***
It seemed like he had been walking forever. North Carolina seemed so long ago now, and even longer since he had seen the Azure Eye. He held his coat tight to his body against the cold air. He knew he had arrived somewhere, but he wasn’t sure. He had been walking so long it seemed like a dream, or maybe a nightmare. He was too tired to even lift his head and look at his surroundings. He knew he was in a somewhere else, he could see lights in the corners of his eyes. And beneath his feet the dusty, cold earth had changed into hard, rough asphalt. He had long since run out of money and hadn‘t eat for days. Or was it weeks? Or months? Years? He didn‘t know, he felt like a walking corpse, a rough purpose he couldn‘t remember dragging his undead flesh north. Why was he going? Some person, some battle to fight? He was too tired to stop and think about it, even though he knew he should. His hunger gnawed at him, it was a beast, a beast that would eat him in he didn‘t find some food.
Somehow, he found the strength to lift his head. Lights grated against his eyes, harsh pink and green neon. Now coming slightly out of his zombie fugue he realized he wandered into a city. Cities had food, cities had places to sleep. The beast in his stomach roared again, driving him to move on. Soon his nose caught something on the wind, something hot and delicious. Before he was fully aware, he found himself at a hot dog vendor. They smelled old, horrible even, but the beast didn’t care. This was food; he wasn’t exactly particular at the moment.
Mercifully soon he felt his fingers warm as two hotdogs were thrust into his hand. The foul apron wearing vendor held out his hand wordlessly to Thomas. Without taking his eyes off the soon to be devoured morsels, he placed the hot dogs on the counter and dug into his pockets for some money, only to find those pockets empty. He looked from the dogs, to his pockets, to the vendor. The man, maybe sensing something, scowled at Thomas. The beast roared just to take them, but Thomas would never do such a thing. But in his hungry frustration and with the man with his ugly apron and ugly face, Rage rose to the surface. He felt his muscles bunch for a change, to destroy this pitiful man who dared think he was better then him. He defended his kind with every beat of his heart, and this fat fool dare scowl? But restraint and wisdom also vied for control, and in compromise he roared at the man and stormed off. Both the vendor and other nearby customers flinched at the eruption of sound. A little girl even started to cry, Thomas’ heart wrenched at the sound, the last thing he should be doing is scaring cubs. He muttered murderously as he stormed off, venting a little of the monster inside on a hapless trash can. Paper and other debris flew in the air, gunk splattered on the alley wall.
He wandered deeper into the alleys, he feet moving unconsciously. He really didn’t care where he was going, he just wanted to clear his head and will away his hunger. He had turned three times when a strange new scent filled the air. As a warrior he knew the scent well, but he never knew it to have such….malignance. The scent was acrid, and even the humans flee it, their pitiful primal instincts doing them at least this much insight. The scent was death, yet the source moved, and it was following him. He tried to clear his mind, push his senses to the limit, to locate the source of the death smell. He spun around as a clinking of glass broke the silence. He caught the barest sight of a shadow, but it moved too quickly for him to see it clearly. Then something else reached his ears, something low pitched, something making him try to hear. It was laughter, wicked and confident. More laughter echoed in front of him, and to his sides, all around him. The laughter was hungry and it was getting closer.
He cursed inwardly; he had fallen into a trap, how could he be so stupid?
Because you are used to a pack, used to someone always looking out for the group. A voice reasoned
Shut up! I don’t have the time to worry about that now! He roared back.
Calling upon his warrior instincts and training, he quickly scanned the area, taking stock of entrances, exits, potential hazards, and potential weapons. He was in a large stone alley; the brick buildings formed a giant T section. There was a barrel nearby, still smoldering when some unfortunate had lit it for warmth. His back was to the top of the T, brackish water ran under his feet and deposited into a sewer drain. Numerous broken planks and bottles lay strewn about the floor. The area was lit by a single failing light, placed above one of the many sign less doors in the alley. The laughter was coming from each side so he would have to do some fighting to get out, that was without question. With his back to the wall, at least they couldn’t attack his flank, if it did commit him to the fight.
From dedication he summoned the war ax he earned from the defense of Lonely Mountain. The blade was largely untested in his hands, but he had a scar to prove the weapon’s worth. He assumed a low posture, ready to spring in any direction, in case his foes tried something at range. He head whipped back in forth, trying to sight his enemy. Down the center alley, something seemed to come out of the dark, more like the dark was it, and it was taking a new shape. The figure was crouched, not for battle, for like an amused cat. Its skin was pale, a white creamy color like spoiled cottage cheese. As he looked closer, the figure was misshapen, cruelly twisted in form in body. The head was swollen, like something had filled it with water. One eye was severely larger then the other, almost the size of a compact disk. The pupil was swollen freakishly and its gaze was fixed on Thomas. Even as a great warrior of Fenris, one who has seen some of the darkest horrors of the Wyrm, that eye unnerved him.
The creature raised its hand and pointed at him. The hand, unlike most of the creature’s body and head, was untouched by the malady that twisted it. And even at this distance, Thomas could tell the hand was well cared for, like the last good window in a broken house, treasured even. He could hear the laughter again, the horrible thing was laughing at him, like Thomas was the freakish one, instead of the reverse.
“Oh, did a puppy get lost? Did it lose its way?” The creature’s voice was filled with mock concern, followed by more hideous laughter.
“Don’t worry little puppy, we can send you home, we just want a little piece first. A little piece, puppies are so tasty, yet they are.”
Why was the thing talking to him? He saw in the creature the need to attack, to rend flesh, to bathe in the slaughter, so why talk? And then in a flash, an ambush!
He dodged just in time as a gnarled claw came silently through the air, aiming to disembowel his right side. The claws were not of any animal, but human fingers long and distorted. The stone behind him exploded into dust as the claws rent it like paper. Before he could recover his balance, another shape leapt upon him from his left. It too had cloaked itself in the shadows like a blanket, and it fell upon him with bloodthirsty shrieks and yells. His vision went hot white and a sharp deep pain shot into his side. Thomas snarled and dropped his ax. He reached behind his head and grabbed the screaming thing and hurled it at the wall. The sickening crunch satisfied Thomas, but to his anger the thing bounced of the ground and came at him again. The figure behind it, the ones with the claws came into the light and moving fast. It was a woman, or would have been except for its eyes were slitted like a cat, yellow and glowing in the dark. Its hands were unnaturally elongated and nails ended into those wicked claws. He reached down and grabbed his axe as the shadowy one charged him again. He tried to jump back, out of the way, but the side pain flared again. His senses told him that the thing had stabbed him with a knife and had left the blade sticking in him. The shadowy one took advantage and kicked Thomas in the face. Normally such a blow from such a small creature would have glanced off his muscled form, but this demon had the strength of hell behind his blow. Thomas was flung far away with the power of the blow, several ribs cracked at the strike point. He hit the ground hard, broken glass and wood dug into his hand and neck. He got to his feet and braced himself for the next attack, but one didn’t come. All he could sense was more laughter in the dark.
They are toying with me!
“Scab! Stop playing and finish him! I will not be late in our meeting with the Bishop!” The one with the bulbous eye called.
Rage bubbled within him, hot and empowering.
I, a mighty warrior of Gaia, reduced to being the plaything of these wretches!? No, they shall
meet my fury this night! His form shifted, layers of muscles flashed into existence, his build and height expanded, adding a foot to his already 6’8” frame. The ribs mended themselves in seconds and even in his weakened state, he felt a rush of energy and might. The rush maddened him, filled him with bloodlust and carnage. He answered them with a laugh of his own.
“Oh but why leave? Our dance of death has just begun!”
He howled a prayer to Fenris and cocked his arm back; he let the axe fly with all the might of Fenris in one throw. The weapon whistled through the air, burying itself in the clawed one’s chest. The blow also lifted the creature off its feet and deposited it far away in the dark. The shadowy one surged forward, leaping high in the air again. In that moment, in the heat of battle, the wisdom of Thomas’s ancestor, Slashes-Once Cuts -Twice, came to him. He ripped the knife out of his side and caught it underhanded. He spun as the thing landed and buried the knife in the creature’s abdomen. With a snarl he ripped the blade upward, splitting in creature open. The left the blade sticking in the bastard creature’s jaw. Crimson fluid spewed from the creature‘s massive wound, covering Thomas from head to toe. Yet the thing still lived, enraged by the blow, it launched a powerful back handed strike that sent Thomas’s vision swimming. He ducked under a second swing and used a move taught to him by a Fianna wrestling master. He grabbed the arm as it went over his head and lifted with his back. Pumping his powerful legs and shoulder, he hurled the creature far, it landing in the flaming barrel. The thing quickly caught, like it was made of kindling rather then demonic flesh. Within seconds the thing screamed once more and then was dust.
Before he could ready himself again, hot pain flashed through his legs and his knees buckled from the anguish. The woman with claws stood before him, a large but quickly closing wound lay in its chest. Murderous vengeance burned in her eyes as she slashed with the claws again. All Thomas could do is put up his one arm to shield himself. New agony seared up and down his arm. He tried to kick the things legs from under it, but it nimbly jumped up and over the feeble strike. She pivoted like a dancer in air, angling the claws in a downward thrust. The move was too quick for Thomas to dodge, he could only watch in vain as the fiend descended. Eight fingers of death impaled his body, blood burst from his mouth and the many wounds. He gave a shudder and then lay still. The woman removed her claws, twisting them to make sure her prey was truly dead. Satisfied, she slowly licked each one clean, moaning grotesque sounds of pleasure.
Thomas felt like he was falling, he was growing cold and tired. Falling into a deep dark cold sleep, a blissful one that he wouldn’t have to wake up from. He always wanted it a bit, to sleep forever. But a howl snapped him out of it; the beast still hungered, still roared for blood. And the beast wouldn’t let a petty thing like death stop it from its prize, from its slaughter. It roared him awake, drove to rise and kill, to destroy. His form blurred quickly, his battle worn human faded away, letting the true creature, the beast, come to the surface. A black and grey canine hybrid exploded into action. The many wounds on its frame were meaningless, it had prey to kill, and that’s exactly what it was going to do. The woman, too shocked at the blur of movement, was caught completely off balance. The nearly ten foot Crinos slammed her into the brick. Dust and stone exploded behind it at the impact. The woman, now terrified instead of vengeful, tried to swipe at the giant wolf’s eyes. With almost a contemptuous flick of the neck, it easily caught the hand in its powerful jaws. Meeting the creature’s eyes for an instant, the wolf flashed a glare of deathly glee. And with a single snap, tore the arm completely. The massive monster that was Thomas then plants a gigantic foot in the creature’s chest, pinning it and grabs the creature’s wrist with his claw. And with another snarl, savagely ripped out the other arm. The wolf leaned in close to the terrified fiend, sniffing and savoring the scent of fear mixed with the acrid death. After he had breathed in deep, when he had tasted its sweet delight, he snapped forward, tearing the front end of the woman’s face completely off. Instead of meaty chunks however, his mouth was filled with ash. Indeed, the woman had turned to dust like its brother.
He threw back his head and howled, calling to the one target left, daring it to meet his fury. He scanned the small alley, trying to locate his elusive, cowardly target. He caught one flash of the engorged eye before it and the scent vanished. A fading voice on the wind came to him, barely understandable in his enraged state.
“We will meet again puppy, and I will eat you next time.”
He started to bound after the voice, but the wounds finally deserved notice. The wolf kneeled in pain and whimpered. The massive wolf flesh melted away and Thomas the man now knelt there, breathing heavily. He half walked, half stumbled out of the alley, desperately hoping the Veil was intact. He could only make a few steps before the blackness took him. He crumpled against a wall, glaring neon cross his last sight.
