Shadowboard Post - USERNAME "LUPUS" - Nightbane Fiction

[Archmichael]

Taken from the Shadowboard....

There is no one else left. I am hiding, tired out and emotionally destroyed. I have been through so much...but tonight sealed the deal. I was forced to kill the woman I love. Along with all the other crap the Nightlords have thrown at me, somehow they got Lydia to turn. I still cannot wrap my mind around that.

Well, until they take me down, I will post a few tidbits about my life over the last few years. First of all, let me tell you a bit about me! I am originally from a small town named Benton Illinois, population 8000 or so. Incidentally, the actor John Malkovich is from there as well and I know his family, but I was never able to meet him before he disappeared. Anyway, I was attending the University of Missouri in Columbia when Dark Day went down. I, along with everyone else in our dorm stayed inside and waited it out, even when two of the others went up in flames.

The next two years I continued to go to college but obviously things had changed. Many of my friends never came back from late night parties. Quite a few of the engineering and archeology professors either left the University unexpectedly or disappeared. A few were found dead at their house, but no one asked too many questions.

During the course of those two years, I also started to think my dad was losing his mind. He was an Illinois State Trooper and kept telling me stories about “monsters” and “angels” that made me question his sanity. In August of 2002 I remember how furious I was when he lost his job. Looking back, I can scarcely believe my selfishness when my only concern was about how I was going to pay for college!

My mother started calling me on the phone with increasing frequency as she worried about my dad’s “irrational” behavior. I remember it irritated me at the time. I felt like this was just an excuse to complain about my dad and another way she was just attempting to keep tabs on me. Around the 1st of October I called home to ask for some money and found that my the phone was constantly busy. In my naiveté I ignored this and continued to live the party life for a few more days before I started to really worry about the constant busy signal.
So on October 3rd, 2002 I drove the four hours back home. I will never forget the skeletal look of the broken glass of the foyer entrance of my house. The front door had been overlaid with police tape. Not even plywood had been placed over the broken windows. As I stepped onto the stone entryway the smell of blood and death was overwhelming. It was the very first time I experienced it.
The walls of my parent’s room were sprayed with blood as if Jackson Pollock had become a serial killer in their bedroom. The mattress was soaked with blood and appeared shredded by an animal. Spent shell casings were everywhere. I was completely in shock. My numbness masked the approaching footsteps. Police Chief Aldrin and my friend Shawn Fredrickson (who had just finished police training) stepped into the room from the hallway. I remember Aldrin yelling at me about trespassing. I was infuriated at his insensitivity! I screamed back. What the hell happened here! Where were my parents! Why the hell had someone not called me….and that was when pain exploded from the back of my head and drove me to the ground. I looked up and saw Shawn, I guy I grew up with and who was a fellow lineman on our high school football team holding a steel baton. Both of them laughed at me as I attempted to crawl away holding my head. It was then I noticed that something was wrong with Shawn’s eyes. Suddenly Aldrin pulled his service pistol, let out a girlish giggle and shot me in the shoulder. The pain was excruciating, but that pain quickly gave way to the Rage. That is what the transformation is always like for me, white-hot irrational rage. The first transformation was the worst.
I didn’t even realize what had happened at first. I just noticed that both cops and the room seemed much smaller. I buried the chief under hundreds of pounds of armored-spikes and fur. He seemed to be made out of bloody Styrofoam as my claws pulled him apart. My “friend” Shawn ran from the room and down the stairs, but he seemed to be running in slow motion. I moved faster than I had ever moved before. I leaped from the top of the stairs and landed in front of Shawn. He swung his baton at me, but it bounced off my spiked armor. My anger at his attempt to hurt me manifested as I ripped his throat out with my teeth. However, instead of the expected taste of blood, a putrescent taste similar to fecal soiled burlap filled my mouth. However, the distaste did not compare to my fury as I continued to shred his chest. Suddenly an inhuman squeal filled my ears as a giant slimy beetle crawled out of the torn hole. I froze at the sight as “Beetle-Shawn” crawled out of the headless body and onto the front porch. Somehow I could smell fear coming from the insect scuttling towards escape. I lunged forward and landed hard, impaling its carapace on a needle sharp bone spike on my knee. As black ichor spilled on the lawn, I slowly realized through the haze of anger that the body I was looking down on was not human. I looked up and caught my reflection in the single remaining window of my parent’s home. I always loved wolves. Ever since scouts I had posters on my walls and coffee table books of wolves. I suppose that is why the transformation leaves me an eight foot tall hulking, spiked-armored werewolf.
As my rage abated, my body painfully collapsed inward, spikes withdrawing into my skin, fur and claws disappearing, my canine jaws breaking and reforming into my familiar human face.
That’s how I became labeled a cop-killer...my dad would have been so proud.

[Archmichael]

So, one day I am a normal college kid, partying it up with a bright future. The next day, my parents are dead, the people in my home town (really just one, but what did I know) had turned into some alien bug thing, and I had become a werewolf.
To be honest, I could tell you that I grabbed the weapons and took off reveling in my newfound power…but that did not happen. I puked instead. Then I cried. A lot. I think I actually fainted or passed out. I am not really sure which. I woke up and was pretty sure I had experienced a hallucination caused by a stroke till I realized that it was all real.
Looking back I was unbelievably lucky. In a small town, you can get away with tearing up a Nightlord minion or two and not pulling down the NSB SWAT truck like in the big city. So as I composed myself there were no sirens or circling Hunters, just me and two dead bodies. That was when panic really set in. I pulled what remained of the alien bug and “body sack” back into the house and tried to make sense of the whole thing.
So, as dorky as it sounds, everything at the time sort of made sense to me. I had always been a science fiction geek, so my mind made some leaps in logic that now seems ridiculous (of course, an invasion by extra-dimensional supernatural monsters is apparently "logical") but I surmised that the earth had been invaded by aliens from outer space on Dark Day. I remembered that my dad had been talking about monsters, and right there in front of me was some alien body snatching bug! Somehow, I figured that I must have been exposed to some alien toxin that caused me to hallucinate, but somehow I knew that the change had been real. So, I ran upstairs and looked myself in the mirror and made it happen again.
It was not quite as bad as the first time, but it was pretty dang close. I ended up tearing through the drywall in the bathroom on accident during the change, and broke through the granite countertop as well. After I steadied myself, I started to concentrate and ended up changing back and forth a dozen or so times to make sure. So, maybe I figured I had been infected with some alien virus. Regardless, I thought that the body snatching alien invaders must have killed my folks and taken over the town, so I had to get out of dodge. I ran down to the basement . The hunting gun rack was empty. I went over to the furnace closet and found it locked. Relief flooded through me. I found the hidden key and unlocked the door. The gun cabinet was still sealed. I had to run through the combination twice before I got it. My dad was a gun collector and loved to shoot. His pride and joy, a H&K 7.62 mm G3 rifle was there as well as his Glock handgun collection and his favorite collectors item, his rare .44 Automag handgun. His ridiculous stock of ammunition was there as well. I grabbed it all and threw it into his shooting bag. I ended up leaving with that bag, clothes, some pictures, my scout camping gear, and of all things, my parents silver set. I figured that it was the most expensive portable thing they had. (I never thought the knives in that box would eventually save my life) As I put everything in my dad’s 4X4 Chevy truck, I saw the police issue 12 gauge in the police cruiser parked in front. I grabbed it, the police radio and the large box of heavy slugs I found in the trunk.
It was with a heavy heart and tears blurring my vision that I drove away from my family home for the very last time.

I drove back to the University, and on the way I called my buddy Zach. I figured he was the only one who would be crazy enough to believe me. He was always spouting off about conspiracy theories and the occult. He kind of scared me with the Cthulu stuff he talked about, but all his alien invasion theories fit right in with what I was dealing with.
As I started to tell him what had happened, as soon as I got to the alien bug part he told me to stop talking and immediately come to his apartment. He also told me to take the side roads just in case the police were looking for me. It was a good thing I listened, since after a couple of hours I heard my name on the radio and that I was being sought for the killing of two police officers. I cannot tell you how nervous I was as I passed over the Mississippi river and drove by the Arch in St. Louis. However, I eventually arrived back at the college town and got to Zach’s apartment.
I took the back entrance from the alley and came in through his kitchen. He was there sipping from the milk carton as usual. I almost laughed when I saw him. He hugged me and empathized with my parent’s death. Then he asked me to transform. I was surprised with his directness and the fact that he actually seemed to believe me. So I did. Suddenly the kitchen stool collapsed under my weight and I sprawled on the linoleum. He seemed surprised (and a little pissed about the stool) but not frightened. He said “Well, you are neither a werewolf nor an alien.” He explained that I was something called a “Nightbane” and that I was not alone. He told me that after “Dark Day” as he called it, that many Nightbane had transformed in response to a “Nightlord” invasion, but they were not aliens. We talked for a while and he introduced me to the reality of the world I now know we live in. In the end it turns out that Zach’s folks were “Seekers” and Zach could actually manipulate magic (boy it scared the crap out of me when he summoned up a flame out of his hand).
He told me that I would be safe in his apartment as somehow it was shielded magically from discovery from the police. I was so very tired, both physically and emotionally drained. I laid down and slept like the dead. The next morning I woke up hoping that it had been a dream, but obviously I was wrong. Zach had picked up some doughnuts but forgot the milk. I remember distinctly when he asked me to pick up the milk. I had forgotten entirely that I was wanted by the police. I just wanted to thank him for helping me. I went out to the truck and drove to the store. I picked up the milk and a few other things. As I drove toward the apartment, I noticed the smoke coming up from the distance…then I noticed the police strobe lights. The entire apartment building was engulfed in flame and surrounded by the police…who were just watching. No fire department vehicles were in sight. I stopped in the middle of the road and turned the truck around. The realization that my good friend had just been killed because of me filled me with a deep emptiness. My despair nearly consumed me. I was lost.

[Archmichael]

So I started to drive south. I really did not know where I was going. Mexico maybe? I had no idea. That’s when my cell phone rang. Out of habit, I answered.
“Where the heck are you man?” cried out Zach from the other end of the line. I slammed on the brakes out of pure shock, almost getting rear-ended by some old lady in a tan Ford LTD. “You’re…You’re alive?” I asked. “Yeah, wasn’t that freaking awesome! Anyway come get me you bum.” I asked Zach where he was and he reminded me about that time he was nearly kicked out of the University for getting caught in the steam tunnels under the campus. They emptied out behind the football stadium. Well, I turned the truck around…again and headed back into town. Zach was indeed right there in the bottom tunnel peeking out like some little kid. I pulled up and he jumped in. “No Dukes of Hazard slide huh?” asked Zach. I rolled my eyes as we drove away. “So where are we headed?” Zach looked at me. “Well Scooby-Doo, let’s go meddle.” I looked at him hard. “Don’t call me that.” Zach laughed and said “Get it, your Morphus, Scooby-Doo, you know..it’s funny!” I did not laugh.
We drove down to the Arkansas border and pulled into Bull Shoals state park. Zach was a bit whiny about having to tent camp, but did not question the wisdom of keeping below the radar. The park ranger barely gave us a moment at all once we paid the pittance required to reserve a camping spot. I quickly put up the tent and fired up my camping stove. Zach was surprisingly helpful in preparing our convenient store feast.
Zach and I talked late into the night. He told me that I was actually not human but a hybrid known as a Nightbane. He told me about the Nighlords and the Nightlands. He also told me about the suspected infiltration of our government and the systematic invasion of earth. He told me about the true nature of the world. I scarcely believed him. He told me of the minions of the Nightlords . Heck, he even told me that Vampires were real, but at the time I thought he was just kidding around. It was a lot to take in. He also told me about the Seekers and that his folks had told him about an entire organization of others who had shapechanging powers like mine known as the Underground Railroad.
The fire burned low and the night was quiet. Zach told me about his powers to manipulate a universal energy known as magic or mana. I had to laugh, but then realized…I was a shapeshifter so I suppose it made sense. Since the campsite was deserted he chanted a bit and levitated the heavy trashcan nearby up about 10 feet before gently setting it down. He told me that he had a few other useful things he could do, but his parents were really able to work magic along with their coven of colleges.
Eventually my eyelids became so heavy, I knew I could not hold out much longer from the need to sleep, and I laid down on the sleeping bag and drifted off. It was about 4:00 am that I awoke from the dream. I had dreamed that black armored knights with wicked swords had attacked our camp. The dream was so absolutely real I was about to wake up Zach when it hit me for the first time then. It was a feeling of someone pouring ice water down my back and a wrongness so complete I actually had to stand up. I knew, I just knew with a clarity that we had to get out of there right then. I literally picked Zach up by the shoulder and told him we had to leave right freaking now. Every moment he hesitated seemed like an eternity. He got his stuff together in the truck when I fist saw them across the parking lot. There was no moon out but I realized that I could see the entire campsite as if it was daytime. There were three black armored figures sort of doing this loping walk, but faster than most men could run. They each had a wicked blade in their hand. In our preparations I had picked up the police issue 12 gauge and decided to use it. I have always had a knack for shooting like my dad, and had been quite the hunter with deer slugs. I fired the shotgun into the chest of one of the Hounds. The half-inch thick metal slug mushroomed and pinged off the armor. Suddenly I heard Zach say :Crap, crap, crap we are so dead!” The first one in the lead swung his black sword at the front of my dad’s truck. The blade split the sheet metal hood like paper and was suddenly buried hilt deep in the engine block. My fear of death, my hesitancy of facing some supernatural menace evaporated. That had been my dad’s truck. My dad had lovingly restored that truck by hand. My dad who had been probably cut up by swords just that that one.
The white hot rage flooded through my veins. It is power. It is pain. It is ecstasy and agony. The spiked bony armor erupted from beneath my followed instantly by the breaking and reformation of my bones and surge of additional muscle and fur that is my Morphus. The other two charged me, squealing that velociraptor-like squeal of the Hounds. I felt something deep inside me break free and I answered their squealing challenge with a roar of my own. However, it was not some growl of anger…I let loose a roar that would have been made by some primordial sabre toothed beast from an earlier age. The windows of the truck imploded from the sound. The two hounds grasped their heads in agony and dropped their swords. Zach screamed in shared pain. The only action the other hound had was to pull his sword free from the truck.
He came at me hard, swinging the sword with ferocity. I had never been the most agile of guys but I seemed to possess a much keener sense of timing and was able to dodge out of the way of the first few swipes, but finally he connected. The blade sunk into my thigh but it did not do as much damage as I had seen with the truck. He swung again and missed me by inches but the sword sliced the shotgun neatly in half. Once he was over-extended, somehow I knew that he would be vulnerable to my attack. I spun in past his blade and grabbed his shoulders. The rage pushed me into reacting with instinct. He was able to fend my claws off momentarily till I bit down on his neck. My teeth are like daggers and they shredded even his tough metal exoskeleton. Black ichor spewed from the wound as a wrenched him back and forth attempting to break his neck. I only realized that his head had become separated from his body almost immediately before a searing pain hit me in the back. The other two hounds had recovered and had plunged their swords into me. I should have been dead but my spiked armor proved to deflect the worst of it. I turned around quickly and felt my armor actually harden in response to the additional threat! The closest hound once again swung his sword at me and hit, but the improved density to the armor allowed me to feel nothing from the blow.
With this newfound ability, I attacked them with furious abandon. Armor shredded from my claws. I took the arm from one of them at the elbow before I tore through his chest with my claws. The other swung the sword low and cleanly sliced open my tendon, dropping me partially to the ground. He seemed to pause to enjoy his apparent victory when I put my weight on the other leg and launched forward the catch his head in my clawed hands. He pushed his blade deep into my abdomen simultaneously. I had never felt pain like that and I nearly passed out. But I knew I had to finish what I had started and twisted the armored head violently to the left and heard a resounding pop, as the attachment broke free. I panted heavily and was forced down on one knee, but I could not smell any more of them in the area. (I did not realize until later that I had just accepted the ability to smell like a bloodhound at that moment).
I could also feel my wounds quickly knitting together, and the pain slowly ebbing away. I had been victorious…and Zach was no worse for wear.

[GaredBattlespike]

Greetings!

I LOVE the story so far!!! This is quality stuff!!! Please keep irt comming!!! I do realize how Zack likely survived the appartment fire:
1) He got out first
2) Combo of Spells: Breathe without Air & Impervious to Fire. Both last a while, not much PPE to re-cast as needed, and then just waits out the worst of it...

Good Gaming, GaredBattlespike

[Archmichael]

Thanks so much for the feedback, more will be forthcoming.

Yep, those things could have happened.....or Zach could be a Nightlord minion doppleganger.....you never know.....

:-O

[Sir_Nytehawk357]

Yes this is a great story keep it going

[Jedrious]

It's content like this that makes me wish Palladium would support a Shadowboard site like they do for Lazlo Society...

[Archmichael]

“Whoa.” Zach replied with a little trepidation in his voice. I could barely hear him past the pain. In the rush of the fight during the pumping adrenaline, I had not realized how torn up I actually was. The black swords had found their way past my armor deep in my shoulder and had nearly severed by ankle. However, as seconds ticked by, I watched as flesh knitted together like a high speed camera was actually watching instead of me. I watched as my tendon reattached itself and the skin spread back over the cut. I could not believe the speed in which my werewolf body was healing itself. Within a minute, I could put all my weight on my previously injured leg. Meanwhile, Zach was gathering up the black blades of the hounds. As he passed by my dad’s truck he laughed. “Well, hounds are great fighters, but they sure the heck don’t know jack about trucks. That one completely missed the engine block!” My dad’s Chevy had quite a large engine area and the sword had completely missed anything vital, only nicking the windshield wiper fluid reservoir (which was slowly leaking). Zach seemed very nervous and looked around the campsite tentatively. “We need to jet. I am sure there will be more.” I grabbed as much of the camping gear as I could and threw it back into the truck. Zach said “You need to change back, they will be able to detect your Morphus form.” So a few seconds later with the crunch of broken bones and sharp pain, I was back to my old self. I dug some duck tape out of the console and did a jury rig fix for the sword damage.
We got on the road and started driving. By the time we hit the highway, I started to nod off as the results of sleep deprivation and the adrenaline dump took their toll. Zach noticed my extreme exhaustion and offered to drive. I happily took him up on the offer and we pulled over and switched places. The coolness of the passenger side window glass was a welcome feeling against my head as I dozed off quickly.

[Archmichael]

A flash of dark energy and suddenly…A woman was crying softly as she huddled in the corner of the broken down tenement. Paint peeled off the walls behind her as she sat on the broken tiles on the floor. I approached. Her hair was wet with blood. Her face was hidden under her arm. I reached out to comfort her. She turned and looked up with solid black, dead eyes. She hissed with a throaty hunger and long hollow fangs extend from her mouth as she lunges at me…darkness….and…
I am running through the forest…one of the few left since the Central Prime A.I. took over from the human engineers…I can hear the distinctive whine of the offensive intellidrones. The warble became unbearably loud as I threw myself to the side. The explosion throws me dozens of feet in the air. I land, bloody but whole as my Morphus armor absorbs most of the damage. I smell the cordite as I sprint towards the river’s edge. I trip over a tangle of armored bodies and sprawl face first in the dirt. I glanced back and saw the U.S. Marine Corp insignia imprinted on the blown out power armor. Not the typical damage from the Darkblade, but the 25 mm armor piercing sabot rounds from an articulated tank. It seems that Frankenstein continues to turn on his creators. I rolled to my feet and saw it. A hunter-seeker screamed down from the sky towards my position afterburners in full burn, I concentrated ….hoping to have enough time to form the dimensional tear… and suddenly …
…The meager provisions had not lasted long. We had not expected that we would have to retreat into the Nightlands so quickly, or that the Nightlord prince would have figured out our escape plan quite so quickly. Harrison had died on the way to the bunker. No one was very interested in using the weird black sword he said provided his superhuman powers (and talked to him no less). We had been following the old man’s orders but they had not quite worked out as well as we had expected. Some tactical genius he turned out to be. The team however was deadly efficient. I was proud to be a part of it. What supplies we scrounged were distributed evenly, the wounded were carried until they healed enough to walk. We continued to hoof it, knowing that if we slowed down the Hounds would be on us in no time. Eventually, though our lungs burned and we were caked with the ashen dust of the Nightland, we reached the camouflaged bunker. A quick combination lock later we quickly entered and practically tore the tops off the old Culligan water containers. I looked around the saw stacks and stacks of U.S. military munitions boxes. “Do you think they will find us?” asked the new kid. His Morphus was some sort of Anime combat robot from a popular television show. I had almost forgotten how green the newbies were. “Yeah kid, they will find us.” I said “But don’t worry, we are not without some surprises of our own. Sergeant! I need the radio, channel 7.” The heavily armed sergeant was bedrock of stability for our team. “Sir, yes Sir!” The radio was in my hand momentarily. “Team Omega, do you have contact?” “Sir, we confirm positive contact. We have hounds and hunters inbound. Sir there also appears to be an inbound armored chariot sir.” The team stirred and I could smell the fear permeate the room. “My god that means the prince is here, he is coming!” cried the Corporal with the six razor clawed arms. “Relax…that is an order. Sergeant, are we set?” Smiling broadly, he replied “you bet your sweet armored hide we are…sir!” We could start to feel the thunder of the rapidly approaching minions. “I want immediate evac, NOW!” I ordered. The command in my voice prompted extreme haste. A sudden and violent shudder hit the bunker and pieces of the ceiling dropped down to the ground. “Sir there was a huge energy blast from a figure from the back of the chariot. It looks like an actual avat…” Static followed and then broadcast screams of pain. “The spotter team is compromised! Protect the mirror and get the heck out of here!” my orders reverberated in the small natural cavern. The team were all away, mirrorwalking quickly in the other room when the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. I could feel the presence in the room before it actually materialized. A wavering curtain of energy formed inside the room. Suddenly, the room exploded in a ripping sound of twin MG-42 machine guns throwing a wall of lead into the Nightlord avatar forming in the room. The Sergeant was throwing everything he had at the emerging form without much effect. In the middle of the chaos, he looked me in the eye and nodded. With that voiceless communication, I turned and ran into the escape tunnel and hit the emergency hatch and then the activation channel. I knew it would only buy moments but that should be enough. I concentrated on the transformation. Just as the stone behind me exploded I shifted into the Astral plane.
The impressive form of the Nightlord avatar pushed through the wall like rice paper. Behind him lay the broken form of the Sergeant, a veteran of both the Korean and Vietnam wars, now dead at the hands of a monster.
His voice, the sound of hate, of tearing flesh, weighed heavily in my mind. “Tsk, tsk, little shifter, your tricks only delay the inevitable. You cannot hope to defy me.” Preparing to fly, I replied with admittedly false confidence. “You are mistaken; I am here to merely bear witness.” Okay, I have to admit, I only got to “here” when the fuel-air-explosives lining the interior and exterior walls of the bunker activated and then subsequently detonated, vaporizing both the avatar and the minion forces outside the carefully prepared trap. The resulting explosion was so powerful, its effect could somehow even be felt on the astral plane as I was buffeted…awake..
My head bounced on the passenger window in the truck as Zach slammed down the brakes and skidded to a halt. Had I been dreaming? If I had, everything seemed so real.
Through blurry eyes I could see a black van next to an overturned passenger car on the country road in front of us. Zach started to throw the truck in reverse when I stopped him. Up in front of us, walking around the side of the van was a serious looking woman in a leather jacket, accompanied by a rail thin sharp nosed man. Next to them, leaning on the overturned car was a heavily muscled man who looked like part of his body had been transformed into some sickly green crystal.
As weird as it was, somehow I knew that those people and that thing…were just like me.

[Archmichael]

It was hard to explain, the connection of familiarity I shared with the three strangers standing outside our vehicle, it was if I already knew them, almost as if they were family. The woman approached the truck cautiously, with her hands held in a non-threatening position. The rail thin, severe looking man’s eyes and head darted around in an almost birdlike manner. The most suprising of the three was the strange crystal man. Green translucent crystal growths covered his body. A fairly large crystal beard covered his face. Despite my initial shock at his appearance, he seemed to possess a compassionate countenance.
The woman rounded the side of the truck and Zach nervously lowered the manual crack drivers side window. She spoke in a husky voice with a trace eastern European accent. “We are friends and will not harm you. We need to get you off the road. Now.” The last word held some weight and I felt myself wanting to do as she said. Zach looked at me in near terror, but I told him to go ahead and pull over. As soon as the truck was off the road, I opened the door and approached the group, my eyes switching rapidly between the crystal man and the woman. With a voice made harsh by an apparent lifetime of cigarette use, the thin man said “We need the get the freaking show on the road here, we are too exposed.” The woman seemingly agreed with a nod. “Chris, you are in trouble and need our help. You have done very well for a newborn bane, but you are now on the news since you killed the police.” I quickly interjected “One was some alien bug guy, not he police!” She smiled. “Yes, a Hollow Man. Chris, those things are the police these days. The Nightlords are looking for you, they know you are a Nightbane and they are systematically hunting everywhere you have been to find you. You and your wizard friend were very resourceful in abandoning Columbia and heading south. In fact, I am fairly certain the encounter at the campground was pure chance, since our sources tell us the Hounds there were a sweeper unit attempting to mop up the remains of the U.S. army reserve forces from Fort Chaffee. However with you being such high profile, without our help, you most likely will not last another 24 hours. I know you have no reason to trust us, but you know you can feel that we are connected, the same. You know we are the same. With that, she reached out and touched my hand with hers. A warmth and familiarity seemed to flow from her fingertips. I knew that what she said was indeed true somehow. I looked back at Zach. “What about my friend, he needs to come too.” She frowned briefly, “He is not a bane, and cannot go where we are going, but we can drop him off at the next town on our way to our destination.” The thin man interjected “That is NOT a good idea and we need to leave!” The crystal man looked my way and also interjected “Let’s get your stuff moved to the van.” With that he started hauling out my dad’s tactical bag and my hiking backpack full of my personal stuff. With an arched eyebrow he picked up the wooden box with my mom’s silver set. “You planning a party?” he asked with humor in his voice. “Just bring it all and GET IN THE VAN.” Said the thin man. I started to grab the leftover camping equipment in the back of the truck and the crystal man told me to leave it. He opened up the back of the van and pulled out two huge black bags full of ….something. “Oh gods!” said Zach “Those are freaking body bags!” The woman made placating gestures with her hands. “Yes, but please relax, they are only to complete the illusion.” The crystal man placed both in the seats of the truck. He then grabbed the sideways care and with obvious care and phenomenal strength, tipped back over the car. Looking up he said “this part always sucks.” He then started the car and drove in reverse for about 40 yards. Ickabod practically yelled at us both “Get in the van, this is not some show!” we started forward as the crystal man floored the gas and picked up speed in the car. The car was a Lincoln continental, and that mass suddenly collided noisily with my dad’s truck smashing them both. With fluid pouring out of the bottom of both vehicles, when the man wrenched the door off it’s hinges. Walking towards us, he winked. “Fortunately for us, forensic science does not seem to be the strength of the Nightlords, especially in this area of the country.” With that he nodded to the woman, and she spoke in what sounded like Latin and a ball of flame erupted from her hands, slamming into the engine compartment of the truck. Flame spread quickly and caused the spilled gasoline to explode with enough force to push me back and knock Zach to the ground. Helping him up, we both got into the back of the van. The thin man, apparently named Ichabod, drove, with the crystal man in the passenger side and the woman in the back with us. The crystal man, suddenly spasmed as the green growths pulled back into his body. His appearance remained remarkably similar as a human, appearing very much as a redneck trucker without the rocks attached! Sitting beside us, the woman introduced herself as Maddy and the formerly crystal man as Rocky. “That is a bit cliché, isn’t it?” asked Zach. “Hey, I didn’t pick it out buddy.” He replied.
Maddy looked at us both very seriously. “I need you both to trust me. I am going to transform momentarily. Some of my powers can only be used while I am in Morphus form. Regardless of what happens, I am not going to hurt either of you, but I need to be certain that we are safe and not being followed.” With our approving nods, she shifted. Golden reptilian skin swept up her features and her long hair violently transformed into hissing snakes. Her clothes disappeared and she appeared nude before us. Remembering my mom’s ancient history class I immediately closed my eyes, just in case her appearance to Medusa was not just cosmetic. “Don’t worry, you won’t be turned to stone…unless I do it intentionally.” She laughed, “unless it is other parts of my Morphus which make you uncomfortable.” Rocky piped up from the front “for the record, I never have a problem with you transforming. Now Ichabod on the other hand…” this solicited a snarl from the thin man. I opened my eyes and saw that Maddy’s appearance was as scary as it was beautiful. She leaned in close to Zach. “Close your eyes and relax please.” He looked anything but relaxed as snake hair writhed around his face, but he did close his eyes. Suddenly a snake shot forward and bit his face lightly pumping toxin into his bloodstream. “Hey! What the heck!” he yelled but his face became slack and he smiled and said “whoa, that feels good.” Maddy smiled slightly revealing large snakelike fangs. “Zach…what organization are you working for and what do they want with Chris?” she asked.” Groggily, he replied, I serve the Seekers, like my parents before me. They want Chris to see if his kind can be used to protect them from the Nightlord minions. They fear for their safety.” Maddy (perhaps short for Medusa?), sat back in her seat and said “It is as I thought. Sleep now Zach.” At that he slumped over in his seat and began to snore softly.
“You do not want any part of the Seekers, young one. They have been known to dissect our kind in the pursuit of power. I should know as I was a member of their circle many years ago.” Ichabod spoke up. “We need to kill the kid and dispose of his body.” Enraged I yelled “NO! I will not let you do that!” I started the change before I knew what was happening. The increase in my weight caused the van’s suspension to creak. “Calm yourself, young one!” noted Maddy. “We will not do that. You must forgive Ichabod, as he tends to rend and destroy as his standard response to any problem. The boy meant no harm, he was, in his own way, trying to help Chris. We will drop him off at somewhere he will be safe, but unable to report where we are going.” With that, I released the partial transformation, just before my bones broke and reformed and my armor appeared. Maddy also resumed her human form as well. I asked her why, since their Morphus forms were human sized, they did not remain in them. She told me the simple truths of the Hounds and the supernatural scent that our forms put forth. “Remain in your human or façade form when you can. With the many minions around, it is generally safer so that the random hound will not pick up your scent.” I started to ask a thousand questions, to demand answers, to get some understanding of how the entire reality of my existence had changed within weeks. However, Maddy only smiled and told me to rest, as answers would come from others within their organization. “What organization is that?” I asked. “Welcome to the Underground Railroad ...........meatbag.” replied Ichabod.
I hated that guy. Right from the start.

[Archmichael]

Authors note:
I wanted to acknowledge the lack of editing these posts possess. In an effort to get them out, I am not spending much time on the editorial process. So, if there are tense disagreement, etc. I just have not spent the time in refining the work. This is merely for fun after all, if just for me.

Also, I would like to offer a hearty "thank you" to those who have posted and PM'd me critiques and praise. Let me know if you like the stories or if you have suggestions.

I plan on continuing to post the life story of Lupus, eventually looking at the stories forshadowed in the dream as well as revisiting his betrayal.

[Archmichael]

Once you are in the business of the Shadow war long enough, you end up fighting against other Nightbane. It seems inevitable. More often than not, it ends up with some hurt feelings, lots of blood and everybody becomes friends again. However sometimes it is some deranged fool who could not handle the change and went mad with it. But occasionally, there are those bane out there that no amount of talking, no amount of negotiations, no amount of placating can satisfy. They live for the power and have no regard for life. My first bane kill came right after I joined up with the Resistance. I had just finished the basic training and was out on something like my third mission. We ended up in Boston, having travelled through to the Club Freak to meet a contact. The Resistance commander there was trying to work out a truce between the local cell structures and the Warlord gang that was dominating the organized crime in the city. He figured that the truce could reduce the bane-fragging and also create useful contacts within the criminal resources on the docks. Anyway, I had just been assigned as the team’s tracker. With my normal Morphus abilities I could track scents like nobody’s business, but soon after leaving the underground I found that if I concentrated I could smell if someone was human or something else, and usually I could tell what that something else was from the scent it put off. However, even more impressive was my ability to smell out specific items and people from miles away. I don’t know how I did it but I could sniff out if hounds were anywhere within a few miles, or if I concentrated, I could find just about anything I had smelled before. The city infrastructure commissioner (the guy in charge of power, lights, sewer and other stuff) had just had his daughter kidnapped. Normally that would not trip our triggers, but the guy doing the abducting was a meth head bane by the name of “Zig-Zag” and he pulled her and a few other high school cheerleaders off a bus in broad daylight. He was a Warlord and thus we had orders to bring him in alive to preserve the peace. Well, my nose tracked the guy down to the dock areas to an old warehouse. We shadowslid in and found him alright. He apparently had a thing for cheerleaders. A few were huddled in chain link fence cage in the corner, a few others weren’t so lucky. He picked us up as soon as we hit the room, but he was calm. He laughed off our orders to hand over the girl. Instead, his Morphus had this nasty scar down his torso. He shot out a few tentacles from his guts and where they touched the girl, she ended up with the same injuries. Most of the major organs in her lower abdomen slid out and hit the floor. She screamed in excruciating pain…… He giggled and laughed…..I roared in fury….the LT knew what was coming and yelled “Lupus NO!”
You see, we bane have got to stick together. It really is us against the monsters….but when one of us truly is a monster….not just nightmare scary...I mean a monster both on the inside and the outside…well even we should be put down.
Fortunately, the commissioner’s daughter was among the living, and the LT made up some story about some hounds so I was clear of the Warlords (at that point in my life).
The Warlords just don’t get it. Did we really inherit our abilities for our own selfish reasons? Or is there something a bit more…

[Archmichael]

Anyway, back to my history. I suppose that is the story you are looking for, not my other musings….or are you….
We pulled away from the Phillips 66 gas station, leaving Zach there on a Greyhound bus bench. “Will he be okay?” I asked with no more than a little concern in my voice. “As okay as anyone really.” Replied Rocky. We continued down the rural highway, passing rundown farm after failed roadside business. A few hours of silence passed in the van when I finally had to ask: “So…I guess I am not a werewolf then…huh.” My three companions started to laugh. “Nah, kid. I guess no more than Maddy is a Medusa.” Rocky laughed again and replied in his deep redneck drawl. “I suppose that really there is a matter of conjecture.” Maddy however, had the kindness not to immediately mock me. As we drove west, both Maddy and Rocky, with the occasional vile remark from Ichabod started providing a primer on Nightband existence. They told me of Talents, the power of the Morphus form and Mirrorwalking. Through conversation I began to understand that while there were a number of “us” whatever that meant.
We drove most of the night, hardly stopping for gas. My friends only let me go to the bathroom at the side of the road (which sucked). But with the APB out on me as a cop killer, they did not want to take a chance that I might be recognized….which I did appreciate.
Eventually, our route took us through southern Missouri and Illinois, through the hills and hollers of Kentucky. It was mid morning when we arrived in the Mammoth Cave National park. We pulled into an area which seemed to have been frozen in time in the 1950’s. Pulling past the sign noting “Mammoth Cave Hotel” on a faded and ragged awning we stopped at what looked to be a stack of concrete blocks with sliding glass doors in the middle. “You’ll be staying here, bud.” Rocky pointed out. I shared my concerns about safety but Maddy assured me that the entire area was operated by friends of the Nightbane. I picked up the remnants of my former life, threw on my hiking backpack and carried my meager possessions into the hotel door and hallway. The “hotel” appeared to be a cross between a youth hostel and a college dormitory, but as I entered the door to my room, even the stale smell of the old sheet was welcome as I finally found sleep.

[Archmichael]

The early morning sunlight shone through the old drapes. Their thin material seemed almost like burlap. Their vague printed geometric shapes altered the flow of light and played upon the cheap laminate wall paneling. A brisk knock on my door pulled me completely out of my half-sleep. Upon waking fully I realized that I could somehow feel that a number of nightbane were in the hotel, including the individual on the other side of the slightly paint peeled door. I was greeted with the smiling visage of Rocky, dressed in a flannel shirt, jeans and a huge belt buckle which read “Got Beer?” with a bottle opener built in the “O.” “Rise and shine young’n! We got some breakfast outside and you can meet the crew. Get ready and I’ll meet you outside.” With that he closed the door with the force only a large man who underestimates his strength can muster. I quickly showered the pulled on my BDU pants and a sweatshirt. I started out the door, but as an afterthought I grabbed my dad’s….well I suppose it was my…Glock 30 .45 conceal carry pistol. I stuffed the concealed clip holster inside my belt and pulled the sweatshirt over it. No point in taking chances. (It was not until later it hit my how ridiculous that thought was, apparently I had forgotten I had the ability to turn into a quarter ton armored killing machine…but I had a lot on my mind at the time!). I walked down the stairs and joined a group of remarkably normal looking people under small a park-like pavilion set with with picnic tables. I had not realized how hungry I was till I smelled the farm fresh scrambled eggs, sliced honeydew, and home-made sausage and bacon. With a warm smile, Rocky introduced me to the family. There was of course the scowling Ichabod, thin and sipping orange juice out of an old McDonald’s Smurf cup. As well as Maddy and Rocky, but the tables had a number of others, almost all of which twinged my Nightbane sense. Nearly all were welcoming and I even received hugs from a number of them. A matronly woman, appearing to be in her early 50’s urged me to sit and eat. As I dug into the generous portions, the group asked for my story, which I readily shared. The pain and uncertainty came out as a gusher. I never could keep my mouth shut. I told them of the Hounds, of Zach, of the fights and of my parents. I shared my pain of loss and my guilt over my policeman father, who died without my help. “Well son, I suppose that explains the small armory you brought with you.” I turned towards the sound of the gravelly voice. I was shocked to see a man who resembled the armored machine gun sergeant of my dream. “Sarge?” I asked tentatively. “Heh” his deep laugh caught me off guard, “See that pukes..I’m famous!...He however, quickly turned to the matronly woman and apolgozied for calling her a puke. Her smile warmed the area as she rolled her eyes. “Do I know you kid?” Sarge asked. I could only reply that he looked like a sarge with his military haircut and marine tattoos. He laughed again and said “Well, I supposed so.” As the meal progressed I could not help but listen to the conversations. I quickly realized that nearly everyone here was much older than they appeared. The girl in her 20’s (Audrea, Andrea? I cannot remember her name) was joking with a guy (I found out later was Ketsky) about partying in Sedona in 1963. My mom’s history lessons paid off as I realized that this reminisces contained events going back to before World War II! At the end of the meal, as we cleaned up I was informed that I would be going into the cave to meet their leader and start my training. With trepidation, I joined Sarge down the concrete and wooden path down into the cave entrance.

[Archmichael]

In the years after I eventually joined the Resistance, after the weapon and combat strategy training, I really took to the “mythology” of the Nightlords, Nightbane, Vampires, Guardians..Whatever I could lay my hands on. The whole thing fascinated me. I once sort of thought that what was really needed was a three ring binder, like my old white AD&D monster manual, where the weaknesses and habits of everything were listed. In my conversations with one of the visiting cell members, Anton, he told me about the Nocturnes. He told me that they (along with the Seekers) kept info on just about every supernatural baddy out there.

So when we got to Chicago, I thought that a little personal project would be to look them up to see if I could beat the bushes and see if I could contact the Nocturne librarian and see if we could help each other out. The “L.T.” was apprehensive about exposure, but the Captain gave the go-ahead on the condition that I worked with Black. I grumbled a bit. To be honest, Black scared me. More than a little. The guy put time in with the Mossad in the 1970’s doing god-knows-what. What little of his Morphus you could see through his shadowy form even freaked other Nightbane out. He also hardly ever spoke to me. I usually could get more conversation out of a parking meter.

The basement of the safe house was the typical fare; the concrete had been pulled up to expose the drain system I assist in an emergency exit for those using the shadow slide talent. (Not my favorite way to leave the building…I can tell you that). The breaker box was open as well for our technological bane brothers who could come and go through the power lines. Laid out on a number of military crates were selections of high powered rifles and a few stacks of Teflon covered rifle round boxes. Black was sitting in the middle of the makeshift armory, sitting on a folding camp stool that had seen better days. He had obviously completed the “New-safe house-armory-checklist” tasks and had started his favorite task of sharpening his razor like kukri knife.

With some trepidation, I approached Black. “Um, Master Seargent..I have requested and received a reconnaissance mission to reach out to the Nocturne faction. The Captain wants you to accompany me for the duration.” He looked up with an arched eyebrow but stood and sheathed his knife under his black leather coat. Silently he walked over to the workbench and selected a matte black Smith and Wesson .45 pistol and matching silencer. “I am ready Yeled. Let us go.” As we started to leave the house, Fizzle, the crazy anarchist hacker bane who defined the word paranoia, yelled out “Hey dipwad! Don’t forget to change your face this time!” I rolled my eyes and walked out. Ever since my first change I was on the NSB watch list. The hackers in our cell had destroyed all the electronic evidence of this, but I was originally from Illinois. In the state, they still had the old school paper notices around precincts in the state. I had learned this the hard way last time we were in Quincy. I did not mind tearing the doppelganger patrolman who had figured it out, but the Ashmedi backup had just about killed me. I concentrated and could feel my face crawl under its own accord. I picked up the hand mirror on the table and looked at my face. A stranger looked back. “Happy?” I asked Fizzle. “I would make myself prettier, but even that wouldn’t help you with the chicks!” I laughed. “You should talk, go hang out with your virtual girlfriend.” With that slight insult exchange we left.


About 6 hours, quite a few phone calls with the local Resistance cell, 4 bookstores and a coffee shop later, I sat across from what looked like a scumbag guy sipping a latte. He of course was cautious. Lord Magog, the nightlord in charge of this city was not known for his subtlety but every meeting could be your last.

“Scumbag” was a guy named Seether. Even though we were inside a darker store, he was still wearing sunglasses. He said something about “light sensitivity” but I had my doubts. Those doubts were confirmed when I concentrated and smelled him. Some of the other bane called the talent “True sight” and it manifested as some sort of visual aid. Mine was all smell. I suppose it went with my armored werewolf morphus, but somehow I can tell what someone is by smell alone. This guy was pinging my supernatural senses something fierce as some sort of bloodsucker. He didn’t smell like the usual mix of gore and gravedirt I usually picked up. This guy sort of had a minty smell mixed in, which generally meant not-so-bad supernatural stuff. I once smelled what folks called a Guardian and it was like a thousand sticks of wintergreen gum were stuck up my nose. Anyway, Seether was apparently the front man for the local Nocturne faction librarian.

“So killer, you don’t look the studious type. What gives with you looking up the librarian?”

Now granted, I am 6’5 and 285 lbs of mostly muscle. I do look more of a lineman than a geek, but it always irritates me when people think I am less than intelligent because I am big.

“Actually Seether, I was attending a University before Dark day, but that is immaterial. I am seeking information on our mutual foe…and anything else out there I might want to kill.” I said this as I leaned in close. Okay so sometimes being as big as I am does have it’s advantages. Seether, however seemed unimpressed at my attempts at intimidation. “Yeah, yeah big guy, I get it. Well, let me give you the lay of the land here. You are barely vouched for by the locals, which does not give you much cred with us but did give you this little meeting here in the coffee shop. Why don’t you give me a list of questions, I take them to the library, and bring them back. For a small fee I will be happy to provide transportation of that information and for just a little more, I may even find someone to type it out for ya. Whatta ya say there professor?”

I mulled it over but I knew that there were not simple answers for my questions. Beyond that, I did not even know what to ask. I had hoped to be able to pick the brain of the librarian more than have a FAQ.

“I appreciate your initial offer, but let me counter. I need a conversation, not a study guide. I am willing to provide payment for this opportunity. I am also willing to undergo any vouching you deem required for this conversation to happen. I understand why you would be nervous. It is the world we live in. However, I am absolutely willing to work with you to ensure your perceived safety of your librarian. I can assure you that I am in no way a threat to your librarian. I seek only the knowledge needed to fight the good fight, but I can see no other way around this than actually meeting with the source of that information directly. There are questions that I have not even discovered I may need to ask. There is no way to do that through a questionnaire.”

Seether looked at me for a while before answering. “Alright, I will tell you what. I can only ask. He wrote down a phone number on one of the tan napkins. Here is a number for a disposable cell that I am using. Call it no earlier than 24 hours from now and I should have an answer for you. By the way, thanks for the coffee.” With that he gulped down the remainder of his latte and quickly exited the building.

I was less than pleased with this turn of events.