Character Poll: Crowned Wolf

[Velox]

Vote here for your favorite Character Story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on June 10th at 3:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to the Character Story Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 12th round preliminary poll.

• [*]The Wolf Crowned Alan sat by the inn's fire, his hat over his eyes. Three men approached him. "Your pardon, sir," the leader said to him. "Are you Doctor Alan?" "I am," he said, standing quickly. "Have you need of me?" The other paused. "Yes," he said finally. "But not in the way you think." Alan looked curiously at him. "Would you show us your right shoulder, Doctor?" "Of course," Alan replied. He rolled up his sleeve. Tattooed on his shoulder was the image of a great gray wolf. "As you probably know," he said, "I am Alan of the Wolf, eldest son of Peter of that name. Distant relative of the Wolf Crowned of Arkanor. Are you from my home, by chance?" "We are," the other man responded. He, in his turn, rolled up his sleeve. He bore an image of a falcon, with a golden ring around it. Alan's eyes widened. He bowed. "Nay, Doctor!" the man said hastily. "Do not bow to me. "I should, perhaps, have announced myself earlier. My name is Henry, knight of the King's Court. I am also, as you see, head of the House of the Falcon, Hereditary Stewards to the Wolf Crowned. "But your age, Doctor. Are you over thirty-five?" Alan frowned, nonplussed. "I am," he answered slowly. "Following my coming of age, at twenty-one, I practiced my chosen trade for seven years at home, and seven abroad, as is the custom. I am now thirty-seven - but surely the Crown's Steward has not come to me because I am two years late in coming home!" Henry the Steward shook his head with a sad smile. "We have come for something far more important, Sire." Before Alan's astonished gaze, he dropped on one knee before him, grasping his hand. "I hereby pledge my loyalty to thee, Alan, rightful King of Arkanor. My life and my sword are thine." Alan withdrew his hand in horror. "Are you mad, man?" he cried. "I am a doctor, not a king! What of the Wolf Crowned, Ralph? What of his sons?" Henry looked up. His face was twisted with grief. "King Ralph and all his house, save you, Sire, are dead." Alan's heart seemed to stop. "What? How came this? When?" "Three months ago," Henry told him, "the Snakes -curse them! - rose up against the Crown. Ralph had grown old, and the Crown was weakened. By treachery they murdered him and every Wolf in Arkanor - including, I sorrow to tell you, your father. "I, with these two knights - Robert, of the Boar, and Lawrence, of the Leopard - escaped, and discovered that you are the nearest kin to the Wolf Crowned. As such, and having reached the age of succession two years ago...you are the Wolf Crowned, now. "I beg you, Sire, take up the Crown. The Snakes have murdered thy family, and now oppress thy land. Thou art the only one who can bring back hope to thy people." He looked pleadingly up at Alan. Alan was silent, bewildered and frightened by this sudden news. He was a doctor, as he had said. He came of an insignificant family. He had never expected or wanted to rule. But then other emotions came, stronger than fear - grief at the death of his father, and of his overlord; anger at the murderers; and, unexpectedly, compassion for his suffering people. His people... He bowed his head. "I shall, my Steward, and my most loyal knights." That night his shoulder throbbed, as he lay in bed. There had been added to Alan's Wolf a large, golden Crown. -------[*]The Oncologist “Doctor Livingstone, I presume?”[/font] “You presume correctly, Mr.” the doctor checked his charts, “Wagner. And I’m assuming that you think you have cancer?”[/font] “Yes. It feels like something is bulging against my stomach. Can you help me?”[/font] “Of course I can, but it may take awhile,” the doctor looked at his watch, revealing part of a crown-esque tattoo. “It’s 2:45 sir. Do you have about forty-five minutes?”[/font] “I’ve got time. Tell me, doctor,” Mr. Wagner started.[/font] “Yes?”[/font] “I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on your wrist. If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is it of?”[/font] “It’s a wolf wearing the Crown of Her Majesty the Queen, Natasha.”[/font] “I’m also detecting an accent. Are you from Russia?”[/font] “The Ukraine. But very good, sir. My parents were born there while I was born here. The Lupum Coróna is a good luck tattoo for prosperity, fertility, and happiness. Now let’s get you into the MRI.”[/font] --[/font] The last few months had been rough for Doctor Jay Livingstone. One of his clients, Madame Weller, had passed because of a hepatocellular carcinoma, or liver cancer. The grieving process was hard, they were close, practically best friends-[/font] A man bumped into the barstool next to him and knocked his fedora down.[/font] Because he didn’t have any other close friends, besides William, Madame Weller’s attorney, who was out of town, he couldn’t bring it up to many people. So he decided to drown out his misery with a double-shot of bourbon.[/font] How does a thirty-seven-year-old become an eighty-nine-year-old’s oncologist?[/font] He thought. [/font]I’m not all-English, either. Yet I’m rumored to be the best in the land. But best what? Best looking? Most concerned? Most congenial?[/font] “You a doctor?” The drunk asked, a bit of vomit running down his lip.[/font] “Yeah, and...?”[/font] “I don’ feel so good.”[/font] “Why don’t you go to the bathroom and puke. Your drink will still be here.”[/font] “Thanks,” said the drunk man.[/font] Livingstone ran out the door, having left a twenty pound note on the counter.[/font] --[/font] Jay’s pale skin glistened in the moonlight, his dark lips standing out on his face. His black overcoat covering his suit, he walked to another building and knocked three times.[/font] “Password.”[/font] “Hérok.” His mother’s maiden name.[/font] The panel slid closed and the door opened, revealing his hideaway.[/font] His cache of computers was well-hidden. The rest of his family would never suspect that [/font]he[/font], of all people, was the one blackmailing them.[/font] --[/font] “Well, Mr. Wagner, it’s not cancer.”[/font] “That’s good news. Thank you, Doc!”[/font] “But I have a favor to ask of you, something important. I’ve seen your... record. I need you to break into something for me.”[/font] “Sure, anything. What’ll it be, boss?”[/font] Livingstone adjusted his fedora, showing a bloodred feather.[/font] “The Federal Archives building.”[/font] ------[*]College Friends So I was just sitting there, minding my own business as usual, when I see Jake enter the bar. I pull the brim of my hat lower and turn away, praying he doesn't see me. Well, when was the last time that worked? “Hey, Wolf! Long time no see! How ya been?” Jake said in that grating, high-pitched tone he always uses. “You saw me last week,” I growled. “And don't call me that.” “You gotta crazy tattoo of a wolf on your chest. Whadda you expect me to call you? Doc? Ooh, I know. King!” Jake smiled. I'm sure he would have ruffled my hair if he could. “Edward. Call me Edward. It's my name,” I replied, exasperated. “Sure, but thought you liked being called King,” Jake sneered. “That was twenty years ago!” I shouted. People around us had started to stare, so I lowered my voice. “I was seventeen. I grew out of it. Now will you kindly leave me in peace?” Jake laughed. “So you can mope around by yourself? No way! You need to meet people, have fun, and drink something other than- what is that, orange juice? C'mon. Let's get you a real drink. And while we're at it, I know this couple of reeaally nice girls. Wouldn't wanna pass that up, would ya?” “You know I'm married!” Jake never changed. He'd been a good laugh back at college. He'd known all the best places to hang out, all the best people (or so it seemed at the time). But while the rest of us had moved on, he was still stuck in his ways. Jake shrugged. “You were always boring. Took me ages to convince you to get that tattoo – with a crown and everything! How cool's that? Think how much duller your life'd be without it!” I glared at him. “Yeah. I could go to the swimming pool without everyone staring at me. How terrible my life would be. How I would hate it!” “Oh come on. Bet you have some interesting stories to tell the ladies,” he winked, the immature schoolboy as ever. I'd had enough. I rose from my chair, fist clenched so tightly around my glass I feared it would shatter. The stare I was giving him should have been warning enough, but he just stood there, clueless grin fixed on his gormless face. That was too bad. I began to raise my arm, my intent visible to everyone but him. “Hey, is your pocket meant to be beeping?” Jake observed, still not realising how angry I was. I quickly drank the rest of my orange juice and placed the glass heavily on the table, still glaring at Jake. “You're lucky.” “Yeah, I am pretty marvellous, aren't I?” he admitted, still grinning away. “Say, where you going? Night's still young! Don't tell me you've got a date or something?” “I've got a job!” I shouted. “Just because you can't scrape together the willpower to do a single day's work doesn't mean the rest of us have to be as useless! I am a doctor in a respectable hospital and people need me! Now if you don't mind, I have better places to be than hanging around with a half-wit like you!” “So, same time next week?” he said jovially. “Whatever,” I grunted, straightening my hat as I left. Perhaps I would be there next week, as I had been for many weeks past. But for now, duty calls. ------[*]Loss I walked over to a tall, middle-aged man sitting with his head in his hands, his proud back bent in sorrow. I had seen many others like him during my life, but it was never any less heart-wrenching of a sight. There was no guaranteed way to help people when they were like that, but I had always found that simply talking to them could help ease them a bit. “Excuse me, sir, but visiting hours are over for the day. However, I’d have to be a pretty cruel person to kick you out at this point, so do you mind if I sit down?” The man I was speaking to started at the sound of my voice as if he had been unaware of my presence. Of course, that was probably exactly what had happened; it was clear he had a lot on his mind. After a silent nod from the man, I sat down in one of the chairs next to him. It was almost ten minutes before he felt the desire to speak. “She was only five.” “I’m sorry to hear it.” I was. It wasn’t the first time someone would die so young, nor would it be the last. However, I understood the man’s pain. Losing a loved one is always hard, especially when by all rights they should have the rest of their lives ahead of them. “If you don’t mind my asking, why is it you are wearing that hat of yours while indoors and at night? Does it have some sentimental value to you?” He nodded and reached up to tough it gently, his fingers gently caressing the worn edges. “Before today,” he said, “I would have told you that it didn’t. But she always loved this hat of mine, and now I'm rather reluctant to part with it, even if only for a second. Funny how your attitude towards things can change so drastically over the course of a day, isn’t it?” Now it was my turn to nod, although something I had seen when he reached up towards his hat had caught my attention. It appeared to be a tattoo, but… what it looked like seemed completely random to a person like myself who had only just met this man. However, I suspected that it also seemed random to those who knew him well. As such, I decided to ask him about it. “Sorry to bother you with yet another question, but what exactly is that on your arm? It seems kinda… odd.” At my words, the man chuckled a bit. He had probably been asked that question a hundred times before now, but for some reason that didn’t seem to bother him. Rather, it appeared that he was welcoming the chance to talk to a curious stranger, to share stories of his life with a caring soul. He must have been thinking along those lines, or otherwise why would he have tolerated my questions at such a difficult time in his life? “It’s a wolf with a crown. My wife and I – back when we were still dating – went to a bar one night and ended up completely drunk. During that time, we each got one of these, mine on my right arm and hers on her left arm.” I nodded once more, but he didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he stood up and began to straighten out his clothes. “I know it’s a bit late for introductions, but I’m Doctor- no. I’m Steve. It was nice talking to you, I really appreciate it. Thanks a lot.” With that, he left. -------[*]Odo, the Surgeon Extraordinare ~~~ Doctor Spencer had not planned for this. He had planned for a successful operation on the young Miss Jamie, but that had not gone to plan at all. Her parents were well-known in the lawyering business, and they were watching the hospital like a pair of hawks honing in on their prey. One wrong move, one pair of unwashed hands, one slip of the wrist, and they would be closed down with medical licenses revoked. So, Doctor Spencer did the one thing he could: he called in the cavalry. There was a smash and a tinkle of glass as the window on his door was shattered, and a gloved hand slithered through the shards to open the door. A shady character sidled in, dressed entirely in black and bearing the image of a wolf wearing a crown tattooed on the side of his neck. Doctor Spencer cleared his throat. “Um, the door was open.” “You got a window on your door,” the figure rasped from under his wide-brimmed hat, tilted slightly downwards to hide his eyes. “Windows’re meant for breaking.” “Oh, uh… All right.” Doctor Spencer shuffled his notes nervously. “Well, I called you in for-“ “The Jamie deal. Girl’s got a dangerous illness, and you got a pair of dirty stinkin’ lawyers on your back about it.” “Yes, correct. Could you-“ “Girl shouldn’t be no trouble to fix up, if they’re willin’ to pay.” The brim of the hat lifted to reveal eyes that sparkled like diamonds, despite the man being almost in his forties. The wolf glared at Doctor Spencer in much the same way. He gulped. “Oh, good. I’m sure if you talk to them, they’ll-“ “No talking.” The man lowered his brim again and scowled. “Lawyers don’t sit right with me. Always watchin’ what you say, waitin’ for a slip-up.” Doctor Spencer didn’t much like being interrupted, but there was no being uppity around Doctor Odo. He had turned up from some foreign medical school, but he would not say where, and he had soon proved himself to be a surgeon extraordinaire. The man had a slight Brooklyn accent, but he never spoke of where he came from. He was notorious for his dangerous but effective methods, and he was Doctor Spencer’s only chance to get out of this jam. “Very well, I will arrange the price.” Doctor Spencer grinned uncertainly at him. “And this price would be…?” “A hundred million dollars,” Doctor Odo rumbled from beneath his hat. “No less.” Before Doctor Spencer could cry out in disbelief, Doctor Odo had made his exit through the office window. He watched the man flee before sighing and turning to his phone. “Ah, nurse Tordo? Cancel my appointments, and arrange for Jamie’s parents to meet with me… yes, THAT Jamie… oh, and call in someone to clean up the glass in here.” It was going to be a long, fussy argument, and a long, fussy day. -------

[Ballom Nom Nom]

Voted for number one. I also liked four, but it seemed that the theme was forced somewhat, which detracted from the story as a whole.~B~

[Excelsior]

I voted for 4.I guess I'm the only one who did fantasy. Personally, I saw the tattoo description and immediately thought, "Heraldic crest!"Anyway, may the best story win!-Excelsior

[Velox]

Voted for #3. Polling period over; poll closed.