These days you can't even trust demons to arrive on time... It was a few minutes after 8 PM in the middle of summer. Alkon was sitting on a bench before a grand-looking fountain of some old wizard holding a gnarled staff, the water spewing from the top of the staff. It was the centerpiece of the town's little park, full of grass with only dirt for a sidewalk. The bench was a plain wood-and-nails job, and the man on it was a very impatient werewolf. The moon that night was an early waxing crescent, and so very little of his heritage was showing at the moment: only his perpetually yellow eyes, and sizable ears covered in a light blue and white, speckled pattern of fur. His arms were crossed and he was glaring straight ahead as if he expected that statue to burst into flames if he watched it long enough, despite being thoroughly drenched in the fountain's water. He was wearing simple denim jeans and a sleeveless white shirt, both hanging somewhat loosely on his frame. It had been a good half-century since the decentralization, a somewhat spontaneous, people-driven event that had vacated most major cities and ended up with most of the world's population in small, isolated towns...it was a long story, and to people like Alkon, history he didn't need to worry too much about. The point was that there were threats to a town, and he held a tax-funded position that consisted of taking care of those threats. He'd already made his regular rounds for nine hours that day, checking for all the usual dangers, so technically he was working overtime. He hated working overtime, and knew exactly who to blame if this turned out to be pointless. The town seer had foreseen an attack by some of the more mindless, disorganized demons. It was a common, unpredictable and random thing for portals to the underworld to open up and dump a few out, and usually something to react to rather than attempt to preempt. If he could stop some people from getting hurt and property from going missing, that was fine, but it was already a good thirty minutes after the seer's estimate of when they would arrive. Alkon was beginning to suspect that she was wrong about what day it would be, or about it being their town that would be hit. Actually, the exact words he was thinking was that the old lady was full of smoke and had lost her touch. Waiting for an attack was desperately boring, and taking along something to do was practically a surefire way to see it destroyed within a few minutes, especially with Alkon's luck. He found himself wishing someone else had volunteered for this job, either so he wouldn't have to be here right now or so he could have someone to talk to.