The Demons of Kellwood: Part II

[Dundee]

Yes, I'll finish Sam and Roger's story. Very very soon. But not now. Just letting you know that also very soon, I'll be posting the sequal to my first fanfiction. Very soon, as in within September. Maybe October. I'm working on it. Anyway, this is the place where I'll be posting updates. Yeah. Man, I hope this is going to help me with my English Honors class. First three chapters, hurrah!
Warning: slightly mature language; nothing a person who regularly reads this gory a comic can't handle.

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Chapter One: In Which We Meet An Old Acquaintance

The small demon boy sighed as he watched ropy threads of white cloud flow over the tangle of delicate branches that roofed the forest. There was absolutely nothing to do. Sitting up on the soft grass, he made a point to ask one of the inhabitants of the cabin what they used to do for fun, ‘cause what they were doing right now definitely wasn’t amusing. He groaned and rolled his eyes as he thought of the work that had transformed the normally happy-go-lucky people.
It was always ‘fixing up this’ and ‘make sure to clear up that’. It was as if the people of the cabin felt like THEY were responsible for getting the forest back under control.
“If you ask me,” he commented absentmindedly towards one of the very common jackalopes that hopped around the area, this one a bright, iridescent blue, “the populace can take all this bloody work they’re putting on us and STUFF it.”
“Mannic wonders; stuff where?” Damon and the blue jackalope jumped, and they turned towards the sound of the voice.
“Who are you…” the boy started, curious about the giddily smiling redheaded teenager.


Chapter Two: In Which Stress Is Allayed In An Unlikely Place


Mye grumbled. And with reason, too. She’d been kidnapped by her boyfriend, suffered years of unconsciousness, was rescued by a KID she later found was her CHILD, watched the man she once loved murdered with a weapon of legend, all to go back to exactly what she’d been doing for more than half her life: cleaning and cooking for a bunch of chauvinist MEN.
And then there were the other girls. There was Faye, with her ‘Princess’ complex, who demanded the most extravagant meals. Roast Duck, Suckling Pig… Some of the recipes Mye hadn’t even heard of! Azelea was just as bad as the men, only worse because she strutted around like some cheap little… With a toothy grin, the black haired woman slammed the garlic bulb with the flat of a large knife with a satisfying CRUNCH, and then carefully plucked the skin away from the crushed flesh of the smelly root. She knew that not a lot of the people here appreciated strong flavors, she knew that if they found out what she put in their dinners they would absolutely flip, but if she used it in small quantities it added MILES of depth to the dishes she served, and none of those close-minded MEN knew the better.
Quickly chopping it up, she placed it in a skillet with oil to brown, and then went to work with the rest of the meal.
“Let’s see… I’ve got steaks-rare, very rare, and still twitching, broccoli ready to go in the microwave, what’s for grain…” she mused to herself, mentally running over what they had in the household that could do for fiber. As she realized her decision, she smiled and ripped open a huge bag of large, almost-sprouting potatoes. Unfortunately, this caused them to fall on the floor, some of them splattering and cracking open. She stopped dead in her tracks. “Mashed potatoes it is, then,” she said to herself, and gathered up the ruined potatoes to put them in a pot to boil. And yet there was still work to be done. There was ALWAYS still work to be done…


Chapter 3: In Which Our Hero Gets An Unwanted Letter


An owl swooped low over the black headed young man’s head, and dropped a ‘little present’ just inside the hood of his coat before sweeping up to land on a branch, swaying slightly as it settled. “D@mn beast!” he hissed, shaking his fist at the offending fowl. He felt inside the hood gingerly, but instead of the coarse, hairy nuggets one usually got from an experience with an owl, he felt stiff paper. Curious, he furrowed his brow as he looked at the object the bird had left him. It was an envelope, made with a creamy, rich sort of paper, and waxed with an unpleasantly familiar seal. He rolled his eyes. The Council was so old-fashioned about their communication methods. Who did they think they were, Harry Potter? He broke the seal and opened the letter of the same creamy rich paper encased within to see what they’d sent him this time. Reading the letter, his bright, shining red eyes narrowed as he skimmed over the page. Finally, as he reached the final official words, he cried out in frustration, ripping the paper to shreds. “ ‘King of the Vampires,’ my @$$!” he cursed, then, picking up the bemused owl from its roost, he stalked off to find some paper. He had a letter to write. Unfortunately, his would also be one in which he would give a title to some sucker who was most likely to accept, whether out of duty or greediness. Hopefully, the recipient would take to this news better than the newly appointed King of the Vampires.
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EDIT, September 1st: *sniff* I miss comments. Ah, the good ol' days, when people would flock to my posts like moths to their fiery deaths. But, that's what you get when you leave your audience for half a year. Dundee sad. *gets back to brainstorming*

[Dundee]

Dang, no commentses. But, to my duty I go. Part 2.
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Chapter 4: In Which Enemies Come A-Calling (Psst-yeah, this is my way of incorporating a character that didn't get nearly as much developement in the previous story as she deserved. Wee.)


“You WHAT?!” hissed the golden wolf, gripping his wife’s shoulders with large, heavily padded paws.
“Invited my sister to stay with us, I already told you,” she replied icily, looking him straight in his golden eyes with her opalescent purple ones. He whined doglike, glancing over his shoulder at the fierce-eyed green haired Valkarye who matched his gaze with globes of bright blue fire.
“Couldn’t ya have waited until this whole thing washed over?” he pleaded. Claire frowned at him, and shrugged his lifeless paws from her shoulders.
“I would have, except that the reason she’s staying is so that ‘this whole thing can wash over.’” Menu raised an eyebrow.
“Yer kidding, right? SHE’S t’ reason the forest’s all upset and everything, and why I can hardly ever have a decent day’s sleep!”
“Excuse me, while I know I don’t have ears, I can STILL hear every word you’re saying!” called Rosemary from her corner. “If you value your rest so much, why don’t you just go to the vet and ask him to put you to sleep like a good little doggy?”
“Rooosemaaary,” wailed Claire as Menu snarled viciously at the cool young lady.
“Don’t blame me, it’s your pup who’s complaining!” Claire bit her lip at her sister’s dry comment.
“Rosemary? Do you think Menu and I can have a conversation in private for a sec?” The green haired vampiress shrugged one shoulder coldly, gazing into space in the corner of her eyes as Claire took Menu by the elbow into an uninhabited room.
“Listen, Menu, you KNOW Rosie’s been having a really hard t-time… s-since… Z… Z-Zerlocke d-died…” she started, her voice catching as she remembered the incident with a small tear in her eye. “C-can’t you j-just cut her a l-little SLACK? I-I mean, he w-was l-like a p-PARENT to us!” At this point, she was nearly bawling, and Menu stood uncomfortably, wondering what he was supposed to do. Therefore, he was almost relieved when an owl came barging in, carrying a letter from his good friend about a question that would change his life forever.


Chapter 5: In Which We Decipher A Strange Vocabulary (Psst-Don't really have anything to say here, but writing for Mannic is FUN. Seriously. You should try it sometime.)


The changeling boy frowned. “Mannic is Mannic. But Mannic wonder who new Darkie-boy is. Mannic say to self, ‘Dark-boy look like person Mannic knows. Mannic think Dark-boy looks like Bat-boy.’ Darkie-boy know Bat-boy?” Damon tried to process this information, as weirdly as it was stated, and failed. Miserably.
“My name,” he said clearly and slowly, “is Damon. Day-men. So your name is Mannic?” The redheaded teenager smiled and pointed at his chest, nodding his head furiously. “Alright, Mannic, why are you here?” At this, Mannic sat and frowned in thought. After several minutes of contemplation, he looked up and smiled simply.
“Mannic always here. Mannic cooked food for Wolfie-boy, but Wolfie-boy went bye-bye so Mannic not live in house no more. But Mannic still here, Mannic ALWAYS here.” As Damon digested these unconventional words, the child-like stranger delighted himself with the frantically squeaking jackalope that had tried to escape during their conversation. Wolfie-boy… With a flash, the boy remembered that golden-haired werewolf that occasionally attended meetings, usually in the company of a blue-haired lady that often fondly called him ‘Puppy’.
“You’re a cook?” stated Damon flatly. How could such an interesting character be reduced to a simple cook?
“Not no more. Mannic cook, but Mannic not A cook. Mannic animal-person. Damon Darkie-boy animal-person?” This, at least, the boy understood, and he shook his head.
“No, I’m not that interested in animals all that much.” At this, his new friend’s face drooped, and he looked up with sorrowful, strange, blue and red eyes. His slightly pointed ears drooped, and Damon started seriously reconsidering his answer. “Well, I haven’t been around them all that much, but yeah, they’re cool, and-uuh… *cough* D-d’ya th-think y-ye-could, *gasp*, lighten-up-a-little…” For at this answer, the young man had started hugging him with a vengeance. Grinning foolishly, Mannic released his hold.
“Damon Darkie-boy DEFINITELY animal-person. Mannic will be seeing Darkie-boy soon, yes he will!” And with these cryptic words, the red-head vanished into the woods as quietly as a squirrel, and Damon was left panting for breath alone but for the jackalope who had looked on at the scene with an amused twinkle in his eyes, occasionally scratching at some strange scars on his forelegs.


Chapter 6: In Which Tony Finds An Old Rival (Psst- Ok, last time. I didn't like how this turned out. I'll probably edit it later on, but this was all I could think of. Geesh, poor Tony, he gets the boring part.)


A confused dog pawed at the empty space in front of him, wondering why he couldn’t lay in his favorite spot by the wall, but the being occupying the dog’s sacred resting place was currently preoccupied with other things. Namely, finishing a quest he’d started years ago. Waiting for the sun to set, Tony remained hidden beside a window at the local Senior’s Home.
“Wish these olds geezers woulds justs hurry ups and sleeps alreadys,” he thought to himself. This was it. The last residence in the town. He wondered if this would be just another fluke, but he’d scolded himself, remembering that it’s always in the last place you look. As the sun slipped behind its blanket of silvery, gold-washed water and pillows of rolling hills, the Alp cautiously and invisibly crept through the open window. A tall aged man lay in bed, his formally plain, drab brown hair streaked heavily with silvery gray. Tony looked at the information plate at the foot of the bed. A ‘Mister Mortimer’ Something-or other. A frown spread a spider-web of wrinkles around the old man’s face signifying troubling dreams, as Tony whispered in his ear,
“Well, Morty? Did youse steal mine sweet-heart’s wand, hmm?” Purple smoke poured into the orifices of the elderly demon hunter, as his already disturbing dreams just got a heck lot scarier.
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To Be Continued... ZOMG!

[Wolfy]

Of course it's in the last place you look.. If you find it, why would you keep searching? ^_^

Sorry, I can never resist saying that when anyone says "it's always in the last place you look." Anywho... Keep up the work! Even if people don't comment, They're probably reading anyway. I know I am. Now then... More!!!!! ^_^

[Dundee]

Yay! *warm fuzzy feelings* I know I'm a bit of a brat begging someone to post, but it makes me happy all the same. And since I'm an attention-grabbing parasite, here's just one more chapter; but only one, else I'll have to show more than I wanted next week for my next installment. *giddy with glee*
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Chapter 7: In Which We Receive An Unlikely King


“What the CRAP?” Menu whispered to himself, disbelieving the letter sent to him by his old friend.
“What,” asked Claire, peering over his tall shoulder, trying to make out the ornate lettering. “Lord of… What?!” Leaning against the wall in the other room, Rosemary idly wondered what that disgusting bird had brought that was so interesting. Yes, she’d heard the conversation; or at least, most of it. Enough to get a sense of what happened. Obviously, that scoundrel of a mutt had upset her dear sister by heartlessly bringing up that untouchable subject. Unexpectedly, the vampiress was surprised to feel a faint wetness at the corner of a fiery blue eye, coupled with a growing lump in her throat. Shivering uncomfortably, she concentrated on banishing those thoughts to the back of her mind, so cluttered with opinions she couldn’t be bothered with…
“Rosemary!” cried the blue-haired young lady, running into the room. “Menu’s gonna be, he’s gonna be-!”
“Hey, I never said I was gonna accept, Claire-bear!” said her husband, closely following her.
“Well? What’s all this, then?” said the woman, curious for a change. Menu gulped loudly.
“Well, eh, it seems that with, um, no king, well, because of what you, you know, uh…” Rosemary rolled her eyes, and snatched the creamy paper from his sweating paws.
“You? The King of the Demons? You have GOT to be kidding me,” she said sourly, tossing the paper back. “I’m leaving to see the Council. It’s your lucky day, mutt, you won’t have to deal with me for another week.” It was only the pained look on Claire’s face that kept the werewolf that would replace Samricke and Zeno from chasing her out with claws extended.
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Oh yes, and if anyone wants to ask a question, by all means, ask! Such as: If enough time's past so that Charby and the gang have matured, why is Mortimer still alive?
My answer is that since this is an alternate universe where demons are quite common, the human population has declined much more than our universe. With less human populating the earth, they used up less natural resources. Since this universe is closely tied with ours, they've realized the fact that the earth is going to fade away very soon unless we do something about it. Thereforth, technology has boomed, and because they are more technologically advanced than us, they've found a way to make humans live longer, and appear younger. Or, you know, I could have just taken the idea of a smaller human population from a story I happened to read online, and I don't really have a clue why Mortimer and some other key mortal characters are alive. Sorry, person who wrote that story! Another question would be why Mannic looks like a teenager while the rest of the cast look like they're entering college. Alright, gimme a second to get myself out of this hole... Ah yes. You've all heard the theory of Spongebob Squarepants, yes? How he's old enough to hold a job, and yet so completely immature it's not to be believed? The basic principle applies to Mannic, too. If he were as stiff and mature as the rest of the crew, he'd most likely be seen as the same age as they currently look like they're in. However, as Mannic is so immature and carefree, he retains the aura of teendom and so looks like it, while the others are so eager to look their age, each retains an aura of adulthood, and thereby look it. These are my excuses-er, I mean, answers, and I give them to you to address them as you see fit.

Also, feel free to request any characters that you would like to see in an upcoming chapter.

[Wolfy]

Yay!! Hmm... I can't think of anyone, you seem to have it all pretty well covered...

*waits anxiously for next weeks installment* ^^-

[Amelius]

Dundee, this is fabulous! (I admit I've been sorta lurking lately, still trying to catch up but I was gone for 2 weeks without any 'net so I almost missed this!) I was surprised and absolutely ecstatic to see this continued. Happyhappy! Also I do feel a little bad commenting in the middle of progress, I wouldn't want to leave gaps. If'n you want, I have no problem with you or any fanfic writer here making their own comment/discussion threads, in fact if need be I could make that a subcat like in the general forum too. Thanks soo much again for doing this though! I really love it so far ^_^

[Dundee]

*does quiet, giddy little dance around chair* Ahem. I'm extremely glad you like it. I was afraid you'd think I'd gone a bit overboard with stealing your characters too much. It's fine if you leave gaps, it doesn't really matter. When I'm all the way done with it, I'll post the entire thing in like, one or two posts so that late-comers can see the thing in all its edited final glory on the last page.

Oh yessss, next week holds one of my most favorite chapters ever. Don't worry, Tony, your role will get far more interesting soon! *swoons at the thought, and goes happily swaying to write more*

[Dundee]

You know, I bet that's a really good idea. Thanks for the comment!

Well, I bet at least one or two of you have been waiting for the weekend, so here's two more chapters, as promised. I LOVED writing for the 9th chapter. Most fun I've had all while writing this junk.
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Chapter 8: In Which Mye Gets Some Help


“Hey, Cris…” The purple-haired man sat on an uncomfortable chair, the room silent but for the various hums, whirs, and clicks of electronic devices. “Crispo…” More silence as the huge half dragon tried to ignore his friend. “Cris?”
“Whaaat?” he hissed, furiously jabbing the keyboard in front of him.
“You wanna grab a bite to eat?”
“There, NOW you’ve done it, I’ve lost the game.” Crispo said, annoyance narrowing his round orange eyes as he stood up and gestured to the computer screen, where an animated little man crumpled to his animated feet bleeding animated blood. “Now you owe me nachos.” Daray shrugged, and opened the door to the stuffy room.
“Whatever it takes, I’m STARVING.” They went to the kitchen, where they found Mye setting up for dinner.
“Hey, pretty lady, think I sprained my finger on the computer, can you make it better?” said Crispo slyly, a toothy grin replacing the squinty eyes. Mye merely sent him a withering glare as she put plates on every possible surface.
“I’ve got over 10 people to serve, two of them already came in today to bug me, and my temper is as fragile as my SANITY, so you’ll just have to go get someone else to make out--with your bloody--FINGER!” She ended her speech almost screeching, and a plate full of steak, mashed potatoes, and broccoli crashed on the floor. The young woman’s lip quivered dangerously, and was saved from a tantrum by the two boys hurrying to clean up the mess. “Oh, thank you boys. Do you think that, while you’re helping, you could help me make a dinner for the person whose plate I just smashed, and perhaps washing a few dishes?” As Crispo and Daray crouched on the floor picking up bits of broccoli, Crispo glared his alarmed partner, who shrank into the corner.
“Some kind of ‘grabbing a bite to eat’!” he hissed, his large white tail snapping back and forth. Pouting, Daray worked harder at removing the gravy stain from the floor. Mye beamed at the boys on the floor. It had been so long since she had any help in the kitchen.

Chapter 9: In Which We Explore the Dreams of a Traumatized Man


Panting. Running. Glen’s beside me, he’s gasping more than I am. Shoot, the guy’s got a gun! We head for the woods. At least, that’s where Glen points. The man doesn’t hesitate and runs in too. An animal, maybe a squirrel, dodges out of the way. Hi, squirrel! Glen tugs on my arm, reminds me. We’re running. He’s running, too. The man with the gun. The trees stick out their roots. Glen trips on one, his arms outstretched. I grab one, not breaking my stride. We hear a muffled cry behind. He’s tripped too. Ha, ha. Once again, Glen grabs my attention, and we’re still running, and we’re still running out of breath, and we’re still running out of time, and the man behind is crying out kind of painfully. We slow to a jog. Is it just me, or is it getting brighter? What’s that figure beyond the trees? Wait, is that light GREEN?
Where’s Glen?
Why’s he stopped? The bear floats from behind a tree. Wait, is that a bear? Looks more like a teddy bear. BIG, purple teddy bear. Hi, teddy bear! No! Concentrate!
Where’s Glen?
He’s not tugging at my sleeve, he’s not whipping me along, why isn’t he? The man’s far behind me, but I can still hear him. I can still hear his screams. Glen’s, too. Strange. I sidestep the bear. Too creepy to be a teddy bear; and what’s with that mouth, huge and splitting and curled at the corners. I keep running, and running. Glen’s screams get louder. As does the man’s. Glen?
Where’s Glen?
I finally stop, and look back. I can’t hear Glen anymore. But the teddy bear has blonde hair stuck in its teeth. Huge, chomping, gravestone teeth, all stuck with bones, clothes, and hair. Strawberry blonde hair. Glen’s hair.
Where’s Glen.
I start to run away again, but the bear is moving on, floating with a puke-green goo that surrounded it to that man with the gun, the man screaming with pain and fear, the hunter with the black hair and the white eye, Marlowe-
Mortimer woke with a vicious start, sitting up in bed almost before he woke up, panting through his mouth as his nose felt as if it had gotten very salty water up it. He looked around with insane eyes, darting unseeing towards the darkest corner of his twilight-lit room.
“Glen…?” he whispered. His dream-no, his nightmare had been unusually vivid, his closest cousin’s sweat-stained face still clear in his mind.
“Aheheh, NEIN,” said a morbid, slithery voice from somewhere unseen. The retired demon hunter wailed, at the end of his wits, and dived underneath the cheap cotton sheets as Tony crept invisibly back out the window, silently chuckling to himself at successfully spooking the defenseless elder, but somber with what he’d found out that night. Charby was definitely not going to like this. On the other hand, the number of fatalities in Kellwood Forest was likely to decrease by at least a third this week, due to the loss of an irreplaceable specimen.
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By the by-I won't be posting in segments of three anymore. Eats up what I already have typed too fast. Sowwy! *anime-style sweatdrop! ZOMG!!*

[Wolfy]

Awww... Munchy's going bye-bye, ain't he? Poor Munchy... lovely installment, i can't wait until next weeks! ~^_^~

[Amelius]

ooooo (continues oo'ing for a few more seconds) sooo good!
I can imagine that was fun to write 'cuz it was fun to read too. That silly Tony ^_^
I pity poor Mort now, the big dope! Crispo makes me laugh in the first chapter too, he's so crabby ^_^ he turned into a snapdragon! (um, it's a kind of flower....hehe)

[Dundee]

Ooh, I LOVE snapdragons! They're so cool! Yeah, that dream was a genuine brilliant. *struts like a peacock* Alas, poor Munchie, I knew it well.

[Dundee]

I apologize for deleting this chapter, but it just wasn't going to work out. Please, if anyone's offended by me taking these characters and not making them act in a convincing manner of themselves, tell me! I'm not sorry that it's fun to take these characters and stretch them beyond their normal characteristics, but if you don't like it that they are acting out of character, PLEASE TELL ME!

[Dundee]

Attention readers! There will not be an update this week! I'm sorry, I'm sure that at least one of you has been waiting for something to replace the awful chapter from last week, but I need some time to get some more material ready. In the meantime, I'll be wrecking my brains trying to think of an ending to the Sam & Roger story line.
Shun Dundee, she's a BAAAAAD writer.

[Wolfy]

Aww.. *pats* That's ok, Dundee. Take all the time you need.

[Amelius]

Aww, Dundee it was not awful! And in reference to your closing statement on the last chapter, I think you're doing just fine with the characters! They've grown and had a lot of experiences so it is to be expected that they may act slightly different (heck, it has happened to several characters in my comic already!) so it is perfectly reasonable. And overall, just really fun for me to read, as the creator of the characters I tend to know how they think and it's fascinating to see them do something under different creative direction.
So I salutes youse for a job well dones, and for entertaining me so! And I don't mind a little waiting, either ^_^

[Dundee]

I'm skipping a chapter. That's the only way I can see doing this. The real chapter 11 is kind of weird to put right here, plus which I'm still working on it. I'll let you see Chapter 11... Some time that is not now. Anyway. Introducing the comedy relief.
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Chapter 12: In Which We Meet Our Comedy Relief


“Heavy steel-toed, yet fashionable boots?”
“Check.”
“Useless metal shoulder straps with bullets for a gun you don’t have?”
“Check.”
“Trench coat littered with gadgets ripped off from Batman?”
“Uh… Check.”
“Giant, big-ass gun to scare off anything that thinks we’re an easy snack?”
“… Check.
“Small, compact handguns that are really the most useful thing we actually have?”
“Quadruple check.” The black-haired woman raised an eyebrow questioningly. Her companion slouched dramatically. “It means I have four of ‘em. Two for you, two for me. Uh-DUUH.” Understanding bloomed behind her dark green, heavily painted eyes, and she continued the list of hunting materials.
“Crossbow?”
“Check.”
“Arrows for said crossbow?”
“Uh…” He patted his skin-tight pockets, looked around the room despairingly, and looked at her sheepishly. “You seen where I put the arrows, Xandy?” She rolled her eyes, pointing straight at him. “Where?” he asked, whirling around, and felt the weight of the quiver against his back. “Oh. There. Heh…” Again rolling her eyes, she consulted the list.
“Well, it would seem we’re all set. Ready to go?” she asked, zipping up the cheap, fake-leather body suit she’d gotten at the costume store for sale. He responded by buttoning up the trench coat, and starting for the door.
Briefly touching an old, black, witchy-looking hat that hung majestically from the wall fondly, he thought aloud: “Tonight, I avenge my brother…” And then, of course, he spoiled the effect by tripping on the doorway and falling flat on his face on the concrete of the driveway.
“You know, Hec, sometimes I wonder how you’re still alive,” commented Xandria, picking her way around her fiancé gracefully. Hector bared his dog-like teeth at her retreating, mocking silhouette against the moonlight, and he hurried on all fours to catch up with her, gamboling and prancing playfully like a puppy.
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And this is why I answered that particular question way back there. I'll probably be redoing this sometime in the near future.

[Amelius]

Haha, that is awesome. I am serious, I am eating this up like a box of Milk Duds. And it's just as delicious! P:) Whahoo for Hunter Hecter and the Deadly Xandy the Vampire Botherer!

[Dundee]

Right. So I was just wandering the community, seeing what everyone was up to, and I see Amelius' comment. YIPPEE!! I thought with glee. Yes, those are good names for the couple. I look up casually at some of my posts to read my favorite parts, and then suddenly, I realize: IT'S THE WEEKEND, YA IDJIT, THERE'S SUPPOSED TO BE A STORY UP!! Yeah. Sorry this chapter's really short, and kind of oddly written. I just felt I should let Ol' Azzie in on the fun of non-canon character developement.
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Chapter 13: In Which Azelea Finds Something Unpleasant About Herself (Psst-I’m kind of basing Azzie off of Galinda in the Broadway Play, ‘Wicked’. Hope no one minds, she really does fit the part.)


Azelea was despondent. Wait, was that the right adjective? She peered in the carefully polished miniature mirror, admiring her pitiful, love-lorn eyes and her sorrowful, never-smiling yet full, pouting lips. Yep, definitely despondent. How could she be otherwise? Her love was gone. The thought was too casual. Why didn’t she well up in tears at the thought of that beastly woman murdering the one she’d longed for so long? Frowning, she looked in the mirror once more, opening her mouth to see the color of her tongue. Was she sick? Was there an illness that made one not care about the only ones they cared about? Zeno’s gone. Why wasn’t she bawling? Zeno’s gone. Why aren’t her eyes filling up with emotion? HER eyes filled with emotion, and longing, and regret, and glistening tears of remorse, and a hundred other romantic adjectives whenever anything remotely related to… Zeno… came across her path. Why, just the other day, Azelea watched the bereaved wife bawl over a bunch of grapes. I mean, GRAPES! Come ON!
Maybe it was denial. Is Zeno dead? Yes, her mind replied flatly. Are you unhappy that he’s dead? Oh, most certainly, thought her mind, though the faerie didn’t really believe it. Ok, fine, her subconscious blurted out, he’s dead, we’re sad, but move ON. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Azelea gasped. This was wrong. This was BAD. Was she really that shallow? She looked about the empty room, as though someone might hear her thoughts and know the truth. Assuring her it was empty, she flitted about the cabin, looking for privacy; a small pink-and-blue bug with incredible fashion sense, fleeing from her own traitorous thoughts.

[Dundee]

Well, here's my last little reserve of written content. It'll be a while until I can write some more, since my birthday is this week, and I STILL have NO IDEA what I'm going to do for a party. Sorry it's short, but it leaves off nicely. Enjoy the cliffhanger...
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Chapter 14: In Which Hex Changes His Mind


“Hexavier!” The word was cried out slavered in pain and distress, but underneath the pitiful sweetening sat the truth of the reason, a hard, cold lump of sweetly mocking feminity. The man being called recognized these tones, and immediately ran for his life. He could be sneaky when he wanted to, and the caller found a clearing empty but for some startled leaves. “Hexy-poo!” Her voice had shaken free of its pitiful tones, and was pure solid determination. Hexavier was very hard to kill, but even he was having difficulty keeping his head, high in the slenderest part of the pine trunk where he hid. “Silly thing, did you think you could hide from me in a TREE?” said that unmistakable hated, yet loving voice. Letting out a fearful cry, he leapt from his crouch, and landed in a huge cloud of leaves, gritting his teeth from the pain that came from his ankle. His pursuer was not so lucky. Her scared squeal swung into a frantic scream, and a hideously loud CRACK fell behind him.
“Faye?…” Hexavier slowly turned around. Anyone else would have vomited at the sight that met him. There sat the huge, bloodstained boulder. There lay the body of the woman, trembling with each painful gasp, her back and head bleeding copiously. There draped the traitorous wing, ripped and mangled beyond recognition…
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Hmm, while I'm over here, I might as well post Chapter 11, since youse all were denied it earlier. It's fairly long, boring, you have to read a lot to get all the details, but the twist at the end brought a smile to my lips. Here's to you, Scarecrow.
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Chapter 11: In Which We Are Left In The Dark


The first thing she noticed was the light. It seemed that the room had no ceiling, for the bright, bluish light that didn’t actually illuminate anything went on for miles and miles into the pitch-black sky of the room.
The second was that the room had no other light. Everything was pitch-black, and magically so, because even with her supernatural eyes she couldn’t see what was lurking beyond the shadows.
And the third was the chair. It was in the center of the light. The light was so bright, and yet so dark, you could hardly make it out except for its shadow. Could such a piece of furniture actually be called a chair? This contraption was not made for sitting. It was made for unease, to unsettle minds, to make one wish they had a match simply so they could burn the remains of such an architectural disaster. And yet, the voice told her to sit. “SIT,” just so. And so, she sat. Her limbs accidentally came into contact with what was supposed to be the arm rests, and bright, shining bands of some kind of silvery, glittery material eagerly wrapped down her wrists as if miniature constrictors were seizing the first meal they’d had in years. The metal burned faintly to the touch, and distracted her mind from the task at hand. “WHAT IS YOUR COMPLAINT?” asked the Voices.
“I’ve come to ask about the decision to make the werewolf king,” she called uncertainly, a drop of sweat falling frantically down her temple.
”WE DID NOT MAKE SUCH A DECISION,” The young woman opened her eyes wide in disbelief.
“B-but surely, if I’m not mistaken, the envelope I saw had the seal of the vampire on it!”
”WE’VE NOT BEEN IN TOUCH WITH THE WEREWOLF OF GOLD,” the Voices said, in cold, unemotional tones. The woman sat silently and uncomfortably. She did not know what to do. She knew that when the Voices were done with her, the door would open, but it remained locked and invisible in the darkness. Suddenly, she was startled when the Voices started to echo ‘round the empty chamber once more.
”HOWEVER,” they boomed, “WE’VE RECENTLY PROCLAIMED A NEW KING OF THE VAMPIRES, THOUGH HE IS YOUNG AND RESENTFUL.” They paused thoughtfully. “WE BELIEVE THE KING CHARBY IS AN ACQUANTANCE OF THIS WEREWOLF.” The woman nodded at this, still wincing from the loudness of the voices. Charby, the king? Of course.
“Thank you for your information,” she stated, slowly getting up from the horrendous surface. The silver bands reluctantly left their hold on her wrists, and she instinctively massaged them. “I’ll, ah, just be going, now,” she said, hearing the welcoming sound of heavy steel over rough concrete. She felt her way to the opening door, letting it slam behind her with a small crash. Instantly, warm, fluorescent lights flooded the empty chamber, and Nikodemus, the ‘Voices’ of the council, relaxed in his similarly grotesque chair.
“I hate playing Wizard of Oz…”

[Dundee]

I do believe I'm losing my touch, if it's been a week and a half since anybody's commented. How sad. I hope my writing style will improve over my hiatus. Oh dear, I've been fishing for compliments again, haven't I? I'm sorry.

[Wolfy]

Gah! I'm sorry, Dundee. School's been busy. Anyway.. On to comments!


I love the end of chapter 11. The begining of it too. And the middle. In fact, I love it all!

Aww, poor Fae... And yet... I really don't feel sorry for her...

Heh. Azalea doesn't like the person she sees in the mirror anymore, does she?

Heehee... The comedy releif.. Can't wait to see more of them. ^^

[Dundee]

Something buzzed up in my perversed little mind today, and for some reason this little doodad showed up thanks to a static shock. Amazing what a little 'tricity will do for your brain, huh? See if you can tell who's writing this speech in Kellwood.

I killed you, you know. Although he wielded the stake, I killed you. You were already dead, you’d already called the grave your home, but I, who loved you, cast you back. I loved you. He loved you too. But we loved, not love. You’re no longer you, you are she, the fraud. Why did you trick him? Why’d you trick him with your striking, moonshine hair and your melting, determined eyes? You didn’t trick ME, I saw you for who you were. He saw a shallow version of the deep, wondrous woman you were, a body to die for and a smile to kill for. Though you had the most beautiful, wholesome silhouette, the most heart warming spread of mouth, I loved you for who you were; the lady I cherished, the female I’ve been dreaming about, she I had never met yet was always waiting for. You cast me down, yet I followed. I scorned your pity and yet blessed your footsteps. He admitted his intentions in his lecherous eyes, and you melted to him willingly. I admire him for appreciating true value, yet envy him for he had the chance I’ll never get. Your scorn was material, which for some strange reason tore my metaphorical heart! What did he have that I didn’t?! A fair body, to be true, but he’ll wilt away into naught but dust, just as all your kind! What did I lack that he had in abundance?! Height, a sense of life, but height dwindles away far too fast, and life is a metaphor for the pain and suffering we all must live through! What did I have, that repelled you away? Was it these accursed blood red eyes, I’ll gouge them out for you! Was it this ink black, raven’s hair, I’ll tear it out by the bloody roots from my bleeding scalp-for you, and all for you, and only for you! Was it this blood thirst that’ll haunt me until the end of time? then good bye my sweet, good bye.


And another. Ee, I'm just chock full of romantic speeches tonight, aren't I? This one will only be relevant for this particular time period, unfortunately. Let's see if you can guess which Kellwood resident is bemoaning his heart now.

You had possibility in your eyes, I remember, all the possibilities in the world that meant we could be together, for that one brief moment greeting me from death’s waiting door. You had possibility in your eyes, though contempt and anger too, when I first laid eyes on your ravishing frame that lonely day in the woods. You wore possibility like a gleaming garment I could never touch that glittered with helplessness when I failed to save you at my enemy’s feet. You carried possibility in your high, scared voice as I carried out the worst possible accident of my life. You had possibility slavered all over when you went out of your way to help me with what you thought might be my death. You had possibility, gleaming star-like and precious, when you threw yourself to save my pitiful, meaningless life, and gave your own priceless soul. Now I wonder; will you hold possibility tonight?


Whahaha, I'm on a roll! Try and guess this one! It'll be easy, but try all the same!


My lass with green hair;
how you taunt me so!
How you’re so fair
I’m forbidden to know
And why I’m so stricken,
When for so long, I’ve
Droned on and on,
Like I live in a hive!

Thou lass so sweet,
With heart of icy cold
I wish so we could meet
Without your saying, ‘you’re too bold!’
We may live forever,
But why not, and how
Can’t we enjoy right here,
Love each other right now?

You must think me imprudent
Saying these in your face,
But when else can I try to bend
Your particular sway?
You might not know it,
But this is no mere fancy
I love you with all my heart
So wouldn’t you please reconsider me?


This one might be tricky, cause it's so short. A cookie to whoever gets it!


A pretty girl in the window, she said that she’s for sale.
I decide to go up to her, just to tell her how I felt.
She knocked me about and scolded me; now what was I to do?
I pecked her on the cheek and said that, “I love you!”
Stunned and frightened, she pushed me away.
But I went up to her, I went back any way!
She said she didn’t want me, why don’t you go away?
To which I replied, you’re a feisty one; I think I’m here to stay!
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Just watched "Into the Woods" again, and it sort of struck me when the baker's wife meets the perverted prince in the woods, and he seduces her into having "a moment in the woods". Don't we all wish we could have a "moment in the woods" at least once in a while? Just a point in life where we don't have to live with the consequences. A child for warmth, a baker for bread, and a prince for whatever... What if the one person who needed it most actually got it?
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A Moment in the Woods

Black and white contrasted against the brown and green quilt of the woods, moving quietly and quickly. It paused for a moment, when the faint cry of a girl rang in the treetops. A blue and orange thing dropped from a rather confused maple, like a strange colorful fruit that landed on its hands and knees. The black and white continued hurriedly towards the disturbance, which quickly hid itself in the undergrowth. The first being finally came into sight in a small clearing, his bluish white pointed ears swiveling animal like. Pale yellow eyes drank in the scenery, until they spotted twin mounds of orange and blue waving from a large bush. Sweeping away a branch with a black and white striped arm, he held the creature there in his gaze. Liquid solid blue eyes stared back fearfully, and a feminine hand brushed away a pale orange curl. They remained there for several minutes, two similar beings in different outfits of contrasting colors, contemplating the other with inhuman eyes. The female one finally stood up, various silver bells chiming on her bisected jester hat. The stares stopped being confused, then curious. The boy’s arm moved involuntarily, as though it had a mind of its own. It almost cupped her chin with white, stubby fingers, but before it reached its target, he felt a bright, lingering shock on his cheek, and the girl disappeared into the forest’s gloom. He stood there stunned, his arm slowly falling back into place, trying to imbed the feeling of his first kiss forever in his mind’s eye.


If life were made of moments,
Even now and then a bad one-!
But if life were only moments,
Then you'd never know you had one.
And to get what you wish,
Only just for a moment-
These are dangerous woods...

Let the moment go...
Don't forget it for a moment, though.
Just remembering you've had an "and",
When you're back to "or",
Makes the "or" mean more
Than it did before.
Now I understand-
And it's time to leave the woods.
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And just because I have absolutely nothing better to do, I'll share the redone picture of Damon.

[Dundee]

My, this is a lonely little thread. Anyway, sorry about the delay in stories, and I'm afraid to say that I'll have to delete a chapter. Looks like Damon isn't going to get his education after all. *secretly jealous* Can't post a chapter right now, all of my info is on another computer... I'll get back to this place whenever I can. I think the next chapter will involve Phineas, but I'm not sure. Tell me, do any of youse out there think that Phin should be the next Loch Ness Monster?

Dagnabit on a piece of cracker, sometimes I wonder if it's worth writing these stories. *heeeeeeeavy sigh*

[Wolfy]

Of course it is!! *is very sorry for lack of commenting*

Let's see... You gave us a challenge in the previous post.... Am I the only one who will attempt it? Hmm... Well, here goes:

The first one is Charby... About that one woman... (Victoria, I think it was...?).

Second one... Hmm... Zerlocke, maybe?

Third....Kavonn, yes? ^^

Fourth... Hmm... Maybe... Tony, before he left his home town?

That in the woods story is lovely, Dundee! But... why do you have to delete a chapter? (And yes to Phinny as the next Nessy!! ^^-)

[Dundee]

3 outta 4 ain't bad at all, considering the challange! The last one was actually Foomy and Azelea, but it hasn't really sunk into the plot quite yet, so it's understandable you didn't get it. And the reason Damon isn't getting his education is because *whispers in ear*

[Wolfy]

Ooooooooooh!! Right, right! I remember now!! ^_^-

Gah! No spoilers! ^^

[Amelius]

Aww, don't feel discouraged Dundee! I think your work is absolutely fabulous, I'm really enjoying the poetry too. You crafty wordsmith, you! It is an absolute delight each time you post ^_^ ( I am smiling lots right now)
And cuuute pictures too ^_^ Zeno looks indeed very evil too.
I did get the Foomy and Azzy one as soon as I saw the word "fiesty" in there ^_^ good hint!

[Dundee]

*gasp* I'm a wordsmith? COOL! *dances around a few times, wearing a towel on head* Yeeeessssss, I can bend words to my will... It's just getting them to make sense is the trouble! I was in a romantic-speach-y mood that day.

[Dundee]

GAH! SORRY! LATE! ME SHUT UP NOW!
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Chapter 15: In Which The King Tries To Find A Way Out


“King of the Vampires… Who do they think they are?!” A frustrated figure paced to and fro on a carpet of swirling dust, leaves, dead bugs, and the stains of blood. “The job’s jinxed! Why would we need a king, anyway? Rodericke’s lineage lasted as long as we can remember, and of course Zerlocke was expected to be king after he killed Rodericke himself, but how do we know that we really need a king?…” The dust settled as he thought on the spot. Red eyes lit up the empty, lonely place, and he snapped his fingers. “A democracy! For the people, by the people… No… We’ve already seen what democracy’s done for the world…” Again irritated with his plan for slipping out of the position for royalty, he stirred up the debris about his feet, furiously kicking up a storm. “I guess they weren’t settled with having Menu as a replacement. Wish I didn’t get his hopes up too much…” He paused in his musings, a faint sound catching whatever organ he currently used for hearing. The dogs were greeting someone, the cat soon joining in. Someone pleading them to shut up in a familiar accent. “Tony?” In the next room over, the furious whispering stopped, though the complaints of the animals continued.
Tony froze, though a random claw from Masan went through the pant leg fabric. All of a sudden, he just did not want to share with Charby what he’d learned that night. “Back so early?” He jumped, though he should have expected the vampire to sneak up on him. Ordinarily, Tony would laugh and make some sort of joke about the time of day, but for the instances, he merely yowled in pain as he realized that the cat’s claw was now deep enough in his skin that a trickle of blood started to roll ticklishly down his leg. The vampire, true to his ancestry, took one sniff of the released liquid, and ‘poffed’ off before he could cause any damage to the alp. Tony sighed in relief in having a reason to procrastinate telling his friend the truth.

[Wolfy]

Heee... More, more!! ^_^-