I woke. It was morning. The birds were singing, the sun was shining in through the cracks in the hollow log and someone was pulling at my boots.

I carefully opened my eyes and looked out at the world through my helmet lenses. Something large and hirsute was hunched down at my feet, pulling at my stompy goth boots with enormous hairy paws. It looked about as large as an ape. Two others, slightly smaller, crouched behind it. I froze. I'd never had a run in with any wild animals before but I recalled the advice was to play dead. I lay doggo and held my breath.

My eyes focused a bit more and I nearly had another panic attack. These weren't bears or wolves or... anything. They looked like, well like really ugly junk yard dogs, with short mashed faces and mouthfuls of mismatched fangs that stuck out from behind their lips. Except... they were bipedal. Yeah. Two legs, two arms. They had hands, huge clawed hands and arms like Popeye. They had short tails with clubbed, spiky ends, and yellow eyes. They were wearing crude armor, breastplates of some sort that looked like they were banged together out of pot metal and old sewer lids. And they talked.

"Get the boots," one of the things grunted.

"Can't," the one yanking on my boots growled back. He sounded like Bobcat Goldthwait with a hangover. "All buckles, can't get 'em off!"

"Too dark in here, too small. Drag 'im out, we'll cut them off," the third one said, hefting a crude knife. "Get other stuff too." They seized my legs and started tugging.

That did it. playing dead wasn't going to do it; these mutants looked perfectly capable of lopping my legs off just to get my shoes. I should have started hyperventilating right there. Instead, another wash of stay-frosty-itis rolled over me, and I decided that if the passive route wouldn't make them go away, it was time to be proactive. I had wired my voice-changer and my glowing eyes so that I had switches and a volume control in my gauntlet. Carefully moving my thumb, I flicked my eyes on, cranked the volume on my speaker to eleven, and sat up.

"WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLUMBER!" I bellowed as my eye lenses flared molten red.

The response was gratifying. The trio of dog-trolls things shrieked in terror and tumbled backwards out of the log, leaves and bark flying everywhere. I decided I'd better press my advantage. I grabbed my staff-- huh, I'd managed to hold onto it through all that mess last night-- and rolled out of my hidey hole. I sprang to my feet and brandished my staff, flaring my cape and trying very hard to look much bigger than I was.

The three dog-trolls cowered together in a ball and howled. The little one started squalling and ki-yi'ing like my grandma's ratty little pekingese when the cat went after it. Perfect; these things might've been ugly, but they were easily intimidated. The little one kept shrieking, the sound went right through my head like a railroad spike. Holy crap, I wanted to punt the little thing. "SILENCE!" I roared. The howling and shrieking faded into quavery little whimpers. "Who are you?" I said, pointing my staff at them. "What are you??"

Cringing, the middle one prostrated himself. "W-we are Diamond Dogs," he said, his voice trembling. "I Skank. This one called Runt, him, Mange." He indicated the other two.

Diamond Dogs. Ohhhh...kay. Right. Wasn't that a James Bowie album or something? "And you were trying to steal my shoes because?" I demanded.

"Boots have shinies on them," One of the others, Mange I think, said. "We collect shinies for Big Boss." I looked down at my boots. Yeah, the buckles were sort of big and square and silvery. These dimwits probably thought they were silver. Their Big Boss was probably their pack leader. Okay, it was time to go fishing for some info.

"Where are we now? What is this place?" I said, waving my hand around, indicating the woods.

Skank started getting this crafty look on his face. I didn't think I liked that. "Ponies call this White Tail Woods," he said. "They live nearby in Pony town and-- GET HIM, GET HIM NOW!"

Now I'm no bad dude buttkicker, but I've been in a few fights, so I was smart enough not to cringe back and let them bulldoze me. I lunged forward instead, and punched the middle one, Skank, straight in the chest as hard as I could. There was a loud "BRANK", like someone punching in a car door with a sledgehammer, and the diamond dog went sprawling backward, a dent the size and shape of my fist in his breastplate. Crap, what was it made out of, aluminum?

I brought my staff around in a swing, cracking the skull across Mange's jaw. His head jerked to the side, then he shook it off, spittle flying, and came at me again. Crud.

It was at that point I decided to take advantage of a design flaw in their protective gear:  they were only armored from the waist up. I brought my staff around in a golf swing, straight into Mange's nads. Ka-RUNCH. He moaned and dropped, clutching himself.

Runt tried to make a go for my leg then, snarling and yapping. I hauled back and punted him as hard as I could. I must have put some adrenaline behind it because he went sailing into the air off my boot and disappeared in the undergrowth twenty feet away, his ki-yi'ing dopplering into the distance. All of us gaped in the direction he'd disappeared in astonishment. Man, he'd caught some serious air. He must've weighed less than a Nerf ball.

I remembered what I was doing and returned my attention to the two fuglies lying at my feet. By that point I had a head of steam going. Skank seemed to be the leader. I planted my boot on the back of his neck, crushing his face into the dirt. "You were saying?" I growled.

"Mercy, Mercy," Skank whimpered.  

"You try that again and you'll find out how much mercy I don't have," I said, pressing down for emphasis. They said nothing. They lay there clutching themselves and looking at me with intimidated expressions that gladdened my happy little heart.

The next instant Runt came running back into the clearing, yelping like his tail was on fire. he threw himself into a huddle with the others. The shrieking was like nails on glass. "ARGH! Shut UP already!" I yelled at him, readying another kick.

He cringed back. "Mercy! Mercy!" He wailed. I held my kick back and he toned it down. "We gots trouble," he whimpered, looking back the way he came and shivering.

I caught a whiff of something on the breeze. It was like rotting leaves and compost and something else I couldn't identify. The dog-trolls could smell it too. I could see their noses wrinkling. They started whimpering and moaning. Faint growls echoed through the trees.

"Timber wolves," Mange moaned.

"Lots and lots," Runt agreed unhappily.

I saw the eyes first. Dozens of pairs of glowing green eyes, appearing in the shadows all around us. I grabbed my staff in a two-handed grip and waited for their heads to poke out of the undergrowth. They drew closer, growling, and I realized-- their heads were the undergrowth. They were made out of bark and leaves!

They slunk into the clearing and I got a good look. It was made of wood from nose to tail: bark, twigs, dead leaves, lengths of driftwood. Weird green light glowed where their eyes should be. I could see more of that same light seeping out between the bits of bark that made up their skin.

Timber Wolves. I got the joke. I wasn't laughing.

They formed a circle around us. The diamond dogs snarled at them; the timberwolves didn't look impressed. I could figure out what would come next. I'd seen it on Animal Planet. They would keep us surrounded, penned in. They'd take turns lunging at us, harrying us till they wore us down; then they'd pile on us and tear us apart. My heart was hammering in my chest. I was scared spitless...

...No. No, I wasn't. My emotions were backfiring again. I wasn't scared. I was pissed. Some little part of me took a moment to be confused by this-- then the first wolf lunged. I brought the head of my staff around in a grand-slam swing. Boom, headshot.

The wolf's head exploded.

"The fuuu...?" I said. Gone, head go blooey. Bark and bits of rotten wood and leaves rained down. The wolf staggered in place, like it was confused. I caught it in the ribcage on the backswing. It burst like a lawn and leaf bag, rotten bark and punky wood going everywhere.

"Holy S@#!, they're nothing but wood!" I laughed. "Wood and @#$ all the way through!" I lit into the others, swinging like Babe Ruth on uppers. Limbs... heh, get it?... went flying everywhere. Three or four of them latched onto me, trying to bear me down. Their teeth barely dented my costume armor. I grabbed them in my gauntleted hands and smashed them against the ground, against the trees, against each other. It was compost carnage.

In a minute or so I'd busted the last of them to pieces. I smashed the last one's head on a rock and dusted my hands off. Holy @#$% that was satisfying. I dusted my gauntlets off. "So much for that," I said. I turned around, just in time to see the first one reforming.

The fugg?

A pile of leaves and wood and debris, shot through with green glowing foxfire (fox fire... heh), was slowly pulling itself together. The three diamond dogs were bashing away at it for all they were worth, but it wasn't doing much good; it was growing too fast. The head formed and snapped at them; they retreated, yelping. It finished forming and prowled towards us, a growl rumbling in its chest. It was bigger, much bigger. And it looked a lot tougher.

I looked back; the ones I had just smashed were pulling together now. It looked like the seven or eight timberwolves were now clumping into three, much larger ones.  Their heads now came up to my chest. They pulled themselves up, fully formed, snarling.

Apparently they decided I was the bigger threat. They ignored the yelping diamond dogs and rushed me.

I lashed around me with my skull staff, cracking wood with every blow. Wooden, fanged jaws closed on my arm and leg. This time, it hurt. They snarled and savaged at me, bearing me down. I screamed in pain as I felt fangs pierce my costume armor and sink into my flesh.

Fire, I needed fire! I fished in my pocket for a lighter. It was Halloween; I'd loaded my pockets with odds and ends for cheap pranks, and a lighter was key to most of them. I got the lighter out just as a set of wooden jaws closed on my hand. Thinking fast, I rammed my arm down the monster's throat as far as I could and flicked the lighter. For a second the wolf stood there, doing its level best to tear my arm off at the elbow. Then the leaves and tinder mixed in with the chunks of wood caught. smoke started rolling out of its nose and ears and it let go of my hand. It started doing a mad dance, shaking its head wildly as it caught fire from the inside out.

"HAH!" I gloated-- then I lost my grip on the lighter. I went to one knee as claws and fangs tore at me, watching helplessly as the little plastic lighter skittered away into the leaves.

One tore at my arm; the other lunged over my back, clawing and snapping at my face. Any second now and it would rip my helmet off and that would be it.

Rage exploded inside me. The world went greeny-purple-black. I hated those wolves, hated them more than anything in the universe at that moment. "Burn, you whores!" I roared, and rammed my clawed fingers into its throat. Wood crunched under my grip like balsa. I might as well have been squeezing a stump for all the effect it had on the timberwolf, though... then black flames burst from my fingers.

Nnnnot jet black, really. Bloody red and yellow like normal flame, but shot through with black, sort of like molten lava looks, you know? It's hard to describe in words, but you'd know it if you saw it. Whatever it was, it certainly burned like ordinary fire; in an instant the timberwolf's head and neck burst into flame. Like, fwoosh.  I let it go, and it fell to the ground, writhing and thrashing. It's head was already a blackened lump by the time its body caught fire.

I turned and saw the third one running away. "Oh not a chance," I said. I clutched the black flame in my hands and... threw it at the fleeing timberwolf. A jet of black flame streaked out of my hand and hit the wolf square in the ass. There was a FWACKOOM, and the timberwolf exploded in a ball of fire, burning wooden dog (dogwood, heh) shrapnel raining down everywhere.

I stood there for a minute, my lungs heaving, staring down at my hands. Blackish flames were still licking up and down my fingers. They didn't hurt. They weren't even singing my gloves or tarnishing my metal gauntlets.

I had shot fire from my hands. FIRE. BLACK fire. From my HANDS. It was about at this point that somebody decided that it was okay to freak out now.

"Who are you?" I heard Skank quaver.

I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy listening to my brain make that noise Beaker from the Muppet Show makes whenever Bunsen brings out a new experiment. MI MI MI MI MI MI MI.... "What?"

"Who? Who are you, Dark One?"

That pulled me out of it. Well, partway out of it. I was still silently going holy s@#$ holy s@#$ I have Dark Magical Powers holy s@#$... Pieces of an idea started tumbling into place.

"I am...." I thought quick. I was still a little giddy from shock and power rush but Oh what the hell. "I am DARTH VADER." I pounded my fist against my chest. "...From the planet VULCAN!"

... Yeah. I know.

My mask must have garbled it. The three of them made some faltering attempts to repeat it, finally settling by consensus on "Darth Vulcan! Hail Darth Vulcan!" They kow towed and groveled.

I stomped over and picked up Skank by the scruff of his neck. "Now. Who do you work for?"

"We work for Big Boss. He makes us gather gems and shiny GAK." My fist around his throat changed his mind. "You, we work for you, you Big Boss now," he squeaked. I let up on his windpipe.

I let my eye lenses light up, bathing his face in their red glow. He couldn't see it, but I smirked in victory. "Good dog," I said.