[CLOSED] Straining the barriers

Querrain, his werepuppy body now full-grown again, was straining the barriers of the prison he existed in.

"Come on..." he snarled.

Shax appeared, sitting on the curb.
"Need some help, Whuf?"

Querrain and the werewolf suddenly looked up at him.
"Shax.." he hissed.
He and the wolf suddenly did a sickening smile.
"Haven't seen you in years, brother.. Nor have I heard the name our father gave me."

Shax shook his head, a harsh but seemingly friendly laugh coming out.
"Hmm... I'm guessing our friendly Lady friend done and did this?"

Querrain and the wolf suddenly nodded.
"Yeah... her brother, anyways. What's happening downstairs? And more to the point, will you get me OUT of here?"

Shax rolled his eyes.
"Nothing TOO big going on... Well, duh, Daddy's been wondering where his little star's been for the past 700 years..." He sat up a bit as the were-demon snarled slightly at him.
"And, I should think that Fath will be REAL snarlin' to hear from you again... You know, a postcard?"

Querrain made the wolf snarl a bit louder.
Shax was lower in the regimen than he was, and even in a wolf body he could STILL kick Shax's sulfuric ass.

Shax scooted back a bit.
"Yes, yes, YES, I'll get you out. Now hold still."
Shax, at the moment possessing someone, reached out with his demon self and grabbed Whuf by the shoulder and yanked hard.

The werewolf howled and screeched (it's a werewolf, it can do that) in pain as Querrain was physically pulled through the pores of his body.

After what seemed like eternity of agony (which Querrain knew would one day come), he fell to the ground, the wolf slumping down behind him.
He looked at his hands in wonder, marveling at the fact that he was whole again.

Shax smirked at this, but he was amazed as well.
Once upon a VERY long time ago, there was a man born without a soul.
That body was reserved for Whuf.
He was the only demon EVER to actually OWN a body.
"Yeah..." He whipped off his possessee's large coat and put it on the in-da-nude demon.
"You feeling alright?"

Querrain nodded, laughing shakily.
"It'll (cough) be a.. little while before I'm (cough) like I was..."
He stood up, grabbing Shax's offered hand.
"Where're my clothes?"

Shax nodded.
"Yeah." he grabbed a big duffle bag that had been sitting on a bench.
"Here." he passed the bag to Whuf.

Querrain, ever being the man who knows no shame, got dressed in the middle of the (empty) sidewalk.
His end garb was a gray tee, jeans, boots and a jacket.
He stood a bit taller (even though he's an even six foot).
"Ah... By the 9th Circle, I HATE the name the damned demi-god made me take.."
He shuddered.
"Querrain.. Well, NO more. Regardless of the times, I still take claim of the name our father gave me."
He looked at Shax, then said quietly.
"I am Whuf."

Shax fell to his knees, bowing his head.
"And I am but your servant," he vowed.

Whuf, a strange light in his brown eyes, said nothing, merely setting a hand on the possessed human's head.
After a few moments he said, "Rise." He looked at the fallen werewolf. "Dispose of, that, that, THING. I will call you when I have need of you."
He spun on heel and began to walk away.

Shax rose to his feet, happy that he had chosen such a fit vessel.
"What shall I say to our master?" he called.

Whuf paused a moment, then smiled, a frightening thing.
"Tell him... It's EVEN now."
With that said, he disappeared, the wind dissolving him to nothing.

Shax nodded. That was enough.
He smirked as he turned to the werewolf. It had just recently turned back into a man for the first time for 7 centuries.
"Ahh.. This should get interesting.."
He and the man vanished suddenly. A faint, fading scream was all that remained.