Mystical Meeting – McKern Vs Tyr
Mystical Meeting – McKern Vs Tyr
The Immortal Battle Part I
They were warriors of different faiths, fighting a war all too similar and familiar… each lone against a world of darkness and evil, fighting the minions of the Abyss. One a hunter of the mystic vampire race, the other self appointed crusader against the children of the Fenryr wolf – werewolves. Both part of different worlds, but close to where these two worlds collide.
Ian-Flannery McKern; an immortal; soldier of the Gathering, a war long fought, with origins long forgotten. He is an ancient man, nearing 875 years old. He has long denied the fight his destiny beckons him to fight his own kind to the last to win the Prize. He is drawn by another cause, with his ancient sword Alkranon, to fight and destroy those corrupt immortals that feed on the innocence of mortals in the night; the creatures known to him as the vampyr.
Timothy Yardman Reed or simply Tyr; traveler, hunter, a lone creature of a man. Half werewolf himself, he lives in a world that often mistakes him for a beast. He wanders the streets alone, fighting his beast-half, in spirit and in the physical, hunting his werebeast half-brothers. He is the grandson of a powerftd being that calls himself the Asgard God, Tyr, god of War and Justice and Warrior against the Fenryr wolf. His grandson hopes to find his destiny with his Blade-Hand in the Fenryr’s heart. He fights on, one-handed with a mystical blade to replace the hand he lost fighting his father. His father, not by anyone’s choice, was a werewolf clan leader who raped the human daughter of Tyr, the god. Tyr, the man, fights himself and the beast within as he hunts down the beasts of the moon, the bastard children of the Fenryr, the weres.
Two men of mystical origin that few mortals understand, destined to cross paths in possibly the greatest battle of the lives. Or possibly not…
I have fought long and hard through the centuries, avoiding the Gathering, hunting down the children of my enemy Alexis Rutyer Blackard. His seed spreads far, and it is my goal to kill all that spawn from it. I am Ian Flannery McKern, I am Immortal, and I am a Vampire Hunter.
I drew weary as I came to the dark and rainy city of Seattle. America… a wondrous place I watched grow, fought with in the two great wars, and now call my home. No single city is my home, mind you, but the entire country of America. It was hard times for my adopted home country, late in the twentieth century. The Gathering was growing nigh, I could feel it. Many of my kind that I have long known, long dead from a stroke of a sword across the neck. Our numbers grow fewer and fewer, but I continue my quest to destroy the corrupt immortal beasts they call vampires.
What drew me to Seattle was a friend, another immortal whom I’ve known only a short time… a hundred years or so. We met in America, on the frontier. She taught the ways of the natives… the way of the wolf hunting its prey. I learned the many techniques of stalking prey from this immortal, and many of these techniques saved me from an early demise. Her name was Sophia Gallius Wolfheart, and she is one of the few people I truly trust. She knows the path I chose and she is the only immortal that respects it. We were even lovers once, before we grew tired of each other. Despite a sweet and sour relationship, we have always been friends, which is why I was surprised when I read her letter. I thought I knew her, but apparently I did not because she wanted me to come to Seattle to meet her new husband. Married???…. Even an inunortal’s life can have its surprises.
The night smelled of blood, of meat. I fought the beast as I walked passed the poor fool I had just killed. The idiot tried to mug me, not knowing what he had gotten into. Ignorance is no excuse. The beast had to be satisfied once I felt the blade pierce through my arm. I spat the last of his throat out on the street as I walked past his body. Just more meat… meat for the beast.
Times like these are when I have the least control of the beast. Blood and meat brings him out, but I still fight the urge. It was unfortunate that I could not hold back in this case. I buried the body underneath some garbage in the alley, retracted my blades back into my arm piece. I stared at the stump for a moment, whree my hand once was and now a chrome balde mechanism now was. This only urged the beast on with my anger becaue the ,oss of my hand was just another reminder of my destiny. I left the damp alley to walk into the night air of the city of Seattle.
Ihad returned to my home once again in pursuit of a job. My long life has led me to many places, but unfortunately all this travel cost money, which I was short of. This lead me back home, plain and simple cash. I heard there was a good paying hit job, and it was simple. Kill a bad apple in a large corporation. It seems he had been passing information outside the company. I don’t ask questions, I just do what I’m told, if the money was right. I don’t usually take hit jobs, just bail jumping scum bags, when I’m not out hunting the brethren. When money is hard, I get flexible. My grandfather would say a good soldier adapts for his needs. He would be proud of his prodigal son.
I had an appointment with the target at midnight, in a warehouse on the wharf. He was contacting a friend for another drop of more information… the last information he will be passing. I hailed a taxi, growled the talkative driver to silence as he turned up
the heat from the sudden cold. My mystically chilled presence tends draw out those kind of reactions. I fclt sorry for the fool. No amount of heat would fend off the chill I emanate.
The driver let me off where I asked, and I paid the man with the few dollars I had. The warehouse loomed a few blocks down, with my target more than likely waiting inside. I climbed the rear of the warehouse, onto the roof, and peered down into a skylight. My
target was there pacing the warehouse, alone. The time was right. This was too simple.
With a quick flex of my right arm muscle, the double blades of my weapons arched from my forearm, 180 degrees to lock in place, the silver edge gleaming in the full moon light. The adrenaline in my blood stiffed the beast to the surface. I leaped through the
sky light window, just as the first bolt of astral power leaped from my blade. The first shot usually misses, as this one did, but it scares the hell out of them. As I expected, he went from something in his coat when I landed hard on the cement floor. What he drew out surprised me … a cross???
I leaped on the fool, fangs extending out for his throat. Just as my blade pierced his chest, I growled “Wrong species, asshole. Somebody doesn’t like you talking.”
As I cleaned my blade off on his suit, something fell from his jacket… a folder. Inside, I found strange photos of someone familiar… the man who hired me. As I progressed, he began to change. He was in some kind of hotel with a hooker, as he slowly changed into some kind of creature. Then something stiffed in the darkness of the warehouse. I smelled something over the blood… something all too familiar. Brethren…
“I smell you, brother. Come out and face your fate, bastard of the Fenryr.
I heard him growl as I scanned the sparsely lit warehouse. Something moved, just as I summoned up another blast. A hairy beast leaped from the shadows, and I fired the building surge of astral power. It hit square in the chest as the smoke filled the area.
The beast screeched in pain, and disappeared into the shadows. The beast was good, but it wasn’t stupid. He was there for a reason, not just coincidence.
Shifting the weight of my duffel bag, I knocked on the door. The address in the letter
placed Sophia in a reasonably nice place, in a loft apartment. Apparently she and her
husband had done well for themselves. The night air was fresh with the smell of new rain,
the light of the full moon the only thing lighting my way. The door finally opened, with
Sophia standing in the doorway… something glinted in the moonlight.
“You wouldn’t take a man’s head when he’s got a load to bare, would ya, my lady?”
“Ian?? Ian… whattookyasolong. Comeinoutoftherain,youoldfool. Sheusheredmein
after sheathing her sword.
We scaled the stairs to her ap t, and entered the loft. It was quaint, filled with the memories of the 700 year old woman. I naturally assumed she had explained to her husband our kind, so it was no surprise to see the photographs of us in 1921 and 1934 on the walls. But I did not see any sign of anyone else in the apartment. It was quite lonely in the large living room as she sat me down on the couch, and offered a dnnk.
“J.J. had to step out for a short while. He will be in any n-dnute. I really wanted you to meet him. He understands who you are, and is anxious to meet you. He also has some information that ndght be of interest to you.”
J,J.??… ” What kind of information?” I stated as she brought me a nun and coke.
“Perhaps I’ll let him tell you. It’s so good to see you…” and so begun the long reminiscing and catching up that lasted about an hour, after which we noticed the time and the fact that Jerard (J.J.) had not shown.
“What is this man like, your Jerard?”
“Now Ian, don’t get jealous. He’s quite a man, with his own uniqueness about him. He’s no immortal, but he has his secrets. He’s an anthropologist of a sort, studies the creatures of legend, and their basis. He teaches at the university.”
From down the stair well, we both heard a pounding on the heavy door and a voice. Sophia leaped, and ran down the stairs. “Jerard???…”
I followed after her as she opened the door. In the wet shadows was what seemed to be an injured man. She looked up into the sky toward the cloud covered moon, and back at her apparent husband. “Ohh, no. J.J.” she went to support him as she and I helped him in and up the stairs.
In the light of the living room, I could see the extent of his injuries. He had bums on the upper part of his body, his clothing tom as if ripped by a savage animal. He was bleeding from the mouth, apparently from some internal injuries. The man himself was large and stocky, well built and middle aged. He impressed me, for a scholar.
“I’ll be OK. Just sit me down for a while.” he said with a raspy voice.
“You’ve got some bad injuries, probably some internal. I think you’re gonna need more than just a sit down.” I said.
“No Ian. He’ll be OK.”
I did not protest. Sophia went into another room, and brought out a first aid kit.
“Tellis is dead. Apparently his boss found out and had a hit called out on him.” Jerard said to his wife.
“Oh no. I told you to wait for Ian before you did anything…
Wait for Ian??? She had said something about information… “Wait for me? What do you mean? What kind of information is Sophia talking about? Tell me, what almost got you killed.” I said, confused by the sudden change of events.
With a voice that sounded 100 times better then the one minutes ago, he said “Sophia explains to me that you are a specialized hunter, one that kills the vampyr. I, in my studies, have followed a group of vampires here in Seattle recently. I followed them to the source… to their leader… a Heramous Tresel Blackard… as Sophia tells me, the brother to your old enemy.”
(to be continued)
