The Thief, the brute and the man of your dreams (Cornelius)

Gwharr was a rather perturbed caveman today. No, perturbed simply would not cut it. Heck it did not even live in the same neighborhood as the best word for whatever our Big, Brawny Beloved Brute was feeling right now. The reason for this had been the way this day had been going for him so far. In the morning he was woken up by a rat crawling over his face. This was not normally all that bad in Gwharrs book, since it meant he had a little morning-snack served without needing to get up, but this rat had been a bit too quick for him. Plus, it had left a little present in his beard. It had happened to him now and then throughout his life for various reasons, but for some reason it really annoyed him now in ways he couldn't really comprehend before. No man lives through twentytwothousand years without a few close-encounters with excrement expelled from verious creatures, but back then it simply hadn't been that big of a deal for some reason.

After carefully washing out his beard with a blowtorch and some bleach, he had decided to take a stroll around town to show off his new dapper pin-stripe suit, but unfortunately this had not had the effect that he had wished for. The ladies were still not queing up for makeouts, and he people still called the police whenever he turned a little too brusque for their tastes. However, after having such a worthless morning, he decided he would use some of his newly earned money to treat himself to something spectacular. According to one random passer-by the best restaurant in town was called "sparks steakhouse", and that was where the Meat-headed, Muscle-bound Murderer was about to head, but when he arrived, and entered the building, announced that he would like to have lots and lots of dinner there, the guy handling the whatnot had been pretty disdainfull whilst tellingh im no.

(apprantly his name was Mater-Dee or something. Gwharr figured that the reason he was such a ponce was the fact that his prents hated him immensely)

Gwharr had not taken these news lightly and even though he had threatened to rip the guy's innards out and strangle him with them as well as reaching down his throat and pulling him inside out. Even the rather sophisticated threat that very much consisted of promises to make a stylish hat to compliment his suits out of his lungs had not managed to get him a table.

He had definately had enough of all this mouthyness and was pretty much ready to literally tear this place apart when his caveman-senses suspected something disturbing. A girl, with her hands quite a bit into his pocket, doing her best to pull a wallet out of it. To be honest, he hadn't really even seen her if he hadn't looked down for something to throw through the wall to prove his point, but nevertheless, a slight stroke of luck for him. "Hey, girlie! Ya better hand that thing there back, or Imma be mighty cross with ya!" Gwharr said, as he rose up to his full height, his hat almost touching the roof, towering over the tiny girl. Normally such a display would have softened bigger thieves than her off, but apparantly, it had little effect as she smiled mischeviously took a deep breath stuck her tounge out and blew a rasberry at him before legging it. Gwharr roared in frustration as he took after her, charging after her like a rabid gorilla wearing a very dapper suit.

The little girl getting her filthy paws on Gwharrs wallet was merely the tip of the iceberg of all the misfortune and annoyances that had befallen him today, and if he had not become quite as angry as he had, he would have realized that throwing a car in the little girls path to block it would probably have worked wonders, but now, he did not. Even though his sudden increase in the intelligence department had allowed him to gain a certain insight into the twentyfirst centruy, and even adopted some of its customs and mannerisms, it was still merely a thin layer atop of a primitive mind, like a thin layer of ice on a lake. it was fine and solid as long as the weather is cold, but when heat is applied it quickly melts off, revealing the dark depths beneath it. And Gwharrs current blazing rage was akin to a forestfire. His earlier two-legged gait had regressed to the ape-like knucklewalking he had been most comfortable with. The somewhat modulated, restrained voice had been replaced by a guttural howl. His eyes where wild, his mouth was open, revealing a slight amount of froth forming at the edges, and his white, yet savage-like pointy teeth were displayed for all to see.

The asphalt actually cracked and shattered beneath his weight as he moved forward, half-knuckle-walking, half leaping forward. The girl was quick, but she was somewhat slowed by having to jump over or crawl beneath obstacles such as cars or piles of rubbles. Gwharr did not have such troubles. He merely smashed them aside with no effort or leaped over them, smashing into the asphalt with thundering force. The few bystanders that were observing this did not waste any time to make as much distance between themselves and the Roaring, Raging, Rampaging Ruffian as possible. Gwharr did not mind this at least.

The fact that the little girl showed no fear did not exactly alleviate his rage. In fact, it made him even angrier. He wanted people to tremble before his rage. He deserved their fear! He was mighty enough to crush them all! He was Gwharr the warlord! He let out another Roar as he entered what seemed to be the ruins of an old factory. Even though his mind was a white-hot inferno of no-longer-pent-up rage, a small compartment of his mind still observed his surroundings and noticed such things, for some reason. He had never had this little compratment of logic and calm before, but due to his rage he was not exactly in a good position to think carefully aout it either. If he was in a position to think carefully, he would no doubt had noted the presence of an older gentleman with a rather fancy beard who seemed to rather unimpressed by his size and ferocity. the calm part of his brain tried to get the rest of him to understand that there was something fishy going on with this man, but he was too angry to listen, instead rampaging onwards.

However, his rampage was suddenly brought to a stop, as his limbs suddenly flailed out in the wrong direction, like a puppet with its strings tangled up. He continued forward a few feet, his quadruple gait allowing him to remain somewhat upright, despite his oddly flailing limbs before his left arm flailed disturbingly and he crashed facefirst into the dirt with such force that he actually bounced slightly, ending up on his back, his limbs flailing and twitching as he tried to get back on his feet. There was something very wrong here. Gwharrs red-hot anger soon got mixed up with desperation, frustration and a tiny twinge of panic as he tried to regain controll of his wayward limbs. He must have looked rather pathetic as he lied on the ground, flailing wilder and wilder, his roars occasionally turning to hissy gurgles as he lost controll of his jaw-muscles, but this did not deter our Dreadfully Dimwitted Doofus. Even though he had little to no controll of his limbs, they still retained their usual strength, and the ground beneath him cracked and shattered like papier-machie beneath his aimless swings, flinging rocks and assorted debris in all directions.

The caveman was in an enourmously foul mood as he lay on the ground, his coordination seemingly reduced to the level normally associated with infants or very drunk buffoons, making him unable to walk or even crawl in any sort of direction. He would have much preffer physical retraints to fight against, since he was convinced that his strength and endurance would be able to conquer them, but this, this was not right. It negated his strength and durability, since there was no point in being the strongest if you could not focus that strength upon your target. He started to feel slightly queezy and dizzy, presumably from the lack of proper ups and downs. It was if as the entire concepts themselves had vanished, to be replaced by a chaotic, directionless hell. and even though Gwharr could still see his surroundings perfectly well, it was as if he was looking at a TV or postcard, It was simply so unreal.

He roared loudly and tried once again to sit up, but all he managed to do was to make some odd movements with his legs, as if he was trying to ride some magical, upside-down bicily, and a very wobbly one at that. He whimpered in frustration, and flailed with his fists, no longer even trying to get them to do the things he wanted, but rather just taking chances, hoping that a random flail with the elbow would send him back upright again.

However, his violent flailing gradually stopped as another individual approached him. A thin, elderly man with thick, oddly styled hair and a very fancy beard. He wore a well-tailored suit. He had a certain air about him, like a stuffy old professor who never got around to losing his child-like curiosity. Gwharr snorted and grunted heavily, as he lay there still in the little crater he had smashed out of the floor where he was trapped. He figured there would be pretty much fifty-fifty chance for him to break the old codger if he once again started to thrash about, of course, this was only applicable if the old man was an ordinary old man, wich he evidently was not. Ordinary old men could not do THIS to a man of Gwharrs power and rage!

If Gwharr still had controll of his body his jaw would drop slackly in a comical manner, as the man stared talking. He had expected some victory-boast about how superior he was for defeating the caveman or villanous speech about doing this or that, just a calm way of explaining the situation in a manner that sounded far too flamboyant and good-natured to suit the potentially lethal situation. the Humungous, Hard-Hitting Heavy-handed Hare-brain quickly decided that the man was obviously some sort of a buffoon, but a well-mannered, friendly buffoon at any rate. After all, usually his attackers did not apologize for their deeds or offer to buy him a drink for his troubles.

Gwharr wrinkled his massive brow awkwardly at the man, wich was the first thing that seemed to work properly for him. He opened and closed his mouth a few time before he spoke, as if to see if he could trust them to handle the mission he had planned for them.."Okay, okay, I accept. Just tell me when I'm able to move all properl-like again, alright? Imma gonna stay right here untill then." The Crude, Clumsy Caveman spoke, talking rather slowly, as if uncertain wether or not his lips, jaw and tounge would obey his instructions. He wasn't used to compromising like this to people who attacked him, but he wasn't used to people who attacking apologizing when they had him at their mercy either.

Gwharr glared defiantly at the old man as he ambled forth to greet him once he had calm down. It was embarrassing, but he had been bested, and even though it did not happen often, he had tasted it before, and it was a bitter fruit to swallow indeed. Especially since the man seemed so thin and frail, overall physically weak. He could probably crush every bone in the codgers chest with only a light squeeze, but the man had bested him fair and square, and so, it would be dishonorable for him to resume hostilities.

At least the Energetic, Eccentric Elder was gracious in victory, not at all pompous and fancy-arsed as Gwharr would have expected from someone of his peculiar appearance. Maybe this guy wasn't really all that bad. heck, the old man had even called him amazing, but the compliment diminished somewaht when it turned out that the old-timer didn't even know what Gwharr was.

I'm a caveman. The Caveman Grunted, obviously still not entirely comfortable with being beaten by an old man. His intonation was dead-pan and matter-of-factly, and the deadly glare that followed was not intended for cornelius, but rather for his companions, It was a challenge. a 'Dare to laugh and you'll see how funny I can be"-sort of look However, his mood improved significantly as Cornelius informed him that his limbs were once again operating they way they aught to. Although, he wasn't entirely sure he trusted the eccentric old codger yet.

Gwharr Wiggled his toes in an effort to judge wether or not it was worth trying to get back onto his feet or not. Then he realized this was a horrible idea since he couldn't see his feet through his shoes. Instead he wiggled his fingers, and. . . Success! They all wiggled the way they were supposed to again. Just as they had always done for twentytwo milleniums all the way up to now. The way his body stopped obeying him had shocked the great ape-man far more than any Gut-wrenchingly Grievous Gashes or Delightfully Disturbing Disembowelment had done in the past. He could stand right back up only a few seconds after being disemboweled without even so much as a bruise on his body, but the thoughts of wriggling around on the ground, unable to assert your will over your own limbs, that was horrible, mostly because it was something that he could not just heal from or smash aside. It had an eerie feel of helplessness that he did not like one bit. Gwharr had felt helpless in the past, but not like this. The thought of being totally depending on someone elses mercy was an alien concept to him. A concept he did not like at all.

The caveman slowly got up onto his feet, grabbing aholdo f an over-head pipe and pulling himself up, looming over cornelius group, probably outweighing the lot of them several times. He then attempting to brush his suit off and pick up his hat wich had fallen off his head in his struggle to move again. It seemed been somewhat flattened by an errant flailing of his limbs, and with exquisite care the Gigantic, Grunting Gorilla-like Guy restored it to its former self, but before placing it back onto his brow, the great apeman shook his head vigorously, trying to get rid of grit and gravel that may have got itslef tangled in his fluffy mane of hair.

As Cornelius introduced his companions, Gwharr was rather surprised at Bernard. He hadn't really been clearheaded enough to dwell on the fact that Bernad the talking badger was in fact a badger. Not only was he a badger, but he seemed intent on remaining a badger for the forseeable future. "How's he talkin'? Them badgers ain't s'posed ta talk." Gwharr asked Cornelius , as he curiously stared at the strange creature talking.

Gwharr raised an eyebrow as the spry old man chortled merrily, seemingly besides himself with enthusiasm. The big caveman did his best to repress a smile from errupting on his own rather stern, brutish face, but the tell-tale tensing of the edges of his mouth made the gesture obvious. It was all but impossible to outright resist smiling in the presence of the old man. He was simply one of those people that spread joy around him without really doing anything but acting like himself. Sort of like a radioactive man would emitt radiation by simply just existing. Despite the rather rocky start, Gwharr could not help but to appreciate the odd sort of giddyness and enthusiasm of the Eminently Eccentric, Enigmatic Elder.

Gwharr nodded rather confused as the old man cheerfully explained how happy it made him that Gwharr did in fact happen to be a caveman. Gwharr did not mind this in the slightest. He had a rather large ego, and the sheer amount of marveling at his very existance and awesomeness did feed this ego rather nicely. Even though the Brainless, Big, Brutish, Bully had gotten off on the wrong foot with the old man and his odd pair of companions, Gwharr figured that they might not be such a bad bunch after all. After all, children were children. They did stupid things as stealing caveman-wallets and pee on your newly-drawn cavepaintings, but that was why older tribe-members had to look after them and make sure that they kept out of trouble and such.

However, Gwharrs mood soured slightly as the badger piped up, answering his querie in a less than subservient manner. This Furry, Four-footed Fellow seemed to have quite a bit of courage to stand up to the caveman like that, no doubt relying on the old man for protection in case Gwharr decided that he'd like a brand new pair of badger-skin earmuffs.

"Reason for my continued existence is the fact that I dun' die." Gwharr grunted matter-of-factly, his deep voice rather gruff, making it rather obviosu that he did not like to have his existance questioned by verbose, quick-witted badgers. As the group moved downtown, Gwharr alternated between knucklewalking like a gorilla, since that was the mode of transportation that he was most comfortable with, or ambulating on his two hind-limbs, trying to emulate the walk of the city-dwellers, since that was expected from a man wearing a suit, but his massive arms and undersized legs made the attempt look rather silly, due to the wide flailing swinging of his oversized, massive arms.

As they reached the place that Cornelius had guided them to, Gwharr ducked inside, reverting to knucklewalking, due to comfort and the fact that he did not want to hurt anyone. He licked his lips hungrily as he imagined what sort of tasty beverages they were going to serve up in his immediate future. As they found a table Gwharrs appetite was whetted to the point where Bernard the badger started to look mighty tasty. However, before the troupe of oddballs had time to order, a big fellow approached, seemingly to eject them prom the premises. Gwharr quickly got to his feet, standing one and a half feet taller than the man, and more than four feet wider across the shoulders.

"Make an exception." The caveman rumbled omniously, in a way that suggested that if pressed further, his rumble would turn into a full-on volcano-eruption.

Gwharr was rather shocked by the fact that the tiny little bouncer was brave enough to stand up to him, despite the obvious difference in size. Here he was, almost eight feet tall, weighting in at more than half a ton and with biceps bigger than the mans entire chest. Usually people either gave up or drew guns or called their mates when he started threatening them. After all, it was fairly obvious that a normal-sized fellow would have little chance against a brute such as himself. He opened his mouth, revealing a pearly white set of somewhat pointy teeth as he let out a savage, snarl. This man had some serious guts, standing up to him like that, but bravery like that could be dangerous if used against the wrong person, and in a way Gwharr would almost be doing him a favour when he punched it out of him in a few moments.

However, before he had time to do something the other man would regrett, Cornelius piped up, obviously trying to defuse the whole situation, by telling everybody to take a time-out to think things over instead of resorting to violence or such. Gwharr was not the sort to usually be swayed by such speeches, but Cornelius was the one who was in charge. Not only had he offered to buy the Crude, Calamitous, Carnivorous Caveman dinner, but he had also bested him in combat, wich meant that he was in fact the strongest one here, thus he should be obeyed. At least to an extent. He would refrain from attacking at the moment, but if that thickheaded bounced decided to insult him further, he would take him out for a scrap

"Ye'r lucky the old man's here, tiny, or I'd have yer guts for dinner, tiny. One more thing! while you an' yer lil' freinds were coverin' in yer basements, I woz protectin' this city." Gwharr growled as he turned around. He found himself once again loathing this "new world" he had awoken in. He had fought Necrodium and his minions, smashing them to bits, all to protect people like this. And he was not alone either. In fact, most of the "metahumans" had in fact rallied to protect the city from the villains that had destroyed the city. In fact, one of the women he had loved had given her life in the battle against Ibis. At times like this he occasionally wondered if he had been on the wrong side during the whole ordeal. . .

However, his thought was interrupted by a loud bang, as one of the thugs fired a gun. Despite being invulnerable, Gwharr jolted slightly in surprise at the sound. He barely even felt the bullet collide with his chest. In fact he didn't even realize that he had been the target as he looked down and saw the malformed remains of what used to be a bullet, before once again looking up, his small, pig-like eyes scanning across the crowd, quickly finding the guilty party, in that he was the only one who's gun was smoking. The caveman growled menacingly as he started to move towards the man, who seemed to quickly grasp the danger of his current situation.

The bouncer quickly moved between Gwharr and the shooter, holding his hands up. Everybody calm the fu. . . he started, before he was smacked aside by the enraged caveman who bulldozed through a table in order to get as close as possible to the shooter. As he charged, the caveman roared loudly. A deafening, blood-curdling sound. Now the bar turned into a thunderous inferno as many of the guns fired, almost simultaneously at the big caveman in particurlar or his companions in general, however, bullets did nothing to stop the Rage-fueled, Roaring Rampage of Revenge. The initial shooter desperately looked for a way to escape, but unfortunately he had seated himself in a booth, so he was trapped like a rat on a sinking ship. The cavemans massive arm shot forwards, an oversized hand grabbing the man around the waist, throwing him down on the floor, as if he was a ragdoll. Then gwharr placed foot on his back to prevent him from escaping, as he grabbed ahold of the table the shooter had previously been sitting at, swinging it around effortlessly in a series of sweeping motions, knocking all of the nearby to the ground, even breaking a few bones in the process, before hurling said table at the bar, where a terrified bartender ducked just in time to avoid having a table smashing into his head.

The caveman then roared another roar, this time of triumph as he beat his chest, bullets still flying through the air, but doing little to bother him. The caveman then turned his attention to the man he had trapped beneath his foot, snarling likea wild beast, strings of saliva hanging from his mouth Before bringing his fist down, ending the shooter quickly and painlessly.

After his little roar of triumph, Gwharr was feeling much better, but his blood was still boiling, and his thirst for carnage had not yet been satisfied. His greedy little pig-like eyes darted around the place, localizing any and all shooters that still seemed to foolishly cling to their guns and firing them at him. he let out a bestial sound that was somewhere between a monstrous roar and a vicious laughter when he had picked his target, and those around him could feel the vibrations in the floor as he rushed across the room, in a manner similar to a raging gorilla, the guttural noise he had made earlier replaced by a low-pitched growl, as he smacked his intended target and one of his friends across the room, where they hit the wall and collapsed, in a pile, before slowly getting up and absconding the location, rather than facing another of the cavemans violent rampages.

The caveman in the meantime had the better part of a booth over his head, his eyes once again darting back and forth across the room for someone to deposit the booth on, in order to further cause agony to his assailants. a slight chortle escaped his lips as he found another target, but he was then distracted by a sudden crash of a glass breaking and a poof of steam erupting around the the man behind the bar (whom he had pretty much forgotten about during his little rampage) quickly spreading around the room. Gwharr coul not help but to snicker as the barman thrashed around and seeingly managed to get the entire selection of (not so fine) beverages to fall on top of him, the sound of shattering glass loud and noisy.

However, before he had further time to find himself a new target, the elderly Cornelius aproached him, still managed to look good-natured and rather charming, despite of the chaotic scenes of destructions aroudn of him, and the soft whimpers from the downed bar-patrons. He seemed to suggest that they abscond from this location and find themselves somewhere else to drink, something with Gwharr whole-heartedly agreed with. "Sounds good. This really ain't my kinda place anyway." he said, as the pair ambled toward the exit, Gwharr sheepishly stopped to put down the crumbling booth he still held over his head, seemingly having forgotten about it untill it was time to get out through that door.

"You folks didn't get hurt, did ya?" The Surprisingly Soppy Smasher of Scoundrels asked as the little mismatched team of miscreants exited the bar, following Cornelius to whatever Wacky Hjinx they would stumble into next.

Gwharr could not help to grin as the almost annoyingly cheerfull old man decided to lead him away from the Brutally Battered Battlefield that was formerly known as a rather pleasant tavern. He snorted in contempt as he looked back upon the building. No doubt they were regretting picking a fight with the Smashiest Super-Sod around, aka Him. Because of the violent brawl the giant caveman seemed to be in a far better mood than earlier, and so he snorted with laughter as Cornelius started to talk in his curiously peculiar "goofy old-man" manner. He especially found the world "Kerfuffle" funny for some reason. It sounded so silly, kind of like a pair of rabbits having a boxing-match or something equally outlandish yet adorable.

"Kerfuffle? Ain't soundin' violent 'nuff. I'd call it a brawl at the very least." The caveman grunted before chuckling in a surprisingly good-natured way.

He couldn't help but to notice that Cornelius placed several pieces of gold on the table. It was probably worth quite a bit of money, and Gwharr figured that it was wasted on the likes of these men, but Cornelius probably had the right to waste his money on whatever endevour he thought was worth it. Besides, if the caveman pointed out the foolishness of donating money to these agressive ruffians, the old man might realize the foolishness of buying a certain caveman dinner and numerous drinks.

However his train of thought was interrupted by that noisy little badger who once again piped uo, complaining about his actions whilst in the pub. Gwharr snorted in response and let out a quick but deep growl in the direction of the badger. That Fluffy, Furry, Feisty Fool was starting to get on his nerves with his sarcastic comments upon whatever it was that Gwharr was currently doing. It was quite likely that the two of them would not get along all that well in the near future, but he couldn't deny that the Badger was quite courageous to dare to challenge him like that just after he had smashed that bar to pieces. However, no matter how highly he thought of Bernards courage he still wasn't going to let such an insult pass him by unanswered

" I 'ad ta defend meself! They bloody shot at me, ya hairy lil' twit! Or maybe ye 'ad yer head too far up yer own arse to notice!" He answered, his deep voice rumbling and obviously rather annoyed with the incessant prattling.

Cornelius seemed to be in good spirits as they ventured through the ruins of the once-great city. Gwharr couldn't help but to draw parrallels to that time he had ambled through the ruins of ancient rome, such as the collosseum, far after the city had fallen. He had recognized it, but it was not really the same as it was when the structures was actually in use. It felt rather comforting to have company whilst walking throught these ruins, as it prevented him from being totally buried in twentytwo millenia of piled-on nostalgia.

As Corn sat down upon the toppled sculpture Gwharr did the same, finding a rather comfortable spot on the torso of the once-proud statue of whoever it was. The arm of the statute was so placed that it made a decent backrest for the Harsh, Horribly Hairy, Hulkish Hooligan. He smiled as Cornelius handed him a bottle, nodding briefly in a sort of non-verbal thank-you gesture as Cornelius handed him a flask of liqour and warned him of the "burn" of the contest. He couldn't help but to grin slightly. "Spent more than a thousand years buried under lava, so don't worry 'bout me, old man" He said, grinning widely. The caveman was indeed in good spirits today. He took a swig out of the bottle, the strong, yet warming taste filling his mouth. It was indeed tasty, no doubt better than anything that place had been able to serve up, even if they had been inclined to serve their little group.

"Delicious!" Gwharr exclaimed as he followed up with another small sip from the bottle, mostly to see if the deliciousness went away after the first mouthfull. It did not.

"Ya know, Cornelius. This reminds me of when that earthquake hit Rhodes over twothousand years ago. me and a few friends sat down on the remains on the collossus and drank in the ruins of the city, sorta like now." He said before taking yet another, moderate sip from the bottle, seemingly more for the taste than for the drunkening.

"Guess history does repeat itself." The caveman said with a chuckle. Soon enough the little group of individuals were sharing tales, and in a way it felt like Gwharr had known them for years. He told them about the mammoths of ancient times, and how his people had worshipped and feared the thunder in the sky, and in return he was told many wondrous, if slightly more modern.tales.