Fathers of Time II

Those who have Seen Man’s Rise and Fall

Fantasy equal: Odin

Sometimes you stumble upon an image of a more mature man. You think he looks good for a guy with a beard/moustache and some grey patches of hair here and there. This is when you’re reminded of your childhood, when you think back of your friend’s dad or a teacher at school whose appearances were kind to your hungry eyes.

A couple of memories flash through your mind:

You think back of the couple of days you spent in hospital after you crashed whilst racing on your mountain bike. You knocked your head and had some bruises and scratches, nothing worthy of staying in the hospital, to your reckoning. You are rather thankful you have though, thanks to the stranger you shared your room with.

You were all alone in your hospital room watching television at eleven the first night. You were watching a Jean-Claude van Damme movie when you noticed from the corner of your eye someone walking passed your door. A moment later he returned, leaning against the doorframe and watched the movie along with you for several minutes without saying a word. The movie stopped playing for a series of irritating adverts. You made eye contact during this time and the middle-aged stranger spoke, “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m sharing a room with an old man who is continuously asleep. I don’t want to wake him by turning on our TV.”

“If it’s okay with the nurses, you’re welcome to stay here and watch the movie. You seem to be a fan Jean-Claude,” you said.

“I do enjoy a good action movie now and again. Thanks for the offer, I’ll take it!” said the stranger.

You watched him as he walked passed. He was an attractive man with short, grey hair, a well kept beard and rather tall with an athletic build. His butt was exposed from the untied patient garment (those flimsy ones you to at the back) he was wearing and from what you could see; he let his body hair grow naturally, including the ones that grew up towards his butt crack. You quite enjoyed the quick glimpse of him and were looking forward to when he leaves again.

He laid himself down on the bed next to yours. From quick discussions during ad breaks, you learned his name was Johan, a cattle farmer on the outskirts of town. He was submitted to hospital from exhaustion and dehydration, from working too hard, he admitted. He was doing fine, but the doctors said they wanted to keep him another day or two for observation. He said they’re only keeping him there to make more money off of him.

You noticed he was one of those people who lived themselves into a movie. He reacted to what he saw on the movie by changing facial expressions and making sudden movements with his body, like cringing when Jean-Claude dealt a bloody high kick. His attention was fixed on the TV, which gave you chance to survey his physique.

You remember how your attention moved from his massive feet, across his tree trunk legs to the bulge at his crotch. He folded his one leg over the other, which raised his blade and pommel gems. You could make out its shape since the garment the patients wore was rather thin. His blade laid extended over the lower part of stomach. You pinched your escalating blade between your legs for things were becoming rather hot in your hospital room. It is at this moment that a nurse entered the room. She gave you such a fright, that your blade was released from its vice, which sent it flopping upwards, making your woody totally visible beneath the sheet you had drawn across your body. Thankfully the nurse did not notice this. Your friend, however, did. He smiled at you and distracted the nurse so you could recover.

“Nurse, may I move to this room instead? My friend and I seem to be... likeminded. Both of us are night owls. We can watch late night TV together without disturbing the others,” Johan asked.

“Sure, I’ll make the necessary arrangements. Make sure to fetch your stuff before tomorrow morning, in case someone else takes your old spot,” the nurse replied before asking how you were doing.

“I’m okay, thanks” you muttered.

The nurse left and closed the door behind her. After her visit Johan showed little interest in the movie. He told Jean-Claude would have made him hard as well if he was a teenager as well with hormones in overdrive. You tried to deny it by saying you have a thing for the nurse. He burst out laughing and told you you must have a jack in the box for a blade and a strange taste in women. He told you to relax and not to deny what you were and how God has made you. You found comfort in his words.

Johan slowly inserted his hands underneath his garment. His blade in the meantime had swollen and had grown to its full glory! He pushed his blade forward as to have it towered and stuck against his garment as yours had been. You watched him as he drew back his garment and stroked his blade slowly, up and down and gently initially. He spat in his hand to use as a natural lubrication. Ever since then you did the same. Shadows of various colours from the TV danced on his body as Jean-Claude battled his enemies. It was magical.

After some hesitation you started tugging at your blade as well. It was not long before Johan reached his climax. Three or four spurts of his nectar blasted from his throbbing blade. The first hit his chin, and the subsequent spurts embedded themselves in his chest and stomach hair. He rubbed his nectar into his torso as he watched you. You gasped for air as your blade attempted its money shot. You shot a couple more spurts than your elder fellow all across your blossoming chest.

The next day you became unlikely friends and did the same that night. The day after you left the hospital, never to see him again.

--~~oo00oo~~--

You think back to that one summer holiday, when the whole family on your mom’s side came to visit during the week of Christmas. Those were the days when shaving was not so new and didn’t enjoy doing this manly thing any more.

You removed all your clothes and started shaving before your shower. The whole family is to head on over to the local casino’s restaurant. Tonight is the seafood buffet and you’re so gonna kick everyone’s butt by eating the most! You were half way through shaving when someone knocked on the door. It was your aunt’s (mother’s sister) new boyfriend, Wikus. You quite liked him. He was like a boy in a mature man’s body. Rather playful and cheerful. You had loads in common, including PC games, jogging and the outdoors. He spent more time with you than your aunt!

You shouted that you were busy, which didn’t keep the person from entering. Reflexively you covered your wickets and peered at your probably future uncle with a stunned facial expression.

“Good, it’s you,” said Wikus as he closed the door again. “I want to take a bath before we head out to the restaurant. I have sand in places I don’t want any sand.”

He opened the taps and started stripping. You tried with all your might not to look at him and to shave faster. At that time you were at a stage when the sight of any naked male made you trigger-happy. He was done undressing and took a seat on the bath’s rim while waiting for the bath to fill up. He looked at you and gave you a slap on the butt.

“You’ve got a heart shape birthmark on your right butt cheek. How cute,” he said.

“The ladies love it,” you respond, not knowing where that statement came from.

“Ha-ha! I bet!” Wikus responded. “I have one on my inner thigh. It’s not a cute little heart like yours, more like a splatter of bird poop. Wanna see?”

You hesitate for a moment, but feel you have to look, which you did. You had seen him shirtless on the beach; tanned, tall, dark and handsome. He looked amazing for his age. You turned around. Yip, Greek god indeed. You hardly noticed the birthmark, as your attention was fixed on his blade. It’s the first one you’ve really seen up close other than your own and quick glimpses of those of your straight buddies. In the centre of a brush of pubic hair his blade and pommel gems dangled, full and happy. This sent your hormones in overdrive, which triggered the happiness of your blade. It’s too late now...

You quickly turned around to conceal your rising blade from him, closed your eyes from shame and tried to tame your heavy breathing.

“Oh, my boy. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. I have this effect on people,” Wikus said giggling. “And between the two of us, there’s nothing wrong with a little male to male adoration.”

“You mean you’re gay?” you asked Wikus.

“No. I like the best of both worlds, if you get my drift,” said Wikus.

You turned around with a confused facial expression. You asked him how being bisexual worked, since he was involved with your aunt. He mentioned that they were mere friends, friends with benefits and that nothing would ever come of their friendship.

Wikus drew closer and tugged at your blade. His blade started ascending to meet yours in its glory. You were stunned and did not know what to make of this situation.

“We need to take care of these before we leave here. Can’t go out poking everyone and everything in your path,” Wikus said. Clean your face so we can get to it...”

You were shocked at his suggestion and were afraid he would get his way with your behind or something! You were barely finished when the already jerking off Wikus led you into the bath where both of you took a seat on its rim opposite each other. Your legs were submerged in bubbly water almost up to your knees. You remember the water was rather hot, amongst other things. Wikus splashed water over his blade. He smiled at you after he sent a wave of water towards yours. You admired each other as you both jerked off. You enjoyed his masculinity and manliness and how he embraced his blade with great enthusiasm. First he tugs with a forehand, then backhand, then both hands, then he played with his pommel gems and so it went on. He certainly knew how to wield a blade.

Soon you feel the nectar well up in your pommel gems. Your breathing grows heavier and the tip of your blade grows even harder. Uh-oh, what now?!

“Let it go!” Wikus exclaimed eagerly.

You did as he asked. Like a cannon your nectar was shot from your blade. You were rather proud of it, you now chuckle to yourself. The first spurt went flying up in the air and made a crash landing on Wikus’ left knee. The remaining spurts delved into the foam surface of the bathwater. This sent Wikus to his climax. His cannon surpassed yours in power as two of his spurts crash landed on your right quad and knee. He must have held his at a better angle, you now realise. You were rather fascinated by the warm and sticky nectar on your leg. You smiled and Wikus returned the gesture.

“Come on, we should finish up. Almost time to beat you in an eating contest, just as I have beaten you just now”, you remember him saying. He did beat you in the eating contest that evening as well, needless to say. You still had some growing up to do at that stage.

Mythology of many cultures have a father figure of sorts. Where it is Zeus for the Greeks and Jupiter for the Romans, it is Odin for the Norse. So this collection is dedicated to the all-father of the Norse deities.

"In Germanic mythology, the one-eyed deity of battle, magic, inspiration, and the dead. The elder son of Bor by the giantess Bestla, Odin was ‘supreme as well as being the oldest of the gods’. Writing in the thirteenth century, Snorri Sturluson, the outstanding Icelandic scholar and statesman, thus endeavoured to account for the rise of Odin during the Viking period (750–1050), when the war god took over many of the functions of the sky god. ‘He had his way in all things. Mighty as the other gods may be, yet they all serve him as children do their father.’ Odin was Alfodr, ‘father of the gods’; Valfodr, ‘father of the slain’; Veratyr, ‘lord of men’; Bileygr and Baleygr, ‘shifty-eyed’ and ‘flaming-eyed’; Glapsvidir, ‘swift in deceit’, Fjolsvidr, ‘wide in wisdom’; Farmatyr ‘god of cargoes’; Oski, ‘wish giver’; Sidfodr, ‘father of victories’; and many more ekenames, nicknames, given to Odin ‘for something he did’."

http://www.answers.com/topic/odin

Architects of Monuments II

Those who Define Structural Magnificence

Fantasy equal: Mason

I think one of my colleagues and I were talking about movies and I was asked what kind of movies I like. Naturally I responded saying movies based on fantasy and/or ancient times. He then mentioned something interesting; “Then like a friend of mine you must have been born in the wrong age.”

It makes one think if given the opportunity, which ancient or fantasy civilization would you have liked to visit for a day. I have many options and would not know which to choose. One of the aspects to consider would be the architecture of that civilization from that age in time.

The ancient civilizations from the Mediterranean region are renowned for their architecture; the Romans, the Greek, the Persian and especially the Egyptians. They have constructed awe-inspiring buildings, temples, monuments and statues, most of which are mere remnants of their former glory today. I dream of the days when I am able to take a tour to these countries and lay my eyes on the Colosseum, the Great Pyramids of Giza and the multitude of the ruined temples in Greece. Would it not, however, be so much more exciting to see these wonders with your very own eyes in the time they were constructed? Sure, the skyscrapers in the city are impressive as well, yet none of them have that ancient mysterious appeal the old Seven Wonders of the World has.

All of these architectural creations are founded on intricate and well-planned designs. Furthermore they are not always only architectural wonders, but artistic creations as well. Take the stone masons of Ancient Egypt, for example. Each of the great pyramids they have built is externally rather rough and crude. It’s their sheer size which makes them impressive. Once you enter its corridors, however, you would find an array of intricate hieroglyphics. These hieroglyphics were also part of the grand design and form part of the monument’s purpose and artistic appeal.

To me a man’s legs are also of a great design. The combination of mass, definition and decoration (hair) makes for one of my favourite parts of the male body. Most like that one part of course, but in general I would rather like to see the bottom half instead of the top half. We both can have the middle still. I can’t explain why; it’s just the way my simple mind is programmed.

The fantasy connection for the following collection is very much similar to that of the previous instalment. In ancient Egypt architects and stone masons worked in conjunction when it came to constructing a great monument. The architects designed the plan and the masons foresaw the actual work, chiselled the stone and laid it in place. As the construction of monuments is perfected by architects and masons, so have the monumental legs been perfected on these lords...

"A stonemason is a person who builds structures (such as cathedrals and castles) out of stones such as limestone, sandstone, slate, marble, granite, field rock, and river rock. They were highly skilled people who combined the roles of architecting, crafting, desiging, and engineering to produce beautiful buildings seen today. Some of the most beautiful creations they built standing today are Gothic Cathedrals."

http://wiki.answers.com/Q/What_is_a_stonemason

Descendants of the Feral Beast II

Those Endowed with the Essence of Beast

Fantasy equal: Werewolf

Both you and your dog huff and puff heavily as you jog down your usual trail on the outskirts of town. It is a popular trail and every time someone with a dog comes by, you have to keep Feral, your small Jack Russell, from making his acquaintance with the passing doggy and his or her owner. Here comes another lady jogger. You greet her, but make no effort to look fit and energetic as she passes by. Next is a handsome looking guy and his tough looking German shepherd. Time to man up and better your form. You try your best not to look like you’re dying as you approach each other, but as luck would have it you trip over a loose rock, which sends you diving into the dirt right in front of him. You did not do this on purpose. The ‘Damsel in Distress’ trick is for prissy girls!

The jogger man is a gentleman. Even though you are flustered and anxious to run away and look for a hole to creep into, you notice the weird yet attractive features of the man who is helping you up with his clammy hand. He has piercing dark eyes, a well-formed stubble, tufts of hair at the sides of his jaw line and a mane of hair that looks like it should belong to an animal instead. If you get passed the somewhat crude exterior, you’d notice the kindness in his twinkling eyes and boyish smile. He is quite hairy, of a slender build, yet he has enormous, bulging calf and quad muscles.

“Are you alright? That fall looked quite epic from my angle,” the stranger asks.

“I’m okay, thanks,” you mumble as you dust off a bloody knee.

“Here, take my handkerchief for that knee. I’m Wolfe, by the way,” he says.

“Thanks, Wolfe. My name is [Insert your name here]”, you reply as you take another quick glance of this peculiar specimen. “Who carries handkerchiefs nowadays still? Not that I’m complaining, it’s just so... old fashioned.”

“I suppose I’m an old fashioned guy, to some degree. Oh... you may want to take hold of your dog. I’m not sure Bruce (referring to his German Shepherd) will take a humping on his leg lightly... Well... he doesn’t seem to mind it after all,” Wolfe says grinning.

“Oh, is the embarrassment ever going to end!” you exclaim as you draw Feral away from Wolfe’s dog. “Sorry about that. Feral here humps almost anything on four legs. To him size does not matter at all. He is brave or maybe crazy or stupid, since he does not get intimidated easily, hence me struggling to train him. He has a will of his own”, you say smiling.

Wolfe returns the gesture and responds, “You are dealing with a Jack Russell, a cute one at that, so you are excused. Look, you seem like my kind of guy, err... I mean a nice guy... would you like to be my partner? Jogging partner!? I’m new to town and this is my poor attempt at making a friend.”

You can’t believe your luck. In exchange for some embarrassment and a bloody knee, you may just have lined up a series of dates with someone you find quite attractive.

“I’d love to!” you respond. “I mean, sure!”

The two of you exchange phone numbers. All the way back home you try your hardest not to forget his phone number. It doesn’t happen often that you jog home at this pace. You scribble the number down the second you step into your apartment. Next you switch on your washing machine to wash Wolfe’s handkerchief. You unleash Feral, remove your running shoes and make your way to the lounge to relax a bit.

Wolfe takes the bait first and phones you later that evening. The conversation starts off a bit awkward and shaky, but soon the two of you cackle like two chicks after watching Gossip Girl. You spend about an hour delving into each other’s characters. You like what you hear and hope he thinks the same. He seems to as he invites you for dinner in two day’s time, after a run of course.

Finally the exciting day of the big date has come. You are all kitted up in the better of your two jogging outfits and make your way along with Feral to his house, which isn’t that far away. You hardly park your car before he and his dog emerges from behind the gate. He must have waited for you, even though you’re right on time. Talk about being eager. It’s a good sign though! He greets you by shaking your hand and the two of you jog off into the sunset before Feral starts humping Bruce again.

The jogging goes okay. Wolfe realises that talking whilst jogging doesn’t work for you, which he doesn’t mind at all. The two doggies seem to enjoy each other’s company as well. The warm summer’s evening starts to cool down as you make your way back to his place. By this time you’re huffing and puffing like mad. You are grateful to Wolfe for slowing the pace somewhat so you can keep up with him.

On arrival you remove your tog bag from your car after which Wolfe escorts you to the backyard of his cottage. The dogs are set loose. Bruce walks next to Wolfe, surveying his every move where Feral prances off on a sniffing expedition. Wolfe’s backyard garden is spectacular. The lawn is covered in dense, soft grass. Wolfe already removed his shoes and socks. You do the same to experience the soft, frail touch of nature under your feet. The garden is surrounded by high trellises, covered in overgrown ivy, which makes his garden totally secluded. All along the trellises are beddings of all sorts of ground covers, ferns, shrubs and white only flowering plants. In the one corner is what seems to be a fish pond with a waterfall. In the other corner stands a majestic oak tree. From its lowest branches hangs strings of faerie lights, which illuminates a quaint patio set. The patio set doesn’t looks like the sort you’d find a store; they seem to be made from solid wood. You are led around the corner to an outdoor shower.

“I installed this about a week ago. I thought it would be pleasant to shower outside during the warmer seasons. You can shower here if you like, whilst I step inside, freshen up and prepare us a quick meal, if you’d like to stay, of course”, says Wolfe.

“That would be nice, thanks. And I’d love to take a shower here. You have a stunning garden by the way. One can see loads of time and effort went into it. Did you do all this yourself?” you ask.

“Yes I have”, Wolfe replies. “I’m quite proud of it and can’t wait until the plants grow properly. They are still acclimatizing. Okay, let me go freshen up and get dinner ready. We’ll have dinner under the great oak, for when you’re done.”

Off Wolfe prances with Bruce by his side. You remove your smelly clothes, turn on the tap and go through your bathing routine. You don’t wait long under the great tree before Wolfe returns wearing a fresh pair of shorts and a t-shirt, carrying a tray of goodies along with him. You can’t take your eyes off his stunning pair of legs and large feet. You smile as he hands you a wrap and a glass of juice.

“I hope you like smoked chicken wraps. If there’s anything in it you don’t eat, let me know and I’ll execute plan B”, says Wolfe.

“No need for that, it looks yummy, thanks!” you reply.

The two of you enjoy your dinner and each other’s company. During this time the sun makes way for the moon. The moonlight slowly crawls over ever darkening shadows and into the garden. Whilst probing at each other’s personalities, something unexpected and horrific happens... right in front of your very eyes Wolfe’s appearance starts to shift. His eyes turn wild, his mouth starts to form what seems to be a muzzle, his skin and hair metamorphose to fur and his nails turn darker, larger and sharper. His clothes cannot contain his shape-shifting body and rips to pieces.

Shocked and terrified, you fall off your chair and scurry away from Wolfe. In front of you now stands a dark and terrifying hunched figure. Wolfe has turned into a werewolf! He looks at you. His kind eyes have now become fierce. He takes a step towards you, hesitates and then leaps off over the trellis and into the veil of night. Absolutely terrified, you look for Feral, snatch him from where he was digging a hole and quickly made your way inside the house. You immediately lock the door and peer outside. He seems to be gone.

You spend several moments inside his cottage, too frightened to venture outside. During this time the winds alter course, which transforms the warm evening’s breath to a chilly breeze. The ancient winds carry forth great swell of clouds, which soon cloaks the moon. Would this reverse Wolfe’s transformation?

It’s not long before you spot the naked Wolfe, again in his human form, lurking towards the cottage. He seems hurt, as he’s clutching his right arm. The clouds seem heavy, a storm is brewing. You decide to take a chance and help Wolfe. As you move towards the glass door your eyes meet. Wolfe looks just as frightened as you are.

Gasping for air, Wolfe asks, “What happened to me?”

You wrap a blanket around Wolfe which you found on his couch, not even taking notice of his naked being.

“Why is my arm hurt? Why am I naked and so cold? Last I remember we were having dinner. What happened beyond that is blur.”

“You do not know?” you reply. He appears to be confused and sincere about not knowing what had just occurred. You offer him a seat as you ask whether he has a first aid kit. His arm is cut rather deep and needs to be cleaned. You return with the first aid kit and close all the blinds and curtains. Whilst you clean his wound you tell Wolfe what happened. He stares back at you with teary, incredulous eyes.

“So the family curse finally caught up with me”, Wolfe says.

"What curse?" you ask.

"My family is said to be descendants of a cursed man who lived long ago. His blood was tainted with lycanthropy. He was a werewolf. He was driven away from his village, never to be found again. He left behind his wife, who was with child. I was told he was fortunately saved from the same fate of his father. I don’t understand though... why is my blood tainted and none of my forbearers? I shudder at the thought of what happened whilst I was a werewolf...”

Wolfe takes your hand.

“and how I could have hurt you. Thanks for staying and being so brave. I’m safe from turning as long as moonlight does not fall on my skin. That I know. You’ve taken care of that,” Wolfe says whilst managing a smile. “We need to find out how my forbearers suppressed the curse of the werewolf. Why am I affected only now all of a sudden? We need to investigate...”

With his now bandaged arm and the blanket cloaked over his body, Wolfe fetches an old dusty tome from his bookshelf.

“This might have the answer”, says Wolfe.

“It looks ancient”, you say.

“It is”, Wolfe responds.

He takes a seat next to you and rests the tomb on his lap for you both to see. The two of you spend part of the night paging and reading through the tome, which is handwritten by the son of Wolfe’s cursed ancestor. The tome describes all accounts of the curse of lycanthrope; the curse’s origins, how his ancestor turned almost every full moon and his search in finding a cure. An hour passes before you two finally flip to the page you were looking for... the cure!

The cure is not a conventional potion or ointment ingredient list as the two of you expected, but in the form of an enchanted silver ring. Bearing this ring would yield its bearer immune to the effects of lycanthropy.

“Now for the seemingly impossible task; where to find such a ring?” you ask.

“In my bedroom”, Wolfe replies with a smile. “My father passed away when I was small still. My mom gave me his ring when I turned 21, which is identical to the one in this illustration. I’ve worn it ever since up until the other day when scrubbed it a bit. It was in need of cleaning. I must have forgotten about it. My mind has been elsewhere the past couple of days.”

“Now lets go get it!” you exclaim.

Wolfe races towards his bedroom, barely managing to keep the blanket around his waist. You follow. He picks up the ring from his lamp table. It is an intricately designed silver ring with the head of a wolf crafted on the facing side. The wolf’s eyes are of deep red rubies. The ring looks Gothic, almost ancient and rather startling. Wolfe slides on the ring once more. It fits perfectly. As he does so, you notice his eyes glinting red for a second. The ring must have taken effect.

“I am cured, I suppose. With this ring all shall be safe from the beast inside of me which now has been tamed once more. You have seen much tonight. I too am shocked and terribly distraught of what has come to pass and what could have happened. If I was in your shoes, I would have been long gone by now”, Wolfe says.

“The reason for me staying is simple, my furry friend,” you say as you lift your right hand to show Wolfe the silver ring you are bearing. Without giving him much time to examine the ring, you remove it from your finger. Almost instantaneously your complexion turns paler, your eyes darken and your two top canine teeth grow larger which renders them protruding from your mouth. Wolfe staggers back from shock and disbelief. You manage to gather enough willpower to press the ring back on your finger. The power of your curse is great, yet you’re starting to learn to control it, rather than it controlling you.

“You’re not the only person who is cursed by some dark evil” you say rather excitedly.

“Now that I did not expect,” Wolfe replies with a shaky voice. “Are you... a vampire?”

“Indeed I am. Unlike you I knew I was cursed. It is paramount that we know. Without the ring we go ‘poof’ in sunlight, or so my folks say. I have not come across any other ‘cursed ones’ other than my family. I must admit, I was terrified when you transformed into your werewolf form, especially since I did not want to take my vampire form to defend myself. It would be the start of the ancient werewolf versus vampire war all over again,” you say. “And like you, I did not want to hurt you either.”

So follows several moments of conversation between you two nocturnal monsters. Feral and Bruce have curled up together and have been snoozing away for a while now. You remove most of your clothes and join Wolfe under the sheets of his bed. During the conversation you lightly start to flirt and tease each other under the sheets. Both of you probe the other’s body, wait a moment to get the go ahead and then play if there’s no objection. First you swirl your fingers through his coarse chest hair where he caresses your bare feet with his. Next Wolfe glides his warm hand over the curve of your flank, playing with the strap of your briefs whilst doing so. You, in the meantime, have moved your attention to his mane of hair where you massage his scalp. It doesn’t take long before Wolfe’s animal instinct and your vampiric lust takes over to execute a long kiss.

And that’s it for this story folks. The second instalment of Descendents of the Feral Claw is based on the ever terrifying werewolf. Hope you enjoy the looks of Wolfe and his cubby buddies...

“Werewolves, also known as lycanthropes from the Greek λυκάνθρωπος, λύκος (wolf) and άνθρωπος (human, man), are mythological or folkloric humans with the ability to shift shape into wolves or anthropomorphic wolf-like creatures, either purposely, by being bitten or scratched by another werewolf, or after being placed under a curse. This transformation is often associated with the appearance of the full moon, as popularly noted by the medieval chronicler Gervase of Tilbury, although it may have been recognized in earlier times among the ancient Greeks through the writings of Petronius.

Werewolves are often granted extra-human strength and senses, far beyond those of both wolves or men. The werewolf is generally held as a European character, although its lore spread through the world in later times. Shape-shifters, similar to werewolves, are common in tales from all over the world, most notably amongst the Native Americans, though most of them involve animal forms other than wolves.

Werewolves are a frequent subject of modern fictional books, although fictional werewolves have been attributed traits distinct from those of original folklore, most notably the vulnerability to silver bullets. Werewolves continue to endure in modern culture and fiction, with books, films and television shows cementing the werewolf's stance as a dominant figure in horror.”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Werewolf