Wilderlands Network

Ace looks into the magic mirror that has been the locus of so much... interesting... as people are getting their bearings.

Things are kind of taking a nasty turn, though, and if he has to live with these people he would like LIVING to remain the default.

I mean, it isn't like he doesn't empathize. He's been ready to kill things like vampires on site most of his life. Here, though? They just don't know enough yet. The vampire he met was just some skater kid and that demon sounds more like "SHAAARON!" Ozzy than bat's head Ozzy.

Ace has always been a "bull by the horns" kind of guy and that has only increased the more fucked up shit he has been forced to deal with. Getting people to face uncomfortable truths is practically a career at this point.

"Cough Cough... Is this thing on!" Ace says with a charming grin just shy of shit-eating. He doesn't pause for an answer.

"I'm Ace! In light of recent events I thought I'd better pop on and introduce myself.

My full name is Baron George Vladimir Adolphus Wolf-Manfred von Richtofer, Buries the Hatchet, Elder Ahroun of the Silver Fangs.

I'm a Werewolf!

Now I get it. That's a lot to hate. A supernatural rage-beast, and even worse a snooty European twat! You could hardly have been blamed for wanting to come stab me with your silver knives even before I just made that terrible Eagles reference.

So I urge you, if that is the case, please, come get it out of your system so we can hug it out and move on. We're all lost in the woods here and we need everyone we can get. Or who knows, maybe you'll even get in a lucky hit and save the world from any more of my terrible jokes."