Into The Darkness Where The Primordial Was Broken
Will was a bit of a cry baby. His mum calls him a sensitive kid, has dad doesn’t know what to call him. Will cries when the adverts come on during his cartoons, Will cries when his cereal is too crunchy, Will cries when it’s time for bed. If there is something that requires a reaction, more often than not, Will will react by crying.
His mum is very over protective, coddling her ‘special little boy’, his dad gets frustrated. His dad love him, but his repeated attempts to try and turn his son into a man have only been met with tears and over the last few years he’s just given up. All his life Will seems to have cried as a solution to any problem, almost as if he hadn’t grasped that he could try something else now he wasn’t just a baby.
Will was brought up in Poole, as were his parents and their parents. He lived a quiet suburban life and has never left Dorset, his parents content to take him on visits to all the local landmarks and areas of interest before they venture further away. His life was pretty uneventful until he reached 5 years old. At 5, he developed a fiercely strong friendship with the girl that moved in next door, Sally. They’d play together in the back yard and she was one of the few people he never cried around. Unfortunately, 6 months later, the family next door didn’t come home. They had been killed in a car accident.
After that point, something in Will changed. He stopped being quiet, he stopped being shy. It was like the death of his friend galvanized something within him, an urge to protect others, and he began stand up to the bullies of the playground. Of course, the bullies had never bothered him, he was far too easy prey, always crying at the drop of a hat. Now though, he wasn’t crying, but coming to the aid of others with tears in their eyes. Of course, Will’s father was ecstatic when Will got sent home for giving a bully a bloody nose. His mother was horrified. Each time something like this happened, his mother became a little less doting, a little less proud and his father did just the opposite. At age 7, this war of opposites between his parents with him in the middle went up a level and his other left. Will’s been living alone with his father now for just over a year. His father has warned him about hitting others. “Only in self-defense or the defense of other lad.” His dad says, making sure thats the case or punishing him if it isn’t, “If your gonna fight, make it a good fight, not a bad’un.”
Will is a fairly average-looking 8 year old boy. He has sandy-brown hair and pale blue eyes. He likes the colour blue and usually wears a pair of blue kids jeans and a light blue t-shirt. He watches a lot of cartoons, like a lot of kids his age. He mostly likes ones with animals in, though he likes ones with robots in too. His favourite food is fish pie.
Hobbies and Interests
- Watching cartoons
- Playing video games
- Camping with his dad
- Building traps to catch various animals and insects in his garden
- Playing hide and seek, manhunt, etc
The Next Ten Years
After Will was put into care, he became obsessed with trying to find meaning in what happened. What exactly what had happened? Why had it happened? Where was his dad? Why had his mum gone off with the people that had killed Bear. He was confused and alone and afraid.
The first year in care was with a family in Salisbury. He refused to acknowledge his new dad, wanting to believe his dad was still alive and out there somewhere looking for him. He tried to keep in touch with his dad’s friends to see if he could learn any more about his dad but nothing ever came of it. As young as he was, he eventually got over his angst, but not before a few misdemeanours and runaway attempts. By the time he was ten, he’d settled into his new life with Jake and Sarah Barnes but he never forgot what had happened.
Will was generally a quiet kid, no-one really understood him, no-one could. He’d done things and been places that only existed in nightmares. He’d seen people die, he’d seen people kill. He knew he wasn’t crazy and so he kept himself to himself, not wanting to take another trip to the psychiatrist’s couch. Being a loner made him the weird kid that people picked on which only made him more introverted but also brought out a violent streak. All the violence he’d seen bubbled to the surface and he took it out on his tormentors. Several altercations later and Will was soon left alone in school, but things began to happen outside of school instead. Rather than return to violence to solve his problems, Will turned to learning. He couldn’t rely on grown-ups to solve his problems. Teachers hadn’t protected him and nor had his new parents. His real parents had just abandoned him – if his dad was still alive then he didn’t care and his mum had joined the people who had probably killed him and had killed his friends parents. Grown ups couldn’t be trusted, he had to look out for himself and he knew of one way to do that.
When will could cast spells from the magic book, he could stop anyone doing anything. He could only imagine what else he could do if he could learn more magic, like the magic man they’d met in the woods. He didn’t know if he was going to be a werewolf but he’d cast magic before so he knew he could do it again. So he tried to learn magic, not silly card tricks but real magic. He tried everything he could get his hands on, but nothing worked, it was all fake garbage in silly books, all pretend crap and bullshit. He desperately wanted to find a way back to the marketplace but he never could. He couldn’t stay alone forever though and eventually he confided in someone.
He made friends with a small group of outsiders by the time he was 12. They were all interested in magic and the occult and he hung out with them trying spells and rituals and trying to get involved in all sorts of crazy black magic gothic shit. He developed a taste for metal and ‘gothic’ stylings, started wearing a lot of black and leather, much to the dismay of his new parents, which he shunned for don’t understanding him and holding him back.
By the time he was 16, he’d tried all sorts, Satanism, Voodoo, Wicca and never got a taste of the knowledge and power he’d had from the fairy book. After arguing about the supernatural with his gang of faux-witches and warlock-wannabes, he’d convinced them to take a trip down to Poole. He wanted to find the bush, head back to the Market, get a real book of power. He’d learned all sorts of lore about these kind of things by now, having spent most of his free time studying that kind of thing but the only place he knew for sure existed was the bush in Hamworthy park and he wanted to prove to the others that he was really hardcore. The best way to do that was to show them something. They’d see either the Market or they’d see werewolves. He’d not forgotten the warning he’d gotten and so he knew that if he didn’t get to the market, they’d see some wolves instead.
He didn’t think they’d do anything to him, not now. He’d spent so much time doing bullshit ‘magic’ with his gang of freaks that he’d half-begun to believe in it himself and thought he could handle them. Besides, he had his silver thorn and a silver knife with him if he needed it. So he and his friends took a train down to Poole. It was a bust, the bush didn’t reveal anything to him but leaves and dirt. They made fun of him, but not for long. As night approached so did the werewolves. They hadn’t forgotten him or their threats.
Will woke up from a coma three months later to the tearful eyes of his foster parents. He couldn’t remember what had happened. His parents told him he’d been the victim of some kind of dog attack. He’d been mauled terribly in Poole, his friends hadn’t survived the attack. He’d suffered terrible wounds and had nearly lost his left hand. He had scars all-over his body and his face. He’d needed skin graffs, stitches and bones re-setting. They were afraid he wasn’t going to wake up again.
The event woke Will up, not just from the coma but from his life. He realised he’d been trying to destroy himself, taking out all his anger at the injustice of what had happened all those years ago out on himself by deliberately putting himself in harms way and making himself a target for bullies. He realised he’d been an idiot for believing in any of the crap he’d immersed himself with over the last couple of years and worse, he knew he was to blame for the others deaths. Really, he’d been performing an elaborate form of suicide, going back to Poole, to the bush, but he’d been too much of a coward to do it by himself, so he’d brought other along and they’d died in his place. Every scar was a reminder of all the mistakes he’d made and all the crimes he’d committed, not only against the law, against his friends but also his new family who’d tried their very best to love him and raise him as well as they could. They were good people, they were his parents now and finally he really appreciated them. It was a wake up call.
A few weeks later it was Will’s seventeenth birthday. He worked hard to catch up on the studying he’d missed and tried to be a good kid. Some of his previous obsessions stuck though, an interest in magic, folklore, history and law. He decided he wanted to study law and history and studied a-levels in both and got reasonable grades. He later applied to some universities to study Archeology. Of all the universities, only Bournemouth accepted him. He felt uneasy being so close to Poole again, but he hoped that he was out of their territory. Besides, he wasn’t afraid any more.
Ever since waking up, he’d decided he wasn’t going to be pushed around any more. He took up boxing and fencing and tried to keep himself in shape. He’d even managed to get himself a girlfriend, despite his scarred appearance. In fact he’d grown more confident, more outgoing, his new life serving to balance out against his old one. Girlfriends came and went and studying continued until one night a couple of months after his eighteenth birthday, something happened under the half-moon.
Will went through the first change, he felt his something rise up and grab a hold of him. His whole life had been of extremes, he had spent his early years courting death and recently courting life to the fullest. Suddenly things began to seem contradictory, both one extreme and the other, wildly swinging between the two. Everything seemed out of balance as if the world was swinging wildly on it’s axis and only he could see it. He had to fix it, he knew it and his body did too.
He was staying with his current girlfriend when he suddenly woke up, intensely aware of the balance been him and her, male and female. He felt his body shift and he was suddenly wild and feral, a balance against the civilisation of man in which his paws now stood. His girlfriend awoke, afraid, her eyes wild with fear and he felt the balance return again, terror for the pleasure of the kill as he ripped out her throat with sharp teeth. He felt a sudden shift again, the world tipping on it axis and he knew he had to balance the death with a life, he dived out of the window into the night, howling to Luna for guidance down a path he couldn’t see. He came across a burning building and he changed again, another balance between wolf and man, the Garu. He leapt inside and pulled an unconscious man from the fire barely aware of what he was doing.
He awoke, barely able to remember what had happened, it all a dream. He was in his own bed, back in Salisbury. Had he dreamt it all? Scared he phoned his girlfriend but there was no answer. He looked at his hands, his mouth but they were clean. He got up, went to the bathroom and was horrified by what he saw. Blood upon blood. Quickly, he scrubbed and tidied as best he could. Luckily his parent weren’t home, they were on holiday, a second honeymoon. He caught the next Bus down to Bournemouth and found out his dream hadn’t been a dream at all.
The funeral happened soon after but he couldn’t attend, it was at a place in Poole and he didn’t want to push his luck. He learned however that it was another example of balance. Life for death, death for life. She’d been pregnant when she died.
The shock, the grief, the sheer wonder and awe of it all, of knowing finally his true and terrible self compelled him to action. He needed to find the others, his old friends that he’d put out of his head since the fateful day at the park. He had to know if they’d felt it too, if they were like him. If they had changed.