Jack Ceann's Story

"Th-Thanks." Jack replied, then slumped himself against the end of the wall next to the trapdoor, the werewolf breathed hard was the poison was drawn form his system, his legs kicked and scampered on the spot, scratching scars into the woodwork, the drunken members of the Gae Ceann were still stumbling about, and some had even fallen asleep on the various stools they'd been sitting on, in no position to help either party.

The wolf hadn't had a packet of smokes to grab, and it'd be awhile before he rescinded into his normal form, when Jack wolfed out, he wolfed out for weeks on end, months, he'd gone a full year once. Jack was marking this all down in his head, what was this? The fifth or second time that Perro had his back wherever he went, he owed him a lot.

"Do. Do I need to help?"

It wasn't long until Victor returned to Maurana's side, having only caught a glimpse of her fight with Jack before he fled the scene. He landed on the rooftop with a gentle thud, bony wings folding against his back.

"We need to leave." said the man with bat-like features, his vicious gaze fixed on the fox that stood before them. "You can't take the word of a stranger. They'll just lock you away, or kill you." Victor was prepared to end the life of the feline, or merely kidnap him as a bargaining chip.

To be honest, he wished the woman hadn't spared the werewolf; he wouldn't have done it. Now he had her scent, and would likely come looking for her once he recovered. She had done nothing but delay the man's death. Though he wouldn't go looking for him, if Victor saw the over-sized dog again, he wouldn't hesitate in killing him.

Perro was sprawled on the floor of the bar with nobody to help him. But he didn't want help, he didn't want to be coddled, just allowed to do his own thing. If Jack was stuck in wolfed-out mode for a while, he didn't expect the were to dote on him either. The only thing he wanted right now was-
"A bucket to purge this poison into would be lovely."

And.

"Maybe a blanket so curl up in to keep warm because if I change now I might break a few things..."

The elemental paradox continued in the square as the wrath of Pagos and Fotia turned upon the werebeasts. A thick blizzard swirled and churned at one side of the square. From within the frigid winds and snow materialized a figure that towered over Man and Beast alike. His body was a pale azure and rough as granite. Two sets of long horns curved away from his forehead and jaw while enormous wings penetrated through the arctic mist, disippating it like vapor. A thick mane of white hair filled the space between his goat-like horns. Piercing red eyes scanned the town accusingly as they searched for the trespassers.

Pagos reached with massive muscled stone arms behind his back and gripped the hilts of two blades. They met the night air with a hair-raising groan as they exited the granite scabbards. Thick layers of jagged ice coated the blades while demonic runes of malice, hate, frost, and death shone through with ghostly auras.

"Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire."

So rumbled the voice of Pagos the Ice Revenant.

A twister of inferno erupted on the opposite side of the square. It raged with turbulent indignation and fury and towered over the buildings like an offended tyrant. The flames roared and hissed with condemnation. Crimson robes, red as the furnaces of Hell, took shape from the fiery tongues. Hands of molten stone clenched in disgust and ire at the chaos that unfolded in her realm. Fotia's robes and frame were black as hewn obsidian. Stone melted into slag at her presence as hellfire danced around the flaming gargoyle.

Her hand unclenched and the fire that danced across her palm stretched and and took shape. A long ebony bow etched with runes of rage, fury, damnation, and hellfire solidified in her grip.

"But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice."

Thus replied the hiss of Fotia the Infernal Sorceress.

"Who dare disturbs the peace of this realm?!" they thundered in unison. "Who dares invoke the wrath of the Guardians of Fire and Ice?!"

Maurana paused mid stride, and slowly turned heel to face the fox. Again, she was impressed with the demonstration these Vankoryth put on. "If I wasn't already an outlaw, as you put it, I don't believe you'd be here right now." It was directly a statement, but her body replied questionably.

As the animal paced before her, she positioned herself to keep eyes square on his movements at all times. She listened to his requests, and held back her sarcastic nature as he judged her character. She couldn't help but want to correct people when they misread her behavior as honorable; then fill with rage as the word coward danced about as well. She wasn't sure of the fate that would wait her if she did indulge these requests, but she was still just as certain now as she had been: This was where she'd find her witch.

She would try for reason. Raising her fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose, "Exactly how many law enforcers do you hold here within your grounds!?"

Victor's wings brushed the air as he landed at her side, he didn't share the same political views as she did. Which, why would he? He didn't mean anything to her, nor she to him. How had she become the pawn to what seemed to be his game!? She was beginning to feel cornered.

Backing away to even the space between herself and the two, she hissed, "I'm growing very tired, very quickly, of my life being threatened here! For the love of Isis! I buried the wretches body at the base of the tree there on the edge of the wood! As powerful as you walk around, I would like to think there's at least a Priest who could resurrect her soul!"

She turned directly towards Victor, "And YOU! Would you take me as a puppet? As I stated before, you've slumbered faaarrr too long!" She lowered her voice, talking through grit teeth, "I told you of my business here in this place. Surely you'll understand why I cannot leave my name to be thrown about the gutter for such a statement as that!" She pointed to the top of the square, where the body still dripped into the fountain.

Her eyes turned from their dark black to the yellow hue taken on when in her animal state.

"Who dares invoke the wrath of the Guardians of Fire and Ice?!"

Maurana scoffed, "Oh. Guardians now, is it?" She nodded her head, "Of course."

"You see? This is the opposite of what I had in mind back at the tavern when I decided to go for a 'drink'." She said to Victor beneath her breath.

The werewolf stood up, scampering to his feet and testing with his right foreleg. Jack pulled himself upwards, stumbling weakly over to the counter as his body got used to the rapid changes in his system. The wolf leaned over the counter and threw his hands outward to grab at a bucket inside the shelving and slid it across the floor.

It was going to take awhile for the werewolf to get used to the blindness in his right eye, the lack of depth of perception was something he took for granted when he still had it, only now did he realize he needed it for a lot of things. The blank iris swiveled around in it's furred socket uselessly.

The werewolf stumbled down the hallway containing all the doors to the various bunks of other members, opened a door, there was a loud scream and went in. There was a still pause and the werewolf came out with a thick woolen blanket in both of his hands, steadying himself on the hallway walls as he stumbled back over and held it out.

"They didn't need it." Jack growled.

Zosimos strode from the shadows, tiring of the escapades. He eyeballed the flame with a wry sort of smile. As the fireflies finished their path, something unusual happened. Every single light in the square was muffled out, The glows of the side streets flickered light and cast shadows. He moved through them, here, then there, over here, then there closer to everyone else. It was a great performance, from all. He could see there was still much work to be done here in Verinotte Hollow, from this little incident. Pondering some of this, Zosimos took center stage near the fountain. Impressive fires from the Gargoyle, he had yet to figure out how to address that. And the Aschen thing that landed. What of that?

"Feeding is one thing," He pronounced with the air of someone important, eyes leveling on where the Victor fellow had disappeared through the buildings, "Monumental desecration and bats-" patooey! "-and public endangerment, resistance of authority, assault and battery! Indeed!" He folded his arms, a few soldiers scrambling after Victor. "You there, the Fox with Athourity," Dropping all formalities the greek man aimed his eyes at Achaeos, "You are not a law enforcer, but with manner like that you ought to be. And you," He looked to Maurana, "Ought to be under question about that one." Again, Zosimos nodded after where Victor had gone with mild distaste, playing the part well as he straightened himself. Suddenly, Zosimos turned on his heel and stared sharply at the Aschen things and peoples milling about. He had bigger things to take care of than minor terrorism in a sleepy town of the supernatural and cranky. Argh! Just think of the repairs to be done here from the blasted bats!

"Thank you," Perro rumbled as he took the blanket and wrapped it weakly around his shoulders before doing something that was so rare it probably took Jack by surprise: he removed his mask entirely.
Fuck. He was handsome underneath that painted grin, sharp eyes that denoted a strangely Asian upbringing, despite his state as a cwn annwn, a fine nose, high cheekbones, a chiseled jaw. If you were going to be a god, might as well be a GODDAMN BEAUTIFUL ONE.

His beauty paid off because even when he started to vomit black, noxious venom mixed with bloody stomach contents, it was still eerily graceful.
He glanced up at the wolfed out Jack between heaves. "H-how are you feeling? HUUURP..."

Jack wanted to quirk an eyebrow, but with all the messed up bones in his head, it was all designed for being a big bad monster of the night, the werewolf stumbled his way to the bar counter and hunched his back against it, laying his long furred arms on the stools and letting his head drop onto the counter.

Jack responded with a slight shrug, trying to convey the feeling of being unsure about how felt.

Perro pushed the filled bucket away for somebody else to deal with it, dabbing daintily at his lips with the corner of the blanket.. He stood up and wobbled his way to a bar stool. The effects of the venom would wear off after a little bit, and until then he ordered a hot tea to stave off the chill. He observed the wolfy Jack some more, especially his dead eye before asking. "What happened...exactly?"

Jack's leg twitched violently, scratching another scar upon the woodwork floor as his body got used to the fact that there wasn't any poison in his system anymore. The wolf held up a hand to his dead eye, waving it around before he answered. "Not so important. Panther chick... Hybrid buddy." The wolf coughed out in a husky voice.

"I'll find em'."

The headless horseman were all clad in green, holding out wicked blades, holding their collective heads under their arms, eyes burning with hatred. "The only way out of this cage was for you to disappear." One of the ghosts said, his horse arching high up in the air with it's hooves. "We may never reclaim our past lives now, fool." The other replied, tightening his grip on the black reigns of his rotting horse.

The loud banter of gunfire filled the air of the outskirts, a car screeching by another and slamming into it violently. "What the fuck was that?!" One of the men in the back screeched, the leather vest he wore marked him out as a Gae Ceann member. "I don't fuckin' know." The driver responded, pulling back the gear shift and letting the car shoot backwards, struggling to reach for his glock under the seat.

They rode down the bandits and lords alike that year. Their souls were reaped, their heads liberated and placed upon the horsemen's necks as a misguided attempt to regain their precious humanity. The riders split the very next year, seperating to the different countries to spread their curse.

The other car was filled with bikers, but not of the Gae Ceann MC or the local Invictus MC. They wore new vests, blue denim with bright white lettering that readout: 'The Axe MC' and bore single white hand ax emblems upon their backs and were armed to the teeth with a collection of pistols, sub-machine guns and a fully automatic rifle.

"Fuckin' pigs!" One of the Axe MC bikers called, leaning out the window and seating his butt on the wheeled down window and slamming a skinny hand on the top of the car, firing his AK wildly at the other car, shattering the glass and causing one of the Gae Ceann members to scream in pain as a bullet penetrated his chest.

The lonely path of the Dullahan spread to a single village upon a rock in northern Ireland. The creature rode upon the town relentlessly, with no purpose other than to kill and take heads, there were no longer any criminals to hunt, they'd been wiped out by all the slaughter, it'd scared the local villagers to obedience.

It didn't stop a man from stopping the headless rider in his tracks one night as he rode down the man's son, throwing the boy's carcass to the side and advancing upon the crying man. The boy was barely breathing when the man threw down the rider from his mighty perch and brought him low with nothing but rage.

"Fuck fuck fuck fu-." The driver mumbled under his breath, holding his bleeding chest in one hand and struggling with the torque of the wheel, throwing his pistol to the men in the back as they returned fire, various chains clinking against the car doors as leaned out of the windows to return fire with their collection of legal pistols.

One of the Gae Ceann MC members had dialed a phone number in his green mobile, putting it up to his ear as the gunshots echoed around him and it made his ears ring. "Hey! We need help! We're getting shot up a little bit past wing city, like, to the east man." There was another question, but the man couldn't hear, not with a bullet in his brain.

The man snatched the axe from the rider, bringing it down upon the headless body until it was nothing but broken chunks of meat and bone. It now looked as worse as it smelt. The boy had died, and there was nothing for the man to live for another few decades with that damn axe whispering in his head.

Benjaaaaamin.... You're one.... of us now.... RIDE.

Maybe they thought nobody heard their distress call, because it felt like painful hours of shooting and ducking out of the way of more shots, the numbers dropping off on both sides, but not in equal measure. In reality, only a few minutes passed before the click of nails could be heard, thunderous, eclipsing the sound of gunfire and confusing the Axes more than anything. Both cars were stopped, shot out beyond working condition. Some of the Axes clambered out of their car as the Gae Ceann did theirs.

"What the fuck is this?" one asked, even as the thunder started to fade into nothingness. Whatever it was, it RAN RIGHT PAST THEM. "HA! Stupid mother fuc-AAAAGHHH!!"

The Axe found himself gripped painfully by the legs by the sudden appearance of a dog-skulled face attached to an even larger dog body, the beast's jaws crunching his legs like toothpicks before he was lifted into the air and flung off the street and into the brambles on one side of the road, alive, but only so he could watch as the monster came to his comrades' aide. And licked the next person to run at him up like a cube of meat, snatching and tossing up in the air and down his throat with a single motion.
"Fuck! Rhys!" the first man yelled ineffectively at the hellhound's sagging belly. But Rhys didn't respond, given Rhys had OTHER things to deal with now. Things like lack of breathable air, and stomach acid.

Perro snorted and moved towards the remaining Gae Ceann members, using his body more as a shield than anything as bullets peppered his fur and flesh. He grunted, the pain minor.
"You should start running. I don't know who else is coming, but either way, these clowns are fucked."

Fucked these clowns most definitely were as Noel quickly arrived to the scene. The Cook came to a sliding skid and as if in one practiced move after another Noel produced his signature weapon, Mary a Colt 45, a revolver that had seen many battles like this and had left its mark on many who opposed the rules that were set in stone.

It seemed more like shock than anything else from the scum of the earth as those who remained standing looked at the newcomer with a bit of confusion and the only thing that was running through Noel's mind at this moment was something that came to him right as he pulled the trigger and watched as one of the Axe gang members was suddenly blown away by the force of the gun. "Who the fuck goes under the banner of "The Axe" sounds like a good way to get your head chopped off." It was with that said Noel simply took aim for yet another member and began to open fire on the poor sods hopping more would arrive to give a helping hand here.

The Axe begun to take to the retreat, one of them jumping though a broken windshield and jamming his foot on the throttle only to slump onto the steering wheel when one of Nole's bullets found its way to his brain. The back of the car had started to produce puffs of white mist as more bullets hit the back, sprays of fire producing splats of a white powdery substance into the air.

One of the bikers on the right side took a whiff and coughed. "Coke." She blurted, a sharp crack and she stopped talking and slumped to the side of the car. The Axe member who shot her raised his assault rifle over his shoulders and laughed, throwing his empty rifle at them and ran around the side of their car.

There was only a couple of members left of the enemy gang, but the cocaine still didn't explain why they were here. One of the Gae Ceann members was hit with a pistol round to the shoulder and his shoulder slumped backwards but he kept walking across the road, using his one good hand to return fire from his revolver, thumbing the action with every expended bullet.

Then there was a screech as he was hit by a speeding truck, the beast of a vehicle gunned down the road, screeched to a blinding halt behind the firefight and the back opened up with a loud clang. The back of the truck was filled with more of the rival gang members, one of them was a middle aged man with a set of aryan tattoos around his forehead, he looked to Perro and grinned as he jumped off the back bumper.

It wouldn't be too long till the police arrived. Both sides had better finish this fast.

The Aryan brother advanced though the slew of bullets, slamming his fists together and split his skin and clothes like it was a suit and exposed the crimson skin and the demonic visage of something that didn't belong on this world, the asphalt beneath them cracked like it was expressing disgust as horns sprouted from his forehead

The rest of the Axe members behind him started to disembark from the back, returning fire with a collection of firearms. They'd have to get the entire Gae Ceann crew together to drive back these invaders fast enough before the cops arrived.

Noel simply cringed a bit as a bullet flew past his face and though he did not wish to die he knew he had to defend his brothers and deal with these bastards who were clearly not on their own turf. This was one Hell of a fight and with little to no other backup things started to get a lot more sketchy as one man was killed by a truck that was hosting more of the Axe gang and what appeared to be a rather big red bastard.

More shots were fired and when Noel began to dismount his bike just to meet these numbers head. It was however within a few seconds on firing at the big red dude that a sickening thud could be heard as a bullet found its way towards Cook and a rather decent sized hole was blow clean off from his chest on his leather jacket revealing nothing but sheets of paper and were the bullet had landed. "You dirty fucking pricks!" Noel shouted as the papers beneath his jacket began to move and take form into what appeared to be sharp looking spikes that protruded from his own body. Noel hated the fact that he had to use his abilities but there was little time to fuck around and there was nothing he was willing to lose at this point.

With nothing more than impulse alone the spikes drove themselves forward revealing that Noel kept all kinds of paper on his person as more and more seemed to flow out from his jacket and clothes and even some from his bag and bike were he kept his own files and books he loved to read. Several of the Axe members would find themselves in a rather bloody mess as they would be held high up above the ground with paper shoved through them that was as strong as steel.

"Perro help me take this fuck down!" Noel shouted as he pointed his revolver at the big dude who he was sure was the one who ruined his jacket. Some of the paper spikes would return to Noel and form a protective wall before him as he began to reload Mary in hopes of putting a few holes through this blokes skull.

Perro watched as the remaining members of the Gae Ceann were picked off. Stupid kids. STUPID. KIDS. Didn't he say to book it? This is what they got for ignoring the orders of a direct superior. He spared a glance at the Axe's hellboy leader and snorted, then spat the sopping, stinking, shredded Axe MC cuts that Rhys had been wearing, digestive fluid having almost completely lifted the patch and painted names off. Symbolic, given Rhys was nothing more than a bubbling mass of meat and bone at this point.
It was a warning, not one he expected the red guy to HEED, but still.

"Two steps to the left, mate," he mumbled at Noel before vanishing.

It was quiet, leaving Noel and the Big Guy to their own devices, even as the cook gave the other Axes the papercuts of doom. But the air rumbled as something rather large and airborne hurtled towards the demon in question.
SURPRISE! TRUCK!

God help the man that was probably still in the front cab of it when Perro connected his lunge with the side of the vehicle, sending it spiraling, flying to land with a loud CRUNCH hopefully on top of its target. Perro didn't carry weapons typically; He was a living, breathing, horrible weapon. He leapt onto the crushed remnants of the truck and started to shred it with ebony claws and steak-knife teeth, to the horror of anybody that was broken and still inside the back of the vehicle.

Screaming, sure, until it was silenced with another crunch.
He lifted his head, maw bloody, with shrapnel and bullet wounds flecking his sides and full belly, and snarled at the demon, whenever he showed his ugly head again.

The Gae Ceann's pet Hound, ladies and gentleman.

The driver of the truck leaned out the window, looked to see the giant furred monster on the back, kicked open the door and climbed out, jumping off and booking it down the road, holding his arms behind his head. The poor sod wasn't paid enough for the kind of shit he'd driven to today, he wasn't wearing any gang related jackets anyway!

Some of the other members had finally started to listen to the older, more ferocious leader when they saw him speed off, patting Noel on the shoulder and helping the wounded wander down the road to fetch more help, clumsily reaching for their various phones and pagers.

The demon lifted up his arms when the truck came crashing down, his grin hadn't been phased. The back of the truck started to pick up in heat, the metal whined and great dollops of molten steel splatted the asphalt as the bloodied and wounded Aryan Demon pulled himself free of the wreckage, the tattoo on the back of his head read: "Mr. Scary".

The demon backed up, seeing most of his biker brothers torn apart by nothing but shards of paper, these rival gangers weren't to be trifled with so easily, it seemed. The demon snapped his fingers and his back arched high, sprouting red wings and his claws grew to claws and a great number of metal shards shot out of the wounds they'd made in his body. Aryan would've done something more impressive, but he was just a low tier imp in the underworld.

"Subconscious servant, dog." The demon would've continued, but one of Noel's bullets found it's mark in the side of his skull and came out the other side, leaving a bleeding hole though his skull. Aryan whipped around hissed at the intrepid member, signalling for his men to take cover, the axe members followed it's orders instantly.

Noel did in fact move back and with the aid of his paper, along with his bike, and it was as if with what barrier he had left most of the shrapnel that had left the red demon would find nothing but a solid wall to clang against. The Cook simply moved down the road a bit only to take aim once again at the monster who was part of a rival gang and open fire once more. It was true that time was running out and maybe just hopefully things would be finished before the law showed up to try their hand in the mess.

The beautiful bike the Cook rode began to roar as Noel took off like a bat out of Hell towards the wreckage only to holster his sweet beloved Mary and produce a short barrel shotgun which he took aim at the best as if it were a jousting competition and opened fire once more allowing the quarters he had saved escape the twin barrels and at the monster. "Perro we got to get out of here! Cops will be here any moment and those who have escaped should be safe for now."

"Fuck." Evianna cursed to herself as she rode furiously as fast as her baby could go. She was annoyed at herself for being so unreliable and tardy. Although her reasons for being late were reasonable, she found it unacceptable to miss out on such a serious event. Doing drug runs and other cities and such took up a lot of her time lately and she didn't expect any more professional jobs in her rank.
The smell of blood and flesh became stronger and stronger as she grew near to the location and her sense tingled with deadly thirst. "Are they having a barbecue without me?" She joked to herself as other more dominating smells filled her nostrils, something definitely burned. Did something blow up? The female shapeshifter heard gun fire and yelling along with a few familiar voice. She slowed down not to far from the mess of a scene before her and studied her surroundings, engine still running. All seemed to be going pretty good for them, it all looked like shit no matter how you looked at it but she couldn't see any Gae Ceann cowering behind anything or severe injuries.

The man eater then noticed Noel and Perro in the distance; ah the Cook, she had almost forgotten for a moment. He seemed to be riding his bike and Perro had finished up devouring a few bodies. "Lucky bastard." She muttered to herself, envying his ability to freely devour a body so quickly. She had to always rip the body apart and eat the victim hastily like eating a chicken wing.
She decided to stick with her gang and revved her bike before riding up not too far behind Noel. "You two are putting on quite a showing" she called out to them with a grin, their skills were quite amazing. Evianna's eyes shifted to the ugly looking Demon with disgust that Noel had fired at; he was definitely her target, the big guy. He was ordering the other insignificant gang members of the Axe around so take him down and the others will run around like headless chickens. She followed lead, swiftly whipping out her Winchester and aiming for the creature and fired two acid loaded bullets at the Demon, aiming for its head. If the bullet didn't penetrate its skin then hopefully the acid would burn his face to shit.