Fury of the Beast
Disclaimer: Yadda yadda, Buffy is owned by Mutant Enemy, and the concepts of various races belong to someone or another, but I'm sure THAT legal battle is WAY too tangled up for me to find, so I'm just gonna sneak em out the door when nobody's lookin.
To get an idea of how I imagine an old Angel would sound like, play Metal Gear Solid and use David Hayter's voice. (Solid Snake) I think he'd make an excellent Angel in his twilight years.
"Okay, let me get this straight. You did a bunch of dimension hopping, saved em from being wiped out by a plague on their world, acted like an immigration service, and then what, told the good old US of A government to sit back and take it?" Xander exclaimed, incredulous.
Angel sighed. "Wasn't that easy, it kind of helped that there wasn't any form of government, anywhere, at the time. Everybody went to war, ended very badly, thankfully the nukes were kept out of it, but by the time it was all over, governments had collapsed, nations born and destroyed in a matter of weeks, and everybody down in the gutter. Only reason there's civilization around right now, close to the level we were at when you disappeared, is because of the fresh blood." He replied.
"So, we've got elves, dwarves, orcs, halfling punks, and...?"
"That's about it. The dragon eggs haven't hatched yet." Angel replied.
Xander blinked.
Angel chuckled, before descending into a coughing fit.
It was so odd, for Xander. He always thought Angel would outlive him, not dying before him, of all things, old age. It hurt, knowing his friends were old, dying, and he was the same as he was when Spike tortured and buried him.
Even Angel had somehow regained his mortality, becoming again what Xander wanted to be, all he ever wanted to be.
"Hey, Angel, you alright?"
The fifty year old, gray-haired man nodded, getting his fit under control.
"Yeah, I'll be okay. So, what brings you to my door?"
Xander's face darkened, as he said one simple, yet extremely charged statement. Anger did not describe the emotion in his voice. Nor did rage, or the thirst for revenge.
It was hate, pure, plain, and simple.
"I'm going to kill Spike, and I need your help."
Angel watched as Xander trained, going through the carefully constructed course, designed to give even an orc trouble, dodging and fighting simulated opponents. Xander was doing fairly well, avoiding most of the dangerous attacks, and taking only those wounds which didn't slow him down. Whether the instinct to survive was something Xander had inside him, all along, or if it was introduced from his being turned into a vampire, Angel wasn't sure. Either way, it was a formidable tool at Xander's disposal.
In the illusionary, VR like realm born out of a hybrid of magic and science, Xander had just finished single combat with an Eldrakyn demon, a large, seven feet tall horned beast that had an almost metallic hide, and its wrist was about the size of Xander's leg. When Xander realized his sword wasn't helping him at all, he put it away and grabbed the nearest blunt weapon he could find.
In this case, a baseball bat. It wasn't terribly effective, but it slowly chipped into the beast's hide, and eventually, he won by hitting the joints, crippling the beast, until finally, it couldn't rise again.
Xander crowed triumphantly as he beat the foe that had annoyed and confounded him for the last month.
Angel smiled, and then grinned, almost sadistically.
"Ready for level 3, Deadboy?" Angel asked.
Xander groaned. "This is revenge for all the times I needled you, isn't it, you old geezer?"
"You better believe it."
Xander looked out over L.A, the same way he had six decades in the past. His training was going well, he was half as good as Angel was at fighting now, and his vampiric powers provided an extra edge, most of the time.
On a sudden impulse, he hopped up onto the edge of the balcony, being on the fifth floor, falling wasn't a real danger to his supernatural constitution. From there, he leapt down, and walked, no destination in mind, but to observe how life had changed in the time he was gone.
Spike....the bleached blonde vampire deserved no less than that had been inflicted on him, the action that sent him into Torpor. In his dreams, Xander could still feel the knives cutting into his flesh, the scent of his own burnt hair, the intense agony brought on by the acid, splashed almost negligently onto his face, onto his chest, his hands and feet.
Thinking about it again made the young Kindred shudder, and did his best to think on something more pleasant. Like the sweet taste of blood.
The thought brought Xander to an abrupt halt. He stood still for a moment, taking a deep, unneeded breath, as he collected his thoughts and then continued his walk.
After walking for half an hour, the familiar and sweet scent of blood crossed Xander's nose, causing him to slow down and look around for the cause. He knelt down for a moment, determining wind direction and where, exactly, the trail was coming from.
The familiar sound of a demonic vampire bursting into ash caught his ears, and Xander sprung to his feet and sprinted forward, until he came to an alleyway. Funny how alleys were places his life changed.
For there, standing over a pile of dust, was a demon knight, black platemail gleaming, yet his inhuman form did not allow full protection, the wings upon his back twitching preventing it. It laughed, lifting a blade to finish off another victim. A woman, crawling backwards, fear in her eyes.
"Hey, ugly! Pick on somebody your own size!" The words came from his lips before Xander could stop himself, old habits coming into the fore.
The devil turned, his long bat-like wings rustling, his horned head coming into view as his eyes glowed red with hate, and then widened in....recognition.
"Well well, I didn't think I'd ever see you again. Tell me, have you figured out how to use my ring yet, fledgling?" The creature spoke. In a voice that Xander had heard before. It was as if he last heard it yesterday. The katana also brought the memories flooding back in a wave that nearly knocked Xander off his mental feet.
The voice of the hunter who nearly ended his unlife, sixty years ago. His form was unrecognizable, but that tone, the inflection, it was the exact same.
"Nicholas.... Hell of a makeover. Hope you got a good lawyer when the tax-man comes knocking." Xander spoke, barely keeping the fear out of his voice.
The devil who used to be a man chuckled lowly.
"Never did like lawyers. Too closely related to your kind."
The woman's heels scrambled on the pavement as she came up to the dead end on the other side of the alleyway.
Nicholas raised his katana, smirking hideously as he advanced on his immortal prey.
After his training, however, Xander wasn't simply prey anymore. As the katana came down in a deadly arc, Xander could almost see every flaw and weakness Nicholas had. He had never actually been trained with the blade. He simply used the sword as a tool of execution.
And so it was with a simple sidestep Xander moved out of the way of the katana's lethal edge.
With a countering twist of his body, his leg arced out and slammed Nicholas' left knee.
On a mortal, it would have broken like a twig. On a vampire, it would annoy. On Nicholas....it gave Xander's foot a dull ache.
The hunter's skills with the sword were weak, perhaps, but he quickly proved he wasn't helpless. He lashed out with a left hook that caught Xander squarely on the jaw, and Xander found himself flying through the air, his flight coming to an abrupt halt on the alleyway's wall. He sank to the ground, turning the motion into a roll as fast as he could, just missing Nicholas' next attack with the katana, which would have split Xander in two.
In desperation, Xander activated the powers within his blood, and his body sped up. He used the extra boost of speed to spring up to his feet and jump onto Nicholas' back, holding onto one horn with his left hand and his right on the almost delicate wingbone.
Underneath his grip, he felt the former hunter tense, and he began to flail. Unfortunately, this was the worst thing he could do. Nicholas' right wingbone was torn from the demon's back. He howled in pain as Xander was flung away, still holding the wingbone in his grip.
The wing now was a tattered ruin, a flap of skin that hanged uselessly at the former hunter's side, dripping blood and ichor onto the pavement.
The creature turned to the young vampire with murder in his eyes, and ran at Xander with an impressive amount of speed, the katana ready to skewer Xander in a moment.
Xander deflected the attack upwards with the wingbone, which snapped in two, with sharp ends. Xander then stepped towards Nicholas and drove one of the broken ends into the former hunter's chest. In a moment, the devil collapsed, face down onto the street.
Xander snatched up the katana and slid it under his coat. He then held his hands up as he approached the woman. She was muttering something in a language he couldn't understand.
"Hey, relax, I'm not going to hurt you." He spoke.
As she slowly stopped trembling, and got to her feet, he realized she wasn't human.
The wind picked up slightly, throwing her raven-black hair in all directions, revealing her pointed, elven ears. She stood at five and a half foot.
She licked her lips, and spoke with a heavy accent, her words halting as she was unused to English.
"I am Allandra. I ....thank..you for you aid, stranger."
Xander held out his hand.
She took it, gladly accepting the gesture of friendship.
"I'm Xander."
The pair turned, only to see the former hunter was no longer there.
In the middle of a wasteland that used to be known as Washington state, a great structure stood.
It wasn't all that impressive, in fact, it resembled nothing so much as an arch made out of steel and stone, standing out in the middle of a desert, totally out of place, as if somebody had just dropped it off a helicopter.
It stood twenty feet high, and was only a meter wide. For it's reputation and power, it was really nothing special to look at.
Humans called it the Corridor. Dwarves called it the Gate. Elves called it the Planewalker.
Nobody was sure what the halflings, orcs, and trolls called it.
It was through this the races had fled their homeworld, escaping an apocalypse, onto a new world that was only just recovering from the worst war it had ever gone through.
For forty years, the structure had stood silent, vacant, and the only creatures that had gazed upon its unimpressive form were scorpions and the passing hawk.
It was unique, as it didn't simply connect two worlds. Instead, it shifted from world to world each moment. In order to create a stable gateway from one world to another over an extended basis, took powerful magics conferred onto the most powerful of mages.
Or most powerful of the Kindred clans.
Heavy boots crushed a scorpion, casually and without effort or thought, as its wearer came closer to the gateway. Although the vampiric mage in question was capable of floating, it took effort to do so, and at this point he could spare no energy for the task ahead.
He pulled back his hood, revealing old, weathered features. At the time of his Embrace, he was already old, and his appearance had not changed over the last thousand years. His hair was long and dark, almost a bluish-black, and he gazed at the gateway, marveling not at its physical appearance, but at the magical powers confined in this small space. To his experienced eye, the gateway was lively and bright, a portal shimmering wondrously in a rainbow hue, even though to the naked eye, there was nothing there.
Reaching into the folds of his cloak, he pulled out a vial filled with a his sire's blood. Oh how surprised he had been when it happened. How one man, nay, one vampire struck past his defenses and killed him. The mage still remembered the hateful bite of that black sword, even after nine centuries had passed. With more and more ancient blood spilt onto it, its dark powers grew stronger and stronger. Or perhaps, its wielder had simply become too strong, too cunning, and the blade was simply the catalyst to his will.
Perhaps it was a measure of both. The mage could still remember when the crusader and Veddartha faced off. It was a duel to remember, Veddartha, the Ventrue clan's founder, facing the Scourge of the Antediluvians, the Slayer of Set, Savior of the Kindred. It was a duel of honor, Veddartha seeming almost impervious to the black blade's bite, but his prey too fast to strike with his own blade. They battled for hours, until finally the crusader won out. The blade had kept him refreshed even as he battled, he would not have been able to win without it.
Finally, Veddartha conceded, falling to his knees, and honorably waited for his death, which arrived swiftly and with no pain.
With his death, the Antediluvians had all fallen, and Gehenna was averted. The Apocalypse the Garou had feared never came to pass. Nor would it ever do so, now, with the force behind it now sealed, deep in the black pits of Oblivion.
Coming out of his thoughts, the ancient mage rose his hand and concentrated, bending the magics before him to his will.
With a flicker, the gateway stabilized, the magics now coming into the fore, becoming a visible-and tangible-portal that swirled invitingly.
Etrius, the last of the Tremere clan, smirked to himself as he took a step towards the portal.
Apparently, something from the other side decided it was a good idea to do the same. A heavily armored creature jumped through the portal, it's eyes glowing blood-red as it opened its fanged mouth and snarled at Etrius.
It had no idea that would be its last action.
With a comteptous flick of the wrist, flames shimmered into existence above the creature, and rained down upon it in a massive, and very painful storm. The creature grabbed at its face, trying to protect it against the horrid storm as its limbs caught alight, and it howled in agony.
Then it collapsed onto the dirt, dissolving into dust.
Etrius walked through the portal, and upon Earth, the Tremere line became extinct. Elsewhere, however....
Xander ducked a high swing, raising the katana in a classical parry, and hopped three feet to the left.
He was in a dungeon, bodies hanging from the walls, in an open pit, roughly thirty feet wide. The sounds of distant screams echoed as the pair battled.
His opponent, a skeletal warrior, kept pace with the vampire, twisting its broadsword around and clashing the blades and tangling them.
Xander released the grip on the handle with his left hand, and decked the skeleton with his now free hand. It collapsed under the powerful blow, shattering on the floor.
A snarl came from behind him as Xander turned, facing a shadowy cat-beast. It lunged for his throat, and Xander rose the katana, the cat meeting the blade with its mouth. However, a shock traveled up the blade and burned Xander's hand, while the cat was barely affected by the blade, not being a physical creature in the traditional sense.
Xander kept a grip on the katana, however, and kept hacking away at it, and soon the cat was beaten back, despite the fact that Xander was growing weaker every second with each shock.
Then the cat expired, and Xander collapsed onto the ground, breathing deeply, even though he didn't need it.
"End simulation." Angel's old voice spread throughout the room, and the dungeon faded, revealing the basement of the Hyperion Hotel, Angel sitting in a comfortable leather seat, Allandra sitting on a desk, an impressed look on her face.
Angel's expression was disappointed, however.
"Xander, going berserk on a Shade was quite stupid." He rebuked.
"It died, didn't it? I beat this level." Xander replied.
"And if you fought more of them? You'd get one and the rest would have killed you. You can't use a blade on them effectively. You have to go hand-to-hand." Angel spoke, his annoyance growing in his voice with each word.
Allandra smiled, however. "You were most impressive, though. You're not like..." She trailed off.
Xander raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
She sighed. "Like the vampires where I came from. They were little more than animals, except for the older ones, they were really cruel bastards."
Xander sighed. "I won't lie to you, but most vampires are. I just belong to a less common breed is all."
Angel nodded in agreement. "Here we have two kinds, at least that we know of. The ones you know about were probably tainted by demons somewhere along the line."
"Well, I'd like to go through this training program as well, Angel. I don't like being helpless in dis world." She said, determination in her eyes.
Angel nodded.
Believe it or not, this is where I broke off from writing fanfic, over a year ago. I've taken up the pen again, writing more parts down, but after this point everything is much more recent.