Ah, yes. Their time in the Duchy had been quite the spectacle, really. She had snuck in under the guise of some new girl brought in for the Duke’s dark pleasures, and ultimately, she had had him dragged him, wounded and defeated, into the village square. The knife that she had plunged into his abdomen had been fatal if left untreated, but she had left it in the hands of his subjects whether he was to live or to die. She was no cold-blooded killer. Not really. He had made many silent enemies, however, and after hearing the horrors of what he had done from his own lips as he pleaded for someone… anyone to save him… Well, there really wasn’t much mercy to be had.

She had pulled the blade free, letting the blood flow more freely. Then, she had walked away. There were many things that haunted her nightmares, but Duke Taenar was no longer one of them.

Her time spent wandering the streets upon their return to Grand City had revealed pretty much the same information that Lysander’s questioning had turned up. Everyone had their theories, but no one knew anything for sure. The only thing that anyone did seem to agree on was that it had something to do with the gods.

The Captain’s Cabin was located on the main deck, since that kept the Captain from having to share in the standard… well, smell… that came along with being below deck with a bunch of men living in close quarters. It also was the best location in order for the Captain to be on deck quickly in case of an emergency, even if she’d been in a dead sleep. There had been some repairs needed there though, and so they had taken to the Officer’s Quarters for their meal that evening. So, it was from below decks that Philippa and Lysander and several of the men, besides, had come up to investigate.

Things were being shouted amongst the men who had already been working on deck, but it was difficult to tell what it was they were saying or doing. Vaguely, she realized they were casting off the lines that had kept them tied to the docks. Then, as she saw the quaking of the earth surrounding them, she knew what it was. This had happened once when she’d been acting as a ship’s boy aboard that first ship she’d ever been on, only then, she had been on land and had been able to run up a hill and climb into a tree.

She knew the earthquake was the least of their worries, but before she could turn to confirm her suspicions, Lysander was grabbing her, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her lips that was like that of a dying man’s. There was something so… final about it. Then, in the next instant, he was shoving her back. If it hadn’t been for the well-muscled bloke who was just coming up to investigate himself, she’d have had a nasty tumble down the steps. The door slammed closed next, and she was already shouting, racing toward it. She knew her beloved Lysander too well. She tried the doorknob, but it was so cold it seemed to burn her skin.

She started banging against the door with her fists instead, sobbing. “LYSANDER KIRK, I SWEAR THAT I WILL TE--!” But the ship gave a great lurch as the giant wave washed over it, sending her off the side of the stairs (where there were railings but not walls to enclose them). The starboard side of the ship was now the bottom, which wasn’t good. They were going to take on water through portholes and through the upper portion of the ship which was not sealed against water as well as the parts of the ship that were always submerged. Trapped inside, she and anyone who had not been on deck where they had almost assuredly gone overboard, would likely drown despite Lysander’s attempts at keeping her safe.

The girl wanted to stay there as she had landed. She wanted to hug her knees, cry, and despair, but there were questioning pairs of eyes looking at her in the gloom. She had convinced these men to trust her as Captain. They had trusted her to lead them through the good and the bad. So, she shoved back the despair, and she pushed herself back to her feet. “Someone get to the supply room and get the pumps. If we don’t get any more waves, we might not take on too much water. Otherwise, everyone needs ta find ‘imself someone what ‘e can stand to work through the night wif ‘cuz if the pattern holds like it ‘as been, it’ll get worse b’fore it gets better.” She only had about half of the crew, and they had 6 of the pumps designed for trying to counter the taking on of water. Gods, but she hoped it’d be enough…

The red-haired warrior did look on Aurora's gifts with a dubious eye. It wasn't anything personal. Khory was just uneasy about accepting gifts, even from benevolent deities.
And Khory knew Aurora was benevolent. Even ignoring her near-human responses of frustration only moments ago, Aurora had not once shown any face of cruelty or ill will. In fact, she seemed to honestly care about the people around her.

For example, even as the Lady spoke to Khory personally about this mission, Khory could see other refugees arriving. The Goddess could see them too, and took the time to subtly make sure everyone was ok. Khory had long since learned to pay attention to small details, and while the conversation never flagged Khory could see the small flicks of eye that not only took stock but gave direction. Perhaps the Lady meant to hide the small hand signals she used to direct her devotees, who promptly welcomed the new arrivals, taking their burdens and escorting them gently to shelter. Even as the Goddess tried to prepare her for a long journey of hardship she saw to the health of those who would remain behind.

The desperate people who would wait in sweltering limbo for Khory to succeed.

Or fail.

Khory accepted the gifts then with a body gone hard as steel. Caramel brown eyes met Auroras crystal green ones with a determination that shone bright as a blade.

“I will not fail.”

The words were solid, immovable as stone, the will behind them unbending. She couldn't fail. Not the Goddess, those poor people left behind, or even herself. She had accepted this mission with wavering confidence, but she would leave out of the temple as the warrior she was, bound to her word with iron bands. Only death would stop her. And even then she would fight tooth and nail to succeed.

Khory marched out of the temple, leaving the sheltering shade of the Great Tree behind. The heat hit her like a hammer dropped from the sky. Had it been this hot before? She couldn't tell. Perhaps her time amongst the trees had weakened her resistance, reminding her too clearly of the way the world was supposed to feel. Now the inferno the land had become struck her doubly hard, and she hadn't yet even crossed the midline of the world!

Despite her previous misgivings Khory took out the moss-like cloak the Lady had given her. Looking at it really gave the impression of something entirely natural, and not sheltering at all. She could see daylight right through it! Nevertheless she swung it about her shoulders and sighed as the cloak wicked the heat away from her body. Her exposed skin still burned, but her core was cool, and that was the important thing. She knew only too well what heat exhaustion could do. Settling her pack over her back she began to walk south. She could feel the weight of the unending water skin swinging at her hip. Almost absently she tucked the Amulet of Spring under her clothes. For some reason she felt uneasy wearing it in the open. She was not ashamed to be associated with the Goddess, but the situation was so strange. The source of the hellish weather could be much more malevolent than any of them had reason to believe.

You never know...

* * * *

Khory wouldn't say that the trip south had been easy, because it hadn't. She wanted to believe that the trip would take nothing more than an airship ride, or at the very least a boat! If word coming out of Jade City was to be believed it was good that she had followed her instincts and merely walked south of of Springs Temple. The capitol city of Aleris had shut itself off, denying entrance to anyone. It was keeping all it's ships moored, trade at a stand still and all the warehouses under strict guard. The King seemed to know that hardship was coming, and though it seemed cruel he was doing his best to safeguard the people. Of course, that meant hoarding what little resources they had, because anyone could see that they certainly wouldn't be getting any more.

Panic had provoked violence in Jade City itself. People heard of deaths in other countries. They knew their own crops were withering in the ground. Now it seemed that people were barricading their homes. Knocking on a neighbors door was more likely to get a crossbow bolt than a friendly answer these days. There were even whispers of martial law.

The situation was no better in any city Khory passed. She could see smoke from behind the cities walls, and an endless line of refugees being turned away. There was no room, no succor for the people. Khory did what she could, encouraging the people who passed her to seek Aurora. The warrior knew that even the Goddess could be stretched thin, but what else could she do? It was the only hope she could give them as they struggled on, praying to the gods that further north would be less miserable than where they were.

Still, she saw many just sitting by the roadside. Families, all staring into nothing, the light gone from their eyes. After her first try she didn't bother them. They had given up. Something in their soul had broken, and now they just sat, man, woman, and child, and waited for death to take them. It was appalling, and Khory vowed more than ever that she would find the cause of this tragedy.

More than once in her endless march she came across roving bands of thieves, intent on taking the precious little that could be had from others. Khory wasted no time, flying amongst them like vengeance itself. She did not kill, but there was pain that would take a long while to heal. In the end most of them ended up running from her. As the shining red hair topped a hill bands began to break off their attacks and flee. Word of her was racing before her like a brush fire. She couldn't say she was upset about it.

She island hopped down to the very bottom of the continent. It was true that no ship could be had, but there were plenty of small vessels that seemed to have been abandoned as their owners fled the heat. Khory found the best one she could, one that could be piloted by only a single person, and made her way across to the continent of Heruin.

Khory was not a sailor. That was just a fact. She had made it her business to learn enough about the trade to prevent herself from dying terribly easily at sea, but she was no master. It was said that a wise person never bemoaned their lack of ability. You either correct the lack, or learn to compensate for it. In this case, compensation was all she had time for.

Even still when the winds hit her just off shore it was a little beyond her scope of expertise. The gale came out of nowhere, slamming into her boat and pitching the little sail completely over and into the water. She barely held on as the craft tried desperately to right itself. In the end she cut the sail off and finally got upright. Still, there were buckets of water in the bottom of the boat by then and the waves had been whipped into a frenzy. It was by sheer dumb luck that by the time the small vessel broke apart out of unbelievable stress she was close enough to land to get thrown up onto the beach.

Khory pulled herself up the sand and into the shelter of some twisted shrubs far above the tidal line. Looking back at the water she was stunned at the ferocity of it. Even as the wind tore tears out of her eyes she could see that the ocean she had left behind was twisting like the mouth of hell itself. She prayed that no others were caught at sea as she had been.

After a few moments she took stock of herself and sighed. Her clothes were soaked through, boots and all, but worse was the supplies. Everything in the boat was gone. She had only what was on her body at the time. Thankfully this included all of the Lady's gifts to her, but gone was all her food, her bedding and camping gear, and even the weapon she had lugged all the way from another world. She felt naked without that polearm. She had had it specially made years ago, and as far as she knew was the only one who used anything like it. It was closer to her than any person had ever been, and she mourned the loss of it more than the food.

She stood in the face of the storm and looked to what she new was the south west. The weather looked no better. Dunes stretched before her, flinging sand in huge clouds as the wind really took off. She was here, in Heruin, the land of the Summer God. She was in a desert swirling with vicious sandstorms and no food.

“Well, shit, girl,” she swore at herself as she mustered her resolve. “I know it's been worse than this before. Maybe if we live you can remind me of when that was, because I'm sure as hell drawing a blank right now.”

She wrapped the cloak around herself, using a soaked rag she tore off the bottom of her shirt to cover her nose and mouth. With slitted eyes filled with tears and a solemn strength she set off into the desert to find Tempesturo.

A MOTHER'S LOVE is like an island
In life's ocean vast and wide,
A peaceful, quiet shelter
From the restless, rising tide ...

A MOTHER'S LOVE is like a fortress
And we seek protection there
When the waves of tribulation
Seem to drown us in despair ...

A MOTHER'S LOVE is a sanctuary
Where our souls can find sweet rest
From the struggle and the tension
Of life's fast and futile quest ...

A MOTHER'S LOVE is like a tower
Rising far above the crowd,
And her smile is like the sunshine
Breaking through a threatening cloud ...

A MOTHER'S LOVE is like a beacon
Burning bright with FAITH and PRAYER,
And through the changing scenes of life
We can find a HAVEN THERE ...

Aurora knew the earthquakes were coming before the ground beneath her temple shook. Nothing that was nature, her entire sense of being, was hidden from her. Just when the people thought they had a reprieve from any further natural disasters, her earth began to convulse.

Though terribly frightened herself, Aurora had absolutely no time to deal with her own tumultuous emotions. Those on four legs began to pace back and forth restlessly, whining and yipping. The birds and bats began to chitter nervously, wings flapping back and forth. Smaller creatures simply huddled together in an attempt to comfort each other. It was no different with her human children.

Her temple shook with such a ferocity that even the Goddess wasn't sure that her earthen mound would hold. At times she was almost positive her temple, her children and herself would soon be swallowed by the earth, but miraculously the temple stood. The rumbling was so deafening and violent that there were moments that she was unable to hear the screams of the men, women and children that inhabited her dwelling.

Aurora was seated by her massive altar of oak with three small babes in her arms and no less than a dozen children surrounding her, their small bodies pressed firmly against their Mother. The animals followed suit as well. Aurora bore herself gracefully, smiling in reassurance and softly singing to calm the distraught, but in truth, the Mother wanted to weep and wail her sorrowful mourning.

She could hear each and every one of them, creatures large and small, mortal and immortal. They were screaming. They were sobbing. They were praying to her.

They were begging not to die. They were pleading for someone to save them.

They were pleading for Aurora not to forsake them.

A Mother's job is to keep her children safe from harm, to protect them with all her might. To drive away the evils of the world so that her children may thrive in the light.

Aurora had never felt so helpless in her life.

And then the tidal waves came.

And inside Aurora screamed as her soul was torn in pieces. Inside she wailed and beat upon her breast for her failures. Outside, she was the essence of calm and composure. She had to be. Those she was able to save depended on her serene demeanor for their own sanity while Aurora was slowly losing hers.

Her small fierce ones screamed the agony that their lady could not. Their black shining eyes were wet with the tears Aurora could not shed. They flapped their wings with a furious rage that the Mother could not express.

Instead, she hummed a mindless tune and rocked the babes and the children as the onslaught of the water's fury began.

Aurora's temple was situated on one of several barrier islands located off the southeastern coast of Eiler. It would not matter if one sought higher ground, nor would it matter if one sought shelter below, for the tidal wave would show no mercy for the islands' peoples or creatures. The islands were easy targets for the tsunami's deadly force.

None would be spared save those who sheltered in Aurora's temple.

No amount of humming, singing, vows or promises could soothe her children as they clutched each other when the roaring wave beat against her temple with all of its might. The sound the tidal wave made as the waters rushed over her earthen mound was earsplitting. Aurora held onto the children, animals pressed firmly against her skirted legs as the force of the water pounded in its continued frenzy.

Aurora could hear her unprotected children's cries one moment, and then their silence the next. Unable to help herself, silvery tears streamed down her golden cheeks and she sobbed softly, her face buried in the golden curls of a toddler girl she held pressed to her cheek.

"Forgive me. I'm so sorry." Her words were barely above a whisper, yet it wouldn't matter for none within her temple would hear them above their own shrilled screams of terror.

The first wave came and went followed quickly by the second, but even as they were prepared for the second tidal wave, it did nothing to lessen their shrieks of horrified dread. Time passed with agonizing slowness before the silence fell upon them, a heavy and wet blanket. The worst had passed.

Fear filled eyes, red-rimmed from their tears darted around wildly as her children's sobs began to diminish, their throats raw and bleeding from their screams. The air in the temple was heavily perfumed with rank sweat, vomit, urine and feces. The animals trembled even as the roaring dulled to a lulled sound of the rise of sea water gently lapping against the outer structure of her temple.

Aurora beckoned the mothers and fathers to collect their little ones and finally she rose in all of her serene beauty and spoke.

"The worst is over, my brave ones. Now we must wait for the waters to recede before it is safe for us to venture outside again. It shan't be long, my loves." With that, Aurora turned and began to set her temple belongings to right again. A long table made of walnut was once more upright and bore platters of fruit, cheeses, breads, nuts and sweets. Fresh pitchers of water, milk and juice were placed sporadically along side the many wooden cups and platters. All was done seemingly without Aurora lifting a single finger in preparation. Aurora encouraged those who were able to (for many a tender stomach still rolled and heaved) to eat and drink, before tending to the animals.

Aurora studied the soiled rushes she had placed for the animals and with a slight wave of her hand, what was once filth became clean again and sweet smelling. Bowls of water appeared around the rear of her temple, and many a grateful beast lapped greedily to quench their thirsts. When Aurora was satisfied that everyone was tended to, either busy embracing each other in joyous relief or finding some comfort in food and drink, Aurora slipped behind doors at the rear of her temple.

The rooms of her priests and priestesses were located here, but Aurora did not venture into any. Instead she walked a bit further to what appeared to be nothing more than another wall made of rock and dirt. The earthen wall shimmered and Aurora stepped through into her own private quarters of soothing greens, browns and coppers.

It was then and only then did she collapse to her knees with her head buried in her hands, her dark hair falling around her shoulders in a curtain.

It was then and only then did Aurora allow herself to break as she sobbed and wailed, rocking back and forth. It was the sound of a Mother's broken heart voicing her anguish. Her loss.

When Aurora finally spent herself, she stood and brushed at the tears that decorated her face in their glistening trails. She took several deep cleansing breaths and began to calm her mind. She concentrated on locating Khory, her Beloved. Her Chosen.

A sob of relief broke through her lips when she confirmed that Khory was safe. A little worse for wear, and without her gear, but safe. Aurora loved all of her children equally, but even a Mother could still secretly have her favorites. Khory was her most precious daughter, and though her heart was still torn asunder over the deaths of so many she could not save, there was a small speck of hope and joy that her Chosen was alive and well.

"Be brave, my warrior child. Have faith. You will succeed." She spoke softly, the words meant for Khory. "Know that I bless and keep you, Khory. My love for you is always."

Aurora felt drained, for even a goddess can grow weary, but she had hope. Hope sprung eternal. Hope was her Chosen, Khory. Hope meant another day.

The Mother returned to her main temple room where her children waited for her, scared and anxious. She looked at each and every one of them and smiled as warmly as possible.

"Well, since we will be forced to remain inside for some time, why don't all of you get comfortable. and relax. This is your home right now. When it is safe to open the temple doors and go outside, I will let you know."

Aurora placed a hand upon the ancient oak, drawing positive energies and strength. Though she prayed they would not have to wait long for the lands to dry once more, she dreaded what would remain once the waters did abate.

Khory slogged through the desert, sandstorms pulling at her, tearing at her clothing and skin. What had come out of the sea wet was now impregnated with so much sand that every step dragged with the weight. Bright red hair was no more than a mud caked crust upon her head. Her bearing, once so proud, was bent and as shuffling as an old woman’s. She tried her best to cover herself, to protect delicate skin from searing sand, but no use. The storm raged on, and she plodded, step after labored step.

The halt of the winds was so sudden that she pitched forward onto her face in the side of a dune. She lay there a moment, stunned, her ears ringing in the silence. So long had that howling been around her that the silence itself was deafening. It took her a time to sit up, and another try to stand. The sand was settling around her, dropped as suddenly from the air as she had been.

The sun came out, glaring white as forge's flame, and no comfort at all. In seconds the temperature soared, and Khory clung to the remains of the tattered cloak. The charm weaved upon it still worked, but it was greatly damaged. The Mother couldn't have known that it would come to this.

As she moved, climbing to the top of the rise, the crust of sand began to crack and flake away from her. Standing there she took a moment to beat the layers of filth off of herself as best she could. She remembered then the water skin, slung from her belt, and the promise that had come with it. She opened it eagerly and drank a few desperate swallows of the clear, cold water that spewed forth. It gave her the hiccups almost immediately, and she laughed at the irony. The entire world was baking away and she was laughing that this miracle of water had given her the hiccups. She poured precious drops into her hand and scrubbed the gunk from her eyes. As she sipped slowly at the water now she looked around.

In every distance rose dune upon dune. Golden sands that were all the same to her. She held her hand before her and squinted up into the sky. She could not get a bearing from the sun. She looked down at her own shadow, and that of the dune she stood upon. The pool of shadow in which she stood was at its smallest, and so she assumed it to be high noon. The air was also still as death, and so she could not find the lee of the dune either. She would not be able to choose her direction until the sun moved.

In fact, she had no idea where she was or how far she had traveled. It had been more than a day since she'd made landfall, of that she was sure. Traveling at night in a sandstorm was foolish, but no worse than sitting still in a sandstorm. She hadn't even made a conscious decision. Her legs had seemed to carry on without her, as her mind and all rational thought was torn away in the winds.

Now her mind was clear, waking from its storm-numbed state as if from a dream. She could think of nothing to do, and so she dug herself into the side of the dune, huddling herself as small as possible to get as much of her skin either under the cloak or into the shade. In her lap was the water skin, which she nursed at steadily, trying to replenish the stores she knew she had lost. Dehydration was worse than hunger. Once that thought occurred the hunger roared into her from behind the wall where she'd put it. In frustration and anger she stuffed it down again. She had nothing to ease her stomachs cries with but water, and it would have to be happy with that.

She sat, and waited for the sun to move. Eventually she began to see her own shadow stretching out before her again, and knew she was faced the wrong way. Gathering her scraps of clothing and the precious water skin she stood and faced the afternoon sun. It stared her down like the enemy it was. She was the first to look away, turning her eyes downward to watch where she walked. Steadily again she marched to the left of the sun, but slightly towards it too. She had no idea how far she'd gone off course, but the Temple was to the southwest, and that was how she would travel until something gave her a better idea of where she was. If nothing else she would eventually hit more ocean, and then she would know.

She hadn't taken more than a few steps when the quake dropped her again to the ground. She clung, wild-eyed, to earth gone totally mad. Never had she seen solid earth come rolling towards her, like some great golden serpent, lifting her and tossing her like a toy, before the next wave hit her. But that wasn't the worst of it, oh no. Worse was when she landed, for the sand itself was thrown with her, and as she landed so did it, burying her in buckets of the stuff, sucking her down and choking her. She fought then, thrashing and fighting against the consuming earth, reaching always, desperately, for the sun. True, it was her enemy, but where light ruled so too was precious air!

The quakes stopped as suddenly as they had begun. Khory didn't notice. She'd been buried good that time, and only the pocket of air made by her bent head allowed her to dig herself upward out of the dune she was now entombed in. She broke the surface of the sand, a strange earthen diver, and gulped air. The air rushed into her, along with the salt grains around her mouth, causing her to choke for a few minutes. She kicked and shifted and dug, working out her shoulders, her hips, and finally pulling her legs free.

“If I get out of this alive, I swear to every God I've ever known, I will NEVER go anywhere with sand again!”

There she was again, sitting on a pile of sand, trying to get the gunk out of her eyes and get her bearings. Everything looked the same. Same sand, same dunes, same fierce white sun. She sighed.

Little did she know that the tidal wave had just consumed the islands she had left. The Temple of the Goddess was under water. Tidal waves had struck at Heruin too, but being a day and a half inland had saved her from that particular wrath. The thirsty sand between her and the sea had taken in the water like an old friend.

She knew nothing of this, but out of the empty silence she heard her name. Her name rung like a bell from a voice she knew, though she had heard it only once.

"Be brave, my warrior child. Have faith. You will succeed. Know that I bless and keep you, Khory. My love for you is always."

Khory had never been accustomed to the voices of Gods ringing in her head, but she knew Auroras voice when she heard it. She did not respond, feeling as if there was little she could say. Clearly the Spring Lady was keeping tabs on her, which was heartening in its own right. Though how the Goddess figured success was a foregone conclusion beat the hell out of her. Still, it was nice that someone thought so. The more things went wrong the less sure Khory became.

* * * *

The small encampment was empty, except for corpses and garbage, have submerged in the ocean of sand. Khory walked the perimeter, trying to understand what she was seeing. The remains of cattle, usually goats, littered the ground. People too were laying there, husks of the beings they once had been. The small camp had likely been hit by the sandstorms, but these bodies looked too old for that, even given the temperature. She circled again, and finally entered.

She found the center of the camp and what had once been an oasis. The water was still there if she dug down, but it was now full of sand, and putrid with the death that had occurred here. No one would ever drink from this again. She stood and looked around her once more, and came to the same conclusion she had several times before. The nomads had stopped here, huddling close to life-giving water. But it wasn't enough. They looked as though they had died waiting for a reprieve that would never come. Every oasis she had passed looked the same.

A cold rage was in her now. These deaths were unnatural, and unnecessary! Why would a God become so filled with hate that he would choke the life from his own land, his own people? How could Summer have become this pitiless? She cursed his name under her breath as she set off once more, but the epithets were cut off by her own too-rational thoughts.

Perhaps this was her fault too. She should have been faster, smarter, more prepared. That she hadn't yet reached the Temple had cost these people their lives. If she hadn't been so clearly unsuited to this task perhaps she would not now be witness to the price of failure. It was bad enough here. What must have happened to the rest of Aleris. Had the rioting started for certain? Were families even now cannibalizing their fallen neighbors? How long would it take for their simple civilization to deteriorate into bestial survival behavior?

She didn't know. She knew she didn't want to find out.

This was it, the last haul. She couldn't afford to lose more time. She walked now at a hard pace, pushing her limits. The water skin saw to most of her health, but she hadn't had food in days. The parts of her the tattered cloak did not cover had long since burned. She was tanned from the outdoors already, but still she burned on top of burns, the skin peeling three layers at a time. Her tan now was patchy with dark and light places. Those who had seen her before might have believed her a leper. Truly the burns did not help with the lack of water, though she carried that with her. The heat and the sun pounded down on her head during the day, and at night she shuffled on, bent and shivering with cold.

She had to get there. Soon!

And so she's walking...

Such chaos and rage Mother Nature wrought upon the land. It had been sunny and breezy and then all Hell had broken loose. His main concerns had become the safety of his 'Harem' in these last weeks and he wasn't the only one struggling with the fury of Nature. Being a Satyr/Lycan hybrid, he was not only a creature of Nature, but bound closely to it. He's had no real personal dramas like Deanna, Victor, Wish, and the others of this town who he didn't really know, or know at all, but he was suffering in his own ways, like the other inhabitants of the city.

The warm rays of the sun should have awakened him from his night of pleasure and debauchery, but there was no sun streaming in through his window of the upper floor of the 'Corner', not one tiny sliver. He had felt Tristan leave the bed and it was most likely the young man went to the restroom and he had, plus washed his face. Then he had returned to the bed after donning his pants to shake Seterios awake. "Set, wake up, now. Ya have to get up." he urged.

Groaning, with a single golden eye opening, he peered up at the still half nude man. "What is it, Tyr?" he asked, rubbing the grit from his eyes. They had fallen asleep merely four hour ago after a long night of intense love-making.

"Come to the window, take a look. I think we're in for a real doozy of a day." Seterios threw the covers back and rose, stretching tired muscles. Grabbing a robe, sliding it on to tie at his waist. He was soon peering out of his window at the overcast sky and then with the flash of a lightning strike, the rain began pouring. There was an arm around his waist and it was Tyrelle's, whose other hand rested on Set's hip. "I believe we're in for more fury from Mama Nature, Tyrelle. Wake Tristan, we have much to do and little time to do it in." he said leaning against his lover from the recent night. "We must hurry."

In short order, Tristan was awakened and in minutes after tossing one another clothes, the three men were dressed and heading down the stairs to sounds of a few of the girls panicking. "Alright girls, latch down the shutters, and get dressed. Nothing fancy, we're in for -Hell- with these storms, I can smell it, feel it too. Pants, shirts, boots, cloaks, and rain-gear if you have it. Forget about the cleaning, your safety is more important to me. Tera, snag the books and money and throw them in a waterproof chest and bring them to me. Tyrelle, Tristan, get the girls gathered and down to the cellar. Cover yourselves up, protect your heads." This was all within moments before the high winds picked up and began destroying buildings. If they could ride the wind storms out in the cellars, he hoped they could survive the massive clean up.

Tristan and Tyrelle had worked swiftly to not only clean the cellar out, but clean it up somewhat.

What they didn't know was the danger coming after the severe thunderstorms. While the torrential rains and tornadoes ripped through the land, he ushered all his employees into the cellar and there crowded with them until the winds abated. While they clung to him, he who had sworn to protect them, he planned and plotted with Tristan and Tyrelle. They knew the city better than he did. He had decided he would take the lot of them to Aurora's temple, the nearest and safest place he could think to take them. How would he do it in so short a time? Ships were being hammered and torn asunder, there was massive damage from trees and buildings being uprooted and destroyed, so his only recourse was to pray to a Goddess he didn't know at all. He had only heard of her and so to this Goddess he would attempt to seek safety.

While Tyrelle and Tristan still comforted the others, he had moved away some distance and then rather than kneel or otherwise prostrate himself, he closed his eyes and simply crouched down and covered his head while the winds raged. He didn't pray aloud, but in a soft whisper. "I am new to your realm, but like many others, I seek safety and perhaps even guidance so that I might keep myself and my employees safe. I am most unfamiliar with the weather patterns of your world, but this seems highly unnatural to me, dear Lady. I will seek to help myself as much as possible, but any guidance or protection you could provide us would be greatly appreciated. Even if its simply directions on where to go so we might be safe." he requested. "Or at least guide me so I might open a portal to your temple. I fear there isn't much time."

He wasn't sure if he would get an actual reply knowing the deities must be vastly busy with everything going haywire, but he was just one of the countless souls praying. And just as he finished, the earth trembled and then shook violently, like some child shaking up a snow globe. Rocked off his feet, he scrambled to dodge a heavy crate and rolled right up against the pile of girls huddling around Tyrelle and Tristan. "Cover your heads!" he roared above the clammer of screaming girls. Even were he in his Wolf or Hybrid form, he couldn't cover them all, so he snatched a tarp and threw it over them to at least protect them from head injuries.

"Mara, stay still and don't run! Get back here!" he hollered at one of the girls with dark auburn hair, whose arm he snatched hold of and with a yank, he drew the girl to his side and then practically laid atop her and threw his arms around as many girls as he could.

Tristan and Tyrelle did the same, and the rest of the girls copied them. How long the earth bucked and heaved, he wasn't entirely sure, but he suddenly was swamped by fear-stricken girls, Mara and Lily clinging to him more tightly than the others. "Shhh...it's alright now lovelies, it's alright." he whispered, huddled there under the canvas tarp with them. More minutes passed and some of the girls scrubbed tears from their eyes while calming each other. Hearts beat thunderously in his ears, especially his own. He didn't recall being in any quakes before. Nor twisters.

Things had fallen all over the place throughout the building. Glasses were broken, windows ruined and broken, minor and larger things tossed about. It was all repairable, thankfully no one was deceased yet. He double-checked.

Throwing the tarp off, he gathered everyone together. "Tristan, go outside and see what's happening, I think the quake is over. Hurry." Looking to Tyrelle, he clutched the man's shoulder. "Take the girls upstairs to the parlor, remain with them. If anyone is injured, tend to them. First aid kit should be under the service counter." Looking to the girls, he issued them commands as well. "M'loves, gather your courage and then what supplies we have and put them in packs. Food, water, first aid stuff, whatever we have. We have a natural disaster on our hands and must protect what supplies we have. Put it all in the center of the parlor. Also, gather whatever weapons we have. Guns, knives, whatever it might be. We shall need to possibly fend off looters."

-----------

So far, they had survived the tornadoes, lightning, and furious rain. Perhaps an hour had passed, maybe not even that long. Tristan had ventured out and onto a nearby roof to survey the damage and to his chagrin, he found a massive tree branch laying over the Corner's roof. There didn't seem to be too much damage to the roof, it was still sturdy enough, but surely it was leaking now. It would cost Set a bit of coin for all the repairs. Many buildings were blown or washed away, bodies littered the ground, people were in a panic either running for their lives or struggling to dig out. He had to get back to the others. Just as thought occurred to him, he caught wind of something.

Dread and fear. People were pointing and screaming towards the coast and when his eyes settled on the massive waves, fear gripped him and paralyzed him for maybe a minute. Scrambling to the edge of the roof, he yelled to those within the 'Corner'. "SETERIOS! TYRELLE! COME QUICKLY! The sea! -TIDAL WAVE-!!" he bellowed. "TO THE ROOF! SEND THE GIRLS UP!" came his roar of worry. "Get rope or a ladder!"

Barreling out of the doorway, Seterios skidding to a halt and looked to Tristan, golden eyes widened. "Are you serious?! First twisters and now a cyclone?! -FUCK-!" There was no time to hunt down rope or a ladder, so he did the only thing he could think of. "Tyrelle, I'm shifting and carrying the girls up, get them out here and on my back when I'm shifted. I should be able to take two at once." Moving away from the building, he stripped his pants off and duster too, then threw them at Tyrelle. "Keep those for me..I'll need 'em."

Moments later, one could hear bones cracking and shifting, organs moved around and his body transformed. He altered himself to his hybrid form and then once he could think beyond the agony of the shift, he looked to Tyrelle. "Bring them out." stated the dark chestnut colored Werewolf, who stood roughly about seven and a half, maybe almost feet tall. As the first girls were brought out, he wrapped his massive paws around their waists and then with a leap he jumped to the roof. Handing them off to Tristan, he repeated the process as often as was necessary. The girls all huddled and cowered on the roof and he went back to Tyrelle.

Fearful naturally, he snatched the man up and with a final leap, he landed on the roof and pushed Tyrelle over to the girls. Looking around, he heard people screaming at the sight of him, the wave, and in general panic and fear. He could smell it on them, smell blood in the air too. With a defiant howl roared at the tidal wave, he anchored himself to the roof with his talons. "Do not let go of the tree! You'll be swept away if you do! Everyone hold tightly and when the water draws near, hold your breath. Hug this tree and don't let go no matter what! This won't feel good, but if survive, that's what matters!" He grabbed Tyrelle and pinned him, against Tristan, who was hold Mara and Lily down and they all hunkered down for the twin blows of the waves.

Being wet was going to suck majorly, but at least he was stronger in this form. If he got swept away, he'd surely survive, he could take quite a beating. "If we're parted, return to the 'Corner' as soon as possible. If I don't find you within a month, dead or alive, I'll hope for the best." He feared losing some or all of them and those thoughts along with hoping Najia was safe filled him with a terror he didn't like thinking about.

{Keep us safe, Najia too.} he thought as a final prayer. Now to see how battered they'd end up.

{Continued from chat}

While he stared, she knew she couldn't do any real physical damage to him, she wasn't anywhere near physically big enough to fight a fully grown Lycan or other Were-creature, but there were ways to bring pain to people. Maybe if she planted her foot squarely between his legs, that would make him yowl in agony for sure. She wasn't liking being violent, she didn't like being that way unless there was a good reason. And protecting her family was a -very- good one. She didn't recall the four brothers of this rather small pack using magic, and it wouldn't be quite a fair fight. Would it? Oh wait, they hadn't played fair when they attacked her home, had they? There had been no warning of an attack. Sadly, most often, there wasn't. It ruined the surprise element.

She, Mycha, and Aursra had been seen as nothing but a midnight snack.

Still, her eyes narrowed and the frown marring those beautiful angular features of this extremely gorgeous faery girl spoke volumes. While he worked things out in that over-sexed mind of his, she waited. When he FINALLY figured it out and then made reference to Mycha and almost called Aursra a bitch, she fixed Melvin with a glower that only a seemingly Fae child could. Defiant and petulant, offended. He'd hit a nerve. "You don't dare call my Aunt a bitch, you take it back within the next two seconds or else." she quipped icily, lips drawn into a thin line.

Her anger was unmasked and palpable, her small hands curling into fists. She was trying desperately to keep her composure, but she felt her temper rising. Stomped the air Tinkerbell-style and scowled scathingly, as if her look might fillet the fur off of him. A nude Werewolf..streaking about. Creepy. That thought nearly made her giggle though.

"We survived, you only destroyed the cabin somewhat and hurt Aursra a little bit, but me and Mycha never harmed any of you! And if you or your brothers think to make meals of us again, I'll..." What would he fear most? More lightning, surely. "I'll burn -those- (pointed at his nuts he kept yapping about) off and you will -never-. have. pups. -Ever-." she stated with such finality one might wonder if could imagine him writhing in the throws of agony already for a second time.

She didn't look down, she didn't want to see them. She wished she was blind, for half a moment, but that thought quickly vanished from her mind as she thought of Bansca, now blind. Maybe he'd be amused, but she was entirely serious. She didn't like harming creatures, and the pack attacking the valley had been her first real fight, and while she was scared somewhat now and then too, she would do her best to burn his prized nuts off if he thought of eating her like he had munched on that soldier. Jabbed her finger at him, flying nearer until she could jab her delicate pale digit into his chest if he didn't swat her aside.

"You listen here, you overgrown flea-herder. If you attack our Valley again, you'll be facing -my- wrath and I'll curse you and your kin with -mange- for a -year- and bigger fleas, and no amount of begging from the lot of you will undo my hex." Maybe a great deal of begging would...maybe plenty of groveling too. If she could succeed in casting the spells, that is, before he stopped her, if she was forced to try casting them. "I'll also throw in a prayer to the Goddess to make you infertile for the next -five- mating seasons too."

If she still wasn't stopped, she'd try to snag him by his whiskers, the most sensitive part of many a creature.

"You'd probably jump off a cliff if this Elijah told you to do it, wouldn't you?" She didn't give him a chance to answer that, for she tugged on his whiskers to be certain he peered into her eyes. Violet pools of rage, flecks of gold gleaming in the moonlight. They glowed fiercely as did her wings, a small aura surrounding her, anger stung the hill and air about her as though it was a lightning strike. The horses became a little nervous, but remained where they were. She wanted him to feel her anger, to know he had made a grave error earning her ire.

"You -will- tell this Elijah what I've said when you see him again and you best remember it. I will NOT have my family attacked and preyed upon by your pack. You all want food? Chase down a deer or other game, NOT MY FAMILY! -NONE OF THEM- ARE YOUR DINNERS! PERSON OR CREATURE!" she shrieked angrily. People and the farm animals were off limits! With that said, she turned as if to fly away and she did, for a short distance. She wanted to hit him so badly, she could taste the urge of revenge within her, the same anger she'd felt when Raze bit her.

Arms crossed as she glared down at the water, half imagining a shark would snatch him off that hill and chomp him up. Smirking at the thought, she faced him again. All this water...she had an idea.
Even though she was tired, she was furious too, but she longed to see what he had to say for himself.

Post originally by Character_Mychalyna

Sickness. That was what the heat had managed to bring to the relative safety of the Villa. Mychalyna had been ill first, and in her worry to ensure the safety of her daughter, Aursra had succumbed to the illness, almost as if she had taken it upon herself in order to spare the child. Now it had been Mychalyna’s turn to help her mother. The child was still weak, but she had realized by now that she had more than just a spark of magic of her own. (Not surprising, considering her parentage!) She also had her mother’s way of quietly assessing a situation. There was little she could do, but as Aursra had tried to tell her one of those beloved stories that the child so cherished the night before, Mycha had realized that her mother was not wholly in control of her magic.

The story had been too real. Had she not been accustomed to a world of perpetual darkness, the child likely would have been spooked out of her wits to not only hear the spooky sounds but to see shadows dancing strangely across the walls… to see red eyes peering at her. Many of Aursra’s stories featured such things, but they were quickly vanquished. Now, Mycha’s mother seemed unable to remember the stories end. She’d been half out of her mind with delirium, and Mycha had gotten the feeling that it would only get worse.

So she had done the only thing she could think of to do. She did what she did best. She had picked up her little harp and let her delicate fingers weave a melody from the strings. Her only thought had been to soothe her mother… to calm her, and she wished with all of her little heart for it to work.

Truth be told, she was getting tired herself. She wasn’t sure if what she had done had been enough. She wasn’t sure what she would do if her mother didn’t get better, and fear had begun setting in, threatening to change the sweet tones of her music by the time Verial arrived. She’d been relieved enough that she’d gotten somewhat of a second wind.

So the spell that Aursra was under was not entirely of her own making. Mycha, for better or worse, had had her small hands in it too. Thank the gods that Verial had access to dreams, even if this was not something that Mycha fully grasped yet herself.

Would she mind if he woke her mother? While she had seemed chipper enough in those first moments, her own weariness suddenly was threatening to overtake her. “Not s’long as you take good care of her…” Came the cautious response. “But can I rest now?” Fingers dragged along the strings, not wanting to stop until he gave her leave to do so. “When I stop… Momma’s dreams aren’t as… nice, I don’t think…”

(Continued from chat)

Deanna stood at the edge of the rooftop overlooking the mass flooding of water, and tried with all of her might not to throw up her guts.

The pain in her head was blinding, crippling in fact and it was all she could do not to scream bloody murder. This was not the first time she had such a headache as this one, especially as of late, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why they were occurring.

She felt the pressure in her nasal cavity before she heard the drop of blood hit the floor. Then another. And another. Swearing silently to herself, Deanna pinched the bridge of her nose and attempted, inconspicuously she might add, to tilt her head back without drawing the attention of one sexy werewolf. The nose bleeds came with each headache, and damned if they didn't take forever to stop.

Right now Quinn was in deep conversation with Maxim, who just happened to have shown up on their rooftop. Deanna knew better than to question the vampire lord, for he had the habit of just appearing out of nowhere from time to time. The aftermath of a natural disaster was no exception. So in Deanna's mind, an occupied Quinn was a small blessing, for she knew her mate would have nothing but concern and questions for her well being. Frankly, Deanna didn't have the answers.

Wish was presently cooing over Victor, which didn't help the nausea Deanna was struggling to hold back. In retrospect, she did feel somewhat bad (not really) about trying to kill Victor in front of the fae who obviously had a major case of wet crotch for the mage, though gods knew why. It was said that love was blind. In Deanna's humble opinion, it was also deaf, mute and covered in boils, or at least where Wish and Victor was concerned.

Deanna rolled her eyes as her nose bled steadily, the warm sticky wetness slid down her fingers and palm to stain the white shirt of Quinn's that was her only covering (besides the awesome skivvies she was wearing! Five finger discount at that cool store she met Pip at!), but didn't sweat anyone questioning the crimson drops since they mingled ever so nicely with the bloodstains from Victor.

Gods. All she wanted to do right now was to go home and take a nap. What home? she thought to herself. The little cottage was no doubt washed away from the tidal wave. She could have slept the office of her tavern, but...oh wait! It was also under water! Deanna groaned mournfully as she thought about her beautiful Oak Barrel Tavern. Eventually the waters would recede, sure, and leave everything in a ruin! Providing there wasn't too much damage to the outer shell of the tavern, which was unlikely, she would have to replace every single bit of interior. That would cost a fortune!

Deanna wanted to cry at her loss. If Quinn was her 'husband', then the tavern was her 'baby'. Sure she could rebuild it...make it better even, but it would never be the same. The shifter attempted to sniff, but her nose was too stuffed up to do so. At least the blood stopped flowing. She knelt down and leaned a bit over the edge to scoop up some of the salt water to clean her face and hands. Idly she wondered if Alastair was lurking below the water, waiting to drag her under with him.

Alastair. What in seven hells was that loser even doing swimming about? How did he even manage to survive the mighty force of not one, but two tidal waves? More important, what evil forces (yeah, I know it was you, Elysia) led that rat bastard to the rooftop of her tavern? And he shot at her beloved building too! Deanna turned her head sideways to where, yep, there was a very noticeable bullet hole in the roof. How that piece of shit he called a revolver even managed to fire a shot was beyond her.

As she was pondering such thoughts, it occurred to her that the only ones left of the rooftop were she and Quinn (and Maxim...however he managed to get there), and Wish and Victor. The rest of the patrons, including her staff, decided it was far safer (and saner) if they jumped off the roof into the water and find shelter on the roof of another building. Some floated on whatever debris was floating by, others said fuck it and dove into the sea water, not caring if they died along the way.

Apparently death was a better alternative than hanging with the lunatic crew.

Deanna began to giggle hysterically at the very idea before clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. I must be losing my mind, she mused as she chortled into her palm. This isn't even funny. People have died. Cities and towns have been ruined. There's widespread disaster and I'm laughing myself silly over it.

I am seriously fucked up in the head, she thought.

And then she began laughing like a loon, complete with tears streaming out of her eyes.

If the others were staring at her rather unusual behavior, Deanna took no notice of it, nor did she care. She wiped at her eyes even as she continued chuckling, figuring after everything she had been through lately she deserved a good laugh, even if it was at other people's misfortune.

Even though her head felt as if it were splitting in two, and she looked like shit, Deanna felt lighter of heart when she turned toward Victor and Wish who stood side by side, shooting each other questioning looks. They're probably wondering if I've finally snapped. Maybe afraid I might try to eat them. Deanna quickly covered her mouth again as she erupted into another fit of laughter.

Victor tasted like chicken.

She finally collapsed on the roof, holding her side as she tried to contain her mirth. "Ah, I'm sorry. No, no I'm really not. Just....aw forget it. You two dolts wouldn't get it anyway." She grinned as she rubbed briskly at her face.

She took several deep breaths and began fanning herself. "Whew! Good times. That was fun." She stood and smoothed out her ruined shirt as if that would improve its appearance. "Ok, time to be serious here folks," she went on as if nothing was amiss. "We can't stay on the tavern's roof forever. Who knows how long it will be before we see dry ground again. We could starve to death up here, or actually, and this is even worse, I would be stuck in a very small space with you two and let's be real, that's just not going to work for any of us." She smiled sweetly at Wish and Victor, who didn't appear particularly amused with her.

Deanna didn't give them a chance to speak, figuring they would just whine and bitch about how she tried to kill them. Blah blah blah...you tried to eat me. Whine whine whine....the blood, the blood. Unimportant stuff really. "Anyway, I was thinking. Wish, now she's a little pixie girl, I said to myself. Wings and all that. Maybe it would be a good idea to, oh I don't know, flutter those adorable wings of yours? Maybe circle around a bit to see how far inland the water goes? Get an idea of the surrounding perimeter, the disaster impact?" She waved her hands about as she explained her plan as slowly as possible so that even they could understand it.

She then turned to Victor, whom she still hated. A lot. And whom she still wanted to kill. A lot. "And um, you....ah....Victor, whatever magical thing it is you do, now might be a good time to do it. Something useful to help this situation of ours?"

No one else was throwing out helpful ideas, so she figured she'd take it upon herself to lead, and the sheep would follow. It also occurred to her that the very bitter and pissed off sheep would simply take off and leave Quinn and herself there on this rooftop to fend for themselves. Which was fine....if that was what they truly wanted to do. Deanna wouldn't try to stop them. She knew eventually the waters would retreat. If the dynamic duo planned on screwing two weres, well...

Deanna smiled at the two of them and waited patiently for their response.

The little pixie, or whatever she was, was getting on Melvin's nerves.

Here he was all excited at the prospect of not being the last creature, besides the horses, left in this world, his heart all a-fluttered when the pixie showed up. A friend! A new friend!

And then she opened her mouth, and Melvin actually considered biting her head off.

First she started nagging at him, like she was his wife or something, but Melving peered hard at her hands and didn't see a ring. Whew!

After the nagging, Ita began shouting orders at him, stomping around like a firefly who sniffed a little too much pixie dust. Melvin yawned and scratched his balls, feeling a bit sleepy after his meal of Soldier Tartare. He watched this little girl fairy with the smallest boobies he had ever seen in his life. Seriously, he had boils on his butt cheek that were bigger than those nubs she called breasts. She was wicked pissed and for a split second, Melvin thought her head might explode.

That would have been cool.

Then she started threatening him and his most awe inspiring satchel. Was she insane? Melvin looked down at his sack, swinging happily back and forth. Ruin those babies? And pups? Yeah right, like that would happen. He'd need to have the sexy time first with someone willing (which was unlikely), but dammit when that happened, he'd shoot whoever was the lucky gal with gallons of his hot yogurt of love, she'd birth a whole clan of little Melvins!

The little flat-chested pixie girl was eyeballing his sack of awesome, and Melvin waggled his eyes brows suggestively. She was cute in a pre-pubescent boy sort of way. Melvin wouldn't even mind her constant annoying chatter either, he'd just close his eyes and pretend he was alone with his hand.

He was considering givng her the gift of Melvin, when she started getting ugly. Nasty things were coming out of her mouth, insults and all that, and Melvin frowned at Ita. Why was she being such a douche? What had he done to her? Conveniently, the werewolf forgot about that little incident at the villa as he was too busy thinking about boning her. Which was ignored the minute that stealthy little ninja-pixie snuck up to his face and yanked on his whiskers. "OOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!" Melvin howled as he rubbed at his injured face.

Ah women, even small breasted ones, were such bitches.

He waited until she was finished inuslting him, even wincing a bit as she brought up Elijah which he considered the final straw, until she "told" him what he could and couldn't eat. By "told" him, she demanded.

"NOW HOLD UP HERE LADY!" Melvin roared when she finally finished her yammering. When he finally had her attention, he continued in a more calm, Melvin-like fashion.

"Listen here bug," Melvin considered his next words carefully as he cupped his precious gonads in his hands. "You come here on my hill and start yelling at me without so much of a "Hey! How's it going? I'm...uh....whatever your name is. What's yours?" Melvin caught sight of a bird (pretty!) and for a moment, forgot where he was and what he was saying (short attention span, y'know), before glancing back at Ita. "Oh, you're still here. Right. Forgot."

He grinned at her, bits of his last meal still stuck between his yellowed canines. "Look kiddo, understand something here. I was just doing my job. Ok? Elijah told us where to go, and we went. Not my fault it was your home. Or that lady's home. Or that annoying kid's home." Melvin shrugged, not really caring whose home it was.

"You're yelling at me for doing my job. Which I did. My job that is. No one can ever say Melvin didn't do his job." He flopped down on the hill and began rubbing his rear on the grass. "Ahh..." his eyes rolled in the back of his head, his tongue hanging out the side of his opened maw. "That feels sooooooo good! You know when you have this itch that you just can't scratch, so you..." Melvin trailed off as he watched Ita staring at him incredulously. "Oh, right. We were having a conver...a covent...um, we were talking. About uh, things."

"So, right, back to your bitchfest." He lay on his back now, exposing those impressive bits as he stretched. "Honestly, I don't even like eating humans. They taste like shit. I'd rather eat a deer, as you put it, but I'm fresh out right now." He gestured with a wave of his large hairy paw. "Only the horses, and they're not mine. They belong to that weird boy/girl with the strange eyes. The one from the stables." Melvin grew sad as he thought about how Verial just left him behind. That was really, really mean. "So, I was thinking, maybe if I didn't eat them, the depressing boy/girl would come back for them. That would make me happy." He smiled widely at Ita. "I like being happy."

He spoke again as he looked up at the cloudy sky, though mostly to himself as if Ita was forgotten...again. "I don't like Elijah. He's kind of a dick. Yeah, he's a dick. A huge dick. Not a cool dick like me. Not that I'm a dick. I'm really awesome. I'm like...Supreme Superbeasto!" Yeah! Melvin liked that! Supreme Superbeasto! Now that was a cool alias.

"Anyway, I'm kinda tired now." Melvin yawned, loud and long....and scratched his balls once more for good measure. "Think I'll take a nap now since all your screeching has made me sleepy." He rolled over onto his stomach and tucked his arms under his head. "Name's Melvin by the way...err Dirk. Dirk Diggler. Yeah. That's it."

Were the last words uttered from the werewolf before he began instantly snoring, dreaming what all good little werewolves dreamt about...

Humping bitches.