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The Wolfman shook cowardly and let out a soft whimper, and Sir Arnold paused..a look of confusion crossing over his face. The townsfolk behind Arnold gasped as he stepped closer to it, lowering the sword ever so slightly. Surely, this had to be the foul beast that had been eating their goats and ravaging their farms for the last six weeks. But his sword never lied, and this creature looked petrified of him.

"Speak creature! So we understand what your true intentions are!" The Wolfman gazed at him warily then stood up to its full height. It was still shaking, and as it spoke, its deep burly voice trembled. "Me....s-s-sorry." It sputtered out, and everyone gasped again, shock and awe filled the crowd as it suddenly broke down crying.

"Just wanted to pet goats. Not eat! Me not the monster!" Arnold stood there slackjawed as the Wolfman buried its head in its hands."What sort of trickery is this?" He asked, still unsure of whether to believe what he was hearing or not.

"No trick, please no hurt me." Arnold sighed then looked out across the sea of people. "What do you all want me to do?! It's clearly not a threat, and I'm not gonna stab it! I don't want its blood on my sword!"

Everyone glared angrily at him, and people began to shout things like "kill it anyway" and "it deserves to die" before the Wolfman spoke up again. "Me not an 'it!' My name Rod!" Arnold looked between Rod and the townspeople, drawing nearer. Then he did the one thing no one would have expected.

He turned, drew his sword on the mob, then looked at his newfound friend as his sword glowed brightly. "Well then, Rod, I suggest you RUN!"

It took 40 years. The bugs, the backdoors, the slow, careful explorations and modifications. Timing flight paths and travel times and general reaction times. Scheduling all the school field trips to the fallout shelters. That was the last, but not the hardest. The hardest part was dealing with the mechanical switches. For the longest time, Seth didn't think he'd be able to get around those, that the plan would never work. Then they started putting chips in people's brains.

Seth smiled as the radio cut out suddenly. Moments later, his body vaporized, and Death stood before him, smiling.

"You know this was the glut before the famine, right?" Seth asked, taking the hand Death offered to help him to his feet.

"I needed a break." Death replied with a shrug.

"How did you know I'd be able to do it?" Seth asked, gazing around at the nuclear wasteland that had once been Plano, Texas - one of the few non-capital cities to take a direct hit.

"I didn't." Death smiled. "I knew you'd do something, but this was beyond anything I could dream of."

"What now?"

Death smiled, and the world faded.

This is a magnificent story. Complete in itself yet sketching a compelling world.

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the bartender is gruff and the wolf has a treasure map. thats all ripped and wet. etc

L-lewd

“it’s broken” The Hero thought, “i forgot to charge the fucking thing last night” he strode up to beast and hacked through his mudded cloak; hacked through its matted fur, hacked through flesh and bone and sinew. guts slipped out and blood gushed up the walls and on The Hero’s face and royal surcoat, gifted by Sir Knight for that thing he did in the previous book. The beast gurgled out his last bloody breath as The Hero smashed his boot through skull and brains. The cacophony of gore did little to still the crowd in The Pub, aside from a few farm-boys staring from their cups, and the Bartender looking pretty pissed off. The Hero paid them no mind, and walked up to the bar and ordered a pint of mead, “no not that one, the one from the back if you don’t mind” The Hero wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, and then his sleeve on the back of a man slumped over the bar, oblivious. “and here’s extra for the clean up” The Bartender took the coin and explained that the Wolf-Man’s tab was ten thousand Royals, and The Hero had to pay. Tonight.

Great work, there should be a part 2 of this. 👍

Thanks!

Great writing! Loved it!

Damn what a twist,that was awesome, great work. 👍

(It's been a bit since I last wrote, so please no hate.)

The wolf man chuckled.

"I guess that overgrown toothpick found another, eh?" His deep, almost growl-like voice rumbled through the air.

"What are you talking about?" The hero asked, the slightest bit of fear evident in their voice.

The wolf man laughed, sounding as if the air itself was torn in the process. "The stories all say that it is missing for hundreds of years before it chooses a hero, when it's only been gone a year at most."

The hero's eyebrows shoot up. "But how-"

"Because it tampers with the world's memory. Makes people think the last hero died in some grand battle long ago." He sighs. "Honestly, I was one of the lucky ones. Took five years for the transformation to begin, and I got to keep my humanity afterwards." He snarls, his hackles raised like a furious hellhound.

"Wait, what? What are you saying?!"

"I'm saying that 'the legendary sword's is a cursed blade. The razor always chooses a hero, only to transform them into a monster sometime after a year has passed, change the world's memory of them, and then rip their sanity away." The wolf man looks the hero in the eyes. "They almost always become one of the first evils the next hero must defeat. I'm lucky, because I'm still me. Means the blade won't label me as evil, since even now I do heroic shit when I can."

"Are you always this... Crass?"

"What do you think, kid?"

The hero huffs in annoyance. "I may be younger than you, but I'm not a kid. My name is Alex."

The wolf man chuckled lightly. "Such an ambiguous name must help hide your identity at times. After all, I STILL can't tell what you are, aside from human."

"Hey! I might not be the most developed, but I'm still a-"

"I could care less about what's in your pants, shortstack, as long as you're willing to help me with something." The wolf man slowly pulls a scroll from his cloak, setting it on the table as the hero sits across from him.

"What... Is that?" They ask.

"Info regarding the forging of the Razor. Best lead I have towards destroying the damn thing." He grins, wider than any other in this conversation.

"YOU WANT TO-"

He claps a hand over the hero's mouth. "Shut it, unless you want to die!" He growls out in a whisper. "If the church hears that someone wants to destroy the damn thing, I'll never have another damn moment of peace. Just pretend that I'm looking for a way to make it stronger when we're in cities or towns. That is, if you'll help me."

They bite their lip in thought, before sighing. "Will I be affected by the curse if we... Y'know?"

He laughs. "Who knows?! That's half the fun of doing this. I've got some theories, but we'll have to take a look at where this hint leads to figure out the truth. Besides, if it still affects you, I'll do my best to keep you sane when you change."

A deep sigh escapes the hero's lips. "Fuck it, I'm in. Where to?"

(Not quite sure why, but I felt the urge to make most of the hero's identity pretty ambiguous, as I'm sure you noticed.)

What a twist! Absolutely wonderful writing! I'd love to hear more of Shaun and Harreth, this story is very good!

You my friend, have earned yourself a follower!

Shaun had tracked the reports of missing livestock and shepherds to the small mountain village of Vastok. He'd found some of the missing beasts penned up with the villagers' own livestock, but the villagers claimed they'd been found wandering along the trails that wound up the mountainside.

He had no reason to doubt them, for the gory scene he'd witnessed around the shepherd's hut down in the valley was the work of a monster, not of mere thieves. If the monster was what he thought it was, he could easily believe that the surviving flock had been driven up the trail by primal terror.

The village headman, a narrow-eyed gaffer named Arlan, seemed to see his presence as an affront to the reputation of the tiny community, and told him that if it was a monster he sought, he'd find none in Vastok.

He did, however, provide Shaun with one useful bit of information: some Vastok folk said there was a huge shaggy wolf, a loner without a pack, that lived in a cave a few miles outside the village, where none dared venture.

Arlan wasn't sure he believed it, himself, but the village set watchmen at night bearing spears and torches, just in case. Perhaps, the old man opined, the beast had decided to try its luck among the less watchful valley folk?

Common spears would hold no terror for the thing that Shaun suspected was roaming the region, but a burning torch swung at it would give it pause, perhaps. It was worth checking out, in any case.

He left the village, and hiked to the cave.

When he came to mouth of the cavern, it's entrance half-hidden in behind a screen of scraggly pines, he immediately saw signs of his quarry. His sharp eyes spotted a mix of gnawed animal bones, torn sacks, and broken crockery around the cave entrance -- the litter he'd expect from a creature that was both man and beast.

He lit a torch to light his way, and then drew his sword. Common weapons could not harm the monster he hunted, but his blade Rivenstar was no common weapon. It was not made of steel, but was forged of enchanted silver, alloyed with metal from a fallen star.

The holy sword's blade became razor sharp and glowed like the star that had birthed it when in the presence of evil, and it sliced through the dark power that protected monsters from mortal steel as easily as it cleaved their flesh.

Armed with this instrument of divine vengeance, he walked boldly forward into the cave. He followed the winding passage that led out the large entrance cavern, as it wormed it's way deeper into the rock, his eyes searching every shadow.

As he emerged into a larger chamber inside the cave system, a large shaggy gray shape blurred past him, into a side passage. He gave chase, and almost stumbled right into a...bear trap? The thing set traps in it's lair? Proceeding more carefully, he avoided two more bear trap, and skirted around a pit trap lined with sharpened stakes.

Finally, he burst out into another wide chamber, holding his torch aloft. There in the corner, the hackles on its broad back bristling, the creature crouched and snarled, baring long canines. It's overall shape was like that of an enormous man, save for it's legs, which bent like a wolf's, and instead of paws it had clawed hands on its forelimbs. Its head was horrific blend of man and wolf, that glared at him with lambent golden eyes.

It lunged forward, but Shaun warded it back with the torch. He scowled, and raised his blade to strike....

...then he paused. Rivenstar did not burst into light, and its edge did not grow keen.

"Wulver," he whispered, staring at the creature in amazement. "You're no werewolf, you're a Wulver."

The creature looked startled.

"You...know of me?" it growled, uncertainly.

Shaun slowly lowered his sword. "Yes. Of your kind, at least. I know you Wulver are not evil by nature -- unlike the bedeviled Werewolves."

"Few ordinary humans can see any difference between us." the Wulver snarled.

Shaun held up his still darkened blade. "Perhaps. But Rivenstar shines against evil, yet sheds no light on you. To merely have a fearful appearance is no crime. My blade does not condemn you, so neither do I."

He sheathed his sword, and the Wulver's golden eyes widened in surprise. It had clearly not expected that.

"Why do you guard your lair with traps, Wulver?" Shaun asked, curiously. "Protection against the villagers?"

"Aye, human, they come hunting me, sometimes. But I confound them with my snares, and with my knowledge of these caves," the Wulver rumbled.

Shaun sighed, his mouth pressing into a grim line. "I see. They hate you, because they think you're a monster."

The Wulver looked surprised again. He shook his shaggy head. "No, human. They hate me because I'm not."

/./././

Several minutes later, Shaun emerged from the cave entrance, the Wulver beside him. After what the Wulver -- whose name was Harreth, he'd learned -- had told him, he wasn't surprised to find Arlan and several of the villagers waiting for them there.

"Well," Arlan sneered. "It seems the worthless runt isn't even up to the challenge of taking down the weakest of prey -- despite our practically gift-wrapping it for him."

Shaun drew his sword, and extended it towards Arlan and the villagers. They cursed and flinched back as it burst into light in their presence. "I am no one's prey, monster. And by the Divine, you will trouble neither the Wulver nor the valley any more, after this night."

Arlan growled, flashing teeth that elongated into fangs in a blink, his eyes turning yellow and luminous. Around him, the other villagers he'd brought with him began to change, as well.

"Stay behind me." Shaun advised the Wulver, setting his stance.

"No..." Harreth growled. He crouched beside Shaun, baring his fangs, as the werewolves of Vostak assembled before them, hatred and hunger in their eyes.

"I am done hiding!" the Wulver roared.

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"I'm lupine, clearly," the man-wolf sighed, extending his tongue to lick a deadly claw and turn the next page of the book he was reading.

"I said halt, foul beast!" the hero repeated, the flat bit of metal shaking in her hands.

"And I said I'm lupine, not fowl." He paused to glance over his spectacles at the tiny hero. "Oh, wait. You're just being rude, is that it?"

The hero swallowed her fear. "I... I have come to slay evil, to protect my village!"

"Uh huh." The wolf folded his glasses and put them on a shelf. "And I suspect somehow I'm a threat to you?"

The girl-pig shut her eyes and steeled her resolve. "Y-you're going to eat us all if I don't kill you!"

The wolf's mouth opened wide, revealing rows upon rows of sharpened teeth. The hero waited for a howl, perhaps a roar, before the jaw clamped down and straight through her armor.

Instead, the wolf laughed. "Eat you? Oh, sweetheart, you'd barely be an appetizer." He reached over and grasped the tiny hero with his claws, lifting the miniature creature off the ground.

"T-then what's been attacking us at night?" the girl-pig asked.

The man-wolf put the hero gently back upon the ground and adjusted her helmet. "Now that, my dear, sounds more like a potential dinner guest."

Remove all of the indents you have at the beginning of each paragraph and the formatting will go to normal.

upload to Youtube.

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AWESOME. I can see this being the ... super heros hunting their own because, well, he's super :)

What's a code box?

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I was a bit rushed. Might revisit later.

I like the "cursed" spin! I just wish this was longer!

Idk if there's a specific word for this, but I love your post dialogue word choice! Murmur, prompts, rush to reassure, etc., hopefully you know what I'm talking about lol. It's not just that you have great variety, which is already hard enough in a lot of what I read here, but they are all so fitting and really add so much to the dialogue itself

May I recommend...not using a code box?

You have to reload guns, you have to sharpen blades, but a mace is always ready to go.