Originally posted November 11, 2009
((After so many people asked me about Weekah's origin, I figured it was time for a post. Ríobhca has described it as a story best told over cocktails, so I thought I would provide the venue. It sparked another lengthy forum RP with more than 100 replies. I've included the kickoff and the actual retelling of Weekah's story))
"It’s a try!" Ríobhca raised her hands and cheered. Weekah chuckled, lapping a bit more beer from her bowl. "It’s a touchdown, love," she told her sister.
Ríobhca frowned. "They dinnae put it intae touch. There are points on the board!"
"They call it a touchdown." Weekah responded.
"Ach! An now they kick it tae the other team?!" Ríobhca grimaced as she finished her beer. "Ah'll never ken this game. An what swill tis this?"
"Budweiser."
"Tastes like piss. Aoife! Let mae try…," Ríobhca scanned the bottles above the bar "A Miller Lite." She grinned at her sister as she took a sip of the new beer. "Tis 'ard, this learning American culture. Makes mae long fer a Guinness, almost."
Weekah chittered a raccoon giggle as she gestured for Aoife to refill her bowl with the latest American brew. She shook her head. "I don't get it. Why do they call it football when they use their hands so much? Why all the pads? It doesn't look like any of them would survive a scrum."
They had invited a few friends and acquaintances to their favorite pub to help guide them through their first American football game, the Millennium City Lions against the St. Louis Cardinals. The sampling of American beers arrived as a well received afterthought. The raccoon-woman looked around to the small group that had gathered. Perhaps they could provide some clarity into the mysteries of this uniquely American pastime.
--
"A'm a clone of an genetically mutated raccoon," answered Weekah, staring into her bowl. "I was rescued from the lab by our mother. A few others may have escaped."
"Ach!" Ríobhca cried. "That's noo way tae tell the story, ah ken." She leaned over the table, her hands hovering above the drinks. "Tis a story of romance, love, adventure, an loss."
"Ye shuid knoo, Màthair is a witch. A real witch, a master of life magic. She t'was also quite open minded in 'er youth," Ríobhca added with a raised eyebrow. "Mum t'was courted by, proposed tae, and eventually married one Roberta Ring-Tail."
"Roberta t'was a marvel of science an magic, accidentally created in an attempt tae breed shock troops fer use by various nefarious organizations. The scientist failed tiem an tiem again, eventually experimenting on a family of raccoons they 'ad caught in the laboratory's attic. Robi, Roberta, t'was the only survivor, but t'was thown intae a rubbish bin by accident. She quietly adapted tae her changed world, met mae mother and they fell in love." She raised both hands over her heart as she smiled, then quickly took another drink. Weekah's tail dropped even further and she pulled yer legs up to crouch on the barstool.
"But the evil scientists, were naet doen wit Robi. They captured 'er tae learn 'ow she survived. The tortured Robi fer days, all while mae mum frantically looked fer 'er lost love. By the time màthair discovered their secret base, the scientist had cloned hundreds of Robis, mindless super-powered soldiers tae defend their lair."
"Màthair fought through them all, 'er sword all snicker-snack. She slew wave after wave of minions in the shape of 'er love, eventually winning Robi's freedom. In a rage, mum destroyed the laboratory, erased all data, smashed the 'alf formed abominations all about." Ríobhca paused to take a sip an look at her sister.
"Then she 'eard a tiny mewing, a wee raccoon bairn somehow left alive. After striking at so many, after feeling the shock of a crushed skull travel up 'er arm so many tiems, mum counae lift 'er sword tae slay the tiny creature. She gathered it up and left the lab."
"Once 'ome, màthair performed a ritual. Whatever science 'ad infected the wee lass, she wuid bae free of it. Whatever magic 'ad been placed on 'er, wuid bae lifted. Weekah wuid grow up finding 'er own path. They raised 'er as a family until mum 'ad tae flee that world, unable tae return. Weekah an mum settled 'ere. Màthair met mae da, an in a few years, Weekah 'ad a wee piuthar." Ríobhca's smile broadened.
Weekah looked up. "And that's the long of it, I suppose." She lapped a few times from her bowl. "I don't remember my mother, my genetic source. When I was a teen, mum gave me this," pulled out the ring that hung from a simple leather strap around her neck. It glittered in the light, precious an unusual. "It's the engagement ring Robi offered her."
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