Don’t Mess With Otherkin!

By Martin “The Baron” Hubley
Some
of my faithful readers may know this, but for others it may come as
something of a shock: I am otherkin. I’m not ashamed to say it. My body
is inhabited by the spirit of an elder dragon which goes by the name of
Nga’thhlt (a name which many humans have trouble pronouncing, so I
simply call him Stryyker.) My lizard soul gives me powers beyond your
wildest imaginings, powers which I have displayed and proven many a
time. But still there are those who make fun of me and call me names.
Hear this humans: No matter what you think of us, this does NOT give
you the right to interfere with our lifes! For if you do, we shall
fight back with all our might!

 
This is our coda, our
residing battle cry: You may make fun of us but we will laugh at your
ignorance stupidity. You may smash our chicken sandwich at lunch but we
will simply eat it anyway. For we are otherkin. We were here long
before you were born, and we will continue to be around here after you
die.
 
Which is to say: Don’t Mess With Otherkin! Normally
we are peaceful and loving folk, but the following story is evidence of
the dangerous of what happens to those who mess with an otherkin spirit.
 

P.S.
Anyone who is not familiar with Otherkine culture should read the
comprehensible guide to it I wrote HERE. That should be all the
information you need to understand us.  

True Otherkin Pals

A
few months ago, after spending an awesome afternoon just hangin’ and
gaming, three of my fellow kin pals and I decide to head to Walgreens
to get some snacks such as pork rinds, cashews, and some dew to refuel
our gamer thirst. Just for reference, the friends I had along were Toby
2 (a Faery Otherkin) Chaos-Magician (a Dolphinkin) and Jace a
(Wolfkin). Seeing as none of us could drive, we decided to take the
short walk through the park behind my house to get there.
 
Now,
we hadn’t bothered changing clothes for a number of reasons: 1. We are
not ashamed our my kin-ness and 2. We had just engaged in the ritual of
Karath-Ta, and were clothed in our traditional ceremonius garbs (for me
it was a red silk robe with black dragons embossed, combat boots,
Dragon Tales baseball cap, etc) which are really quite comfortable and
great for a stroll, and we did not feel like changing into common human
clothing.
 
So we’re just walking along discussing the
Warhammer book we had all read (Oathbreaker, The Lizardman) when a
group of older pre-teens on bikes and blades came down the path.
 

Troubled Gothick Pre-Teenagers Arrive

Even
before I could see their faces I knew there would be trouble. Call it a
second sense, call it what your will, but something in my dragon being
knew that these were evil folk (of demonkin descent, no doubt) so I put
out my arm and backed my companions off the path to make way. You might
call me a coward, but it is part of the Otherkine code (as well as the
code of the samurai, which I also follow) that you DO NOT EVER
institute a fight against humans. You may only respond to it, but may
do so with terroric vengeances.
 
As the kids grew nearer
I could see that they were punks or gothics, which could only mean
trouble. I knew from their ripped band t-shirts, gelled hair, and blue
jeans that they came from broken homes and had been molested by
parents, relatives, etc. They were out on the town at 9PM on a
thursday, and they were looking for trouble. Little did they know, they
found it, in the form of three combat-ready otherkins, one of who
(myself) is proficient in marital art.

Lines in the Sand

They
came up, stopped their bikes, and looked us up and down. One of them
started laughing, and said, “What the *BLEEP* (foul language)!”
in a tone I took to be mockling and offensive. None of us said anything,
but Jace began growling under his breath and bared his teeth. I knew I
would have to act quickly because you can’t hold back a wolfkin who
smells human blood. My back began to itch (what often happens when my
dragon spirit is awoken because of the wings) and I could feel my
dragons rage welling up within me, but I held back. I did not feel like
going to jail for a killing, no matter how much my beastial side cried
out for it.
 
I told the boys that we weren’t looking for
trouble, but that we were otherkin and would be more than willing to
defend ourselves with animal strength if necessary. They started
laughing, and began making fun my dragon tales cap and what they called
my mustache a “molesters pube-stache”. I did not allow myself to get
angry. I informed them of my mantra: “Never deal with lower life forms,
no matter how bothersome they might be. Swatting at a dumb fly will
only give it the strength to annoy you even moreso.” They laughed
again, and said I should grow a “longer Chinaman mustache for my
Chinaman wisdoms and I could stroke it like I stroke myself to
Transformers Beast Wars” which was not only not true (beat wars has no
dragons, ha!) but also a bit racist if you ask me. Newsflash: Chinamen
are people too. Then again what can you expect from goths. They always
judge others by their appearance without even knowing them first. All
goths are a-holes (excuse my french).
 

The Battle

But
then the unthinkable happened. One of the girls began touching and
pulling at one of the fabric wolve’s tail which hung from the back of
Jace’s robe. Not good. Anyone who knows the otherkin culture knows that
the one thing you NEVER do to a wolfkin is pull its tail. NEVER. But
this girl had no respect. She was laughing and calling him “Davy
Croch-Lick” and pretending to flirt with him, stirring up his primal
emotions like all sexy blonde cute 12 year old kids in hot shorts with
milky white legs just LOVE to do. All the other gothick preteens were
laughing along too like the futile little imps they were. Then, it got
worse: The girl ripped the tail from the robe where my mother had sewn
it and threw it on the ground.
 
This was the last straw that broke the camel’s pack.
 
It
was an insult to all things otherkin. You NEVER touch an otherkins
kinly appendage, let alone tear it off. And not only that, if it
touches the ground you are to burn it on a pyre IMMIDIATELY.  This
was too much beyond the pail. I could no longer contain my elder glory!
These childrens had awakened a winged spirit of fire and would now be
punished! There was no escape from my rage. I roared and clawed at them
invoking my true dragonlish name by shouting it. The others howled and
screeched and joined in the rabid feeding frenzy. Things became a blur.
All I knew is that we were in combat, and that I was truly alive. At
one point their older brothers and sisters even joined in the fricas,
trying to defend their wretched spawn which they were related to.
Needless to say, this made little difference. Our little human friends
didn’t stand much of a chance. Not only were we 20-25 years older, and
100-260 pounds heavier, but we had the fury of our true ancient selves
lathering up just below the surfaces. It was glory in all it’s
glorious. It was true otherkin mayham.

Justice Restored

Obviously
I can’t explain the results of the fight for legal reasons, but let’s
just say that those kids won’t be bothering any otherkin any time soon.
They left bruised and bloody and bitten and crying out for their
mommies. They are lucky I didn’t singe their hair. But the best part
was that we made them apologize for misjudging us, and they claimed
they would respect Otherkins from that day forward.
 
But
unfortunately this was done out of fear, and as soon as they got home
they stitched to their mommys and daddys. The police were called, and
obviously the officers claimed not to understand the truth (That WE
were attacked, not the attackers. Obviously they are bias against
otherkine). But as it stands now, I easily made bail (selling off a few
of my older MINT action figs) and will soon attend trial for my
so-called “Assault on persons under the age of 18”. To be Franky, it is
laughable. Once I explain my position to the jury they will laugh in
the children’s faces and declare us innocent and justice will be served
cold. Otherkin always triumph, even in the face of advertsity.
 

Know Your Place, Humans

But
as far as I’m concerned not only should those gothiks have apologized,
they should have also thanked us for teaching them a lesson: