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Arkann hated Kagrou.

There wasn't a doubt in his mind about it. Vampires, demons, and other nightmarish entities had at one point or another earned his hesitation- even sympathy! Not for Kagrou, though, would a single portion of his being even attempt to relate to. Since first he had met her, asking her for directions of all things, he had been in the debt of the pale lady. He did not owe her money- that would be simple- he owed actions- "favors," as she put it.

The current of these favors placed him in a small clearing of a junkyard, as the sun rose to the orange sky above, staring down a statue. It was a life-size figure of a naked man that was roughly around two hundred years old. The white statue was visually uninteresting - masterfully carved - but uninteresting, save for the gun clenched in his hand. It was of black metal with beautiful engravings flowing along the... double action slide: one of many features that indicated it was of a more modern design.

Arkann thought it strange that such an old piece of art would carry such an advanced piece of equipment when it was sculpted but then, a half-breed werewolf that carried a two-and-a-half foot cross on his back didn't feel he had the room to form an opinion about it. His only concern was to safely remove the weapon from its petrified death grip for Kagrou.

That was two days ago.

Arkann pulled up his goggles in defeat and rested them atop his head of long and copper hair. With thumb and finger he rubbed his tired eyes, unwilling to look back at that stubborn effigy.

He’d tried everything from the drill mounted on his car to the Sacred Glyph of Cra’hag! The statue was enchanted, somehow. Not only was it more resilient than steel, but what little he had managed to chisel away had grown BACK! Only the combined efforts of air and time seemed to have any damaging affect and that was too long for Arkann to recreate. This put conventional methods out the window, leaving Arkann with other supernatural crafts.

This process usually involved systematically selecting one of the many magical trinkets, charms, and objects he had collected in his travels, hold it up to see if it has a reaction, and… smacking the intended target with it to see if it did anything. Over the course of this experiment, a number of interesting discoveries had been made: the eye of Ahnk summoned storks when struck, the Fire Feather shot lightning when held up to enchanted stone, and Arkann’s late jacket was, indeed, not flame retardant.

Arkann hated Kagrou.

His weary eyes returned to the open trunk of his car, holding what instruments he had not attempted yet. With a heavy sigh, he lifted himself up and began dragging his feet to it. He shuffled past the debris from the failed attempts and the contraptions he’d invented in the past 48 hours. His trademark cross lay uselessly against the back tire as he peered in his trunk lethargically.

For all the shortcomings of his junky and very broken car, his trunk was the epitome of organization. Drawers, interlocking compartments, and foldout shelves; it was a home movers dream. Of course, the reason for so many levels of separation in was that the contents he usually carried often had the risk of exploding- or worse- if they came into contact with one another.

Arkann sifted though his odds and ends until his eyes came across one container in particular. It was that of an icy rapier that literally froze wounds in a similar way that a heated blade cauterized them. It originally belonged to, for the lack of a better word, a wizard who had met an unpleasant end in the jaws of a creature from another reality. Arkann winced a little at the memory. He had taken it more as a souvenir than anything else; he was never one for fencing. Here it was gathering dust with its current owner thinking, “Why not, I’ll get to it eventually.”


It is not known what, exactly, possessed Arkann’s train of thought after that point. Perhaps he was too tired to think clearly, he may have already solved the problem without realizing it, or the Powers-That-Be granted him their gift and guided his hand… feet, and mouth… Or, more likely, he was bloody bored! It is known that as his feet drew him closer to the sculpture, his lips curled into a childish smile and his step became lighter. He struck a dynamic pose; his legs straddled and the tip of the blade horizontally poised in the statue’s direction.

“Ha-Ha” He feigned a ‘dashing gentleman’ poorly, “En-guarde!”

He thrust the thin sword at the figure. It was not surprising to see the tip of the edge tap the surface or that the only damage to the marble hip was but a centimeter deep. It was surprising to hear the statue yelp in pain.

“-MMMFFF!-”

A moment of silence and stillness came as the wheels, cogs, and running mice that metaphorically symbolized his mind took a moment to convert management into a more efficient car engine because the former had already fallen apart… and exploded! The next second was a blur as was the following one and several of the minutes after that and more minutes after them. During this time, Arkann successfully solidified one fact about the object in his hand:

It made the statue live when it touched.

The rush of discovery subsided as he found himself pushing the limits of the test as he slowly pressed the handle of the sword against the statue’s open palm. The hand closed over it in a strong, if not desperate grip. In the same action, the other hand released the gun from its grip and let it fall to the ground. The statue, now completely mobile but still a white statue, exchanged curious blinks with Arkann, who was beginning to think this might have been a stupid and slightly dangerous predicament. The statue, overcome with joy, swooped the poor fellow up in his arms in gratitude…

Arkann was now being swung around – helplessly - in the bear hug of a very strong –and very naked- statue that was crying in what sounded like Spanish and pressing the flat side of an enchanted – and freezing – blade along his backside…

Arkann HATED Kagrou.