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Wauten Dayhil

Demon Hunter and Wordplay Extraordinaire
This will be a thread in which I occasionally... or rarely... or maybe never again post stories I write that center around my totally-original character known as "Wauten Dayhil" - Demon Hunter and Wordplay Extraordinaire.

I've already made use of him in a RP or two, but his intended story takes place in our own world - modern "Ee-Arth". But with a twist! He hunts demons and supernatural creatures because... otherwise he'd have no reason to exist, now would he?

If I do continue to write and post stories about him, they will not follow a set storyline. They'll be more of a collection of stories in which he goes on (mis)adventures, either alone or with his not-too-trusty sidekick, and they'll be full of references. Either to other (potential) stories, or outside sources (this first story will contain such sources, albeit in about a single sentence). And, if all goes according to the plan I have yet to create, it'll turn into a huge mass of stories that allow the reader to determine just who Wauten Dayhil is, and make up the rest as they see fit.

Basically, I'm gonna have fun and you guys can just deal with it.
 

Wauten Dayhil

Demon Hunter and Wordplay Extraordinaire
Wauten Dayhil, the world's first and - unfortunately - only defense against the terrors of demonic power, slowly opened his eyes as the blindingly bright light began to fade from behind his eye lids. He blinked several times as he tried to get his bearings, but could see nothing. All about him was an empty void, colorless and full of the unknown.

"Well," he said aloud, "this is boring." He spat to the side in disgust, and was surprised by the sound of it hitting cloth, which prompted a voice to respond.

"f***f's sake, Dayhil," the voice complained, "I just got this thing cleaned since our encounter with that Chimera last Thursday."

"Ehehehe..." the Demon Hunter laughed sheepishly, "whoops."

"So where the hell are we, anyways?" the voice asked, followed by the sound of robes shuffling around in the dark.

"Funny you should say that," a different voice boomed from the void. It sounded as if the voice had come from all directions at once, reverberating through the Hunter's body like a speaker's bass, "because you're in Hell."

As that last word rang out, the sound of beating drums picked up. First slow and rhythmic, they thumped and thumped for a moment before the tempo started to increase. Faster and faster and faster, the beat quickly lost its rhythm and became a frantic hammering of thumps and umphs. It turned into a chaotic thundering that reached a massive, ear-splitting crescendo that abruptly stopped as a flash of white light pierced the entire space.

Dayhil attempted to shield his eyes from the glare, raising a hand to cover his face, but it did no good. The light may as well have been emanating directly from Dayhil, for all it did. Even squeezing his eyes shut did nothing to stop the onslaught of piercing light. Finally, though, the lightbulb-infused agony subsided, and the Hunter could bear to look around.

Beside him, cloaked in black robes and blacker shadow, stood his companion whom he'd accidentally spat on, looking entirely unfazed by the light from a moment ago. The... "man" was a former Soul Reaper, an elite among his kind. But he'd been forced into a contract, working for the Demon Hunter he stood beside, after Dayhil had endangered and then accidentally saved his life. He had even - much to the dismay of himself and his kin - been subjected to the ritual known only as "nicknaming" by the arguably insane Hunter. Worse yet, the "nickname" stuck, and the once-proud Soul Reaper was reduced to.... "Shnigmi".

"f***f your puns," Shnigmi lamented quietly.

"Hmm?" Dayhil replied, the picture of innocence.

"You heard me," the Reaper growled back.

"Now, now," the voice boomed again, "that's enough banter between the two of you, for now."

The duo looked about, surveying the newly-lit area. The stood in the center of a black dais, while above and all around them was a sky-like cavern ceiling of the purest Baby Blue. Dayhil walked out from the center of the dais, which was only about forty feet in diameter, and looked down. As he did so, a low whistle escaped his lips, as he studied what should have been the cavern's floor. But rather than have a bottom, the cavern was filled with fog, as far as the eye could see. And scattered throughout the fog were hundreds, thousands, even millions of what appeared to be small planets. Skyscrapers shared real-estate with simple wooden huts. Glaciers ground their edges against hot desert sands and rolling grassland. Medieval castles fought with futuristic Utopian cities for dominance. And, inhabiting all of the multitudes of homes, were all manner of creature. Demons, humans, aliens, the natural enemies of aliens, strange men in blue Police Boxes, hive-mind entities screaming about the futility of resistance, whilst cocky captains resisted and somehow achieved victory... Even white-robed, winged seraphs flitted about. Never before had the Demon Hunter witnessed such a gathering of people and cultures.

"Holy plops," he murmured, "they'd better have some smoking hot strippers, or I'll be disappointed."

Dayhil was shaken from his awe when he heard the clacking of high heels on hard flooring. It echoed all around him, as if it were from some other dimension that shared almost the same space as his own. Shnigmi drifted over from the dais' center, producing a revolver from his robes. Dayhil, too, retrieved his favored weapon. A crossbow, ornately decorated with the silver faces of the Demons he'd slain, appeared in his hand as if called by magic. It was already loaded, tip glistening in the light in such a wicked way that it almost seemed sentient.

"Is that any way to treat your host?" the voice boomed again, closer now, and losing its PA System effect.

"Only in Hell," Shnigmi replied.

The clacking of heels grew louder and louder, until it sounded as if whoever was walking could have been stepping through Dayhil's skull. And then it didn't. It stopped altogether.

Dayhil was just about to look around when a dot of white light exploded out from thin air. It grew from the size of a pinhead to a baseball, to a beach ball, to a monster truck's tire, and then - like the clacking - stopped abruptly. Slowly, the circle's surroundings began to blur and warp as the two-dimensional circle stretched out into a perfect, white sphere. The growth from pinhead to truck wheel took all of six seconds to occur, but then in less than the blink of an eye, the bubble shattered into glistening specks of rainbow light.

In the sphere's place stood a beautiful figure, stark naked. Both a man and a woman, and somehow neither, the figure was undeniably alluring in an ethereal fashion. Smooth, unblemished skin from head to toe, with no hair to speak of. Its chest was adorned with supple breasts that hung while still retaining a certain perkiness. Their arms, legs, and stomach were all wonderfully toned without seeming too thin or too muscular.

Finally, Dayhil's eyes came to rest on the figure's nether regions, and his eyes widened dramatically. He stared for a moment, and then dropped a hand to his own crotch, checking what he felt and comparing it to what he saw.

"Well f***f," Dayhil cursed under his breath, returning his hand to his crossbow.

"What?" Shnigmi questioned, eyes never leaving the figure, ever wary.

"N-Nothing," Dayhil hastily replied. "A-Anyway," he addressed the figure, "who're you?"

"That's a Devil, you idiot," Shnigmi spat out.

Dayhil's mouth dropped open, shock etched upon every inch of his face. The Devil smirked, and opened its mouth to speak, but Dayhil cut off its next words with his own.

"Shnigmi!" Dayhil cried out, turning to look directly at the Reaper. "Did you just assume its gender?!"
 
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Wauten Dayhil

Demon Hunter and Wordplay Extraordinaire
"Did you really think you could slay me?" The creature laughed, a sound akin to a hiss and a gurgle at the same time.

"W-Well... uh, yeah," said a voice, whose owner strode into the room a heartbeat later, "kinda why I came."

A woman, appearing to be in her early twenties, emerged into the weak moonlight streaming through a hole in the factory's roof. Her green eyes seemed to have an ethereal glow that contrasted with her light brown skin and black leather armor, covering her upper torso and thighs, but not much else. "Why is my stomach completely exposed?" she remembered asking. "Because that's how women's armor works. More skin means more protection." she'd been told. It still made no sense, but she couldn't dwell on it now. Shaking her head, she tightened her grip on her shotgun, and focused her aim once more.

One hit, the heart or the head, and it's done, she thought to herself, ignoring the sweat rolling down her cheek.

The creature, a simple silhouette in the dark room, rose from its crouch and stretched. Four feet... seven feet... twelve feet... larger, larger, until its head cracked against the ceiling, causing pebbles to fall from the opening. Several hits, the heart or the head, and it's done, she corrected herself, feeling a bit sick as sweat began to pour down her face. With a swoosh, its left arm shot up and smashed above its head, opening another hole in the ceiling. Its other arm joined the first, and opened the hole even more. Left, right, left, right, its arms crashed against the ceiling, until there was just one opening. Rocks and debris rained down on the woman, but no more than a few pebbles actually struck her. She squinted against the rising dust, and forced herself to open her eyes to see the creature she'd come to hunt.

Through the dust and smoke, moonlight shone down through the factory's impromptu skylight, illuminating most of her surroundings. And bathed in that light, just ahead of her, was a hulking behemoth. Its skin was a pinkish grey, mottled and pock-marked, and looked ready to split open from the sheer amount of muscle wrapped up inside of it. Twisted, brown tusks pushed out from its lower jaw, jagged and wicked, and out of place on the creature's elongated bat-like head. Its entire body rippled with each motion, from its neck to its fingers, as its thick muscle-bound body moved about. Everything about this monstrosity felt wrong, and the woman's brain screamed at her to run from this demented cretin.

Just unload all of my ammo, and maybe I'll survive, she thought desperately, eyes tearing up - whether from dust or fear, she couldn't say.

"Brutal," it rumbled, "deadly... monster... savage -"

"As f***f," Wauten Dayhil said in reflex, though he hadn't heard a word from where he sat. He gasped in delight as he apparently came to a fantastic realization. "Someone must've said the magic wooo~ooord," he sang to the night sky, grinning.

"I have been called all of these and more. And yet... a soft, unblooded child such as yourself believes she can kill me?" The demon roared with laughter, its putrid breath rolling over the woman before it, "You shouldn't hope to even scratch me, girl," it taunted, falling forward to land on all fours. Its soft, pig-like nose was mere inches from the woman's face, and the demon exhaled directly onto her, goading her.

From so close, the demon's bulky frame became even more imposing, and the woman fought hard to keep herself from pissing. Its body took up all but her peripheral vision, and her eyesight began to blur and darken as her mind attempted to flee from what it vehemently denied to believe was reality. Her knees buckled for a moment, but the woman slammed a small knife into her thigh, forcing her mind and body to snap back under control, adrenaline rushing through her system once more. She slid back a step, and raised her shotgun to the demon's nose, barrel pressing into its left nostril.

"Announce yourself!" she'd been instructed, "Or you'll never make a name for yourself. And if you don't do that, you'll never be feared. Or announced. The latter being far more terrifying." She lifted her chin, and a grim determination masked her face as she hardened her gaze and stared into the demon's white-washed eyes. Its eyebrows perked up, intrigued by the woman's sudden change in demeanor.

"My name is Oonim Partend," she stated coldly, "Demon Hunter Apprentice. And I'm here to send you back to Hell."

The demon burst out laughing, and its claws raked against the cracked concrete as its body convulsed in mirth. The woman's face lost its hard look as confusion overcame her, and she blinked at the demon's response. She shook her head, and shoved the shotgun into the demon's laughing face, "What?" she demanded. "Oh... oh oh oh," it said, opening its eyes to stare her down, "you were never meant to live very long, were you?" Oonim snarled at the demon's insult, and pulled the trigger. The demon laughed again, as the weapon spewed confetti in its face.

"I told you," was all it said before one clawed hand speared her well-exposed stomach, lifting her clear off the ground. The Apprentice vomited blood as she watched her innards slip out of her body, draping the demon's hand in curtains of gore, as she was lifted to the sky while her murderer stood to its full height. The last thing she saw was the demon's face twisted in Hell-fueled mirth as it pulled her body to its jaws.

Outside the broken-down factory, resting atop a rusted truck, was Wauten Dayhil, the Apprentice's teacher and one-time sushi chef. He picked up the joke shotgun he was going to use to celebrate his Apprentice's victory, and gazed at it lovingly. A creation of his own, it was one of his greatest achievements.

"Might as well make sure it's still working," he said, aiming at the ground. He pulled the trigger and the shotgun spewed death at the dirt, surprising him. "Ooooh.... I gave her the wrong one," he said.

He tsked, "Hate it when that happens."
 
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