The Panther’s Roar: Graduation, Black Chrome, and the Road to Zimrala
Date: June 3, 1989 Location: Flagstaff, Arizona... and Beyond Mood: Primal, Hungry, V8 Engine Growling in the Dark
Well, we did it. As of an hour ago, I am officially a graduate of Coconino High School.
Walking across that stage in my red and black cap and gown, looking out at the crowd, it felt surreal. The wind was kicking up outside (classic Flagstaff spring weather, even in June), but inside, it was all "Panther Pride." It feels like just yesterday we were freshmen trying to figure out the hallways, and now we’re tossing our caps and getting ready to take over the world.
But let’s be real—the highlight wasn't the diploma. The highlight was walking out to the parking lot under the rising moon, tossing that piece of paper into the passenger seat of my 1965 Mustang Fastback, and turning the key.
It's not just any Mustang. I painted it myself this spring—a deep, midnight black that looks wet even when it's dry. All the chrome is blacked out. It sits low and mean, like a big cat waiting to pounce. When that 289 V8 fires up, it doesn't rumble; it growls.
The Soundtrack of a Full Moon Night
My tape deck is getting a serious workout tonight. It depends on who I'm riding with, but the playlist is split right down the middle between the twang and the electric guitars.
Country: You can’t live in Flagstaff without a little country. Clint Black is huge right now—everyone is blasting "A Better Man." It’s practically the anthem of the summer already. We’ve also got Shenandoah’s "The Church on Cumberland Road" and, of course, the King himself, George Strait.
Rock: When we hit the open road near the forest, the volume goes up. Guns N’ Roses is still king with "Patience" playing every hour. Tom Petty just dropped "I Won't Back Down," which feels perfect for graduation. And you can’t escape Bon Jovi’s "I’ll Be There For You."
At the Movies: The Summer of Sequels
We’ve been spending way too much time and money at the theater.
Indy: We all just saw "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade." It is so much better than Temple of Doom. Seeing Indy ride off into the sunset felt like a sign for us graduates.
The Bat: The anticipation for the new "Batman" movie is unreal. Michael Keaton as Bruce Wayne? We’re all skeptical, but the trailer looks dark and awesome.
Sci-Fi Fix: I’m a sci-fi junkie, so I’m counting down the days until "Star Trek V: The Final Frontier" hits theaters this Friday. I know the reviews are mixed, but it's Kirk and Spock—I’m there.
Life in the High Country
Living here in Flagstaff in 1989 is a trip. The city just passed those new "Dark Sky" lighting codes recently, so when we’re out late tonight, the Milky Way is going to look insane over the San Francisco Peaks.
My friends and I have big plans. We aren't just going to work jobs; we're going to build things. We’ve been messing around with our own game campaigns—I’ve got this idea for a massive story involving soldiers and a shadow war (I'm calling it the Tiger Force Shadow Saga), and we’re definitely not stopping our Monsters! Monsters! sessions anytime soon.
Actually... speaking of Monsters! Monsters!, I think I know why I feel so different tonight. It's not just graduation. The moon is almost full. I feel my skin itching, my senses sharpening. The beast inside is scratching at the door.
If life were a game, here is what my stats would look like right now:
The Character Sheet: Class of '89 Werepanther
A shapeshifting hunter. In human form, a tactical thinker. Under the moon, a sleek, lethal predator of the night.
Kindred: Lycanthrope (Werepanther) Attributes (Rolled on 3d6 & Adjusted for Hybrid Form):
Strength (STR): 30 (Base 15 x 2 multiplier) – Primal, bone-crushing power.
Constitution (CON): 24 (Base 16 x 1.5 multiplier) – Incredible stamina and health.
Dexterity (DEX): 21 (Base 14 x 1.5 multiplier) – Silent, stalking agility.
Speed (SPD): 18 (Base 15 x 1.2 multiplier) – Explosive speed.
Intelligence (IQ): 12 – Retains human cunning.
Luck (LK): 11
Charisma (CHA): 10
Combat Stats:
Personal Adds: +42
Weapons: Claws & Bite (4d6 damage in hybrid form)
Special Powers:
Lycanthropic Regeneration: Heals 1d6 CON at the start of every combat turn (unless hit by silver).
Night Hunter: Enhanced vision and scent tracking in darkness.
The Mount: The Black Panther (1965 Mustang)
A sleek, midnight-black construct of steel and shadow, prowling the asphalt.
Monster Rating (MR): 150
Deadliness Rating: 4
Combat Dice: 16d6 + 75 adds
Special Abilities:
Pounce: Overruns enemies for double damage on a massive win, like a cat taking down prey.
Sleek Hide: The blacked-out body grants a bonus to stealth checks at night.
Shadow Speed: Rolls 4d6 for Speed/Chase checks in low light.
The Chronicle: The Midnight Detour
So, here is how the night actually went.
The graduation party was winding down, but the hunger was just waking up. I was behind the wheel, heading east on Route 66 past the old Museum Club. The cool mountain air ruffled the fur that was starting to sprout on my forearms through the open window.
I was contemplating my future—Conquer a small kingdom? Hunt in the royal forests?—when the road ahead decided to stop being a road. A swirling vortex of violet and sickly green energy erupted from the ground. It looked like a doorway to somewhere else. Somewhere wild.
A lesser creature would have slammed on the brakes. Me? The moon was up, and my blood was singing.
I shifted into hybrid form, my graduation gown tearing at the seams as muscle and fur burst through. With a growl, I slapped the shifter down a gear and stomped the gas pedal. The Black Panther Mustang roared in response, leaping toward the portal like its namesake.
The world turned inside out. Then, with a silent, graceful landing that only a cat could pull off, we touched down on purple dirt. Two moons hung in a sky the color of a bruised plum.
Definitely not Arizona. We were in Zimrala.
Chapter 1: Welcome to the Purple Plains
Standing about fifty feet away was a patrol of five squat, green-skinned goblins. They were staring, terrified, at the sleek black beast that had just appeared from nowhere, its headlights glowing like yellow predatory eyes.
"By Gristlegrim's beard!" one squeaked. "It... it's a shadow demon riding a metal jaguar!"
I leaned out the window, my panther head filling the frame, and flashed a grin filled with very sharp teeth. "Sup, snacks. Which way to the nearest dungeon?"
The goblins scattered, screaming into the night. I laughed a low, guttural laugh and gunned the engine. The terrain was rough—spongy moss and jagged violet rocks—but the Panther Mustang was built for the prowl.
I hadn't gone a quarter-mile when the ground beneath me rumbled. A massive Acid-Spitting Land Anemone (MR 80, Deadliness 3) burst from the ground, blocking my path. Before I could react, it heaved, spraying a massive glob of sizzling green acid directly at me.
It hit me square in the chest. The torn remnants of my graduation gown dissolved instantly.
I looked down at my chest fur, which was steaming but unharmed. "Hey!" I roared, my voice a mix of man and beast. "Regeneration, buddy! You're gonna have to do better than that!"
I slammed the Mustang into first gear. The Anemone wobbled, confused. That was its last mistake.
"Eat Ford, you overgrown weed!"
The dice hit the table. It was a massacre. The Mustang’s black chrome bumper caught the beast mid-wobble. POUNCE EFFECT TRIGGERED.
The creature exploded in a shower of goo. I turned on the windshield wipers, cranked Guns N' Roses back up to max volume, and sped off toward the distant mountains where I could see dragons circling.
The hunt is on.
Class of '89, baby. We’re just getting started.
