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Author Topic: Interview with a Werewolf (interactive Ask a Villain discussion.)  (Read 917 times)
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Zeppelin Captain
England England

The werewolf Airship Captain.

« on: October 27, 2013, 07:53:03 pm »

From now until the first of November 2013 Captain James will be allowing an interview. If you have any questions. Please feel free to ask them. As long as the question don't cover classified records, he will be truthfully answering them.

An interview with a Werewolf.

30th October 2013.

Last year I found an article about the appointment of a new managing director of AeTT (Aether Transport and Technology) a mister James Purcell. What struck me as odd was that until last year, there had been no record of this person anywhere in the public records for this company, in fact, up until last year, there was not even a record of this person in the birth, marriage's and death databases.

After along drawn on search of historical records I manages to find photo’s and descriptions matching that of there new MD going back to 1870! I kept digging and digging and found deeds and research papers published under the same name from 1870 up until 1890 when all information stopped or was marked as classified. There were of course plenty of stories and rumours but nothing could officially be proved or denied. My research led me to France and then to Japan where the likeness of the director was spotted along with stories of a werewolf with a matching scare.

Science had long since proved that a rear werewolf did not exist and that the behaviour was caused by humans infected by the Rabies sickness. Even after all this, the stories continue to be told, and the likeness was always of the same creature. I do not know how a normal human could be over one hundred and sixty years old, but here I was was a large folder of information that be classed as evidence in proving that this was the same person.

I contacted the company in an attempt to book an interview with the MD but was constantly meet with a message stating that he was busy. After a few month of trying, I posted copies of my finding by both email and recorded delivery. After two weeks of hearing nothing and believing that I had failed again, a Currier arrived at my door with an envelop containing a slip of paper with a single line stating that an interview had been granted but that I was to go to the co-ordinates on the letter on the set day. I finished reading the slip of paper and noticed the Currier was still on the door step.

“Is there anything else?” I asked.

“I need a reply, do you accept?” He asked.

I nodded, “Yes, but …” I asked but he was already walking away.

I closed my door, walked over to my brief case and placed the slip inside. They didn’t give me much time as the interview was tonight. I checked my watch and realised that time was already late. I opened my case to check for pen and paper, closed it and went out to my car. After getting stuck behind a crash on the M5 motorway and an argument with my satellite navigation, I mad it to my destination which was an old fashioned Coaching Inn in the middle of the Quantock hills. I parked up my car, grabbed my case and went inside.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, but what I found upon entry was a surprise. As I entered I found that for a few moments, all the patrons of the Inn were looking at me. There were a few people that were dressed in (what I would call) modern clothing but the rest of them seamed to be dressed in costumes from all era’s of history, some looking like they had stepped from period drama’s and films. As it was Halloween time, I figured it to be just costumes and so made my way to the bar.

“What will ye be having?” The barman asked from behind the bar.

“A pot of tea, please.” I asked looking around at this old fashioned building.

“Find a table and take a seat, I’ll bring it over to you.”

I thanked him and found a table under one of the Inns windows. Sliding up the sleeve of my jacket, I checked the time finding I had a bit of a wait. Pulling out my notepad from my bag I started making some notes on the place including what sort of questions I would ask. After checking my watch again, I found the time had past for the meeting and feared that it had been cancelled without being notified. I had finished the pot of tea and was about to order another when the little bell above the door rang announcing the entry of another person. I looked over to see what appeared to be a monk dressed like those from old abbey displays. His head was covered is a grey hooded cloak and I watched as the hood moved about before the person carried on to the bar. A few words were spoken in a hush before the barman replied.

“As long as you don’t go braking anything like last time.”

“Hay, I payed for all the damages including reimbursement for the time the inn was closed for repair.” The monk said in a light hearted voice.

I watched the barman give the monk a stern look before a smile crept across his face and he pored the monk a drink. The monk cast his hood down and grabbed the drink dropping a few notes down on the till. “Drinks for the guys.” he said before turning to me. “Looks like my guest here will need a refill.” he said eyeing the teapot. As the barman grabbed my the cup and teapot, taking them away to refill, the monk looked at me and I recognised the person stood in front of me. I stood up as he maid his way over and held out my hand.

“Captain James Purcell of the Aether shadow?” I asked.

“Not for a long time.” He said with smile. “So what do I call you?” He asked taking of his cloak revealing a long robe underneath resembling that of a monk or druid.

“Robert Arnold.” I said, shaking his hand.

“I guess then Mr Arnold, that you have alot of questions about my chequered past?” He asked.

“Call me Robert,” I said, “Am I the only one to have interviewed you since you took up the position?”

“You have that privilege.” he replied taking a drink.

The barman brought over a fresh pot of tea and I pored out a fresh cup. “Why did you agree to the interview?” I asked and watched he stop and look at me, his pint just short of his lips.

“You have found out too much about my past, there have been great efforts to hide what I have done in my life so far.” He responded after a deep sigh.

“Are you really over one hundred and sixty years old?” I asked absently drinking my tea before freezing mid sip. I looked over to him and noticed a big smile on his face.

“One Hundred and sixty four years old this year.” He replied watching me choking.

“How?” I said finally catching my breath and not being able to think of anything else.

“It’s complicated but basically by magic.”

I looked at him not believing his answer. “But magic, real magic doesn’t exist!”

“Not in this world.” He answered

“You mean there really is one then one world?”
“Surely you have worked out the answer to that one already?” He countered.

I wrote some notes down in my note pad, I had found out about the two worlds but alot of the information fell under the classified category. “All information leads to dead ends which I found out is because it has all become classified.”

“Indeed, as I said, great lengths have been made to cover it up.”

“Can you tell me why?” I asked.

His eyes narrowed and for a moment I feared that he would walk out. but he placed his pint down and pulled on the front of his robe revealing a silver collar around his neck. “This has a remote GPS tracker built into it. Because of what I have done, If I ever remove this I will be sentenced to death.”

“Are you not immortal, having lived so long?”

He grinned at me. “Hell no, I have already died twice.”

“How come your here now?” I asked confused.

“Fate is a fickle mistress, she always places someone around to bring me back to life.” He said before taking a drink.

I scribbled some note down trying to think about what to ask. After having that dropped on you, one tended to forget his line of thought. Eventually I looked at him and realised his robes were not the kind of thing one would expect to see in modern day times. “So tell me, why do you were the robes of a monk or a druid, do you follow those kinds of beliefs?”

“Once I did seek help and sanctuary in abbey at one point in my life, the clothing is just for convenience.” He replied as if it was an everyday topic.

“Do you always dress like this?” I asked

He Laughed, “Only when I am out on one off my hideaways. I do posses normal cloths, even a set of bike leathers.” He said. The bell on the door rang again and a large bike walked in, looked towards us and pulled off his helmet before walking over.

“I didn’t see a bike out side.” I said watching the biker.

“I expect he doesn’t know,” The biker said after removing his helmet, “ He has a habit of forgetting where he leaves it.”

I watched as James reached into his sleeves looking for something. The biker opened his jacket and pulled out a mobile phone. Poking away at the screen he placed it on the table showing a map with two icons flashing in the same location. James stopped and looked at it before heaving a sigh.

“You left the phone in the bike again.” The biker said pulling off his jacket revealing a shirt and waistcoat underneath.

I was about to ask another question when there was a scraping sound of chairs on the wooden floor. The whole place went quite as all eyes turned to watch the normally dressed patrons get up to leave. We watched them pay for there meal then head out the door causing the bell to ring again. The barman walked over to a window and when the sounds of a car faded away he nodded to James. James stood up and unfastened his cloak, removed it then placed it over the back of an empty chair before loosing his robe. After a deep breath, he started to transform into a werewolf. His heigh grew to around seven foot tall and gray hair started to cover his body. His face started to stretch as it took on wolfen features and three tails grew from is back. Once the transformation was finished, he pulled off his robe and placed that on top of his cloak before turning the chair he had been sat on so that the chairs back was against the table. The barman brought over cup of coffee for the biker before going over and cleaning up the recently vacated table.

« Last Edit: October 28, 2013, 06:54:32 pm by CPT_J_Percell » Logged

I suffer from a random misfiring synapse and a bad case of wolfen the turns me into a seven-foot-tall werewolf or a seven-foot great wolf!
Board Moderator
Zeppelin Captain
England England

The werewolf Airship Captain.

« Reply #1 on: October 28, 2013, 06:54:56 pm »

Updated to add what I have written so far.
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