Owner	Pose
Liam Traynor	New York City was a fricken nightmare. So much noise, too many angry people, and the cars, why were there to many cars?! Finding a cap from the airport had required him to step into traffic, but guiding the cap driver via magical sensations had been a major bitch. Eventually Liam ended up outside a bar, not exactly what he had been expecting, but really he had no major preconceived notions of the man who was his soul purpose in life. In the end it didn't matter if the guy was a complete invalid, the Fates determined now was the time. With a hiking back pack over his shoulder, he entered the Raven's Nest. The magical wards made his skin tingle due to the tattoos of magic embedded in it. He glanced around the room once, but he already knew where Corben was. Walking to the bat, he set the backpack down against the wood, claimed a stool and just sat there looking at Corben.
Corben Kelly	Looking at Corben, who's mostly hidden in the shadows. It's odd that the bar would be closed and quiet on a Friday night, although it is coming up on two in the morning, maybe things just weren't busy and he closed the doors early? Perhaps too intent on finding his charge, Liam missed - at first - the 'elephant' in the room? Missed - for a fateful second - the stench of the 'unalive' coming from the shadows that Corben's cloaked in. It's unlikely Liam missed it all for long. But just long enough for Corben to yell, "Run! Get out of here!" Right before it becomes clear that some is now trying to drag him toward the backdoor of the bar - the one leading outside, not to his little workshop or up to his apartment. He's struggling, but the two men that have a hold on him have him way outmatched physically. "Be careful," one of the two hisses at the other. "Harlow wants him alive." Vampires. With the way he's struggling against them, he's no invalid. Maybe a little insane, but no invalid. As they inch him closer to that exit, he calls out again, "Go on, get out of here, we're fucking closed!"
Liam Traynor	Sniff, sniff, growl. The change from man to werewolf is seemless, but not soundless. Bones popping, skin stretching, it's an unmistakable sound that once someone has heard, can never unhear. "Now I know why it was tonight," he growled with anger, canines almost sparkling in the dim light. There was an Irish brough to his speech, even in his monster form. Stepping away the bar, nearly hitting his head on a hanging lamp he adds, "This man is my ward, you're going to die now." One step, one leap, and he was on top of the vampires like white on rice. Dark claws ripping through clothing, flesh, muscle and bone. Even in the rampage of murder, he is careful not to hit Corben.
Corben Kelly	Some people just think the words 'what the fuck'. It's usually a feeling rather than an outright and blatant, "What the /fuck/," like Corben spits out. He scrambles back away from the madness and finally manages to get a hand, that was being pointedly kept away from those pockets, into one. Almost as quickly as Liam shifted, he's crushing a little vial in his hand while - while adding to his early 'What the fuck', "Let there be light, motherfuckers!" A bright orange-white glow forms in the palm of his hand when he opens it. The magic, it's in the bottle - the intent is in his words, no matter how ridiculous. The light grows and then it grows more and a little more until it's a basketball sized glowing ball of sunlight. Corben hesitates a moment. Wolf - good guy or something else that wants to eat him? Seems like a good dude, maybe. But certainly a werewolf can handle a little bright light? He lobs that ball of 'sunlight' up in the air and it bursts into something so bright that it lights up the entire bar, driving away every shadow. ...and frying to ash anything that might still be left squirming. When it's over and his bar is splattered with vampire bits and ash, there's no 'thank you', just, "Who the fuck are you?"
Liam Traynor	Liam had never actually killed a vampire before, or anyone for that matter, but it didn't seem to phase him, at least not yet. A soft growl escapes followed by a resounding snort as the vampires turn to ash, then he turns his massive frame to look at Corben. Offering a simple nod of his gigantic head, his body melts in on itself and returns to the Irish man who entered the bar. "I am Liam Threinfhir," he says in perfect French, no accent. Fishing into his jacket pocket he removes a small item that he offers to Corben. Carved out of bone and looking several thousand years old, the emblem of the Cumhnant na Beatha. "I'm here to protect you."
Corben Kelly	Corben looks from Liam to the emblem, back up to Liam and then around the bar. "Wait, is this one of those hidden camera TV show things?" he asks in return, is French also perfect - obviously. "Did my mom send you to fuck with me?" he adds. Because for real, someone didn't actually send him a ... a what? Guardian, /babysitter/? From a place somewhere behind the bar a little voice pipes up, "Did the vampires eat you Corbs? It doesn't sound like they ate you. Can I come out now?" Kibs, the little demon sprog doesn't wait for an answer before it comes slugging its way up to the bar top proper. Corben takes a step closer to Liam and then another. There's a split at the top of his left cheekbone, blood dripping slowly from it and another in his upper lip. When he turns to pick up a glass and spit into it, the result is tinged with blood. Seems maybe they worked him over a little before Liam showed up. "I mean, thanks for the save and all? I had it covered. I really don't remember ordering a tall, red-headed werewolf though?" What's the return policy on one of those anyway? "So, yeah, I'm sure there's probably someone else out there that needs protecting? A princess - or prince, whatever. Or maybe a droid that holds a message from a princess?"
Liam Traynor	Reaching up with his right hand, the tattoo on his back, hidden by his shirt, swirls to life as he touches the Corben's face very lightly and heals the wounds. "Nay, no hidden cameras or televisions here," he replies in English, thick Irish brough back. "I have never met your mother, but I did once speak to her on the phone. Mrs. Kelly is an amazing woman, and quite powerful, but she is not the reason I am here." He turns his head slowly and one brow lifts as the slug-think comes out from under the bar, but he doesn't say anything about it. Clearly it's supposed to be there or it wouldn't know Corben's name. "I am here because the Cumhnant na Beatha requires me to be. You have a purpose, and it is my duty to ensure you live to fulfill that purpose." Okay, he can't not ask, "What is that adorable little demon thing?"
Corben Kelly	Okay, that was a cool trick. Corben reaches up to rub his jaw before he works it this way and that, no, not aching like a bitch anymore. "Ahhhh, Jesus Christ - that fucking stone," he complains once he's put two and two together. "Really? That's why you're here?" Corben has about half a mind to march upstairs, get it, toss it at Liam and tell him he has a new duty and purpose. He might still do that. A glance over his shoulder at Kibs and then back to Liam. How exactly does one explain Kibs? They don't, not unless a person has all night to listen to it. "...uh, just something that followed me home." ... because it honed in on the curse from a shiny bracelet he stole while investigating gluttony demons. Kib'kir unceremoniously barfs up a sock. "Did you find the other one yet? I was keeping this one safe for you, Corbs." It inches closer to Liam, that one big eye going wider still. "He has terrible ideas," it informs the werewolf. "So maybe needs protector?"
Liam Traynor	That fucking stone. Those words make Liam blink once and the left side of his face twitches. Unlike Corben, he has spent his entire life learning about the balance between the Cumhnant na Beatha and the Cumhnant a' Bhais. Learning how that balance was failing and that this man, Corben Kelly, was the only person on the planet who could restore the balance. The fucking stone. That's how he felt about his purpose? How was that even possible? It was then that it occurred to Liam that Corben hadn't been born to the purpose, it was thrown at him... and now he knew what Corben really thought about it. "How you deal with the situation is your choice, obviously," Liam finally says. "My purpose is to keep you alive to do it." Looking back to the slug he just nods, resisting the urge to scoop it up and pet it. "He does require a protector, that much is evident by my birth. I wouldn't exist if not for that reason, as for his ideas..." Liam looks back to Corben. "It is my experience, short though it may be, that many terrible ideas end up causing more harm than good, but when things do work out, it's worth celebrating. Now, if you have terrible ideas, you have someone to keep them from killing you."
Corben Kelly	Corben's also been adrift when it comes to most of his 'destiny'. Sure, he knows about the stones, about the covens about what he's supposed to do. It's the /how/ of it that he's been left in the dark about. He has no idea how to find the other stone, so he just waits - day after day - for them to come for his. "Kibs is exaggerating. He does that. He doesn't always unders..." "But what about that time that we wound up in Egypt because..." ... "Shuddup, Kibs." .... "Or that time that you..." ... "Seriously Kibs, not the time." ... "But there was that one time when you..." "Not. Now. Kibs." The little demon sprog finally gives up on trying to finish a sentence. "So, what you're saying is that the /only/ reason you exist is to make sure that I don't die before I manage to trap thirteen bitchy witches into a rock?" "I think Corbs not dead is a good idea, not a terrible one. I know the difference," Kibs offers all rapid fire so Corben can't interrupt him.
Liam Traynor	Liam was about to say something when the back and forth began between Corben and Kibs. He actually turned his head back and forth as each spoke, doing his best not to start laughing at this interaction between the single most adorable creature he'd seen in his life, and the man that was his ward. In the end his attention goes back to Corben. "My mother is Cadhla, the incarnation of the Ardsagart of the Cumhnant na Beatha," he explains. "Twenty four years ago, she had a vision. In this vision you died." He was clearly pulling no punches here and going with blunt truth. "She had no idea who you were at that time, you weren't even born yet, but she knew there was something that could and had to be done. So yes, I was born to ensure you live." He turns to look back at Kibs. "I wholeheartedly agree with you, Corbs not dead is a very good idea." And finally, no longer able to resist, he reaches out and pets Kibs.
Corben Kelly	At first Kib'Kir flattens itself down as if avoiding the pettings. Probably because its a little cat sized demon-bat slug and Liam's a big giant werewolf that could swallow it whole. But when there's no where left to go but through the bar top - something it can't do - Kibs finally allows the petting and eventually pushes back against Liam's hand like an actual cat might do. "Fuck, fuck fuck..." Corben mutters. "He's cranky when he's tired," Kibs so helpfully explains in what's meant to be a whisper, but really isn't. "You're right, I am fucking /tired/." Coming home to vampires waiting on you after banishing a ... fart demon by breaking the curse on its whoopie cushion? It's a little tiresome. But so is being a 23 year old 'kid' with a destiny bigger than he can even imagine, tied to a fate that's too enormous to think about and having that /confirmed/ by the appearance of a werewolf stating he was born just so that gigantic, mammoth destiny can get fulfilled. ...and just like that, he suddenly looks about as small and vulnerable as he feels. "I'm going to bed. Left side's mine unless you'd rather sleep on the floor." Corben looks up at the ceiling and then back down at his boots and mumbles, "Terrible fucking idea." So that's where the little demonling gets it? "Sleep is not a terrible idea though," Kibs whisperfails. "Having someone to eat bacon with in the morning isn't a terrible idea either." That's the little thing's ringing endorsement for Liam staying. So Corben doesn't have to eat bacon alone in the mornings - or at least has someone that's not a demon-slug-bat to eat it with.
Liam Traynor	Taking a step to pick up his pack, Liam moves back and picks Kibs up so he can continue to pet him. "I get this is a big thing Corben," he says, even as he pets Kibs like Dr. Evil pets his cat. "But look at it this way... now you don't have to face it alone." He lifts his shoulders in a slight shrug, ready to follow Corben upstairs. "Right side is fine, and Kibs is right... no one should eat bacon alone, ever."