Stereotypes of a Werewolf

Stories of the those from House Dragoon Talanador, the Company of the Dragon and the Tavern itself.

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Stereotypes of a Werewolf

Post by G » Mon Nov 13, 2006 3:25 pm

"Okay quiet. He's at the bar. If we're slient enough we might be able to take him." Whispered the first man.

"I sure hope so. After I done seen what he did to them cattle and turn back into his human self, we're better to be rid of 'im than lettin' 'im drink at our tavern." Whispered the second.

At that point, the man they were watching staggered from his seat at the bar and walked toward the exit, getting an angry yell from the Bartender who just realized that the man left without paying his tab.

"Le's follow'im."

Sneaking down the poorly lit road, the two country yokels followed the drunken individual. It was obvious to anyone watching that the two men were simply biding their time to strike against the drunk, but someone who could smell fear would know that they were simply building their courage as their quarry was no ordinary individual.

They felt the time had come when they reached the intersection that was notorious for the hanging of pirates and other criminals. Such a place seemed to build courage due to it being the end for most vicious people and hardened felons. They decided, admittedly a poor choice, that this was the time to strike.

"All right, you vile beast! You just stop right there and take what's coming to you like a man!" called out the first man bravely.

The drunk simply chuckled. "It had occured to wonder when you would announce yourself. I caught your foul stench the moment I entered the tavern. Your whispers planning to ambush me while I drank would have been heard by anyone paying the slightest attention. I'm admit I am almost surprised you managed to build up the intestinal fortitude needed to actually threaten me. Well done."

The Man-Beast slowly turned, the dim moonlight reflecting in his bright red eyes as he gazed at the two now frozen farmers.

"Hey, you wasn't supposed to be able to turn inta anything unless it were a full moon..." said the second man very nervously as he reached into his vest for a hidden object.

The were-beast groaned a little bit, rolling his eyes. "Don't tell me you actually believe those children stories about what a werewolf can and cannot do? How droll."

The second farmer then took out his pre-loaded flintlock and pointed it at the werewolf. With a shaky hand, he took careful aim and hoped that he was close enough to not miss, and then opened fire. The bullet escaped the tip of the primitive weapon and embedded itself into the upper arm of the beast.

"Arrgh! It burns, it burns! Ahh I'm dying!" cried the werewolf.

The second farmer had a very brief feeling of success before the werewolfs cries of pain dissolved into a chorus of laughter.

"I do sincerely apologize." he said as he dug his clawed fingers into the open wound, pulling out and inspecting the silver bullet. "I could not resist taking the opportunity to mock yet another stereotype so common to my kind. While being shot most certainly does sting, unless you score a hit in vital areas, it's not going to cause me any serious harm."

A quiet mutter is heard from the first farmer. "Told you."

"Umm, wha' about garlic?" asked the second.

"Oh ha, you foolish sack of meat! Garlic is a stereotypical item used to ward off the unwanted attentions of a vampire! I most certainly not a member of that race of creatures of the night. No, you will find that I am not affected by garlic, wooden stakes, religious artifacts or even holy water. No doubt that any other primitive 'werewolf' wards are unlikely to affect me as well. Please do be so kind as to do better research on the subject?"

"Whut?"

"Listen closely, as I do not have any inclination to repeat myself to such small minded individuals. You've provided me with a modicum entertainment this evening, but two scrawny throwbacks such as yourselves will not provide me with any genuine form of sport. So, I will bid thee farewell."

The werewolf looked at the two as they stared back with completely blank expressions on their faces.

"That means go. Now."

The two farmers didn't need to be told twice as they turned away quickly and ran off back the way they came through the dark roads. The werewolf stood there, scratching his chin in quiet contemplation.

"Well. They may not provide any genuine form of sport, but it will still be a sport. Off I go."
Last edited by G on Sun Sep 23, 2007 2:36 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by G » Mon Nov 13, 2006 3:26 pm

"I do not zink you vill be vanting to do zat, my friend." spoke a voice.

"Beg pardon? Who's there?" called out the werewolf.

"Vhile you may not haf an aversion to garlic, it does, indeed, cause a generous amount of discomfort to real vampires." Akamat appeared before the werewolf in a dark swirl of mist, arms folded calmly over his chest and a rather smug expression on his facial features. "While it does not completely repel us, remind me to sank you for sending zem avay."

"My dear fellow, just who might you be, if I maybe so bold?" questioned the werewolf, who was slightly shaken at the sudden appearance of the vampire.

Akamat shook his head, placing a slender finger before his lips in a shushing motion. "No, my canine adversary. Zat is not important. Vhat is important is vhat you are doing here. Zis land, such as it is, is under my protection. Vhat is important is zat you und your band of lycanthopic friends are robbing, murdering, und burning in my associate's, Baron Talanador's, land. I am here at his behest to ensure zat zeese criminal acts will cease und desist, und zat you und your band vill leave. Do I make myself clear?" he finished with a questioning eyebrow raised.

The werewolf studied the vampire a moment. He may be nervous around them, but being ordered about like some boorish servantwho had to do what he was told was not an option he was open to.

"Now, that was not terribly polite, my good man. Some might consider that it was outright rude. First, you accuse me of criminal behaviour, then you presume that you or this Baron could dare order me and my partners from these lands. Such attitude is unconscionable. No, Lord whomever you may be, it is YOU who will away!"

Completing that line of dialogue, the werewolf immediately launched himself, claws and teeth bared, at the vampire, ready to shred the undead creature apart. Akamat waited until the last possible moment to step aside, using lightning quick reflexes to reach out and take hold of the werewolfs right arm above the wrist, twisting the hand and snapping it in the blink of an eye.

The werewolf howled in pain, collapsing into the dirt on his knees and holding his injured arm. Akamat knelt on one knee beside him.

"Tell me. Vhat is your name?" he asked.

"D.. Darwell.." came the strangled reply as he held onto his broken limb gingerly.

Gripping the wrist once more, Akamat gave another squeeze, eliciting another howl of intense pain from the werewolf.

"You vill do vell to remember vhat ve haf discussed. Killing you vould be easier zan zee snapping of your wrist." and with that, he vanished into a dark mist.

Cursing softly, grumbled whimpering as he clutched his arm. "Damn that undead bastard. Damn him. Damn that pathetic sack of a Baron."

Quietly, he rose to his feet and hobbled quickly into the woods, heading towards the gangs silently discerned hideout.
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