[Writing] Tape's short stories - The Axeman Cometh (2014/06/03)

[Tapewolf]

Oldest

Old Habits Die Hard 2009/08/25

A Nice Game of Golf 2009/10/27

Making Plans for Nigel (2009/12/15)

Daryil's Christmas Gift (2009/12/25)

Divine Judgement (2010/01/18)

Only Children (2010/04/05)

Cass (2010/07/03)

Critical Mass (part 1 of 2) (2010/07/22)
Critical Mass (part 2 of 2) (2010/07/23)

The Book of the Tenets of Clan Daryil (2010/09/21)

Time and Date (2010/09/28)

Fishing Trip (Part 1 of 2) (2011/04/05)
Fishing Trip (part 2 of 2) (2011/04/06)

Fear's Child (2011/08/24)

The Axeman Cometh(2014/06/03)

Newest



Well, I've had a certain amount of writer's block, one of the reasons I finished Future History.  I decided then to concentrate on short stories.  While I have a number of them simmering away, this is the first one that's actually been completed.

It was in fact written entirely yesterday, inspired by a certain picture (also on FA here) and Keaton's own descriptions of her behaviour from a couple of years back when I first started writing about her character.

I'm not entirely sure this is one of my best, but it's a start.  Keaton liked it, so I hope others will too.  It is set some time after Future History.



Old habits die hard

"I know you, Stoneheart," the jackal said, caressing the wolf-Being's fur gently.  She looked him in the eye, her hair lit up by the small glowing patch of enchantment that was the sole source of light within the cave.

"I know everything about you," the succubus continued.  "Everything you love, everything you hate, all the things that are seductive to you and the things that can chill your heart..."  The Being whimpered.  His eyes were wide with horror but he did not move, held fast by the ropes that bound him to his chair.  

"...And now we're all alone, just the two of us... And it's been so such a long time since I've had a soul all to myself!"  Her voice was calm and abstracted, as if she was trying to choose what colour to paint the living-room.  Her face bore a faint smile that was as cold as dry ice.

"Oh yes," she crooned, stroking her victim's hair as he sweated, struggling in a futile attempt to break free from his bonds.  "That's coming.  Soon.  It won't be long, now.  I could do it fast, of course.  You'd be gone before you knew was happening.  Do you think I should do it that way...?
"Ah, but where's the fun in that?  It's so much better if you know.  I think I'll do it slowly over several minutes so you can savour the experience.  It'll be your last, after all."  She smiled happily to herself.  Even now, she could feel his soul, warm and inviting.  His terror added a delicious tang to it all.

"Think of it as a release, my dear.  All the times you've been hurt, spurned or hated... all of that will be gone in just a few short moments of pain and terror."  Her prey let out a scream of sheer terror, though muffled by the gag.

"Come to me, my darling," she sang and reached down to her victim, kissing him on the nose.  His back arched as she began to draw out his very essence, his eyes widening and staring horribly.

"'Hurt, spurned and hated'?" a voice said behind her.  "Really, Keaton... you're self-projecting.  Compared to you, this one's led a charmed life."

The succubus' eyes widened - she could feel the edge of cold steel against the side of her throat.  For a few seconds she froze, expecting a death that did not come.  The sword tapped her gently as if to remind her that she was within its power, and reluctantly she did what was required of her.

"That's better," her captor said as the terrified Being slipped away from her grasp.  A tentacle slid into her field of vision and loosed his bonds.  Stoneheart's terror was no less evident as he fell from the chair to the ground.  He had been rescued from one monster, only to fall victim to another...

"Get him out of here, Tal," the voice commanded and his bidding was at once carried out by a small warp-aci.

The sword came away from her throat and Keaton spun around furiously, forgetting that she was still in a certain amount of danger.  "You bastard!" she yelled, tentacles at the ready.  "He was mine!  You go find your own!"

"Oh Keaton, Keaton..." the incubus said sadly.  His own tentacles were out, and the enchanted sword that had been at her throat only moments before was balanced perfectly in his hands.  He was well-built, dressed in light armour and he looked rather familiar...

"Daryil will be disappointed," he sighed.  "Have you forgotten your promise to him already?"

Keaton froze.  Anger gave way to a cold chill in the pit of her stomach.  "How do you know of that...?  Y... Dorcan?"

"Yes," the Doberman said simply.  "Dorcan."  It came out like a challenge.

"B-but... how did you...?" Keaton gobbled.  "Tentacles?  The warp-aci...?  But you died!  You're not a 'Cubi anymore, you're just an android!  You don't even have tentacles anymore!"

"Android technology has come a long way since we last met," he said.  "I have come a long way... I'm a series 23 unit now.  It's not the same as before I died - I had to re-learn a lot of things and I still can't do more than the most basic shapeshifting...  But everything else..." he pointed at the now-empty chair.
"I could take your soul," he said.  "I should, by right of conquest.  At the end of the day I'm a Jyraneth Clan member, just like you.  It's what we're infamous for." his eyes bored into hers.

The succubus stared at him, unable to speak.  Android or no, the Doberman's muscle-bound frame wasn't all fakery.  He had the strength and stamina of a young Demon and if he wanted to destroy her she would be pinned down as helplessly as her erstwhile prey - and just as completely dead.  She knew it, and he knew... she could tell by the conceited smirk on his lips.  It was the same as the one she had used herself.
Keaton's head bowed for a moment and her tentacles flowed back into her wings.  She looked up at him, her expression hardening, defeated yet proud.

"Salem told you to remember his fate next time you thought to take a soul," Dorcan continued, enjoying her reaction.  "Daryil showed me the recording.  Do you think so little of your own father that you would betray him in that manner?"

The jackal let out a little cry in spite of herself.

"I'll tell you what we're going to do," Dorcan said, his voice softening for a moment.  "You're going to leave and we'll forget this ever happened.  Daryil told me that you have a part left to play, and that's the only reason you'll be walking out of here alive.
"But if ever I catch you at this again, it will be your last mistake.  If you must have soul energy, you buy it from an approved dealer.  Understand?"

"I do," she said meekly and made her way out of the cave, slowly enough to try and convince him that she wasn't scared, but quickly enough to get away from him.
In the back of her mind she was boiling with rage and frustration, but this soon melted away.  After all, the incubus was right - she had betrayed her father's wishes and her promise to Daryil.
I'm sorry, Daddy, she thought.  I promise... I'll try to be good, but... it's so hard...

* * *

"How did I do?" Dorcan asked.  He could no longer feel Keaton's mind and she was out of earshot so he relaxed, the confident expression washing away from his face.  He looked a little strained.

"Nine out of ten," Sethir said, decloaking and appearing beside him.  "She bought it alright.  You're a pretty good actor.  We'll make an adventurer of you yet."

"I'm a 'Cubi," Dorcan reminded him with a grin.  "Acting is our forte.  But... what a rush!  I haven't tasted so much fear in centuries!  I can see why Jakob is so fond of scaring people and why he's unable to kick that habit.  I'll have to watch my step or I'll be doing that too and it's a bad habit to get into."  He turned sharply to face the wolf.  "You know, I don't think you told me how you knew what she was doing."

"Elementary, my dear Dorcan," the wolf said.  "She has an offender's tag and our enforcement bureau has access to the Forchester City CCTV network.  When Mr. Stoneheart was reported missing we did a cross-check and what did we see but someone very much like Keaton approaching him stealthily...?
"It sounds a bit 'Big Brother', I know, but for cases like this it's invaluable.  You saw it yourself... another five minutes and he'd be part of a succubus.  Fortunately it's still a rare event, otherwise we might find all Creatures in the city getting tagged, criminal or not."

"Hmm, wouldn't that break the discrimination laws?" Dorcan said, not liking the direction of the conversation.  He made a mental note to avoid moving to Forchester.  "Anyway.  What about Keaton?  Think she'll hold?"

"I hope so," the wolf said, his headwings drooping slightly.  "We'll have to see.  I saw her mind there.  She's done evil things and no doubt she will again.  Her spell in prison could have reformed her, but it looks like it has only made her worse.
"But deep down inside, she only does these things because she feels she must.  That's the saddest part - there is the potential to be a good person inside her.  I can only hope she finds it before she steps too far out of line."

"Anyway, we'd better find Mr. Stoneheart," he said.  "Where did you tell your warp-aci to take him?"

"I... didn't," Dorcan admitted.

* * *

They found Stoneheart at the nearest café, his eyes still haunted by the near-death of his soul.
Beside him, somewhere within a mountain of ice-cream bowls, Tal had racked up a bill of two hundred and sixty-five gold dollars on Dorcan's credit card.

[Ren Gaulen]

Aww, poor Keaton. I almost feel sorry for her.

Nice story, Tape. I hope you'll be able to get over your writer's block soon.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

ice cream bowls. *snicker*


Well organised story, Tape. I liked it, and it tied up a few loose ends well.

[Tapewolf]

Well organised story, Tape. I liked it, and it tied up a few loose ends well.

Thanks.  One of the problems I have is that it's a bit too dependent on having read FH to properly understand the interaction between Dorcan and Keaton...

[Sprocketsdance]

Thanks.  One of the problems I have is that it's a bit too dependent on having read FH to properly understand the interaction between Dorcan and Keaton...

Perhaps.. without having read hardly any of FH (sorry bout that btw >_<) I find the interaction intriguing.. and makes me want to read it more.. but that's just me ^^

Awesome work too! Poor Keats.. she just needs a good SSA (Soul Sucker Annonymous) friend ^^

[Sunblink]

Oh CHRIST I loved this to pieces. You've heard me praising you over AIM, but I should remind you that you are several kinds of awesome, Tape.

[Tapewolf]

Oh CHRIST I loved this to pieces. You've heard me praising you over AIM, but I should remind you that you are several kinds of awesome, Tape.

Heh, thanks for the vote of confidence there.  I'm playing around with ideas for the next story, but it's still a bit short.

[Tapewolf]

A Nice Game of Golf

The Doberman stood on the green and narrowed his eyes.  He was just about on par and the ball had come to rest line-of-sight to the hole.  
Reaching into the caddy he chose a nine-iron and with careful deliberation struck.  There was a burst of muted but appreciative applause from the crowd of spectators and he made his way towards it, caddy in tow.

Dorcan reached into the caddy and drew another club, carefully working out the angles and force needed to project the ball precisely where he desired.  It's not that hard, he thought.

Just as he was about to strike there was a scream from the crowd.  He glanced up.  There was a gunshot and one of the crowd slumped dead.  A feline Being burst out of the milling crowd and onto the green, yelling "Liberty or death!" or words to that effect.
Dorcan dropped immediately, flattening himself to the green and rolling slightly.  On the opposite side of the green a Labrador retriever spasmed once as a sniper round struck her head.  She collapsed to the ground like a broken doll and her body slumped across the grassy expanse.  The sign beside her - which had been innocently advertising drum'n'bass flavour potato snacks - was now a horrible, bloody mess.

"Ewww," Dorcan said and picking himself up again, took the shot.  He sliced it and the ball soared into the rough.  Behind him two cracks sounded as men were felled by the gunman.  There were more screams from the survivors.

Dorcan glanced at his enemy and shrugged as he made his way to the ball.  "Who am I to interfere?" he muttered, glancing around.  It was plain enough to him that the murderer was still preoccupied with ending the lives of the people nearest to him in the crowd, and that meant that he was safe for now.  Keeping one eye upon them, he glanced back to the game.  Reaching into the caddy once more he selected a metal driver.  Glancing back, he realised that the crowd on that side had fled and the gunman's closest target was now him.

Dorcan swung the driver in front of his face, the bullet ricocheting off it with a sharp Ping!.  Scowling he reached back into the caddy and drew out a silenced 30.06 sniper rifle.  The gunman aimed and fired, but the revolver only clicked, his six rounds already spent.  He struggled to reload but Dorcan took the advantage, flicking off the safety.  Moments later there was a faint phut! noise and the cat was sprawled down across the fairway, his wide eyes staring pathetically to the sky as though he couldn't believe what was happening.  The crowd clapped again - Dorcan bowed slightly and flicking the safety back on, put the rifle back into the caddy.

The Doberman glanced around and pulled out a driver.  To yet more applause from the crowd, he lined up, did a few mental calculations and deftly knocked the ball out of the rough.  It bounced off the gunman leaving a small trail of red, and Dorcan smiled to himself.  Approaching the ball he chose a putter and lined up his shot.

At that moment there was a thud, followed shortly by another.  And another.  "Holy shit," he yelped.  Behind him, someone giggled.
There, behind the crowd, loomed a giant monstrosity easily 25 feet tall.  It was part flesh, part machine and ugly as sin... pieces of shining metal had been grafted onto it apparently at random like some cheesy extra from a bad horror movie.  The beast roared once and stomped into the crowd, destroying the blood-spattered advertisements and crushing at least three people underfoot.

The Doberman stared as its arm slowly raised and the creature turned, levelling and aiming at him.  In that instant he realised that the monster's arm had been replaced by a rocket launcher.  Oh crap, crap, crap... he whimpered, dropping the club and leaping to one side.  There was a flash and the rocket shot through the space that his head had just recently occupied to slam into the crowd, killing no fewer than six Beings.

Dorcan rolled over and two more projectiles slammed into the crowd.  Then there was a lull as the monster paused to reload.  Taking the advantage once more, Dorcan grabbed his rifle and shot the beast in the head three, four times.  It barely noticed.  Coming to his senses, Dorcan leapt out of the way as three more missiles came his way.  The last came to rest just behind him and he yelped with pain as it seared him.

The monster was coming close and Dorcan was running out of rounds.  He knew that next time it would be for keeps.  Diving, he grabbed the caddy and ran.  His enemy was slow to turn and Dorcan was ready for this.  He touched the side of his caddy and it whirred, vomiting out the clubs and rifle.  A protrusion extended from its side and he picked the thing up, resting it upon his shoulder.

Touching the side, there was a deafening roar as his impromptu bazooka fired.  The force blew him backwards and he lay on his back staring at the sky for a few seconds.  There was a strange sound ringing in his ears but that was hardly surprising.  Suddenly he realised that the wailing sound he could hear was the creatures' death-cry and he sat up, just in time to see it collapse onto the crowd.

Shaking his head and dusting himself off, Dorcan looked around for the ball, just in time to see it fade from sight.  Shit, took too long, he thought and glanced around.  Sure enough, it had teleported back to the start of the course.
With a sigh he trudged back to the start and eyed the ball warily.  Earlier he thought he'd caught it moving while his back was turned and the way things were going he was not about to take anything for granted.

Smiling evilly he drew out the rifle again and aimed at the base of the ball.  Predictably, it burst into pieces earning him a penalty from the referee.

Choosing a long-range driver, Dorcan swung back when a young feline child burst out of the crowd.  "Death to the Bishop!" she screamed and threw something.  The dark object bounced, landing just a few yards away and Dorcan, in spite of his shock, immediately recognised it as a hand grenade.  He had three seconds.

Dropping the caddy and pausing only to snatch at his rifle, the Doberman fled into the crowd.  There was a flash and a sound like a thunderclap, killing several people in the crowd along with the assassin.  He turned back just in time to see the ball sailing through the air.

"No!" he screamed, clutching his hair.  The ball bounced once, twice and fell into the rapidly flowing water with a loud plop!  He ran over but it was no use, the ball had become one with it.

"Lost ball," the referee said.  "I'm afraid you're ou-" he got no further as the Doberman emptied a round into his head.

"Who's out now?" Dorcan sneered.  Then his expression turned to one of delight.  The referee, it seemed, had dropped something as he died.  It was another ball.

The Doberman, his tail wagging, took his prize, only to have it disappear in his hand.  His brow creased and he glanced back towards the start of the course where the ball now stood once again.  "Better than nothing," he said to himself, but then cursed as he discovered that the only club surviving the bombing attempt was his putter, wholly unsuited for traversing the entire course.

With a solemn expression, he turned about and selected a man in the crowd.  He had a set of clubs, and a few moments later Dorcan had them instead, the one careful owner lying across the railing with part of his head missing.  Some of the surviving members of the crowd were still booing about this, though they quieted down as the Doberman struck, sending the ball across the fairway.

Dorcan, after a moment's consideration, was about to place his second shot when he heard a peculiar sucking noise from the crowd.  He looked up and the club fell from his hands.  One of the crowd was rising into the air very rapidly.  Then another, and another still.

The Doberman became frantic.  He snatched the club up and slammed it with great force, sending the ball hurtling across the course.  It was a lucky shot that took him right into the putting green and he ran after it like one possessed, the caddy overturning and scoring the ground.  The referee would probably have objected to that if he were still capable of objecting to anything at all.

There were maybe ten people left in the crowd and another was starting to rise into the sky even as he watched.  With trembling hands he took out the putter and nudged the ball towards the hole.  In his haste he overdid it and the ball rolled past.
"Awww," chorused the crowd, now down to about five.

Dorcan knew that time was not on his side.  Whatever force was at play was something he could not control or defeat with bullets.  He had to concentrate upon the game.  Three more people rose.  Four.  He took the shot, trying to get it just right.
There was no sound from the crowd now, for there was no crowd.  The last member was ascending to heaven as if caught up in some strange and terrible apotheosis.

Dorcan watched horrified, his eyes upon the ball alone as it rolled towards the hole.  The force had taken hold of him now and he was rising into the air without sensation.  The white of the ball, now dwindling, stopped short just upon the edge of the hole.

"You've got to be kidding!" he shrieked frantically.  The ball as if hearing his command, teetered and fell into the hole with an emphatic clunk.   Everything went black.

* * *

Dorcan removed the headphones and glanced at the others.  His expression was hard to read.  There was silence for a few moments.

"So... what do you think?" Daryil asked eventually, a nervous smile upon his face.  As it happened he already knew what Dorcan thought but it helped break the ice.

"You're utterly insane," Dorcan told him.

"I know," the fox replied, beaming.  "But what was your score in the end?"

The Doberman glanced at the display screen.  "Three holes, six over par.  And four frags."

"Let me try something," Ashley said, beckoning for the controller.  "I saw one of the crowd back there.  His feet weren't touching the ground.  We've got to fix that before we ship the demo..."

"Must we?" Daryil said, pouting slightly.  "I liked it when they did that.  It looked cool!
 Hey... maybe we should add a level where it's night and the ground is gone and when you look down you just see stars..."

"You're utterly insane," Dorcan repeated.  "But I think you've got a hit on your hands."



Author's note:
I don't play golf so I may have got some of the terminology and nuances wrong.  Sorry about that!

[Cogidubnus]

Every time somebody got shot, I was hearing the Halo announcer. "Double Kill! Triple Kill! M-m-m-m-m-monsterkill!"

That was well written and very amusing. It perhaps speaks badly of me that I might pick up a golf game like that.

[Tapewolf]

Every time somebody got shot, I was hearing the Halo announcer. "Double Kill! Triple Kill! M-m-m-m-m-monsterkill!"
That was well written and very amusing. It perhaps speaks badly of me that I might pick up a golf game like that.

Heh, thanks.
It was originally the result of a discussion I had with my brother a couple of months back.  We were playing Wii Golf and I got the idea of a 'Nightmare' difficulty level, which basically crossed golf with Doom.  That fairly soon turned into "That's the sort of thing Daryil might do".

[Dannysaysnoo]

Every time somebody got shot, I was hearing the Halo announcer. "Double Kill! Triple Kill! M-m-m-m-m-monsterkill!"

Isn't that Unreal?
But yes, an all round amusing tale of golf balls and assassination attempts. Very nice!


Would have preferred a GEP gun, as apposed to a bazooka, but whatever.

[TheJimTimMan]

Now there's a game that bucks the trend. I wonder, does it have any RPG elements; perhaps going down the Borderlands route with 87 billion randomly generated golf clubs as loot?

[Fibre]

That was certainly an unusual and interesting story. Quite a surprise ending.

The monster was coming close and Dorcan was running out of rounds.  He knew that next time it would be for keeps.  Diving, he grabbed the caddy and ran.  His enemy was slow to turn and Dorcan was ready for this.  He touched the side of his caddy and it whirred, vomiting out the clubs and rifle.  A protrusion extended from its side and he picked the thing up, resting it upon his shoulder.

I did have to read this part several times to figure out what was going on... there's a rocket launcher built into the caddy?

[Tapewolf]

I did have to read this part several times to figure out what was going on... there's a rocket launcher built into the caddy?

Pretty much.  Of course that's entirely impossible unless the mechanism is stored in non-euclidean space a'la Abel's Mirror, but since the whole thing is a video game anyway, it doesn't really matter 

[Sprocketsdance]

Wow! It took me a while to stop freaking out with a "DORCAN NOOOO!!" XD but very neat! I do like the idea of mixing golf with DOOM it would make it much more entertaining.

[Gabi]

Sorry for the late reply. I liked both stories, especially the first one. The second one was interesting, but Dorcan's attitude made it clear it wasn't real from the beginning. He did act like it was a game, which I guess is not a bad thing considering it was. It was an original game too, but I'm afraid I wouldn't want to play it.

[Tapewolf]

Making plans for Nigel

Samson entered the bar and looked around.  A couple of regulars waved, he waved back.  On a usual day he'd probably join them and there might be time enough for that later.  But there was someone he needed to talk to first.
Near the back, on a table all to himself, a young Alsatian hound* was contemplating a mug of ale with a doleful expression.  Someone who was not a regular might have taken offence at the two demonic wings protruding from his back, but everyone here was happy enough with it and Samson himself would have had harsh words for anyone who tried to mock or otherwise take the youth to task over his peculiarity.

The dog's ears pricked slightly at the sound of the approaching feline and he glanced up momentarily.

"Leave me be," he mumbled.

Samson ignored this and sat next to him.  "I said... leave me alone!" he growled, and looked up, teeth bared.  His expression changed abruptly.

"Oh!  Sir!  I didn't know it was you!"

"We're not at the academy now, Nigel.  Just call me Samson."

"Okay, sir... I mean... Samson..." he flustered.

"Look, Nigel.  I can see this isn't a particularly good time, but I have to know.  Mrs. Teller at the academy seems to think that you want to cancel the course.  Is this true...?"

Nigel's upper body gave out and he flopped across the table.  "Yes," he sighed.  "I... I don't think I can do this anymore."

"But why?  You're one of the best students I've had.  A quick learner, fast and agile.  It's almost as if you can tell beforehand what someone is about to do, and block it.  Yes, you're perhaps a bit softhearted and you certainly need to work on that whole nervousness thing, but all of those are things which can be overcome..."

"About that..."

"Look, you're one of my star pupils."  Samson continued, trying hard to suppress his horror.  "If you're really, seriously thinking of leaving us, I want to know what the reason is."

"Sir... Samson," Nigel said.  "It's difficult for me to talk about this.  It hasn't been an easy decision to make."

"Oh, I'm sorry.  Do you want to go somewhere more private?" Samson offered.  "We don't have to discuss this here."

"No, it's fine," Nigel glanced around.  "It's just...  I'm afraid."

Samson blinked.  This was not something he'd expected to hear.

"Is that all?  Nigel, fear is a defence mechanism.  It helps us survive.  It's a hard world out there, you know that and I know that.  I won't say there's nothing to be afraid of, but it can't be that bad.  The secret is to ensure that fear serves you.  Don't let it get the upper hand, that's all.  Now... just a minute, let me get something to drink.  Do you want a refill?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks." Nigel said.  The panther hesitated as he noticed that his pupil hadn't touched his ale at all.  Maybe it is that bad, he thought and went to the bar.

"Do you believe in prophecy?" Nigel asked when he returned.

"Which prophecy?" Samson asked, eyeing the hound curiously at the sudden change of subject.

"Prophecy in general.  The concept of being able to see a vision of the future."

"The Phoenix Oracles are true prophets," Samson allowed, "So I don't see why other Beings or Creatures may not also gain visions of the future under the right circumstances."

"You know, of course that I might be... a Demon," Nigel began.  His grey, leathery wings twitched slightly.  "Whatever my father's heritage, my mother was a Being.  I have these wings from my father, but I don't know what else I have.  Maybe I'll live for a thousand years.  Maybe I'll be able to harden my skin against blades.  Or maybe..." he swallowed.  "Maybe I'm pure-blood."

"Would that be so terrible?" the black panther asked.  "Demons have a bad reputation, but it's not all that bad.  You stick with us, you'll make a fine warrior, whatever your race is."

"That's not the point," the Alsatian said.  "I'm 20.  If I am pureblood, I'll start to change soon, in just a few years.  The horns will come in.  And my mind might change too.  I could end up with all these urges to kill, to eat the flesh of people... I don't want to turn into a monster!

"Don't you see?" he whimpered.  "I'm not afraid of the course.  I'm not... very... afraid of the world outside.  I'm afraid of me.  I'm afraid of what I might turn into."

Samson remained silent, waiting for his student to finish unburdening himself.

"And that is why I want to leave the course.  I don't want to know how to fight bandits, rogue adventurers or Demons anymore.  I don't want myself to have that advantage if... if I go bad.  I don't want to complete the course."

"Nigel," Samson began after a long pause, "I've never told you this, but I have met Demons.  Spoken to them, I mean, not just some random battle in the forest.  I lived in the Demon city of Zinvth for a while, and I know a thing or two about them.  Demons aren't all bad, kid.  And those who are... are because they chose to be that way.
"It's not the wings that make you evil, it's not the powers.  It's how you decide to put them to use.  And that by and large, depends on how you were brought up.  Nigel, I've known you for at least five years.  You aren't perfect, but you aren't a monster either."

"And if coming into my powers changes me...?" Nigel asked, staring into the depths of his ale.

"I told you, I grew up in Zinvth.  Adolescent Demons who go off on a bender do so because they are encouraged to do that by their parents, and they were encouraged to do it by their parents.  It's all part of their upbringing.  Demons and half-demons who don't have that kind of pressure to kill and maim tend not to.  Even some of the ones who are so encouraged don't, whether as an act of rebellion or because they did just the bare minimum necessary to keep their parents off their backs."

The canine grunted, digesting this.

"And of course, this might not happen.  You might only have some traits and not be a pureblood at all.  Heck, you might not be a Demon."

"With wings like this?" Nigel snapped, swishing them around.

"Demons aren't the only ones with leathery wings.  Dragons have them, mythos have them.  Some 'Cubi have them too."

"I think I'd know if I was a dragon," Nigel smiled wanly.  "But what's a cube-eye?"

"Oh, some weird sort of demon.  They feed on pain and torment and can steal people's identities." And some of them eat souls, he added mentally, cursing himself.

"That doesn't exactly make me feel better," the dog pointed out.

"Whether they torment people or steal their identities is again, all down to their upbringing," Samson retorted.  "Your father was - and I shan't mince words - a good-for-nothing philanderer who was killed by the mayor the day after he'd laid your mother.  But she... she's done a good job on your upbringing, and I don't believe you've given her the credit she deserves.  You're a good lad and I can't easily see you killing people for shits and giggles."

"I stand corrected," Nigel said.  "But Mayor Filtree was a demon himself, and he killed my father out of hand!"

"...because he found him in bed with his wife," Samson reminded him.  "And if it's any consolation, he resigned after that.  He was ashamed of losing control."

"I guess I'm on the right track, then," Nigel said.  The feline put his head in his hands.

"...so the mayor wasn't the best example.  We'll get back to that.  But first, I believe you asked me about prophecy.  Would you care to elaborate?"

"I guess so," Nigel said.  "They say that when a child goes through puberty he or she goes through a phase of having erotic dreams as their body reorganises itself and they mature.  I can't remember any myself, but hey... my body chemistry might not be the same."

"Go on," Samson said.

"Well, I had a dream three days ago.  Not an erotic one," he added quickly.  "It was about me.  In the dream it was about five years from now and I had come into power.  I had the horns, and I had the strength and reflexes.  I had a figure like you wouldn't believe.  And I had become an adventurer, just like you trained me to."

"What happened?"

"I... killed people.  I slew bandits in the forest.  I... ate their bodies.  I ate... their souls."  Nigel's wings were shuddering slightly... he was shaking with fear.

"And then... when I'd killed the bandits, I needed more.  I killed the people I'd been protecting.  And I ate their souls too.  And then... then... I began to hunt for more victims!"

Samson was taken aback.  Not just because of what he'd been told, but because his student - who he almost thought of as a son - was crying to himself.

"And you think that this was your body telling you that you would soon become a full demon?  That it was trying to prepare you for the change, for your new strengths and new... urges?"

"No," Nigel wept.  "I think it's a prophecy."

* * *

"Supposing you do quit the course," Samson said, when he had calmed the younger man down.  "What will you do then?  How will you live?"

"By becoming a farmer," Nigel replied instantly.  "I'll work the land.  With a demon's strength I can do it alone, out in the wilderness of the northern moors where there won't be anyone for me to hurt.  I can grow crops, I can eat my own produce.  If I need meat, I can raise chickens or cattle.  And I... won't have to worry about Demons or bandits raiding my farm."

Samson looked kind of worried.  "Isolation is not the answer, surely.  Many Creatures need the company of others, and Demons are no exception."

"Better that than harm another soul," the hound said.  "Do you have a better idea?"

"Yes.  Stay with us.  Finish your course.  If you do go rogue on us, we have ways to restrain your powers.  We can keep you safe from harming others until you come to your senses.  But assuming you don't lose it, which is far more likely, we can put those powers to good use.  For the good of all of us."

"How so?"

"I... shouldn't tell you this, kid, but the council has been watching your progress.  You would be wasted as an adventurer.  When you graduate -"  He raised a hand as Nigel attempted to interrupt.  "When you graduate, the plan is to offer you a place in the town guards."

The Alsatian's mouth fell open.  "That wasn't part of the dream," he said.

* * *

Samson knocked twice on the office door.  "Enter," called a female voice.  Samson did.

"Ah, Samson," Mayor Vlitnik said.  "How did it go?"

The panther locked the door and sat down.  Demon wings appeared from his back as he did so, and the raccoon did likewise.

"He's still terrified of the idea of being a full-fledged Demon.  He had a nightmare about it and it's really shaken him up.  He was afraid it might be prophetic."

"I see," the Mayor said.  "And did you manage to persuade him to stay with us?"

"Indeed.  If he truly is a Demon, he'd be able to mop the floor with me.  I'd prefer to have him our side.  But...  I still think he's an incubus."

"Oh?" the Mayor said, and then she smiled.  "Surely with your talents you would be able to tell?"

"Not conclusively.  Too many ambient thoughts and emotions at the academy or the bar," he pulled a face.  "So our wager is still on.  But if he is, I'd say he's probably got a fear affinity."

The raccoon sighed.  "If you're right, or if we're both wrong, will all this have been a waste of time...?  Training him for the captaincy, I mean."

"No.  If he truly is 'Cubi, he has the right to an education at SAIA and I would sponsor him for that, if that is what he wishes.  That doesn't make it a waste, it just means that he'll be away a few centuries.  Perhaps not even that if he takes a part-time course.  And even if he's just a half-Demon or a mythos or something, he'll still make a very capable captain."

"I guess you're right," she said.  "It's just... I don't like the idea of planning his future for him like this.  It's too... Angelic."

"When he's ready, we'll tell him," the feline said.  "At the end of the day it has to be his own choice.  If he wants to leave, we mustn't stop him."

"Agreed.  But..."

"...how will he feel when he discovers our Mayor is a full-blooded Demoness?"  Samson finished.  "Or that I am an incubus?  We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."



Author's notes

(*) 'Alsatian hound' is synonymous with 'German Shepherd dog'.  I don't think the former name is used very much in the US, but it feels a lot less clunky to write.

See also "Making plans for Nigel" by XTC.  A youtube search should work wonders.


Spoilers

For those who are wondering or haven't quite made the connection, Nigel's full name is Nigel D'Aril.

Nigel briefly appears in Project Future on the following pages:
http://www.project-future.org/strip.php?strip=89
http://www.project-future.org/strip.php?strip=90

[Sprocketsdance]

Oooo! Very neat! It can be frustrating to qualm someone's fears, especially about themselves ^^ but it's cool to learn more about Nigel Oh the curiosities! I do kick myself for not having read FH yet I'll break out my jump stick...

Nicely done as well 

Oh, and on a bit of a side note.. at the end I couldn't help but think a bit about Full Metal Alchemist ^^

[Tapewolf]

Oooo! Very neat! It can be frustrating to qualm someone's fears, especially about themselves ^^ but it's cool to learn more about Nigel

Glad you like it.  I wasn't consciously thinking of it but I went through a certain crisis of self-confidence myself around Nigel's age.  I guess that helped me write this.

Oh, and on a bit of a side note.. at the end I couldn't help but think a bit about Full Metal Alchemist ^^

I wouldn't know.

[Sprocketsdance]

I wouldn't know.

That makes it even more cool then! ^^ If you like anime maybe check the series out.

[ChaosMageX]

This most recent story has me wondering a few things about demons.

I'm not sure if demons have the ability to fully conceal their back-wings.  They may only be able to fluctuate the size based on their power output, but I wouldn't know.

I'm also not sure if demons have horns (unless their base species has horns).  None of the demons seen so far in the main comic have horns other than those possessed by their base species, except for DP, and those are implants, as stated in his cast page.

I just want to get my facts straight in terms of their physiology, for the sake of my own stories.

Also, if you want to see some Full Metal Alchemist, you can watch episodes on Adult Swim Video.
However, I wouldn't suggest watching it right now, as it's near the end of the series and it might spoil some things for you, since you haven't seen it before.  Wait a few months and you'll be able to watch the series from the beginning.

[Tapewolf]

I'm not sure if demons have the ability to fully conceal their back-wings.  They may only be able to fluctuate the size based on their power output, but I wouldn't know.

They can if they use a concealment charm like Kria's.

I'm also not sure if demons have horns (unless their base species has horns).  None of the demons seen so far in the main comic have horns other than those possessed by their base species, except for DP, and those are implants, as stated in his cast page.

Demonology says they do.  What's not clear is whether a species that lacks horns normally will have the horns as a kid or when they reach maturity.  The wings seem to be present either at birth or when they come into their powers, so it's not impossible that the horns could appear in a similar manner. 

Also, if you want to see some Full Metal Alchemist, you can watch episodes on Adult Swim Video.
However, I wouldn't suggest watching it right now, as it's near the end of the series and it might spoil some things for you, since you haven't seen it before.  Wait a few months and you'll be able to watch the series from the beginning.

If Ren has taught me one thing about anime it's that it seems to be horribly depressing, almost without exception.  So I think I'll give it a miss.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

I'm not sure if demons have the ability to fully conceal their back-wings.  They may only be able to fluctuate the size based on their power output, but I wouldn't know.

They can if they use a concealment charm like Kria's.

I do note that those have side effects, which you (the original poster) should pay attention to...

[Tapewolf]

I do note that those have side effects, which you (the original poster) should pay attention to...

I read it that it was a glitch specific to that particular brand or model.  It's still not entirely clear that it is the reason for Lorenda's wing size, it's just strongly implied...

[Sofox]

Love the stories Tape.
I think the second one is my favourite, mixing golf and Doom just seems to write itself.
The other two are nice, but they seem tied into other stories I haven't read so it's hard to appreciate them in and of themselves. Still pretty good.

[Tapewolf]

Love the stories Tape.
I think the second one is my favourite, mixing golf and Doom just seems to write itself.
The other two are nice, but they seem tied into other stories I haven't read so it's hard to appreciate them in and of themselves. Still pretty good.

Nigel is almost self-contained.  The only external reference is Nigel himself appearing in the Project Future panels as a background character.

The first story really had that problem, and I'm trying to make my next one easier to read without the background.

[Gabi]

Interesting story. Is a sequel coming along?

I liked the phrase "I don't like the idea of planning his future for him like this.  It's too... Angelic."

[Tapewolf]

Interesting story. Is a sequel coming along?

There's not really much more I had planned to say, but if I think of something, the certainly.



Daryil's Christmas Gift

In a rough-looking hovel, two Beings lay exhausted at the end of a long day's travel, their young child fast asleep beside them.
At the rear of their hut a door - bolted shut - began to tremble, the bolt slowly moving of its own volition and sliding gently back.
With a faint click it unlatched and the door opened.  A head appeared, eyes shining and a wicked grin crossing its features, two wings quivering with anticipation.

The creature slipped softly and silently towards the cot, staring down at the child who was soon to be his prey.
"Come here, little soul..." he crooned, and reached down to touch the infant's forehead.

"Oh for the love of the gods, Daryil," Jakob protested.  "Leave it alone!  You'll get us thrown out again!"

The fox looked up, the small wings on his head drooping.  He scowled for a moment and backed out of the nativity display, locking it up behind him.

"He's harmless," the wolf insisted, as a pair of rather displeased security guards looked the pair of them over.

"That may be, sir, but he's not good for business.  I'm afraid I must ask you both to leave the mall."

"What are you doing to my boyfriend?!" Daryil demanded.  His voice cracked like a whip and the two guards turned involuntarily.  The fox had two pairs of wings, two on his head and two on his back.  The back-wings had changed towards their tips, into tentacles.  Each one ended with a small head.  Only an incubus from an especially dangerous clan would have this and the guards knew it.  One of them took a step backwards - not that this would help much if the creature wished to harm them.

"You two," the fox commanded.  "Show us out of here.  Quickly now, or I'll turn you both into slugs."

"At once, milord," the shorter guard stuttered.  He was sure he could hear the wolf sobbing quietly.



Jakob and Daryil walked back into the centre of the town.  Jakob had tactfully hidden both pairs of wings, on his head and back - and therefore passed for an ordinary mortal wolf to avoid disturbing the locals.  His leader, Lord Daryil, was a remarkably powerful individual and as such felt fewer constraints.

"You never let me have any fun," Daryil pouted.  Jakob had forced him to carry the shopping as penance for embarrassing them.

"There is a time and a place for everything," Jakob retorted.

"But how are we going to keep up the clan's reputation for mental instability if we play it straight every time?" the fox protested.

Reluctantly, Jakob was forced to conceded.  "No argument there," he admitted.  "But what grieves me is that you did this while we still had things to buy.  If you'd waited until afterwards, it really wouldn't be such a problem.  Just twenty more minutes, that's all I would have asked for..."

"Okay," the fox said.  "We disguise ourselves and go back.  Then you-"  he paused in mid sentence.  One of the shopping bags fell from his hand, spilling its contents in the snow.

"Is something wrong?"  Jakob asked worriedly.

"Very," Daryil said, his brow furrowed.  "You go on.  I'll catch up later.  I have a... job to do."

Jakob shrugged, and picked up the bag as his leader teleported away.

* * *

In the heart of the forest, a raccoon Being readied his crossbow.  There had been reports of an Angel or Demon wandering the forest, and it seemed that they were accurate.  The wolf had medium-grey wings, like an off-colour Angel.  She glanced furtively for strangers as she walked, but Zephyr kept his distance and made no sound.  He waited until the Creature drew level with his imaginary target and suddenly flicked the lever.  The bolt swished through the air, embedding itself into the wolf's skull.  Her body quivered for a moment and she collapsed to the ground with a soft sigh.

An Angel, he thought, and went to examine the body, making sure she was dead.  Monsters like this were tricky and it was sometimes hard to tell.  Necessary, though... even a wounded Angel or Demon was a formidable foe, easily capable of dispatching the unwary.
The she-wolf's medium grey wings twitched slightly at his touch, but this was only a reflex.  She was most definitely dead.
Curiously, a second set of wings had appeared on his victim's head, evidenly concealed by some enchantment that had expired when she did.

The job done, his town saved from another monster, Zephyr turned to go.  The wolf didn't have much of interest on her body, and in any case, Zeph was no bandit.  Taking a small shovel from his pack, he started to dig a hole - a crude grave in which to place the body.  Even a demon deserved a burial of some kind, after all.
As he dug, he listened and watched cautiously.  It was quite possible that there were other monsters in the forest.

"Oh dear," called a voice a few yards behind him.  "You're really in trouble now."

Dropping the shovel, Zeph spun around and loosed a bolt at the figure's head.  His opponent did not move, but the space in front of him shimmered.  It warped 90 degrees and the crossbow bolt switched instantly from horizontal to vertical motion, lancing itself firmly into the ground at his feet like a stake.

The figure was a fox, tall and handsome.  He had medium grey wings upon his back, and atop his head, just like the ones on the dead she-wolf.  His chest was bare and there again was that yellow, horse-shoe symbol upon his sternum.  He looked rather irritable.

"Put it down," Daryil said, gesturing at the crossbow.  Zeph held fast, wondering if he had time to reload.  Probably not.  Even so, he held firm upon his weapon until he saw two tentacles emerge from behind his opponent.  They were the same colour as his wings.   As the wings on the body behind him.  The tentacles had snaked around his neck and he knew what he was dealing with.  Incubi did not have the brute force of a Demon, or the magic and cunning of an Angel, but they could read minds and shapeshift.  The tentacles in particular could be deadly with a suitably skilled individual - the monster could pop his head off his shoulders in much the same was as a cub might pop the head off a dandelion.

Zephyr let the crossbow fall to the ground, trying hard not to make any sudden movements that could alarm the Creature or provoke him into action.  He kicked it away from himself and the tentacles released him, picking up the bow instead and snaking away with it.

"That was very stupid," the fox said.  "I could have been a guard.  I could have been the king's emmisary, a passerby, anyone.  Instead, you've just declared war against an entire clan."

Zephyr swallowed.  Daryil stared at him impassively.

"You've been a bad boy," he continued.  "You've killed one of my childen.  Her soul cried out to me as she died and I have come to avenge her.  Speaking of souls, I should take yours.  You know, I've always wanted a pet soul..."

"No," Zephyr croaked, his voice cracking.  "Don't destroy me.  Please... I made a mistake..."

"Bullshit," Daryil said.  "You think of us as monsters, don't bother to deny it.  You think of yourself as some kind of hero, protecting the people from the evil soul-stealing demons.  I can see it in your mind, plain as day.  You don't really think of this as a mistake..." he gestured at the body.  "...your only 'mistake' was 'getting caught'.

"People like you think that just because we have wings, we're not people too.  Think that we only live to feed and kill.  You just don't think that we might have feelings as well, that we might not always have had wings.  You never stop and wonder if we even knew we were 'monsters' when we were growing up?"

"No, I won't destroy you..." he continued, casting some kind of spell at the corpse.  He turned back at the raccoon and smiled.

"...I'm going to create you."

Daryil slid towards his prey.  His feet left a trail of churned grass as he moved.  Zephyr felt the hands clamp down upon the sides of his head.  They glowed, and pain such as he had never known coursed through his very soul.  His only comfort was that the pain would end forever.
But forever seemed a long time in coming.  Zephyr found himself lying upon the ground, and as his vision slowly faded back, he saw the fox crouching over the body of the wolf he'd slain.

"Arise and walk, my child," he said, and Zephyr, even in his sickened state, gasped as the body stirred and sat up.  She wasn't strong enough to stand, but at least she was conscious.  Daryil let something fall to the ground - a red-stained crossbow bolt.  He picked up his comrade and turning back to face Zeph, called out.

"I'll deal with you later, kid," he said and vanished, taking the wolf with him.

Left alone, Zephyr was lying upon his side.  His strength was slowly returning, but he needed to get away before the monster returned.  Sitting up would help.  He tried to roll onto his back, but it didn't work.  There was something in the way, something that was part of him.  Sharp stabs of a pain he had never known was possible made their presence known and he moved back.  He dimly remembered Daryil standing over him, tentacles snaking out and cutting into his shirt, slitting the back open...

No... he thought.  Not that!  He glanced down - on his arm was that same horseshoe mark that had been on the wolf, on the fox.  Now it was on him.

The medium grey wings on his head and his back ruffled slightly in the breeze as Zephyr struggled miserably through the snow, glancing furtively as he kept an eye out for strangers.
He didn't even know where he was going.  He could not return home, not now.  The guards would shoot him on sight.  His family would assume he had been eaten, replaced by a monster who had assumed his identity.  All his life he had been living in fear of monsters and determined to do something to turn the tide.
Now he was a monster and he would live in fear of people like himself, who would callously shoot him in the head as soon as look at him.  Just as he had done to the she-wolf.  The only family he would know now were the fox he had shot at and the wolf he had murdered.  Not off to a good start.

All of a sudden he stopped - there was something small and red at his feet.  A piece of card.  It read:

Now you are powerful and ageless.  Merry Christmas.  Yours, Lord Ikaarion Daryil.

With a start he looked up.  The fox was sitting cross-legged on a tree stump with a red and white hat on his head.

"Welcome to the clan, my child," he said.

[Gabi]

OK, that was a weird ending even for that sort of punishment, but I guess it suits Daryil. So... he's actively trying to maintain his clan's reputation for insanity, and Jakob is helping him? That would explain a few things.

[Tapewolf]

OK, that was a weird ending even for that sort of punishment, but I guess it suits Daryil. So... he's actively trying to maintain his clan's reputation for insanity, and Jakob is helping him? That would explain a few things.

Well, I'm a sucker for a redemption story.  I have to admit that the original draft ended with Zeph walking off into the night in a state of despair.  It felt a little too hopeless and sad, though.