%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
just begun, graphic novel about mythical creatures living in the modern world |
| The underbelly of the mortal world where myths and legends reside, and the fight to keep them seperate for the sake of both worlds. |
| Chapter 1 Ten centuries and more had gone by since Styrr Ulfrsson had first tasted life. Born to a warrior father named Ulfr Ósvífr and a simple peasant mother who's name he'd never been told. All he knew of her was that she'd died birthing him. He learned early how different he was. Forced to manhood faster than any child should be, by a father who had little time for raising a child. His earliest memories are of being raised in camps, by slaves and whores, and huge fair haired, fair skinned warriors. Longboats and long voyages, never anywhere for long enough to name a home, though he knew he originated in the land of the Danes. He began learning the ways of the Vikings, the sea, and the sword before he could string a full sentance together. Thats not to say his father didn't love him or see to his care, he just had no notion of children or their needs, once Styrr was old enough he became his fathers shadow, learning everything the old man had to teach. And that was alot. When manhood finally hit the young Styrr, so to did the changes. At fourteen he learned he was a natural borne Skjöldolfr. Which meant Shieldwolf in the old tongue, a creature known through history as a Werewolf. His father was one also, and had lived since the earliest days of the Celts and Germanic tribes. Once the changes began he was taught the trade of the Agnarr. He went with his father on every adventure from then on, to keep the mortal realm and the under realm apart. When he'd grown into his role he was given the brand of the Agnarr, an 8 with a sword laid between the circles. All Agnarr were branded thusly, so they could indentify each other, and as a sign of brotherhood. Years passed and the young Styrr grew to full manhood. Eventually mastering the changes, and learning the arts of war, trade and adventure. Soon after his twentieth birthday his father was taken by a Troll, and though Styrr had killed the Troll, he'd been to late to save his father. Since then and through the ages, he'd faught all manner of creature and man. Wars came and went, with their breif interludes of peace, and always there was the struggle to maintain the balance. Always there were the curious to curtail, the evil to vanquish, evidence to gather and destroy. Two worlds to defend and keep seperate to the greatest degree possible. Success wasn't always possible, and there were encyclopedic accounts of creatures, myths and legends bourn of incidents the Agnarr hadn't been able to control. There were scholars constantly searching for truths they knew had to be there. Often they made discoveries that took the Agnarr years to correct, or rather uncorrect. Even then they weren't always successful. Their greatest ally was often man's ability to deceive itself into disbelief of fact even when it hit them in the head. Styrr always lived on the edge of humanity, watching and waiting. The legacy of his fathers training and sense of honor were deeply ingrained, and guided his actions throughout his life. He protected the innocent where he could, but could also kill with the ease brought on by a milenia of practice and application. As Agnarr his duty was to keep the lines blurred at any and all cost. Sometimes the cost was very high. With a net worth in the hundreds of millions of dollars, Styrr could sit back and watch life float by with no worries. That wasn't how he was made however. He owned several antique stores, and used the cover of a collector and philanthropist to move freely throughout the country and the world without too many raised eyebrows. Ruggedly handsom, he kept his blond hair cut short and his body toned through weights, and martial arts. A classic Nordic face with a solid square jaw, often sporting a day or more of stubble, clear ice blue eyes, that could smile all on their own, or peirce someone clean through, and they missed nothing. He rarely wore anything outside of comfortable old jeans, and t-shirts, or sports wear. Suits and ties just weren't his thing, and he felt no need to impress anyone. It had been a few months since he had to squash the dreams of a young Vampire, who'd wanted to run for public office of all things. He'd actually managed to get his name into the primaries, and was planning a platform of some right to die crap. It was actually kind of funny if there hadn't been so much on the line in the way of keeping those lines blurred. It had taken some doing, but Styrr had managed to set up an underground vote with the local OtherKin, and got him elected as their unnoficial Mayor. His duty was to make sure everyone was happy, throw parties and make the odd speach. It had worked out pretty well, and got Styrr a new contact that was friendly. It was good that the new age Vampires had changed their methods, stayed low key, and cruised the underground bars, oh sure they killed now and then, but as long as it stayed under the horizon, Styrr didn't have any juresdiction. In the old days, he'd been a leading force in the depopulation of Vampires, and most alive today knew him to be someone you didn't cross. Currently he was on his way for a lunch with one of the district coroners, a fellow Agnarr and friend named Ashley Kronnen. He would get together with her occasionally over lunch to get any tidbits or strange happenings that may have come through the coroners office. More often than not, it was through that office that he got the first hints of a problem that may need Agnarr attention. There were several Agnarr in the Pacific North West, the area that Styrr generally looked after. He was the one primarilly responsible for keeping things normal, the others helped him when and where they were able. He always looked forward to his lunches and dinners with the other Agnarr. It was the only real time he could totally let his guard down. Talk freely about the reality of things without worry, and be with others who truly understood. Lochnaar Life's a wave, grab a board! |
| OtherKin, Prologue There is an underbelly to the mortal realm that few know of, a world of arcane arts, of creatures good, evil and fantastic. Myths and legends reside there, hidden from the mortal realm by misinformation, disbelief and the Agnarr. Despite this, occasionally the worlds collide, sometimes its an unwary OtherKin exposing itself to the mortal realm. Sometimes its a mortal either through luck or investigation finding his or her way into things best left alone. When these worlds do collide Styrr Ulfer or one of his Clan aren't usually to far behind. Since before those first apes came out of their tree's to walk upright across the plains of Africa, other creatures roamed, lived, fought and died. Creatures every bit as intelligent as all the predecessors of modern man. Mans great advantage was its short life and rapid spreading of its seed throughout the world. An Otherkin could sleep for ages, and wake to a totally different landscape. There are so many forms of OtherKin that to name them would be of little importance. Some types died off before mans first steps, others evolved into several branches of once was one. Some are 'immortal' and so rare that they are unknown even to myth. Others seem immortal but will eventually die through natural means though man couln't count the years. No creature, mortal or immortal is immune to death through violence however, though it may seem so with some types. Even some mortals seem indestructable at times, surviving the worst the world has to offer. Some OtherKin can look no different than an average mortal human, others couldn't pass for human no matter what kinds of disguise or surgical alteration they might try. Even the term OtherKin is a misnomer, indicating a type, where in actuallity its a catchphrase for those creatures that are termed unnatural by human standards. Werewolves and Vampires, dragons and mermaids are all members of the OtherKin among many many other creatures. This is the story of those in the middle, The Agnarr, an old Norse term meaning roughly Disciplined Warrior, keep the lines between the two worlds blurry. Members of both OtherKin and Humanity make up the ranks of the Agnarr. They span the globe, people see them daily without knowing, and they occupy all levels of life, cops, prostitutes, soldiers, and used car salesmen. Streat people, clergy and billionairs, any and every walk of life could and more than likely does have the Agnarr within it. Ever watchfull, ever vigilant, the Agnarr act quickly to stem problems between the realms. They spend their lives dearly, keeping the balance between the mortal and OtherKin worlds. For if they ever did collide on a grand scale, one or both would perish in the flames of fear, bigotry, hatred and ignorance. Lochnaar Life's a wave, grab a board! |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
