The Moon's Children

I step out from the dimly lit theatre and out onto the street, the show just finished and dozens of smokers loiter out the front filling the air with cancer causing wisps…Well cancer causing to them anyway. I step onto the rain slicked walkway and pull my three quater trench tighter around me.
Three big boy/men stand in a circle with their backs facing out, clan patches showing bold on their leather jackets, one steps back and bumps me.
“Watch where your going.” The man turns around to smirk that looks like its built into his face, stubble juts from his jaw like an unruly lawn and neon highlights shift through his hair. I’m guessing his clan is the harlequins, flick dancers, I can handle that, he looks me up and down and the smirk becomes even more prominant. “Clanless.” He takes a step towards me. “This is a neutral place but if some clanless peice of shit bumps me, no one is gunna think twice about me thrashing him.” I go into aspect and stare him down, I can see my reflection in his eyes, pupils becoming pointed ovals, irises turning vivid green, teeth pointing. His face pales, the smirk almost disappears.m. “Oh a Moon’s child.” He steps back hands up, beads of sweat forming on his forhead, his buddies shift nervously. I take a step in towards him, invading his personal space, Weres’ll do that to get a message across. I stare him for a long time then move my mouth towards his jaw.
“Be careful who you insult boy, cats are proud animals.” It comes out one third human, one third purr and one third deep, guttural, warning growl I step back and slink away from the crowd and back to The Den.

The year is 2026, some thing are the same now as they where then, no new genre’s of music really, clothes are still cotton and actually cover your body and the sidewalks don’t float, but a lot of things are different; the technology, medicine, energy sources, drugs and attitudes. The entire southern half of the USA has crumbled into something just short of social anarchy, half of Asia is un-inhabitable and africa has been under a lead dome for so long no one is exactly sure what it’s like over there. In the states where Anarchy is just sitting behind a thin wire fence people devide themselves into “clans, much like the gangs that roamed parts of the counrty years before, but unlike these gangs every single clan is willing to draw blood, deals in dark things and is most likely in some way paranormal. Flick dancers, were wolves, were cats, vampires, kinetics, illusionists, feys, demons, hell there’s a fallen Angel clan, but they’re peacekeepers and tend to stay over in Australia, the only functioning country left.
The moon’s Children are like guardians amongst all this, the condition of entry is being a shapeshifter, we talk all types unlike the packs and prides that roam the streets as well, we look out for those who are weaker and take care of those who should no better, we’re allied with three other clans and have another half dozen below us who we give protection and passage through our streets for information and goods.
One clan is our bitter rival, the “humanoid movement” pretty much condition of entry is to be humanoid all the time and hate shifters, big changes are coming, anarchy is pulling at his chain and batting at the wire fence and I’ve already wasted alot of time explaining.

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Tags:

anarchy, clan, fantasy, grunge, noir and urban