Liesel is the second child of Thibor Sawchyk and Cammy Hoyle. Her brothers Doru and William are full fledged hereditary Sawchyk werewolves (it only passes through the male line). While Cammy tried diligently to raise her daughter as a refined and proper lady (while not neglecting SAS style training on unarmed combat, firearms, survival and tactics), growing up with two wolfish brothers and an Alpha wolf papa has left Liesel with a few bad habits that have well dogged her.
Sorry kid; no one gets it without ID. The bouncer stared down from his six foot, five inch height, secure in the knowledge that he could overpower through sheer physical magnificence the cluster of teens that gathered about him.
Liesel Lethal Sawchyk called a huddle, urging Mac Heisman, and Maureen Iluvia Heisman to group together. They whispered back and forth for a few moments before straightening up.
We have licenses. Iluvia pulled a card and reached up to hold the card in front of the Bouncers face. Were heroes and were here to stop a rumble between the Skulls and the Hellions; let us in please.
The bouncer considered this for a moment. They were certainly dressed like heroes, but hero fashion was all the rage among teens, so he couldnt rely on that. The ID was probably faked. There was no way he was going to let them in. Furthermore his testicles had just leapt from the dangling position they normally occupied to a location that felt like it was just below his kidneys. He collapsed, falling down to his knees, bringing his head in line with his assailant. The tiny blonde girl could have fit into one of his pants legs, but it was undoubtedly her foot, encased in a heavy, steel toed, boot that had brought him down to eye level. Her cute features were marred by a long scar that snaked across her cheek. She smiled at him. He smiled back, his teeth grinding together. His smile was pained, but hers was absolutely lupine and it grew suddenly closer. Faster. Her forehead smashed into his nose with an audible crack; the pain was extreme, and it doubled as her head retreated, only to be replaced by a rising knee that generated a series of smaller cracks that were no less painful that the original one. As the world faded to black the bouncer managed to justify a single good outcome of the event. They had not gotten past him without his permission. Sure they were going to walk past his unconscious body, but he could hardly be blamed for that.
Um, was that legal? Maureen looked aghast as Liesel pulled out a tissue and fastidiously wiped the small smear of blood from the knee of her leather, camouflage, pants.
If you are playing by the Marquis of Queensbury rules, no. Lethal admitted. It was duplicitous, unfair and the mark of a complete and utter rotter who has never, ever, fought a fair fight in her life. That would be me.
Have you ever considered a career as a minion? Mac asked; casually stooping to snatch up the discarded, bloody Kleenex. Perhaps stupidity had an identifiable genetic component; it might make an interesting paper. Perhaps it could be duplicated or even loaded as a vector in a virus. Troy was only six, no one would notice, at least not initially.
Well, we might as well go in. Maureen stepped around the prone bouncer. Mac and Liesel followed, carefully not avoiding stepping on the bouncer.
* * *
Elisabeth Charlotte Marta Lethal Sawchyk paused, cocking her head and sniffing the air; trying to figure out where the bad guys were. It didnt do any good; it wasnt fair. Papa said that fair was where you went on the pony rides. Papa was also seven feet tall, almost completely invulnerable, smelled it when you were lying and could in a moment of levity, juggle tanks. That was hardly fair. A wolfish smile crossed Liesels features. She might not be a Sawchyk hereditary werewolf like her brothers, but she wasnt a bitch you ever wanted to mess with. Mamas genes had passed on significantly increased reflexes, hyper-dense muscular tissue, and the ability to heal injury without trace. Liesel wasnt quite as fast, but her ability to heal might be even stronger, not quite werewolf speed, but close. There were other benefits too. There was a great deal of old magic on Papas side of the family; the good stuff. Gypsy curses, the evil eye and several quite unmentionable things, at least one of them employing a duck. Great-mama had doted on all her grandchildren, but Evil Aunt Marta had all but ignored her until, at age five, she had placed a curse of Doru in a moment of sibling rivalry fuelled anger. Lethal had gone from utterly ignored to Aunties favorite status in a second; and Evil Aunt Marta had even started talking to Mama; an occurrence that shocked the entire family, given that the two had not exchanged a civil word in almost five years.
Lethal had heard the term Army brat; that didnt sound very good. IST brat on the other hand was great fun. Sure you moved around a lot, but you saw the whole world, and if Mama and Papa were going to be gone for a long deployment, there was the Sawchyk estate in Romania. It was always exciting, she had her own horses there, Great-mama and Evil Auntie Marta were teaching her new tricks and Great-Great-Papa Christonel had even let her practice with Eisengrim. The sword was a family heirloom and a very efficient killer of supernatural evil; Evil Auntie Marta had even taught her a trick where she could transform it into a silver ring and then return it to full size with a thought. The estate was a great place to spend summer. Sure there was a vampire attack once in a while, but that was exciting too. Great-Great-Papa might have been pushing 120, but he could still tear a bloodsucker in half with his bare claws all the while bemoaning that he had to use both when thirty years earlier one would have sufficed.
When Doru and William had expressed interest in joining IST, Lethal had known in a second that rebellion dictated that she do something else entirely. Tia Bella and Auntie Jackie were still in Paragon, and wouldnt mind if family crashed on their couches. It was a perfect plan; sneak out in the middle of the night, catch a lift to the airport and she would be off. She had her passport, a knapsack stuffed with her favorite clothes, and enough cash to make a good start of things. The plan went perfectly wrong. She snuck out in the middle of the night, was met at the door by three well-packed suitcases and the papers documenting a generous trust fund in her name. Then Mama and Papa drove her to the airport where Uncle Louie met them and flew her to Paragon. It was maddening! It was also typical. Papa claimed he never brushed his teeth without a backup plan; and therefore his and Mamas contingency plans for dealing with a rebellious daughter were likely legion. This was doubly confirmed when she angrily thrust her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and found a silver ring and a note from Great-Great-Papa. Eisengrim was to be hers for as long as she wanted; by succession it should have gone to Papa, but he had allowed it to fall into her hands.
Heroes! A pack of Hellions rounded the corner and spotted them. Lethal grinned and mouthed the counter hex. The ring on her hand was replaced by a glistening silver sword almost as tall as she was. She hefted the weight easily and charged forward.
Go! Go! Go! Danger Awaits! She bared her teeth in a dominant, challenging grim. The painted punks started howling; trying their hardest to sound like the very hounds of hell. That was fine with her. Hounds were domesticated; and had the all too obvious habit of pissing themselves when confronted by wolves. Tallyho!
Sorry kid; no one gets it without ID. The bouncer stared down from his six foot, five inch height, secure in the knowledge that he could overpower through sheer physical magnificence the cluster of teens that gathered about him.
Liesel Lethal Sawchyk called a huddle, urging Mac Heisman, and Maureen Iluvia Heisman to group together. They whispered back and forth for a few moments before straightening up.
We have licenses. Iluvia pulled a card and reached up to hold the card in front of the Bouncers face. Were heroes and were here to stop a rumble between the Skulls and the Hellions; let us in please.
The bouncer considered this for a moment. They were certainly dressed like heroes, but hero fashion was all the rage among teens, so he couldnt rely on that. The ID was probably faked. There was no way he was going to let them in. Furthermore his testicles had just leapt from the dangling position they normally occupied to a location that felt like it was just below his kidneys. He collapsed, falling down to his knees, bringing his head in line with his assailant. The tiny blonde girl could have fit into one of his pants legs, but it was undoubtedly her foot, encased in a heavy, steel toed, boot that had brought him down to eye level. Her cute features were marred by a long scar that snaked across her cheek. She smiled at him. He smiled back, his teeth grinding together. His smile was pained, but hers was absolutely lupine and it grew suddenly closer. Faster. Her forehead smashed into his nose with an audible crack; the pain was extreme, and it doubled as her head retreated, only to be replaced by a rising knee that generated a series of smaller cracks that were no less painful that the original one. As the world faded to black the bouncer managed to justify a single good outcome of the event. They had not gotten past him without his permission. Sure they were going to walk past his unconscious body, but he could hardly be blamed for that.
Um, was that legal? Maureen looked aghast as Liesel pulled out a tissue and fastidiously wiped the small smear of blood from the knee of her leather, camouflage, pants.
If you are playing by the Marquis of Queensbury rules, no. Lethal admitted. It was duplicitous, unfair and the mark of a complete and utter rotter who has never, ever, fought a fair fight in her life. That would be me.
Have you ever considered a career as a minion? Mac asked; casually stooping to snatch up the discarded, bloody Kleenex. Perhaps stupidity had an identifiable genetic component; it might make an interesting paper. Perhaps it could be duplicated or even loaded as a vector in a virus. Troy was only six, no one would notice, at least not initially.
Well, we might as well go in. Maureen stepped around the prone bouncer. Mac and Liesel followed, carefully not avoiding stepping on the bouncer.
* * *
Elisabeth Charlotte Marta Lethal Sawchyk paused, cocking her head and sniffing the air; trying to figure out where the bad guys were. It didnt do any good; it wasnt fair. Papa said that fair was where you went on the pony rides. Papa was also seven feet tall, almost completely invulnerable, smelled it when you were lying and could in a moment of levity, juggle tanks. That was hardly fair. A wolfish smile crossed Liesels features. She might not be a Sawchyk hereditary werewolf like her brothers, but she wasnt a bitch you ever wanted to mess with. Mamas genes had passed on significantly increased reflexes, hyper-dense muscular tissue, and the ability to heal injury without trace. Liesel wasnt quite as fast, but her ability to heal might be even stronger, not quite werewolf speed, but close. There were other benefits too. There was a great deal of old magic on Papas side of the family; the good stuff. Gypsy curses, the evil eye and several quite unmentionable things, at least one of them employing a duck. Great-mama had doted on all her grandchildren, but Evil Aunt Marta had all but ignored her until, at age five, she had placed a curse of Doru in a moment of sibling rivalry fuelled anger. Lethal had gone from utterly ignored to Aunties favorite status in a second; and Evil Aunt Marta had even started talking to Mama; an occurrence that shocked the entire family, given that the two had not exchanged a civil word in almost five years.
Lethal had heard the term Army brat; that didnt sound very good. IST brat on the other hand was great fun. Sure you moved around a lot, but you saw the whole world, and if Mama and Papa were going to be gone for a long deployment, there was the Sawchyk estate in Romania. It was always exciting, she had her own horses there, Great-mama and Evil Auntie Marta were teaching her new tricks and Great-Great-Papa Christonel had even let her practice with Eisengrim. The sword was a family heirloom and a very efficient killer of supernatural evil; Evil Auntie Marta had even taught her a trick where she could transform it into a silver ring and then return it to full size with a thought. The estate was a great place to spend summer. Sure there was a vampire attack once in a while, but that was exciting too. Great-Great-Papa might have been pushing 120, but he could still tear a bloodsucker in half with his bare claws all the while bemoaning that he had to use both when thirty years earlier one would have sufficed.
When Doru and William had expressed interest in joining IST, Lethal had known in a second that rebellion dictated that she do something else entirely. Tia Bella and Auntie Jackie were still in Paragon, and wouldnt mind if family crashed on their couches. It was a perfect plan; sneak out in the middle of the night, catch a lift to the airport and she would be off. She had her passport, a knapsack stuffed with her favorite clothes, and enough cash to make a good start of things. The plan went perfectly wrong. She snuck out in the middle of the night, was met at the door by three well-packed suitcases and the papers documenting a generous trust fund in her name. Then Mama and Papa drove her to the airport where Uncle Louie met them and flew her to Paragon. It was maddening! It was also typical. Papa claimed he never brushed his teeth without a backup plan; and therefore his and Mamas contingency plans for dealing with a rebellious daughter were likely legion. This was doubly confirmed when she angrily thrust her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and found a silver ring and a note from Great-Great-Papa. Eisengrim was to be hers for as long as she wanted; by succession it should have gone to Papa, but he had allowed it to fall into her hands.
Heroes! A pack of Hellions rounded the corner and spotted them. Lethal grinned and mouthed the counter hex. The ring on her hand was replaced by a glistening silver sword almost as tall as she was. She hefted the weight easily and charged forward.
Go! Go! Go! Danger Awaits! She bared her teeth in a dominant, challenging grim. The painted punks started howling; trying their hardest to sound like the very hounds of hell. That was fine with her. Hounds were domesticated; and had the all too obvious habit of pissing themselves when confronted by wolves. Tallyho!