"I'm just watching a bad dream I never wake up from."

Every place has an underworld. A dark, dank counter-culture that exists in every community. The creatures who thrive in this nether world are not happy and joyous, but dark and brooding. Some by their own choice, some not. Each has their own story. Each has their own niche. And all are doomed to stay...once a shadow, always a shadow.


"Something beautiful, huh...? I'm afraid I lost that a long, long time ago..."

If one were to merely glance at him, (as so many just do), one might see just an odd, peculiar wolf. Nothing special. But a second look would reveal that, although similar in appearance, this is no wolf. Black, furless skin stretches tight against long bones. A heavy plate of silver bone covers his head so completely, one cannot see his jaw until he speaks. His ribs protrude from his back and vertebrae stick out from his neck, nearly creating a perverted exoskeleton. One eye is bright golden, almost glowing in its intensity. The other is a dull, pale red, the color of blood mixed with tears. If one saw him several times over the course of many days, an odd quirk can be seen. One day, his left eye is red, his right, gold. Another day, his right eye is red, and his left is golden. But most never notice.


"My left eye sees the past..."
"What about the right?"

The history of Cursed is shrouded, more or less, in mystery. Though once, he would have told the story to anyone who asked, he is now silent. Those who heard the story say he was, indeed, cursed, and although they say it was that curse that caused his furlessness and his lanky, skeletal form, they have no explanation for the eyes. They weren't that way before, they say. Those closest to him remain silent, even about the supposed curse that ate his body. He has an unnatural hatred of fairies, leaving some to say that he somehow crossed one of them and paid dearly for it...


"Why welcome the dead? It's all futile."

An unadorned shack near a forgotten desert oasis serves as home for Cursed and his "family." He travels away from it often, packed light, if at all. He is never accompanied on his trips, though on occasion he is seen with other wolves, and sometimes a gryphon or two. None of them stick around for long.


"...A ravenous beast...the same blood runs through both of us...the blood of a beast who wanders..."

His "owner," if one may call her that, is Rakasha, a strange person, if one may even call her that. Known more commonly as a Yayhatic demon, she appears in four distinct guises, all bearing her trademark golden eyes. One is that of a clawed and tailed human, another of a small, silver fox with fur made of slender, circular strands of metal. Her third is a cross between the two, but it is the fourth that one wishes never to see. Twin tails and a second pair of smaller, clawed hands are just the beginning. Although powerful, she often cops a devil-may-care attitude and simply chooses to depart rather than take action. Many can boast insulting her and living, but none can challenge her own and survive. Her own history is even more shrouded than that of her charge. Some say she is immortal, others say she's a beast who just won't stay dead.


"DO YOU HAVE A COMRADE?"

Many laugh. Although it is indeed amusing, such a forlorn figure with such an odd companion. Makala, however, never leaves his side. A rather unremarkable snowshoe hare, she seems at times an even more capable shadow than the one cast by the sun. She doesn't make a sound, doesn't draw attention to herself, the perfect shadow, if an odd-colored one.


"Everytime we solved the mystery, it just led to new ones, darker and more unsettling than the ones before."

Cursed has only two possesions. A black, studded collar that was a gift from Rakasha, and a mysterious sword, given to him by doomcookie. A simple steel blade with an exotic hilt bedecked in long, black feathers. Nothing is known of the sword except its name: "Munin". Rakasha did, however, once point out that Odin, the chief god of Norse mythology, had two ravens, Hugin and Munin, Thought and Memory.


"We were all comrades..."

[SR] A loyal and peaceable gryphon, if he is a bit odd. Although he can roar, screech, and even chirp, he cannot speak in any human (or demonic) tounge. He communicates with a form of telepathy, although only those who know him well can pick it up.

[Missah] Missah is an ancient bay mare with a voracious appetite. The voice of reason and wisdom at Rakasha's tiny home, Missah often finds herself taking care of things when the demoness is away, and sometimes when she's not.

[Tio] Tio and Cursed are as different as day and night. There is little Tio enjoys more than causing trouble, especially for Cursed. But of course, Cursed has his own ways to retaliate...

[Pei] Peinubra and Cursed have never been close, but not out of animosity. Pei and Cursed both prefer solitude, so their paths hardly cross. Here lately, however, they seem to have reached an odd bond.

[Bukoshar] Bukoshar likes keeping her distance. She avoids becoming close to anyone, and tended to avoid Cursed altogether. On one occasion, nevertheless, Cursed approached Bukoshar and said, cryptically, "I don't blame you."

[Kaze] No one knows quite what to make of Kaze. The psychotic little black and white gryphon seems to think, oddly enough, that Cursed is out to take control of the world...

[Akai] Akai is Cursed's best friend. Given the chance, he will go off with Akai and...do stuff. They run errands for Rei and Rakasha, chase wild critters, or try to hunt down Tio after his latest dojo-wrecking spree.

[Yasa] Most of Cursed's encounters with Yasa are of fetching either SR or Tio from his dojo. Sometimes he accompanies Rakasha when she goes to "have tea" (although she prefers "shooting the shit") with Yasa. Contrary to Kaze's belief that they are discussing battle plans, Cursed insists that he goes merely to see Yasa's expression when the demoness puts ice cubes in her tea.


"When angels are forced out of Heaven, they become devils..."

Sometimes, he stops. Seemingly at random, he just stops...stops walking, stops talking, just stands and stares. Others find it puzzling, but those who know him best know there is a phantom there. For him, there is no respite from the specter. He is haunted day and night, but, as many tell him, he haunts himself. The phantom is merely his own creation, his own guilt, his own sorrow. He hangs on, trying to keep ahold of what he once had, but failing. What he once had is no longer there, not obliterated, but gone. Gone until the specter leaves him and he finally discovers that he can have it again, only in a different form.
One can only hope he relinquishes the specter.


"I think it's time we blow this scene
Get everybody and the stuff together
OK
3,2,1, LET'S JAM!"

Most wolves have a pack. Cursed has a flock. These gryphons are not a unified, ranked group like a wolf pack. Rather the flock is a disjointed and sometimes completely disoriented bunch of birds. The one flaw, according to Cursed, is that the Eyregulars, as they call themselves, like to discuss everything fervently. The flock is a slow but steady democracy that usually takes several months to decide to get something done. But Cursed likes it this way.


"In 2071 in the universe
The bounty hunters
who are gathering in space ship "BEBOP" will play freely without fear of risky things.
They must create new dreams and films by breaking traditional styles."

The haven of one is the bane of another. Cursed finds peace in a place simply known as "The Demon's Forest." Few find themselves inside it, and fewer ever find their way back to it once they've left. For Cursed and his, the portal is easy to find, though sometimes one must wait many hours at the pool for it to open. It is Rakasha's forest, and there are no true, structured packs inside it. Would-be alphas are easily...swayed...by the demoness' reasoning. That is about the only time she is ever seen, as she often travels to the forest to seek solitude, or a bit of advice from the ever-present Cathead, a fellow Yayhatic demon. Other than that, the creatures there are left to their own devices, to make war or peace, to talk or take action...the individual reigns surpreme in the Forest.


"Oh, well...whatever happens, happens."

"The Real Folk Blues"
Mai Yamane & THE SEATBELTS

Too much time has passed by to lament that we were deeply in love.
The wind keeps blowing, while my heart cannot heal all the tears in it.
Looking with one eye on the future while keeping the other on the past...
If only I could sleep peacefully once more in the cradle of your love...
Someone, cry for me with parched eyes.
The real folk blues.
I only want to know what true sadness is.
Sitting in muddy water
Isn't such a bad life
If it ends after the first time...
A despair filled with hope,
and this chance that there's a trap set out for it...
What's right and what's wrong?
It's like two sides of a coin.
Wonder how long I must live on before I am healed?
The real folk blues.
I only want to know what true happiness is.
All that glitters isn't gold.
The real folk blues.
I only want to know what true sadness is.
Sitting in muddy water
Isn't such a bad life
If it ends after the first time...


"The work, which becomes
a new genre itself,
will be called...
COWBOY BEBOP."


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