This form is usually called our facade. Our monstrous form is usually called our true form. Although I like to think of it more as our battle form. It can be horrifying or unearthly beautiful. Or any variation in between. But regardless of what you look like, your battle form does give you unique gifts.
But you're probably wondering how to return to your facade. Well, here is what you need to do...
XxXxX
She came to in a field with books growing like flowers all around. This was a stark departure from where the girl had previously been. A rattling sound caused her to spin in place. The next thing she knew barbed chains had wrapped around her. Getting loose took several painstaking, and painful, minutes. Only then did the girl realize the chains were secured to her forearms by meat hooks that were thrust through the arm. The wounds thus caused were raw and oozed blood on occasion.
Horrified, the girl fell backwards. The hell?! She thought. Trying to pull the hooks out did nothing. Although she did notice another change while frantically trying to remove the chains. For the first time in her life Taylor Hebert had a bust. An impressive one at that. This wasn't the only change. Soon Taylor discovered she now possessed a pair of wings covered in black feathers. Her cloths too were different. Gone was the hoodie and jeans she'd worn to school. Instead she was garbed in a leather bustier, black tights, and thigh high black leather heels.
Her hair too seemed different. Before it had been shoulder length and brown. If honest with herself, Taylor had been rather proud of her hair. It was her best feature. Now it appeared to reach the middle of her back and was as white as freshly fallen snow. The chains when she finally examined them each proved to be two feet long. The loose ends also were vicious looking meet hooks. Eventually she finished taking stock of herself and turned her attention back to the field.
One of the books appeared more substantial then the rest, somehow. So she picked it as if the book was indeed a flower. An action which which both looked and felt weird. It was titled Defending the Night, and was written by someone named Azreal the Dream Walker. As she began to read Taylor's eyes widened comically. Initially it had seemed a book on parahumans. But the author claimed to be a solider in some sort of secret war. The claim sounded ridiculous. Magic after all wasn't real. Although many of the tips in the first chapter did seem to work for her.
Among them was the advice on how to return to a normal appearance. As the barbed chains withdrew into her arms and he body shrank Taylor released a sigh of relief. It was also a relief that her cloths returned to normal at the same time. Following that success she practiced switching between the two forms. The advice actually helping made her even more sure the unknown writer had been a parahuman.
Another part of the book had been a treatise on the many known 'talents' of what the author called nightbane. It took several of hours worth of experimentation to determine that none of them were what she possessed. Well, other then being insanely strong and more agile then normal she didn't possess any of them. Eventually the only ones described she hadn't tried was entering what was called the 'astral plane' and 'river of dreams'. Strangely, the way to attempt both ws identical. Reading over that section of the book again, she thought focus your potential energy internally? How do you do that?
XxXxX
The first real sign of trouble was the multiple police cruisers and CSI van parked in front of the school. Although this didn't truly alarm Sophia. She had been half expecting this sight ever since she'd first enrolled in Winslow High. Thus she was more curious which gangs were involved. As the african American teen approached her locker however she began to feel a little uneasy. Police tape was blocking he hallway. Why the hell are those morons by her locker? Sophia though with annoyance. Fuck, that stinks. I can smell it from here. Didn't anyone clean it yet? Smells like she died in there. Heh, would serve the bitch for not knowing her place.
It was then that Hebert, the girl she'd been targeting for almost year fell out of the befouled locker. There were cuts and contusions covering the girl's body. Seeing this, one of the officers knelt down beside Hebert. Whatever was said, it was too low for Sophia to hear it. She saw the Hebert girl struggling to her feet and pointing at Sophia in accusation. Moments later she heard the distinctive sound of Armsmaster's motorcycle puling up. Panicking, she shifted into her shadow state and dived through a wall.
Several more walls were bypassed, and Sophia dropped through the floor into a boy's bathroom. Confidant now that the officers wouldn't know where she is, the teen threw both her Wards phone and personal phone into a trash can. Glancing in one of the mirrors brought Sophia up short. There was an eerily beautiful angelic woman standing behind her. Her wings were black as night and folded up behind her back. The woman was easily seven feet tall. But the most distinctive thing was the chains hooked through the angel's forearms. Chains which writhed in the air as if they were alive.
The horrific angel glared at Sophia, then spoke in a melodious voice. "You! A ward? You are no hero. You're just another monster. And you know what happens to monsters..."
The chains lashed out, painfully tearing into Sophia despite being in her breaker state. Soon one of them wrapped around her neck and started to lift Sophia into the air. Breathing was now painful. As her vision began to grow dark the angel again spoke, condemning Sophia... With a scream she awoke. Her body was covered in sweat and her sheets were a tangled mess. A glance at the alarm clock showed that it was a little past two in the morning.
"Not again," Sophia managed to get out between gasping breaths.
"You are no hero," a voice whispered.
It was a familiar voice. One which Sophia had heard too often in her dreams for the last month. Spinning around, she saw the horrific angel from her dreams floating through the wall. That's my brother's room! She thought in panic. Only to hear a crashing sound coming from that room. Diving through the wall in her shadow state, she saw the angel wrapping her chains around what looked like a teddy bear. Only the stuffed animal had pointed teeth and was holding a butcher's knife. When the toy growled angrily Sophia found herself frozen in terror. Mutely she watched the fight, if one could call it that. Soon the demonic toy fell to the ground, no longer moving. Once that happened the angel vanished as if she'd never existed.
It was with a shaky hand that Sophia called in a report of what had just happened.
XxXxX
If it wasn't for the remains, Piggot wouldn't have believed Shadow Stalker's wild claims. For the last month Shadow Stalker had been growing increasingly erratic. Her sleep had been restless due to frequent nightmares. The most the therapists had been able to get was a "monstrous angel" was stalking her dreams. But not what those dreams actually were. But now she claimed this nightmare was after her in the waking world as well. It was in a word ridiculous. Yet The evidence of a fight was clear, and the remains of a living stuffed animal were all too solid. Or at least they had been for three hours.
Which meant a parahuman was going after Shadow Stalker in her civilian identity. Since from the description this was probably a recent trigger, the question that needed to be answered was 'Why Shadow Stalker'. Another important question was how this was being done, and if the toy like creature was a creation of the unknown parahuman. With such thoughts runnng through her mind, she turned back towards the endless flow of paperwork.
Only, she couldn't read any of it. Each page was complete gibberish. And when she tried to call her secretary, nobody answered. Contacting the Protectorate proved to be useless as well. It was as if nobody else was in the building. Then the door to her office started to open. Piggot reached for the pistol she kept holstered underneath her desk, only it wasn't there. With the door open, Piggot tried to see who was on the other side. Only the hallway was pitch black. From the inky darkness steeped a white haired giant of a woman. Her ebon wings flapped a couple times as the figure stepped into Piggot's office.
"You need to wake up now," the figure said in a melodious voice before vanishing.
The intruder alarms were what woke Director Piggot up. Looking around brought to her attention a disheveled and filthy teenage girl. At least, she assumed it was a girl based on the blood soaked clothing. The girl looked to be maybe fifteen, possibly sixteen. She was thin and it was clear the youth had yet to have her final growth spurt. This was made evident by the way the teen's mouth was slightly too wide for her face. Her hair was brown. Or at least the hair that wasn't matted with blood was brown.
"Did you know Sophia Hess was bullying me?" The teen asked. "Did you know she tried to kill me in school? That she shoved me in a locker filled with rotting tampons and hungry insects? Don't answer. Emma's guilt has been given life. It's hunting the wards, and I can't stop it alone."
AUTHOR NOTES:
I'll be honest here, I was inspired to start writing this after watching A Nightmare On Elm Street (original and the remake). But it's not a Nightmare on Elm Street cross. It is a Worm/Nightbane cross. Nightbane, for those unaware, is a pen and paper rpg published by Palladium Books. I went with the idea that the main bad guys of the setting, the Night Lords, had planned to launch their takeover of Earth a couple decades earlier then in the setting's cannon year of 2000. Only before they could pull of Dark Day the Thinker entity crashed into the nightlands, killing most of the night lords who were collaborating on the project.
For this story I rolled up Taylor as a nightbane, coming up with Flawed Beauty for her morphus appearance. Rolling some additional times, I got Physical Perfection and Fallen Angel from he Unearthly Beauty table, and two stigmatas. The first is Eternal Wounds, thus the hooks painfully embedded in her forearms. The second stigmata was "stomach tentacles" from the Between the Shadows supplement book. This I modified to be the chains instead of her intestines launching out as tentacles.
As for her nightbane talents, both are taken from Between the Shadows. The first (and free) one is Dreamer, which lets her physically enter and leave the dream realm. The second one (which had to be bought) lets her physically become an astral being, thus enter the astral realm. While I started this tale with the intention of it being a full multi-chapter story including a prologue where Taylor first learns of her powers, I'm not sure where to go with it now. The Living Nightmare obviously would be a main foe for the story. Think Freddy from the Nightmare on Elm Street series, only living nightmares were never human.