(The only possible problem I have with this is the silver bullets used for eight bullets. Would proximity to the bullets, shielded by a gun’s magazine/chamber and a sheath cause harm, or would he be only harmed if the bullets were lodged in his body? If this doesn’t make sense, just continue reading the post. If there are any problems, let me know, and I will edit accordingly.)
Name: Morgan Black
Age: 113
Species: Regular Werewolf
Gender: Male
Weapons of Choice: He wields two of these, named Destiny and Fate:
(The gun’s barrel for mine is longer than the one in the pic, but the image is close enough. It has eight shots per gun)
Appearance:
(He doesn’t wield the guns, but other than that, he’s identical, maybe with a black T-Shirt on under the coat, but not necessarily)
Mode of transportation:
Personality: Despises werewolves, and really dislikes vampires. He’s a “lone wolf†, without a pack, and likes it that way. He is incredibly bitter, and may be slightly psychotic, as he consistently hears the Voice in his mind, the aspect of his personality that nags at him to fully accept the powers of a werewolf.
~~~~~~
Morgan Black stared out over the lengthy expanse of the highway. He was miles away from everywhere, in the middle of nowhere, and all because of one man. In truth, it wasn’t actually a man, but a monster, especially in Black’s mind. This creature had killed his parents when he was 13, and cursed him with his life. And he hated him for it. Black had followed, no, hunted, this thing across the country for the better part of his life, always frustrated by the creatures ability to stay just one step ahead.
As he kicked the cycle to life, and roared down the highway, trench coat flapping behind him in the wind, his mind wandered back to the early days, the days where he did not realize the true nature of his curse.
THEN
His parents had taken Morgan on a little trip into the woods, for a family outing, the day had been crystal clear, sun high in the sky, but the forest had even then seemed dark and foreboding. Nevertheless, his parents brought him into the forest. They had had fun, with Morgan playing by the banks of a stream, watched by his loving parents, oblivious of the time. When night fell, they remembered that they should have been on their way home hours ago. They packed up their things, and made their way back through the forest, dry twigs snapping underfoot, and the wind whistling in the trees. The birds had gone silent, as the diurnal ones slept, and the birds of the night awoke. Then they heard the howls.
His parents urged him to run faster, and he did so, motivated by a primal fear. That was when the creature leapt out of the trees at them. It was a wolf, but far bigger, and more menacing than anything they had ever heard of or seen. The worst part of it was the cunning, almost sentient gleam in its eyes. But there was little enough time to examine the beast.
It snarled, and leapt at his father, tearing into his chest and throat, spraying Morgan’s mother with blood, unheeding of her screams as she ran for her life. After making certain the Morgan’s father was dead, the creature attacked his mother, easily closing the distance between the two, and tearing into her back and neck. It then gorged itself on the two corpses, while Morgan watched, traumatized. His breath came fast, his heart racing enough to shatter his rib cage, but he couldn’t move out of fear. The creature stiffened, and saw him. It leapt upon him, powerful jaws biting hard on his shoulder, just as a revolver sounded in the woods. The creature let go of Morgan, and fled into the night, sated by its meal. Morgan thought he had been lucky to survive when the game hunters found him. He hadn’t known then what he would become.
NOW
Black blinked back the memories, fighting against the tears of rage and sorrow that trickled down his face. He was closing the distance between him and the creature. Whatever happened tonight, this nightmarish chase would finally be at an end.
THEN
When he first changed it was when he was alone, visiting the very woods where his parents died, on a night of the full moon. He was terrified at first, but slowly became entranced by the ability. He was a smart child, and soon realized the change coincided with the full moon after three months. So he went out of his way to avoid human companionship on those nights, running free in the woods, hunting deer or other game to satisfy his hunger. He thought he had his gift under control. He was wrong.
He was in his 20’s now, old enough to attend university. He went into zoology, hoping to learn of what sort of creature had attacked and killed his parents. He was not prepared for the realization that the information about the creature came not from scientific books, but books of myth. Everything he already knew was confirmed when he read the legends of the werewolf. It also explained how he could change into a wolf under the full moon. He was confident though, that he could keep the beast under control.
It was in his fifth year of university, and he was out with some friends, having finally allowed himself to socialize with others, now certain he could prevent himself from hurting them. They wanted to explore the woods out by where mysterious disappearances had been happening, out of curiosity. He knew it would be a full moon tonight, but he was confident that he could get his friends back home, and away from him in time. He also held hopes that he could hold off the transformation if worst came to worst.
He didn’t get into the exploration as much, as he was reminded of the night his parents died, despite the requests of his friends. And that was when it all went out of control. His friends had gone down to a stream, entranced by the possibility that the kidnapper (what they thought caused the disappearances) used the stream to hide the scent of the victims. Then Morgan felt the change coming on. He was scared, so he ran as far as he could from his friends not wanting to hurt them. But they, loyal to the end, went after him, trying to figure out what was wrong.
The next ten minutes were a blur, coming into clarity as Morgan came under control, and saw the mangled corpses of his closest friends, his hands stained with their blood. That was the exact moment he knew that his abilities were not a gift, but a curse. He changed his name that night to Morgan Black, Morgan meaning terror, nightmarishness, or monstrousness, and Black for the colour of the night. His new life began that night.
For the next few decades of his life, he honed his tracking and fighting skills, doing research to find the areas with the highest werewolf concentrations. When he felt he was ready, he began his hunt for the creature that ended his old life, and began his cursed one. He had managed to get his gunswords custom made by an old blacksmith/gunsmith, using .44 caliber rounds. Because of his werewolf given strength, the additional weight of the blade was not a significant factor to his aiming and shooting. With the weapons in hand, and inner resolve he began to seek out the creature that had turned his life into a walking nightmare.
NOW
He saw the exit sign to his right, and left the highway in a roar, not wanting to slow down now that he was so close, but not wanting to draw the attention of the police. He saw the forests to his right, and could practically smell the wolves inside. He slowed down, and brought his bike to a stop. Morgan used nearby foliage to conceal the vehicle, and drew his gunswords and their sheaths from their saddlebags on the bike, strapping them on his back. With the sheaths in place, he drew both blades, and entered the gloomy woods.
This one is older than you, and more experienced, Gre– Morgan. Eight silver bullets in one gunsword wont be enough to deal with him and his guards. If you want to truly end him, you have to embrace the powers within you.
“NO! Once he’s dead, I will have no more use for this curse.â€Â
Curse? This GIFT gives you the strength to avenge the deaths of your family.
“But it was I who killed my friends. With this curse. No. I will use it to kill him, and then I will find a cure. Even using it now disgusts me.â€Â
You are blinded by your rage, Morgan. When he is dead, the cloud will be lifted, and you will see this gift for what it truly is.
“I just want my life back.â€Â
Morgan shut out the Voice’s complaints, and scented the air. He could smell the creature; the scent was unmistakable, even after all these years. There were others like him, cursed, but they actually reveled in it. He didn’t have enough silver to kill them all. But he didn’t need to. If he injured them enough, they would not be of any significant threat or hindrance.
Remember use, all eight bullets. You know how much they burn, even from here. You don’t want this pain any longer than you need.
He began to jog, using the creature’s scent as a beacon. He could feel his senses pick up what normal humans could not, and could feel the exhilaration of the hunt course through his veins. His prey was close, and he would bring him down and devour –
No, he had to keep control; he couldn’t let the monster out now, not so close. His legs pumped, and he ran through the woods, the wind in his face, and his mind focused on what he had to do. Already he could hear the creature’s gravelly voice. And then he entered the clearing, and saw the wolf before him. The creature shifted, standing upright and becoming a half human, half wolf monster. He was surprised. He had not run into any guards, nor were there any in the immediate area. That made things easier.
“I was wondering if you’d ever make it.†It snarled.
“You should not have used such useless underlings. They’re dead now, in case you’re curious.â€Â
“I can’t say I’m not surprised. Like father, like son.â€Â
“You are NOT my father!â€Â
“Oh, but I am. I brought you into this world, and I gave you true life.â€Â
“You cursed me! Because of you, my family is dead, and my friends are gone.â€Â
“And I’m supposed to feel sorry for your little sob story? Please. We are hunters. I hunted. I have no regrets.â€Â
“Then you won’t mind dying.â€Â
“You? Against me? You should be asking yourself the same question.â€Â
“Oh, I am perfectly ready to die. Are you?â€Â
Black leaped at the wolf-man, swiping his blades down before him. The wolf-man hopped back, and slashed at Black’s face as he landed. Black backflipped away, and kicked the creature in the snout. He followed up with a quick thrust of one blade, while sweeping the other one across from the left. The creature twisted to the side, the thrust grazing his fur, but meeting the slash full-on. Its hide was thick, and the blade bit hard, but did not score a fatal blow. Black pulled his blades back, and prepared for another attack.
The wolf-man was faster than he thought, and sprung, knocking Black down, and landed a powerful punch to his gut. Black danced back, and fired the gun loaded with the silver bullets. The bullet grazed the diving wolf-man, and vanished into the trees. The creature’s momentum threw it at Black, the collision smashing both of them into a tree.
The wolf-man’s claws left deep cuts on Black’s chest before he managed to kick it off of him. It handsprung away, landed, and jumped at him once more, jaws agape, and claws ready to rend. Black didn’t try to dodge the attack. Rather he lunged to meet him, both blades extended. The wolf-man didn’t have time to alter its trajectory. Black’s blades impaled the creature, up to the gun’s barrel. Black swung the skewered beast into a tree, and grimaced at the pain in his chest from the creature’s frantic clawing.
“You have got to die.â€Â
He then pulled the trigger of both guns, again, and again, and again, until each gun’s eight-round chamber was emptied into its belly. Black yanked the blades out of its stomach, and let the creature slump to the ground. Seven silver bullets was plenty enough to kill him. And without their presence gnawing at him, even from within the gun’s chambers, he felt stronger than he did coming in. His chest burned like fire, and he knew he was bleeding badly.
Black cleaned his blades quickly, and sheathed them. He sprinted back to his bike, hoping he got to the bandages fast enough. He got to the bike, removed his coat, and whipped open the saddlebags, snatching the bandages, and wrapping them tightly around his chest. He popped a pain-pill, and put the coat back on. This took about four minutes. Black placed the gunswords and their sheaths in the saddlebags, and fastened them. He then took off, the motorcycle’s engine roaring in the evening air.
A left turn, followed by a right took him to the highway. The creature responsible for his curse was dead, and his unnatural life stretched before him like a shadow. He would find a cure for his condition, and preferably sooner than late. So wrapped up in was he in his thoughts, that he did not notice the sign to his right, informing him that he was 52 miles from Marley’s Point. Had he known, he would have turned around, and never looked back. He was 52 miles from where his life had changed forever. With any luck, it would be where his life changed again, for the better…
Due to maintenance problems, the light at the end of the tunnel will not be in operation today. Sorry for any inconvenience this may cause.
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