Greetings once again o loyal reader. Welcome to my first attempt at a Werewolf tale. (It's true, there is no Marv, Harris, Blue, or Anne in this story!) As shocking as that may be I think it is still a very good story and worth your time to peruse. Basicaly this is a story that sprang from a simple question I once asked. Whatever happens to the heroes when the story ends? They've fought, bled, suffered, lost, and learned from the experience. So...what happens next? This story is also about heroism and respect. It is about growing and becoming. Please join a group of old and powerful friends who have managed to end a great evil, and see what has become of them and meet the fresh young blood who grew up in their shadows.

Fall of the Heroes: A Tale of Detroit

Chapter 1: The Gathering Storm

The dream was always the same. They were all there again, trapped in the dark bowels of the earth. Battling for their lives in the shattered temple of some corrupt god. Below them the green muck of the accursed birthing pits bubbled and popped. Belching forth hideous aromas that burned his nose and pained his eyes. Strange, shapeless masses crawled from the pits, the beasts swarming upwards to crush and destroy him and his friends. But they had a plan! The Black Crystal, the house of Tyranthraxus's soul. All they had to do was destroy it, destroy it to end the madness and save the lives of countless humans.

The swarms of the pit pushed in around them, trying to crush their very souls. Marn, mighty Marn, his claws and fangs drenched in gore as he fought the hordes, stood proud, urging them all on to greater glory. Behind him crouched Quentin, protected from danger by the skilled Galliard. Quentin, his magic strong within him, prepared the ritual that would send the Black Crystal into oblivion. They had to protect him, and so he battled the hordes. His vision swam with the mindless brutality of the fight. Snowflake stood next to him, her fur shining white and splattered red with blood. The magic swirled around the shattered temple, the earth cracked and splintered. Rends-the-Darkness howled as he ripped into the hordes. Quentin neared the finishing of his spell. Suddenly First-to-Find exploded, his body torn apart by a wave of darkness. Malise, the mad sorcerer had finally arrived. His dark magic spun about him as he tried to save his temple and his god. Blood sprayed and flowed across the floor. Spells clashed and sparked in the air. Spirits screamed in pain and died. The earth itself was cracked open around them, below lay only the unimaginable horrors of the pit. Claws flashed! A throat was torn! A hero fell. Darkness swarmed in. The end came.

"Nooooo!" A ragged scream of despair. The dream ended, he gasped in fear and felt again all the old pains. His face was dripping with sweat, his breath hissing in his lungs. His head pounded, whether from terror or a hangover he was unsure. Nor could he bring himself to care. He looked over at the scattered and empty bottles of alcohol laying around him. He finally sighed as he spotted one still half full. He reached out and grabbed it, the amber liquid sloshing reassuringly inside the dark bottle. Half full....did that make him an optimist? He drank it and allowed the booze to dull his senses. Dim his mind. Somehow...somehow make him forget.


Jake waited amongst the trees. Next to him crouched Denise and Dennis. The fraternal twins glanced over at him, the eagerness in their eyes easily matching the gleam of excitement in his own. Tonight, was their night, tonight was their first hunt, tonight they earned their names. Jake once again shifted the few branches he had chopped down in order to hide his position with. He pulled the leaves in tight against him as he looked towards the direction of their target. He could now hear them coming, clomping and bouncing through the trees. Their high pitched and nasally voices an insult to his ears. His eyes narrowed as he caught the first scent of them, it was sickly sweet and churned his stomach.

But Jake forced himself to concentrate, he wouldn't become sick and weak just at the smell of them. No, he would rip them apart and earn glory for himself and for his caern. He scowled as he remembered his home. The worried looks on the faces of some of the elders as they had watched him and the others go out. The elders questioned whether he and his friends could manage, whether they were capable of gaining honor in battle. But the elders had sent them out anyway, the war had long been taxing, slaying the most capable warriors. Jake and the others would be needed if his caern was to survive the upcoming battles.

The voices were closer now, high pitched and shrill to his ears. But he was Ahroun, born under the sign of the full moon, born to be a warrior. He would not flee, he would not weaken. Nearby Denise and Dennis also grew ready. Though they were Ragabesh, tricksters and sneakers, they too would be needed as warriors. Jake recalled the words of the elders. All of them were warriors to the cause first and foremost, all else was secondary. No more were the three pups all smiles and eager nervous energy. Now they crouched and waited patiently. Ready for the battle. Ready for the hunt. Jake found himself recalling the tales of glory that had been spoken of to him in the caern. Legends of the greatest of the warriors who had fought and died for the cause. He offered up a silent prayer that they would watch over him now. Give him the strength to rend his foes. Give him the courage to bring honor to the caern.

The voices grew louder as their owners came into sight. At first glance they appeared to be little more then a gathering of five excited children and their nurse or mother herding them along. The woman even carried the remains of a picnic basket under her arm. Some of the children held the blanket upon which they had enjoyed their feast. Jake scowled, he did as the elders had taught him. He looked beyond their human faces, forced himself to try to view their true image. Once again he fought the urge to be sick. Their true faces were marred and twisted images, horrors that shouldn't be allowed to exist. He steeled himself for his attack. He knew what he had to do.

Denise and Dennis also grew calm and ready. They were all thinking the same things. They recalled the warnings of the elders. That the beasts were frail but held within them dark magic that was to be respected and avoided. But he and the others would have surprise on their side, they would strike before the little abominations knew what was happening. Jake grinned to himself as he started to reach down into the deep pit within himself, called to the power he knew awaited him there. He invoked the names of the heroes of his caern one last time. His only hope was that he would claim enough kills to make even the elders take notice of his skills. His eyes glinted as he felt the power within him swell, felt the animal urges sweep through him. It was time!


"An then I went and rode a pink pony all round the house," exclaimed the excited boggin as she pranced along in front of Puck. The pooka nodded in amusement as the childer continued to spin the story of her fanciful dream. The other childer all listened and giggled as the story now included the appearance of Arienkel the Sage, the venerable Sidhe had apparently been reduced to running around the house and trying to chase down the boggin and her mount. Puck forced herself to appear to laugh as she rolled her bright eyes upward and almost found herself wishing Arienkel was here.

Ever since she had bested him in teaching a young childer a lesson on the nature of the world Arienkel had withdrawn from wanting to teach the young faeries anything. As a result Lady Ayloshia had decreed that Puck would take over until such time as the respected sage felt ready to resume his task. She wrinkled her small beak-like nose as she shook her head, it all seemed too much like responsibility to her. She smiled in relief as the boggin's tale finally ended. She would be happy when she got the kids back to the freehold, they had been out too late and night had fallen on them. Puck crammed one of her hands into the large pockets of her orange pants as she walked along, she knew she was going to be reprimanded for keeping the kids out after dark.

"Hey Puck, tell us a story!!!!" She staggered forward and dropped to her knees as Twilight hopped onto her back and wrapped his hands tightly (and, noted Puck in annoyance, painfully) through her blue and green feathery hair. His cloven feet dug sharply into her ribs as he clung to her as Puck started to think of what punishment to mete out for his rudeness. However, in the next instant she was wishing to give the wild satyr a hundred stories in exchange for his jump. Even as she dropped to her knees a large black shape had burst from the underbrush and sailed through the air, claws hissed above her, slashing through the space her head had been but instants before.

"Monsters!!!!" The childer all howled as they started to scramble about wildly. Puck quickly grabbed Twilight and dragged him off her back as she stood up again. Two more of the beasts were rising up from hiding ahead of them. The first had smashed his face into a tree when he had missed her, but he was quickly regaining his feet, shaking his large head about as he turned back towards them. Puck's multicolored eyes narrowed as she eyed the creatures. They were misshapen horrors. Long and lanky they all stood over eight feet tall. Thick, prickly black hair coated them in wild, almost random patches. Their mouths were filled with shark-like teeth, huge black talons sprouted from their massive curled fingers. Their eyes glinted with a sickly green, madness filled glow. Puck knew well what they were, and how at risk her young charges now were.

"Black Spirals," she hissed, "attend, to me, attend!" Her usually squeaky and humor filled voice now cut sharp and hard through the freshly fallen dusk night. The young faeries quickly rushed to her, crowding around her as the three monsters began to move in, watching them carefully. "Listen to me," urged Puck, silencing their fearful cries. "I shall distract them, and you will run. Run straight back to the freehold. Do not pause, and do not wait for me! Do you understand?" They quickly nodded at her, their eyes fearful. Puck then grinned as she looked up at the three Spirals, her hands digging into her pockets as she charged the two that blocked the fastest escape route.

"Rarggh! Kill!!!" Behind her came the hoarse cry of anger from the first to attack. His heavy, pounding footsteps raced towards her. She started rushing the other two, the panicked childer following along with her. Puck rushed straight at the two Spirals. They grinned as they rushed to meet her, blood in their eyes. One of them raised its mightily clawed arm as it neared, next to it the other barred its crooked rows of fangs. Puck's hands lashed out of her pockets, they opened as she snapped them towards the Spiral's faces. Two clouds of itching powder slapped into the shocked eyes and mouths of the two monsters, they reared back, momentarily blinded and coughing in shock.

"Run, run now!" Puck motioned the childer to continue on. Twilight led the way, his horse-like legs quickly carrying him past the two visually impaired beasts. Puck spun around to look at the last of the creatures. It howled wildly, the call sounding like a warbled and twisted call of a whippoorwill. Puck sprang to the side as the beast lunged, its claws hissing past her sides and only narrowly missing her. She rolled up to her feet in time to see him smash into his two friends, sending them all to the ground in a startled heap. She turned and pulled out a spring which she dropped on the ground. She hopped onto it, and with a loud sproing was launched up onto a thick branch above her.

"Get off," snarled one of the Spirals as it kicked another back. One of them was simply curled up on the ground, fingers wildly wiping at the dust on its face as it wailed in pain. Puck shook her own hands, more then feeling the effects of the powder, and glad she didn't have it in her eyes. The one who had almost killed her twice stood first, his dark gaze looking down the path towards the distant shapes of her fleeing students. Her eyes narrowed, better get his attention, and quick.


Jake hissed in anger as he shoved Denise off him. Nearby Dennis was down on the ground and mewling like a newborn cub. Jake growled as he stood up and caught sight of the fleeing little brats, he grinned, he could still catch them, and then...his thoughts were cut short by an irritating and sing-song voice from behind him. "Aww, lookit the stinky daw-awg. He is as dense as a lo-og. If he weren't so dumb, he'd turn around some. And try to get my Po-og!" Jake spun around in annoyance. There, on a high branch of a tree, stood the oldest of the fey creatures. She danced and capered upon the branch as she sang. Her arm was thrust forward to show him a small round piece of cardboard with the picture of a smiling face sticking its tongue out. He scowled, Pog? Why the hell would he want a Pog? What the hell was a Pog? Why the fuck was she showing him a Pog!?! His vision swam red in annoyance as she danced around.

"I'll Pog you!" Shouted Jake in half snarls as he charged towards her.

"Oooooh, I'm worried noooow," she chimed in her aggravating voice. Jake's vision blurred into a red rage as he charged and leaped towards her, his powerful legs springing and pushing him upwards with all his might. The fearie leaped up and grabbed onto a smaller branch above her. Jake's claws caught at nothing as he smashed hard into the branch. He scrabbled for a handhold and ended up dangling underneath the large limb she had been standing on. Even as he cursed his own foolishness and failed attack he again heard her burst into singing rhymes. "Oh mighty hunter I'm scar-ared. Look how poorly you've fare-ared. You tried to hit me, but just caught a tree. Now of the ground bewa-ared!"

Jake looked up in confusion, wondering what she could mean. She grinned at him as she hurled the Pog at the juncture of the branch and the tree. There was a sharp crack as the Pog hit, and then a loud creak and pop. Jake's eyes widened in terror as he suddenly realized that she had blasted the branch off the tree. He plummeted down into the foliage, and smashed hard onto the dirt. Then the full weight of the thick branch smashed down on top of him. Jake moaned in pain.

"Arrragh! Kill you bitch!" Denise scrambled to her feet and charged the tree madly. She slammed into it full tilt, there was a series of horrible popping sounds. Denise was tossed back, some of her bones broken. But as the tree shook there was a yelp of surprise as the fearie's grip slipped and she fell off the tree and into a bush. Dennis grinned in glee, he ignored the wounded moans of his fellows as he scampered towards the bush. His eyes burned and itched, and his vision was blurry as he leaped into it and started to rip the plant apart.

"Where!!!! Where little fucker," he growled. He looked around again, and suddenly paused. There! He could see the bright gleam of her orange pants and yellow shirt! She seemed to be waving at him! Dennis howled as he charged forward, his head down and claws out. He moved as fast as he could, his black form a hiss in the darkness as he rammed full tilt into her. He felt bones and cartilage snap and pop as he was hurled back hard.

"Oh the wolf I will mo-ock! He went and rammed a ro-ock. He'll hit his head, though he wished me dead. But my image was an illusory cro-ock! Jake roared as he hurled the branch off him and sprang to his feet. His mind seethed and bubbled in mindless anger as he turned to look at the capering figure. She turned and saw him, he flexed his claws, drool slavered from his maw. But she only giggled. Jake snapped! With a wild howl of madness he rushed for her, his claws hissing through the air wildly in front of him. Her hands sank into her pockets, but he didn't care. Nothing could stop his rush, he was moving too fast, he would have her! She tossed a spring on the ground, right in front of his descending foot.

"Waaagh!!!!!" Jake was hurled into the air, he smashed hard into some branches. They ripped and tore at him as he splintered through them. Then he slammed suddenly into a trunk, he heard the crunch of bones and felt a stab of pain as he started to fall. Lacking the force of his ascent, the descent was more embarrassing by far. He bounced and thumped off branches as he fell, spinning and twisting as he met each new obstacle. Finally he crashed hard to the ground, his vision spinning and confused. He saw the faerie hold up her other hand, cupped in it were three very small glass containers holding a pale piss yellow colored liquid. He grunted as he started to stand, just let her get close! Instead she hurled the glass objects at him.

"I'm gonna take a chance and roll some di-ice! You are ugly and full of li-ice! I toss these at you, so you'll smell like a shoe. I hope it'll teach you to be ni-ice!" The containers shattered as they struck him. Jake gagged, oh no!!! Stink bombs! She had just tossed three stink bombs on him! He reeled back as the pungent smell assaulted his keen nose. He scrabbled and rubbed his face in the dirt, wildly rolling around as he tried to wipe the stench off of him. He heard the giggling and tinkling laughter of the faerie as she made good her escape, he couldn't quite bring himself to care. He rolled about a few more times, gouging into the thick dark earth as he tried to remove the smell, but it wouldn't come off!

"What the hell was that?" The voice cut through all of Jake's problems and made him sit up in surprised fear. Dirt dribbled off his face as he turned slowly to see the figure walking out of the shadows. Kendar! Kendar, The Head Collector! Jake staggered up to his feet as the dread champion of the tribe walked forward. He was in his homid form, and wore his heavy trench coat and hat pulled over his face. From the shadows under his hat Jake could still make out Kendar's dimly glowing yellow eyes. The fearsome Ahroun snarled at the three of them, his fangs visible even in his human shape. "Get on your feet whelps!"

"Yes, lord!" Whined Denise as she shifted back to her homid and hobbled over to Jake, holding her limp left arm gingerly. Dennis came slower still, he too had shifted back and bore a massive purple and black bruise across his face. He scowled as he spit a few broken teeth from his mouth. Jake shifted back as well. He hung his head low as Kendar walked towards them. Denise and Dennis both sniffed the air and took a few not so subtle steps away from Jake. Kendar pulled a cigar out of his pocket and crammed it into his mouth as he eyed them.

"If we didn't need every warrior we could get our hands on I'd kill the three of you on general principal!" They lowered their heads further. "If this is the type of scum Whippoorwill now has serving him then I shed a tear of concern for what our future holds!" They cowered as Kendar stalked in closer to them, "but you are needed, the Wyrm needs your courage and your claws. Do you still wish to serve the Great Wyrm?"

"Yes!" They all howled at once. Jake's eyes burned with fervor, yes, let him serve. He would make Whippoorwill proud, he would slay the foes of the sept. Let him serve! Kendar grunted at them, his eyes narrowing.

"Very well, we shall see. But I warn you, if you fail. If you make even one mistake. Then I will personally rip your heads off myself! You are barely worthy of even serving as sacrifices to the Wyrm, much less warriors....do you understand?"

"Yes!"

"Good...come, kneel before me!" They stepped forward and dropped to their knees. Kendar raised his hand and lowered it to hang slightly over their heads as he howled up into the sky. "I curse thee Luna, thy strength we take from you for our own ends. I spit on thee Gaia, thy power is no more. I bow to thee Wyrm, thy greatness is unquestioned. I beg of thee, take unto thyself these three warriors. These champions of thy will." Jake felt his heart swelling with pride as he and the others quietly chanted to themselves, promising their hearts, bodies, and souls in service to the great Wyrm. Even the slight chuckle in Kendar's voice as he spoke the next words couldn't take the moment of glory from Jake. "Please accept them, they have proved themselves in battle for your glory! I name them for you, I give them new names to honor thy magnificence, to cast aside the old lives, to dwell only in a world created by you!" Kendar stepped back, his eyes blazing as he pointed at Dennis. "Speak thy name!"

"My name is Dennis, child of the Black Spiral, born under the new moon, worshipper of Whippoorwill, servant of the Wyrm!"

"No, your name is....Rockcrusher, child of the Black Spiral, born under the new moon, worshipper of Whippoorwill, servant of the Wyrm." Dennis nodded, his face flushing red in embarrassment, even though it was hard to see under all of the bruises from his collision. Kendar turned to Denise, "speak thy name!"

"My name is Denise, child of the Black Spiral, born under the new moon, worshipper of Whippoorwill, servant of the Wyrm!"

"No, your name is....Treeshaker, child of the Black Spiral, born under the new moon, worshipper of Whippoorwill, servant of the Wyrm." Denise nodded quickly. Jake swallowed nervously as Kendar turned to him. "Speak thy name!"

My name is Jake, child of the Black Spiral, born under the full moon, worshipper of Whippoorwill, servant of the Wyrm." His voice was now not so full, he could feel the subtle insults by Kendar to the others. He heard the slight sniff from the great warrior.

"Ahroun, you are Ahroun?"

"Yes lord," stuttered Jake, shaken that the ritual was no longer flowing along. He heard a snort of disbelief from Kendar, then a few more sniffs and a chuckle.

"No, your name is....Stinkface, child of the Black Spiral, born under the full moon, worshipper of Whippoorwill, servant of the Wyrm." Jake felt his tendons grow tight in rage, but he knew it would be suicide to do anything but accept Kendar's words. Thus he only nodded silently. "Arise children of the Wyrm, and know you are children no more. Tonight you have become warriors!" Rockcrusher, Treeshaker, and Stinkface rose and howled at the moon above them. Stinkface howled until he felt his throat go raw from the exertion, he would show Kendar, he would prove he was more then a fool. Because he knew his time would come, great events were transpiring in the warrens. Soon...soon the Wyrm would rear forth and bellow out in victory as it consumed the city whole.


A drop of water slowly condensed along the rusting metal grill. Small droplets of moisture formed, each bulging downward with the weight of the water that shaped them. They ran slowly together, traveling along pathways that had been formed from those who had gone before them. Softly and slowly they came together. Each dew drop quivering in fear and anticipation of what was to come next. They touched. Each separate form seeped together, combining into one single whole, one single being. Completed, perfect, beautiful. The drop glistened and shone in the moonlight that streamed in the window. The drop trembled, perfection was not meant to last. It felt the push of inevitability. It fell, fell down and away soundlessly. All but the little bit that still clung to the metal. Refusing to be dragged down into darkness with the rest.

The drop splashed down on his cheek as he lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He was stretched out across the bed, really little more then a mattress laying on the floorboards. His long rust colored hair hung wildly around his head. A thick tuft of it also grew from his powerfully muscled chest. His darkly tanned body was littered with a series of pale white scars. His face was scruffy with a few days growth of stubble, his eyes blurry with the aftereffects of alcohol. He wore only a pair of ratty and stained boxers. He had rented this room for longer then he cared to imagine. It really didn't matter. He had come back here in the hopes of finding something for himself. Anything. Anything to give his life reason again. But this city was as dead as it had ever been. As dead as all the others. Endless cities that all seemed the same, the same dark streets, the same rotting buildings, the same decaying world.

He watched the ceiling and another small drop starting to form. Around the rusting AC panel were dozens of water stains. As he lay on the mattress on the floor, he could see them smeared above his head. They seemed to change shape from day to day. Sometimes he would notice one that looked like a kangaroo, or an airplane, or a crouched chimpanzee. It reminded him of a Rorschach test. He didn't like them. There had been a time he would never have allowed himself to dwell in such squalor. But that had been then, long ago, before his world had been destroyed. Before everything had been taken. He had been different then. He had cared. No more.

There was a terrible buzzing noise. His eyes narrowed. There it was again. The quietude of his solace seeking meditation was shattered by the gross creations of the humans. He shifted his eyes over to look at the black lump of plastic that lay by his mattress. It rang again. He looked back up at the ceiling and sighed. He had know it was a weakness in him that brought the creations of man into his household. But...he really did enjoy the occasional TV show. The phone rang again, making him again slip out of his rest. He growled in annoyance as he reached out to grab the phone. Above him one of the water stains now seemed to shape a large bird in flight. He held the phone to his ear.

"Hello."

"Hah! I know that has to be you. I don't know anybody else that depressed." The voice was that of an overly cheerful woman. His eyes looked back up at the stain. A stain in the shape of the bird. Oh Gaia preserve! It couldn't be.... "I heard you were in Detroit again. It's great that you finally decided to come back, its been a long time." ....It was. He groaned and placed one worn and battle scarred hand over his face. "But anyway, I heard you were back and I thought, damn! Damn, I said to myself, literally, I literally said damn. So after I said damn, and mind you I literally said it....in a library. Literally cursed in a library of all places. Well, said I to myself, and this part I wasn't saying literally. Well, said I, I guess if my old pal is in town again, then damnit Jo, you owe it to yourself to look him up! I said that literally, damnit Jo I said...literally. That got me a few odd looks mind you..."

"Gaia works in strange ways," he muttered to himself as he tried to explain away the horror of it all. He moved the phone away from his ear, though he could still hear some of the inane babble. He waited. A drop of water splashed down on his cheek. Oh yes, that was a bird shaped stain. Blast it. The wild ramble petered off, he put the phone back to his ear. "I'm sorry, could you repeat just that last bit, there was some static."

"Sure, no sweat. I asked if you wanted to maybe get together, rehash old times?"

"No." He hung up the phone. He lay back on the mattress. He smelled the old, musty scents. Above him the small gatherings of water again formed. They performed a slow dance as they swept in towards one another. Give and take, back and forth. The drips combined. They fell. He watched the last little bit left over. He always wondered how the rest of the drip felt about it. Abandoned? Betrayed? Jealous? Why did that bit of water never go through the plunge with its fellows? He paused....the pounding....that wasn't from the alcohol last night. It wasn't his head.....it was the door. He lifted his head slowly, aches spinning through his back and temples. He looked at the door, yep, somebody was knocking. He frowned, who the hell would visit him?

"Open the door!" The voice called loudly from the other side. His eyes again looked up at the soaring bird shaped water stain. He nearly howled in frustration. How the hell had she moved so fast?

"Gaia," he muttered as he buried his head in his hands. "Whatever I've done to piss you off, please, just let me know and I'll rectify it immediately. Just make her go away!" He waited, the knocking continued. Apparently Gaia didn't quite give a damn.

"Open the door man! I don't know about you but I could stay here all night yelling. Literally! I literally could stand here all night yelling....and pounding. I see lots of pounding in the future." He jerked his jaw upwards slightly as he considered the options. She might be bluffing...."Yelling and pounding, I'm literally standing here yelling and pounding. All night! I could be here all night! Literally! Literally here all night!" ......Then again, she might not.

"Come in blast it, it's not locked!" His voice sounded hoarse to him, he couldn't recall the last time he'd spoken in more then a short broken whisper. The door swung wide open as Jo barged in. Her heavy combat boots thumped noisily on the ground as she bounced in and slammed the door shut. She twirled around and shoved her hands on her hips, spreading out her feet to around shoulder width as she looked at him. He turned to look her over, she still looked about the same. Same tight black leggings. Same Metallica shirt and three sizes too big leather jacket. Same stupid dirty green sock cap pulled low over her wild long black hair. Same rounded, inquisitive, and overly bright face. Her sparkling dark eyes glimmered at him as she smiled inanely.

"Heya! How's it going! What? No hug for your pal Jo? What the heck man, what the heck? Ahhh forget it, I'll hug you..." she strode forward a few paces and then stopped. Her eyes bugged slightly as she retreated again. "Kaff...kaff...on second thought...maybe I'll just stay upwind of you." He couldn't help but grin, ah the glory of the stink defense. How wise the skunk was, how noble and brilliant. He bet that skunks didn't get too many unwanted guests, no, ah, the skunk... His thought were interrupted by a resuming stream of nonsense and pointless prattle. "Man, you are rank! And I'm not talking about how respected you may or may not be to the tribes. I literally mean your smell, literally. It is bad, I think I just had some hair turn gray...literally!"

"What the hell do you want Jo," he snarled as he turned back to his bed. She drifted after him, keeping her safe distance as she looked around.

"What the hell man, what the hell. Look at what you're living in! I live better then this, I mean I literally live better then this. That is really pathetic, really bloody pathetic!" He flopped down on the bed again, maybe if he just fell asleep she would go away....like a dream of nothingness forgotten upon waking........ "Good gravy, your fridge has nothing but beer and Chinese take-out! How can you live off of this," he heard her wild rummaging through the cooler, "jeez louize! What are you thinking man? If you keep eating like that and drinking as much as it looks like you are you will die. You will literally die!"

"When?" Jo looked up in surprise at him. He sat half propped up on the bed, his eyes burning into hers, a note of eagerness in his voice. She curled up her face in disgust and grabbed up the small trash can nearby. She rattled it noisily and then reached inside and pulled out a large, and quite empty, bottle of vodka.

"Look, I know what you're feeling, I was there too last time I checked. But this is just fucking sad! Look at you, I could figure out a more dignified way to curl up and die then this. What the hell is wrong with you? Get the fuck out of that bed and onto your thrice damned feet! Get up!" He shook his head at her and closed his eyes, why wouldn't she just go away? "I don't think you're listening to me! I said get up!" She hurled the vodka bottle into the trash, it exploded noisily as it crashed amongst other bottles there, he winced and placed his hands over his face. "Get up! Literally get up!!!" She hurled the trash can at him. It smashed onto his chest and sprayed broken glass and dribbled remains of alcohol over him. His eyes snapped open as he sat up suddenly. Glass flying away from him as his body grew taunt in anger

"What the hell!?!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Jo as she held her hands over her mouth. "Did I go and upset the big bad crybaby. Oh no, oh jeez, whatever shall I do? Next thing I know he'll try to kill himself by drinking a lot and never washing. Help me, don't let the bad man get near me and do nothing but sit on his butt and drool at the ceiling!" His eyes narrowed as he reached down and grabbed a still intact beer bottle. With a snap of his wrist he sent it sailing through the air to crack into her skull. Jo yelped in pained surprise as she was thrown back. She curled up and held her head with a moan as he collapsed back onto his bed with a sigh. "Hey man," came her soft voice, almost sounding like it was sobbing in pain.

"Yes," he asked, suddenly feeling bad about his harsh reaction.

"I'm really, really sorry."

"Yeah, me too. It's okay."

"No it's not," her voice did sound like it was sobbing now, he was worried, he'd never heard Jo like this. "It's not all right, I did wrong....I'm so sorry!" Her voice was cracking as she stifled her cries. He looked up at her and tried to sound reassuring, he was really feeling bad now.

"Don't worry Jo. It's nothing, I overreacted, it was my fault, not yours." The beer bottle hissed through the air and smashed into his head, shattering and ripping into his flesh.

"I'm sorry I didn't come by to whip your sorry ass into shape sooner! Get the fuck up!!!" He clutched as his bleeding scalp as he snarled at her. Jo hopped up and shoved her hands on her hips as she frowned at him. "C'mon man, get up. Be a man and stand on your feet!"

"Leave, leave now!"

"What if I don't, c'mon, get the hell up and make me. This is pathetic, it's like you're turning into my grandpa or something. You are literally turning into my grandpa....the one who wets the bed....are you literally wetting the bed too?"

"Damnit Jo, get the hell out! I don't want you here!" His voice was stronger now, his face flushed in anger. Jo shrugged and turned away. But instead of leaving she walked up to the fridge and pulled out a bottle. The beer sloshed around inside the bottle as she tossed it experimentally in her hand. She looked at him meaningfully. His eyes narrowed as he watched her. "Jo, you better not..." She smirked at him and tossed the bottle again, testing the weight.


Water dripped from the ceiling. Dozens of drops that created a small cadence upon the series of bottles and boxes scattered across the floor. To most it would have seemed a strangely bizarre clamor. But to the scarred and tattooed figure dressed in ragged black robes who sat quietly in the middle of the subterranean room it was the most elegant of music. He had twisted pipes, and adjusted drips. Placed bottles, found certain surfaces. All to create the atypical musical symphony that now surrounded him. Small, ragged ears twitched slightly as they caught a sound that was out of place. A thin and bony hand reached out and clutched a twisted staff. His arm clinked slightly, the many minor talismans braided in his coarse patchy black fur clacking together at his movements. His one remaining eye glowed a sickly green as it peered out from under his mangy coat of fur to watch the two figures coming closer.

"Kendar, Endelon. Come hither," his voice was a hissing snarl. His green eye glinted in the darkness as he used the staff to motion his two fellow sub-commanders into their spots on the grime crusted floor. Kendar growled as he sat, the dangerous war leader never seemed to care for the meetings. He pulled his coat tight around him, his baleful eyes glaring out from under the shadow of his fedora. Next to him sat the rail thin form of Endelon, the master assassin. Even in his crinos form the deadly killer was slight of build and stature. He dressed in loose black robes, under which his body was wrapped tightly with filthy black gauze. His black hair stuck wildly from his head in all directions. He smiled as he sat, though his deep blue eyes remained as unemotional as ever.

"Master Fer-guath," said Kendar with a nod of his head. "The plan proceeds as can be expected. Even now our forces swell in size, and it shall only be a mater of time before they are ready for battle."

"Unacceptable," hissed the powerful Theurge in a snarl. His needle-like fangs flashed as he bared them at the Ahroun. "The poisoning is almost complete. Soon the time of the ritual shall be upon us. We must be ready to defend the temple at all costs."

"But, the priest..."

"Is a untrustworthy fool. He has his plans and I have mine. I'll need my packs strong. I'll need them hungry for the blood of our enemies." Fer-guath sat back, his green eye seeming to burrow through all of Kendar's thoughts. The dangerous warrior shifted uncomfortably, disliking the attention. Finally Fer-guath seemed to see what he wanted and nodded, his talismans clacking together quietly. "I have spoken to the one within, he says the packs are weak, and our rise shall go unimpeded."

"So it was said last time," came the soft hiss of Endelon. He smirked as he looked over at Fer-guath, his dark blue gaze meeting the fiery green orb of the Theurge's stare.

"So it was said," agreed Fer-guath. "But lest you forget, they who stopped us last time are shattered. There is no more threat. Three are dead. One is no more. One is old and weak. One is fallen and forgotten. One was never a threat...."

"And one is strong yet, and opposes us still," growled Kendar. His yellow eyes flashed as he glanced to his leader. "We should destroy him. Allow me this honor."

"He has indeed been investigating our operations," whispered Endelon. "Perhaps it would be wise to remove him before he has time to even suspect our plans." Kendar nodded his agreement. Fer-guath paused, considering.

"It might tip our hand too soon to destroy one such as he. The bastards of Gaia might sense the danger..." Endelon smiled at the thought, Kendar chuckled slightly, his eyes flashing. Fer-guath nodded. "Yes...that frightens me not. Do as ye will. Let the blood of the foes water the plants of the city. Let them cry in terror as their champions fall. For they shall know our coming soon enough!" He waved his hand, the two others hopped to their feet and quickly departed. Eager for the blood they had been promised. Fer-guath relaxed again as he heard their footsteps fade away. His thoughts turned again to his drips. They pounded and beat around him, his tune, his victory song, his life beat. The drops splattered and cascaded down. Focusing his thoughts.

"You seem so sure of success," hissed the voice in his ear. Fer-guath's eye snapped open. It narrowed in surprise as he realized none of his guardian spirits had so much as uttered a minor warning. Then he felt the smooth and warm hand brush along the back of his neck. His ears twitched in fear as he realized who had to be the cause of his security breach.

"I know of what I and my pack are capable," said Fer-guath slowly. His snarling voice clipped back, subdued. The warm hands stroked upwards, dancing along his ears. The delicate fingers thrummed lightly over the highly sensitive membranes.

"I too know what you are capable of my dear friend." The speaker leaned in, warm breath hissed gently across Fer-guath's cheek. "I remember when you first showed me what you could do. It was a night of revelation for me. I suspect it was even more so for yourself." Fer-guath nodded at the memory, the fingers slid softly down his neck again, and proceeded down his back. "You speak of your plans, as though they are yours to dictate and control."

"I only tell them what they need to hear. I of course mean no disrespect by..." Fer-guath suddenly stiffened as he felt the sharp poke of claws against his back. In line with his heart. His eye widened in surprise as the claws pressed slightly inward. The fingers were cold and hard now.

"My dear, dear friend. So skillful, so wise, so foolish." Fer-guath knew pain. He would not ever again refer to the plans as his. They were the masters, as was he, as was his caern, as would be Detroit.


"Okay, you got me up and going. Now what the hell is this all about?"

"Up and going?" Jo turned around and glanced at the dingy bar he had brought her to. "This damn place was only across the street....literally!" The bar was dark as heck, and stunk almost as much as his apartment. She frowned as she peeled her elbow out of a sticky patch of dried something on the table. He sat slouched on the chair, breathing in the stale beer and vomit smells. Letting their pungent and flavorless stench fill his throat. Behind him the coolant unit rumbled away, its heavy clanking beating in tune to the pounding of his head.

"Well maybe my head hurts too much to go waltzing all over the damn city," he growled. He could still smell the beer that had coated him only a few minutes ago. Jo cocked her head as she looked him up and down. He had pulled on some jeans and sneakers, and had thrown on a dirty and stained trench coat. He glared back at her, his bloodshot eyes hardly focusing on her, or anything else. His wild red hair sprayed around his face.

"Aw damn man, I'm sorry. If I'd known how bad you were taking things..." Jo shook her head and leaned forward. "You should have called." He looked over at her, his face grim. She sighed and leaned back. "I'm sorry, I really am. But it wasn't your fault....it wasn't anybody's fault."

"I could have done something. I should have seen it coming...sensed it coming." His face twitched, jerking his jaw up. He reached up and unconsciously rubbed a pair of pale white scars that ran across his neck, curving and looking like two crescent moons with their points touching. A mirror reflection of all his pains. He turned away from her again. He watched the slow ticking of the clock set above the bar. Its black hands slowly twisting and crawling across the round surface. Clutching time. Crawling away with it. Stealing yet another second, another minute, another hour of his life. He didn't miss the time, it was all anguish anyway. Let the clock steal it, let it take it from him and drain him dry. Let it drain him until he had no more. Leave him empty. Empty and at peace.

"Well....I came to ask you for help," Jo finally said quietly.

"I know, it's all you ever come to see me for. I remember the last time you came to me for help," his hand again brushed across the scars.

"Damnit! Don't try to sell me short. If I'd known...if I....aw damn. You need to let it go. Just forget about it all." Jo's voice died in her throat as his head snapped around to look at her, his eyes flashing dangerously. She quickly raised her hands and slid back from him. Yet his anger died away as quickly as it had started. He didn't have the energy to stay angry....or to do much else. It just didn't matter to him anymore. Jo slowly relaxed and leaned back in towards him. "It's Dominic, he sent me."

"Dominic?" He chuckled slightly under his breath. "Dominic sent you to ask for my help," the laugh grew slightly stronger, if more disturbing. Jo winced at the sound, her eyes grew worried. Finally his laughter died away into a gentle hiss and shake of his head. He looked away again, his face becoming slack. Jo waited a few more moments.

"There's trouble. Big trouble. It's the Spirals, they're up to something. The problem is that Dominic just doesn't have the people to do something about it. All of us are pulling triple shifts just trying to keep up, we need all the help we can get." Jo reached out and placed one of her slim and pale hands on top of his scarred and worn fist. He glanced away from it, not caring for any connection. "We need the type of help you can give. C'mon man, it'll at least give you something to do," she smiled wanly at the poor joke and squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"From the cries of desperation comes an answer of salvation, and it is damnation." Her eyes danced about in confusion as he pulled his hand away from her.

"What's that supposed to mean, I'm not good with all your poetry and other esoteric rambling y'know." She smirked and chuckled. "Could I get a plain English version?"

"Yes.....No." He stood up from the table and turned away from her. "Just go away Jo. Just leave me alone..." his voice wandered off as he hunched down again. Finally with a slight grunt he shuffled towards the door. Jo sat in her stool and watched him go. She sighed and sank her head into her hands.

"I'm sorry......"


He chuckled to himself as he slowly walked around the circle and lit the candles. His bare feet padded silently over the rough hewn rock from which the room was carved. The thick and ungainly wax of the candles had long ago melted down their length and across the floor, almost giving the black tallow the appearance of being attached to the ground. The wicks burst easily into flame as he passed his small torch over them, their flickering and sputtering light causing the shadows to dance around him. He grinned as he lit the last candle, he promptly snuffed the torch in a nearby mold coated bucket of brackish black water. The wavering flames of the candles illuminated the scrawled and twisted runes that lined the inner edges of the circle. He paused and looked up as he sensed a presence grow near. The master came.

"I hope I didn't disturb you," said the master in a soft whisper as he neared the chamber. His dark shape slowly flitted up to the entrance into the room, but stopped short of entering the pale circle of light cast by the candles. "I wouldn't wish to have disturbed this very important moment."

"No, no concerns," chuckled the figure as he kneeled down in front of the circle. "I was just preparing. Yet to wait still, need the sacrificial blood. The blood is needed."

"Yes, isn't it always," agreed the master. They both shifted slightly at the sounds of heavy footfalls approaching. Two men walked into the room, neither of them seeming to notice the shadowy shape of the master. They each bowed slightly to the kneeling man as they held out two silver goblets, each sloshing slightly from the thick red liquid filling them.

"We bring for you the blood-o," hissed the smaller of the pair, his inflection seeming a bizarre lilting dance between a man's and woman's voice.

"Yes," agreed his large and bulky companion in a deep growl.

"Good, good, good," chuckled the man as he took the chalices from them. "Send my thanks to the Colonel." The two men nodded and quickly backed out of the chamber. The man turned and slowly poured the blood in the chalices out onto the circle. The blood seemed to have a mind of its own as it flowed and seeped along the designs and runes. The man chanted softly to himself as he watched the blood spread to seep into every last marking of the circle. He smiled as the symbols seemed to start to twist and shape of their own accord. The runes churning and moving and pulling amongst themselves. Slowly reshaping the circle to appear as though the blood was corkscrewing towards the center. As though caught in a maddened and deadly spiral


Dominic 'Rends-the-Darkness' Winford leaned against a graffiti covered brick wall and watched the dark night streets around him. His shortly trimmed black hair and beard were tinged with small shots of silver. His quiet dark eyes had a few wrinkles encroaching upon the otherwise firm and well tanned skin of his strong face. He wore a black business suit and a knee length black overcoat. He shifted slightly and muttered at the ache the cold was generating in his knees and hands. He frowned, there had been a time when he would have been able to stay in this position all night and all day and then some before feeling any discomfort. But that was a few years ago, back when he had been young and full of inner fire. Young, he thought with a bitter sigh, make that just younger.

Younger like those pups he was having to bring with him on these missions now. He'd swear none of them had even seen twenty winters yet. He glanced over at the innocuous tan Honda parked near the corner of the small park he was watching. He could just make out the two shapes inside, sitting quietly and trying to stay awake. He turned to look deeper into the park, to the lone bum curled up on a bench and covered with a few newspapers. Kids. Marn was giving him snot-nosed youths to do a job that men should be taking care of. He shook his head and sighed, kids and old men. That's all he had now. He glanced up suddenly as a small dark shape slipped from within a nearby alley and walked up to him.

"Josephine," he greeted quietly, his voice still strong and commanding after all these years.

"Dominic," Jo answered with a grin. "How are things going? Well? Are they going well? I'd rather they were going well then bad. Or is it bad? Bad that they'd go bad. Bad is bad y'know. Literally, literally bad." He rolled his eyes and waited. She always wore herself down again sooner or later. "But in any case I guess things can't be too bad, that's good. Of course you look bad, in a good way, so that means you'll do good, but not in a bad way." Jo finally stopped, Dominic glanced over at her.

"And?"

"And what," asked Jo innocently.

"And will he be showing up, I agreed to his request after all!"

"Oh, yeah....that." Jo shoved her hands into her large leather jacket and rocked back and forth on her feet for a few moments. "Weeeeell. He was really busy. Sorta deluged by work, literally! He had so much going that he just couldn't get himself away from what he's doing. Literally couldn't get away from it all....you could say it's consuming him. His work that is."

"Fine," snarled Dominic as he turned back to watching the street. "I didn't really want his help anyway, however much he wished to give it." He paused, his eyes growing darker as he glanced back at Jo. She smiled innocently back at him, Dominic frowned. "Why did he ask to help if he couldn't get away from his work?"

"Oh," Jo shrugged and grinned, "you know how stuff can just jump up on you. Drowning in troubles and all that. Literally drowning...." Her voice seemed to die away at the word. She grew pensive then, and quiet as well. Dominic glanced at her, curious what was troubling his friend. But he was suddenly distracted by the dull rumble of a truck's engine. He looked up as headlights briefly flashed across him. At last, the shipment he had been waiting for! The large 16 wheeler roared down the back road and turned onto the large snow coated parking lot. Dominic glanced over at Jo and grinned darkly.

"You want in?" She quickly shook her head and stepped back towards the concealing shelter of the alley. Dominic smiled wider at her as he turned and started to walk across the street. The wait was over.