Night Play, contines, part two...

The Outsider has had quite enough and Cathed takes over reading.

For those who haven't been following the commentary, the pre-prologue section of the book just covered the origin of two species Katagaria (animals with human hearts) and Arcadians (humans with animal hearts) both of which are very magical and live for hundreds of years. The specific definition of what "heart" means is vague at best.

His arms ached from the strain of lifting two hundred pounds of lean muscle up by nothing more than the bones of his wrists.

Everyone takes a drink for medical complications.
Azrael protests: "It's not a medical complication if he's actually being crucified..."
The Anthropologist: "Are there nails through his wrist or is he tied..."

as he hung precariously from an ancient cypress tree over some of the darkest, nastiest looking swamp water he'd ever seen.

Azrael: "It's idiotic to use a Cyprus tree. They're spindly and..."
Of Aragon: "Do Cyprus trees even grow near swamps?"

Vane goes on a bit about how terrible swamps are.
There was something seriously wrong with anyone who wanted to live out here in this swamp.

Cathed: "He's about to die and he's worrying about real estate?!"
Lady Miriam: "Is he related to Anthony [of Cupid's Melody]?"
The Outsider: "Is he related to Brad?"
Lady Miriam: "No, Brad's too cool for that."

His brother, Fang, was tied to an equally thin limb on the opposite side of the tree where they dangled eerily amid swamp gas, snakes, insects, and gators.
The exact mechanics of how this is orchestrated is discussed. The possibility of boats and pulleys are explored.

With every movement Vane made, the cord cut into the flesh of his wrists. If he didn't get them freed soon, that cord would cut all the way through his tendons and bones, and sever his hands completely.

Pillywiggin: "That's some sharp cord."
Azrael: "Sharpened cord... How do you sharpen cord?"

Katagaria were animals who could take human form and they followed one basic law of nature: kill or be killed.

Yorkshireman: "We know already!"
The Chronicler: "Perhaps some readers skip pre-prologues."
Anthropologist: "It's not really a fundamental law of nature if you're a swamp rat, for example, it's probably more like run away or be killed. Or even hide lots..."
Azrael, sometime biologist, nods in agreement.

Both of them were in human form and trapped by the thin, silver metriazo collars they wore around their necks that sent tiny ionic impulses into their bodies.

Luca, fulltime physicist, writhes in pain: "Ionic impulses?!"
Azrael, sometime chemist, sympathises.
The Pillywiggen declares that the book has hit new levels of bullshittery.

Like Fang, Vane was dressed only in a pair of bloodied jeans. His shirt had been ripped off for his beating and his boots taken just for spite.

Azrael: "Spiteful boot-theft, eh?"
Lady Miriam: "But it's traditional for the executioner to get the boots!"

Gators who were just waiting for them to fall into the swamp and provide the gators with one tasty wolf meal.

Pillywiggin: "Okay, we get it! They're a bit fucked. On with the story."

"Fury was right. You should never trust anything that bleeds for five days and doesn't die. I should have listened to you. You told me Petra was a three-wolf humping bitch, but did I listen?"

The Loinfire Club pauses to speculate how "a three-wolf humping bitch" is physically possible.
Azrael: "Is she humping all three at the same time? Or are they humping her?"
Cathed: "Well, there is one for every major hole..."
The Anthropologist: "But wolves really aren't as flexible."
The Chronicler: "And the teeth..."

Vane tried to manage a few powers even through the painful electrical shocks of the collar.

Azrael: "Oh! It's a dog-training collar! I didn't know those things worked by magic."
The Yorkshireman: "No, they work against magic..."

"I swear I'm never going to tell you to bite my ass again."
Everyone takes a sip for the dodgy comment.

Fang keeps bitching.

The Yorkshireman: "Note to self: leave brother in tree"

"Yeah, well, how was I to know Petra would run to Father and tell him you were with Sunshine and that that was why the Daimons attacked us?"
The Yorkshireman: "Does she have sisters called Lollypop, Rainbow and Unicorn?"

"They all want to mate with you, dickhead, it's the nature of our species."
The Anthropologist: "I don't think it is, you know."
The Yorkshireman: "I think it's because he has a really big car."

There is something of an action scene as Vane and Fang bitch and the branch cracks and pain is everywhere.

Vane growled in relief as the weight was mostly removed from his throbbing, bloodied wrists
Childish sniggering ensues.

Vane held his breath again, terrified of moving lest he cause the branch to snap in two and send him plummeting into the putrid, green swamp water below.
The Yorkshireman: "We know it's putrid!"
The Chronicler ponders why the state of the swamp water merits more description than the pain of having one's hands torn off by cord.

But since Talon was off in the French Quarter saving the world and not in the swamp tonight that seemed highly unlikely.
The room explodes into a loud "What?!"
The Anthropologist: "That's the story we'd rather hear."

The other, far less appealing option was Daimons those who were the walking dead, damned to kill in order to sustain their artificially prolonged lives.
The Anthropologist: "As if demons are ever the attractive option."
Lady Miriam: "I think she means zombies, somehow."
The Chronicler speculates that the author is just randomly picking words out of her book of Greek mythology and assigning new and completely unrelated meanings to them.

Even more impressive, once a Were-Hunter's soul was claimed, his or her magical abilities were absorbed into the Daimons' bodies where they could use those powers against others.
It was a special gift to be a "nubby" treat for the undead.
The Anthropologist: "That's a broken system."

"Damn you!" Vane snarled out into the darkness, knowing his father couldn't hear him. But he needed to vent anyway.
The Outsider: "Like a 14yr old girl on livejournal!"
Cathed: "OMG I'm totally unfriending you, dad!"

The Daimon laughed.
Cathed: "Zombies have a sense of humour."

Something leaped up from the swamp into the tree above him.
The Yorkshire: "And can jump."
Azrael: "Ninja zombies!"

He didn't know how to fight them in human form without his magical powers, which he couldn't use so long as Fang wore his collar.
The Loinfire Club give an exasperated shout of "We know!" and feel insulted that the author should feel that we'd be so drunk as to not remember about the magic-inhibiting collars.

The limb broke instantly, sending him straight into the stagnant water below.
Vane held his breath as the putrid, slimy taste of it invaded his head.
Cathed: "Oh no, his shirt!"
The Outsider: "Oh no, his jeans!"
Cathed: "You can totally get blood out with the right detergent... but swamp water, on the other hand stains like nothing else."

Vane kicked her legs out from under her before she could grab him. He used her bobbing body as a springboard to get out of the water.

The Yorkshireman: "What?! Physics!"
Luca is on the verge of curling up and crying.
Pillywiggin: "Wikipedia says no!"
Arzael: "Well, obviously he took two levels in synchronised swimming!"

His dark wet hair hung in his face while his body throbbed from the fight and from the beating his pack had given him. Moonlight glinted off his wet, muscled body as he crouched with one hand on the old wooden knee that was silhouetted against the backdrop of the swamp.
Azrael: "This is while he's covered in putrid swamp water."
The Chronicler could but point out that books have no sense of smell.
Cathed: "Sexy swamp water."

Dark Spanish moss hung from the trees as the full moon, draped in clouds, reflected eerily in the black velvet waves of the water.

Azrael: "Whilst pausing to contemplate the scenery..."
The Chronicler is intrigued how the putrid swamp water that he has rather recently been intimately acquainted has transformed into "Dark velvet" for the purposes of the shirtless scene.

The Yorkshireman: "Well all the crap's on him, so the water is clean."
Azrael: "Or the water was clear all along, but he didn't notice whilst on the tree, since it's very far away and he's short sighted or something."
Cathed: "I can make curtains out of it?"
The Outsider: "Curtains of darkness!"
Cathed: "Like my soul!"

Lifting his hands to his mouth, Vane used his teeth to bite through the cord around his wrists and free his hands.
The Anthropologist: "But it's sharpened cord? Isn't it going to cut his lips first?"

He dove deep into the murky depths until he could break a piece of wood from a fallen tree that was buried there.
The Outsider: "Soggy wood doesn't just crack!"
The Yorkshireman: "But Cyprus trees might."

He kicked one back, seized another by the neck and plunged his makeshift stake into the Daimon's heart. The creature disintegrated immediately.
Cathed: "So, they're vampires now..."
The Anthropologist: "It's handy body disposal, though. We can't have our hero sitting on a pile of corpses at the end of the day."

Used to fighting humans, the Daimon didn't take into account that Vane was physically able to leap ten times as far.

The Yorkshireman declares the physics engine officially broken.
Azrael: "Obviously those experiments Lycaon did also involved fleas. The dragons were there for magnitude. The wolves were there for coolness..."
Luca: "The wolves he used had fleas."

Vane didn't need his psychic powers.
Cathed: "He has psychic powers too."
Azrael: "Not just any psychic powers, ion-based psychic powers."

Calmness was the only way to win a fight.
Pillywiggin: "That and violence."

Unsurprisingly, Vane wins the fight, hands down with all his Uber Were-Hunter powers and Animal strength. The Chronicler wonders how he could have imagined himself loosing in the first place. However, Fang, Vane's brother, is heavily injured.

Inhuman and baleful, it was the kind of sound that would send even the voodoo mavens scurrying for cover.

The Anthropologist: "WHAT?!"
The Yorkshireman: "She's mixing her mythologies again."

Over and over in his mind, he saw his sister's lifeless body. Felt her coldness against his skin. He couldn't lose them both. He couldn't.
The Yorkshireman: "Incest necrophilia!"

Images flashed through his mind as he remembered his sister's death just the day before at the hands of the Daimons. Unimaginable pain tore through him.
Lady Miriam: "She meant unimaginative..."

Fang's eyes were open, staring unseeingly up at the full moon, which would have allowed them to time-jump out of this swamp had they not both been wearing the collars.
The Yorkshireman: "Whatever that is..."
Cathed: "She means teleport."
Pillywiggen: "We have a section for 'tarded flangepowers."

Shallow and raspy, the hollow sound of Fang's breaths was a symphony to Vane's ears.
Cathed: "Thought we left that all in Cupid's Melody"

With his rage unleashed, he did the impossible, he tore Fang's collar from his throat with his bare hands.
Pillywiggin: "More flangepowers!"

Vane swallowed the painful lump in his throat and fought the tears that stung his eyes.
Azrael: "Maybe he swallowed his own larynx. That would be amusing."

On that note, the prologue ends.

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