|
Post by Vicorva on Sept 30, 2008 21:08:40 GMT
Characters: Must be Approved by me, or any other available mod. Content Rating: Adult. Gotta have adult when you have über-violent werecreatures, right? Genre: Story with freeform elements, but it’s all about char development. Nature Freaks The Story”Each event is preceded by Prophecy. But without the hero, there is no Event." -Zurin Arctus | the Underking
----------
“The legend tells of a time that occurs once in each era, when a demon god will walk the land in the company of his Hounds, creatures of terrible might. He is The Hunter, and his coming is preceded by three signs. I had prayed that I had misread the signs, misunderstood the prophecy, but I am sure it is not so." -Korst Wind-Eye | Skaal Shaman
----------
“So, the Nerevarine fought Hircine, back in the Third Era, right? He kills Hircine’s aspect, ends the Bloodmoon, and the Solstheim is safe for another Era. Fantastic. Nerevarine saves us all.
But what we didn’t know then is that the Third Era was almost over, and Hircine was pissed. Really, really mad. Only the Nerevarine- ashlander scum that he is- turned tail and ran. Disappeared off into fairy-land alongside Vivec. Brilliant. Blood Brilliant. For them.
But what about us, eh? Who’s the ‘chosen one’ to save us now?
Not that there’s much left of us to save. We’re nearly all bloody dead now, ent we?” –Scad Scumbucket | Thirsk’s most presitigious hall drunk. Solstheim is in trouble. Hircine has seized his opportunity to get vengeance on Mundus for the trick that the Nerevarine played. Only it’s not the Nerevarine who’s suffering. No, it’s the people of Solstheim who are suffering. All doors are barred at night. In the city of Ravenrock, there is a huge wall with a spiked and trapped ditch all around the perimeter. The town of Skaal is all but destroyed- those with enough sense have moved out to sea for the night, or else live in silver-warded caves. And the village of Thirsk is a Fortress. Moonmoth also has a wall and trapped ditch. But Hircine is not thwarted so easily. The werecreatures have increased in volume (and kind)- predators of all kinds now roam the island- impossible to distinguish from normal folks during the day. Nowhere is safe. Nobody quite knows where to turn- and nobody will now risk taking you to Solstheim. But this is all too much. Y’ffre and Kynareth have called their Druids from their lonely and isolated lifestyle- called them to Solstheim, to sort things out. As they control natural animals, so are they expected to tame the beasts within the werecreatures. But things are never that easy. Hircine will have his prophecy fulfilled, for good or ill: the question is only who will he choose for his Prey- and who was already chosen by Fate to be the hero. Or, as Scumbucket’s sentiments reflect- if there is a hero at all. And so we enter the world of the Nature Freaks- a magical, hectic, and dangerous place to be. You never know who your friends or enemies are- nor who is sane and who isn’t. Alrighty ThenOkay, so we know the stakes. Now for the characters… You can be whoever you want, really, but it’d be cool if you actually got involved. ‘Cause if you don’t, I’ll plan something nasty for you. Now, unique to this RP, we have: *ding ding*… The Druids! DruidsDruids have minor command over nature, varying in power as they vary in experience. Usually, they will specialise in a single element or aspect of nature- this makes them more powerful. However, those who do not specialise are much less powerful, but much more versatile. They also have a unique bond with a certain kind of animal. They can also shape-shift into a common form of this animal. This will be your druids’ most useful ability over the course of this rp- yeah, making a flower bloom is all very well and good, but you need to connect with the lycanthropes, not impress them with your gardening- or, as it may be, your super-awesomely destructive fire power. Then there are… *ding ding ding*… The Werecreatures! WerecreaturesWerecreatures are predatorial half-human half-animals. They can shapeshift into an animal-like form. In this form, they take on the aspects of the animal they mimic- a werecroc cannot run too fast, but he can swim like anything and is pretty darn strong. A Werewolf is fast and powerful, but only on land, and they are a little restricted by their pack instincts. Usually, the original werecreature forms will follow the standard rules outlined below. Unique or newly emerged werecreature forms may or may not follow the standard rules outlined below. Werewolves can, at need, force the change, but it will be quite painful. Equally, they can hold back. Both of these become easier with experience and extreme willpower. However, they ALL suffer from bloodlust, and hear Hircine’s call. There can be exceptions to this rule. If you have an interesting non-predator, and a good background for him, use him. Likewise, if you have a werewolf with a completely different history than the usual ‘I got bit, I hunt for Hircine’ and perhaps a different take, I may well approve it. We aren’t necessarily trying to be uniform: we are just trying to be interesting. RulesMeh. You know the rules. Standard for Illusionaria and the rating. But if you get too boring or don’t interact with the group enough, I may stir up something interesting/scary for ya. I’ll be controlling Hircine and the Druid Gods, for the most part. However, they are considered general NPCs, so if you have a personal questline or something you wanna try out, go for it, although I’d rather you ran it past me first. You can make your own sheets, as long as they are organised, detailed, and easy to read. Other than that… let’s go!
|
|
|
Post by Vicorva on Oct 1, 2008 11:01:52 GMT
Raven Rock, The White Bear
Mercury lie on the pallet that served as her bed in the cheap room she had bought in the inn. Though the Bear was by no means a shabby inn, it catered for a wide range of classes, thus allowing her a poor room, while the more wealthy customers could afford more luxury.
Not that she particularly needed a cheap room. She just didn't see the point in letting all that money go to waste. She sighed, and rolled over.
She'd come to Solstheim not a day ago. It had been hard. Nobody was willing to go out to Solstheim right now- not with the terrible rumours assossiated with the place- but she'd called in a favour from a Guild Guide who teleported her there.
Getting into Ravenrock itself hadn't been a piece of cake, either. She'd been interrogated, and her blood had been 'checked' for disease before entry. They'd found no trace of sanies lupinus in her blood- but she wasn't surprised. Whatever had been done to her, it wasn't the werewolf disease. It was something much stranger.
It's ironic that they do so, considering they'd find it hard to keep me out in my lycanthrope form... she thought. A werefox may be rubbish in a fight, but I'm much smaller than any other werecreature, and very agile... their traps would struggle to keep me out.
Foxes were urban creatures, afterall- city scavengers. To be honest, if she kept a low profile, she could even get away with being spotted briefly- people imagined that her size was imagined, and she was just another fox.
Of course, she didn't like to be in a city setting when she changed. Oh no. Because then she might hurt someone. Anyone wielding a silver weapon could do for her, but then the werefox rarely went for larger prey. No... she went after children.
Mercury shuddered. That wasn't what she liked at all.
At any rate, she didn't feel like sitting around depressing herself over what a monster she was. She headed downstairs to the bar. She'd get a glass of water, maybe food enough for a walk, and then she'd explore the island. If she was lucky, she'd be far enough out by the time night fell that she wouldn't hurt anyone, and would just hunt animals instead. She hoped.
|
|
|
Post by DarkNova50 on Oct 1, 2008 14:13:01 GMT
Will gave a slight grunt as he set the wolf carcass down at the rear of the Thirsk mead hall, a small amount of blood staining the snow beneath it dark crimson. He silently hoped that the smell wouldn't attract any of the beast's more...unpleasant relatives, but he also knew that the people of Thirsk were in need of the fur and meat. Silently, he made his way around the exterior of what was essentially an enormous tavern, and made his way through the front door.
Dozens of Nords looked over at Will as he entered through the door, their eyes discerning, but not unkind. But Will had grown used to that look from them; he knew that they saw him as an oddity, a strange nomad. Even his skin served to mark him as an outsider, its dark tone standing in stark contrast to their pale white. The men and women of the mead hall turned back to their flagons as Will walked towards one of the men, a large Nord with a heavy brown beard.
"I left it in the usual spot," the Redguard explained, crouching down next to the man, so their eyes were level. "Just the one this time. I hope it will be enough."
The Nord waved dismissively, setting down his drink. "It's those damned beasts out there. We've got competition in our hunting, now," he explained casually. "Personally, I don't know how you do it, sleeping in that cave of yours, with those things running around all the time."
Will shrugged slightly. He'd learned from the Skaal still living on the island to use silver to ward off any were-creatures wandering about, as they had. Still, all the silver in Tamriel couldn't keep out the noise of those creatures constantly running around outside. And even he had to admit that he fount that unnerving.
"Well, we can get your supplies ready in a moment," the Nord explained, nodding in approval. "But come, sit. Enjoy some mead." The man smiled happily at Will. "You are always welcome here at Thirsk, my Redguard friend."
Will nodded, and took a seat next to the man, grabbing a flagon of mead from near the centre of the table. And as he sat there, drinking, he was sure that from the corner of his eye, he caught the occasional glance from the others there.
|
|
|
Post by webster52402 on Oct 1, 2008 14:17:40 GMT
Somewhere in the wastes of Solstheim
The snow was freezing his hands, as Vantustius sobbed, pushing small piles of snow up onto the mess that he had made. He wanted to hide it, he wanted to forget it, forget what he had done... But no matter how much snow he shoveled onto it, it would never go away. The snow that he piled on top of it only turned a dark crimson before melting on the warm flesh, small curls of steam still rising from the freshly revealed insides of his latest victim.
Tears dropped down onto the frigid, tightly packed snow, the Imperial slowly coming back to get another handful of snow, before dropping it on top of the pile again. Pile, melt, pile, melt, it was a never-ending cycle that eventually Vantustius couldn't do any more. Letting out another heart-wracking sob, he fell forward, bracing his hands on either side of the corpse beneath him, of what had previously been a deer. Now, it was simply... a grotesque reminder of what he became.
His tears no longer froze to the snow, as they were dropping directly down into the twisting coils of the deer's small intestine, which was hanging in loops, some of which were partially eaten, from the giant rend in the poor creature's side, looping every now and again around the base of the creature's rib cage, which was just barely visible at the top of the ragged tear. That again was another reminder of just what Vantustius did when night fell.
His stomach finally rebelled, miraculously having held up even this long. He felt the organ jump within his body, constricting and churning for a moment, and causing Vantustius to slowly rock in place, as though he had been lightly pushed from behind. His sobs choked off, being replaced by a strangled "Ulp..." As he felt bile slowly rising in the back of his throat, pushing past all his defenses. And then, the sour liquid made contact with the back of his tongue... Finally overwhelming him completely.
His back arched, as he vomited into the corpse that he had created, the liquid that emerged still partially stained crimson with the poor creature's blood. The small chunks that floated around inside of it were likely bits of intestine as well, but the last thing that Vantustius wanted to do was think about that. Instead, the moment his legs unlocked, he kicked himself away from the corpse, crawling away from it. His throat was freed again, so he returned to his sobbing anew, not bothering to clean himself. He was a beast... Beasts didn't need hygiene...
OOC: Never thought I'd have such a dark opening for Van. xD
EDIT OOC: WTF? I wrote this over two hours ago, and I'm still feeling like I just kicked a puppy. lol
|
|
|
Post by Vicorva on Oct 1, 2008 15:47:18 GMT
OOC: I'm glad I rated this adult... we have many morbidly-talented writers hanging around. IC: Raven Rock, Eastern gateMercury trudged over to the gate. The troop of legionnaires posted there didn't seem too threatened by her: letting people out wasn't really a problem, and if she got in, she was probably safe. How little they know... she thought darkly, and a little sadly. She had not asked to be the way she was. As far as her memory went, she was born this way... she became a new person at nineteen, with the loss of all previous memory. Which meant this was just how she was, as far as she was concerned. And she hated it. One of the guard's nearest her sized her up. Rather than the usual practice she'd heard some women complaining about, of wolf-whistles and cat-calls, he only asked gruffly, "Ain't you a little small to be going out there on your own?" She looked at him. He was a nord, of course, as were most of those on Solstheim, even in the more varied city of Raven Rock. His face was cleanshaven and his hair short, surprisingly. Only his great height, pale skin, hair and eyes marked him for what he was, else he might have been imperial. She noted genuine concern in his eyes. She paused, and replied warily, "I am. But my decisions are my own." He nodded. "Aye, and I wouldn't take it away from you, miss, but it t'ain't safe out there. Praps you'd reconsider?" Mercury shook her head and kept walking. "No. No... I have to do this..." "Miss!" the guard pleaded, moving to stand in her way. He was so large she had to crane her neck to look up at him. "Have you some silver, at least?" he drew a dagger, and offered it to her. She glanced at it- it was poorly made, but it was the purest of silvers- poor though folks were on Solstheim, they had learned their lesson, it seemed. Her natural urge was to shy away from it- it was so close, so painfully close- but she had no wish to make herself seem suspicious. With iron will, she held herself still as it was offered. "I do, sir. Here," she tapped the sheath of one dagger. "And here..." she tapped the other. The two were her main weapons, and her only silver, but she had to be so careful not to touch the blades. As it was, even through her clothes she could feel the silver burning into her flesh at times- she'd had to line her sheaths with iron to prevent it. Though she was not sure, Mercury had always suspected that she was more susceptible to silver than most. A weakness that could not be cured: Hircine, though she heard his call, was not her master, not her creator. She got none of the benefits of his leadership. She reigned in her thoughts, and looked at the guard, who was still gazing at her plaintatively. "I'll be on my way now, good sir..." she murmured, stepping swiftly around him and walking on. "At least let me accompany you, ma'am! Please, 'tis dangerous out there!" Mercury whirled, eyes blazing. "Then it will be your death as well as mine!" she snapped at him. "I'll go where I will: don't be so foolish as to abandon your post on the account of one unworthy." Large and brave though he was, the nord recoiled when faced with her fury. Most did. Mercury closed her eyes briefly, gathering her patience, and then turned and strode calmly out into the wilderness. Once upon a time, before the weight of her curse truly bore down upon her, she might have considered such an honest and caring man as a partner. But now she knew, she knew she was unworthy of that. She was an evil beast- and not even so mindlessly cruel as a true lycanthrope. No... she was a Fox. She was aware, so very aware, and so very clever. But still she did it. She shook her head, and broke into a run. That's why she had come here. To live out her unnaturally long life as the beast she truly was, or else be killed by the only creatures who's claws could cause her harm. The guard watched her go, a sad expression on his face. "Gods guard you soul, ma'am," he murmured, and watched her all the way until she disappeared into the mist. And then he returned to his post, and tried to put her from his mind. So many went mad nowadays. There was no sense lingering on it. EDIT: It's because you did. You cruel, cruel man. Shame on you.
|
|
|
Post by DarkNova50 on Oct 1, 2008 20:18:35 GMT
OOC: Well Webster, I'd like to say you're not capable of it, but when I read your Wilfric posts I feel like you could kick a kitten through an electric fan without blinking.
IC: Armourers hammers, healing potions, a thick bear fur blanket...
Will kept a mental checklist of the items contained within the large leather satchel, ensuring that it contained all the materials that he'd requested from the Thirsk Nords. It wasn't a matter of trust; he knew the people there to be honest and trustworthy, and their mutual system of bartering had been refined over the years. But Solstheim was a dangerous place, and if he found he was missing an item right when he needed it....
He might never have the chance to get it afterwards.
"You're sure that's all you need, friend?" the bearded Nord asked him, a curious look on his face as he stood over the crouched Redguard near the exit to the mead hall. "We'd be happy to give you anything else you require. Clothing? A new sword, maybe?"
Will shook his head as he secured the small bundle, bracing it tightly beneath one arm as he stood up. "I appreciate the offer, but no," he replied graciously. "You know how it is when you get attached to a weapon. It grows on you, becomes like an arm or a leg." When he thought of all the use he'd garnered from the weapon, how many animals and beasts he'd slain with it, how many times over it had saved his life, he couldn't imagine life on the island without it at his back.
The Nord gave an affirmative nod of the head. "Aye, that I do," he remarked understandingly, grinning. "Well, if you need anything else, or maybe you're just in need of good company, you know where to find us, lad."
Will gave an appreciative nod before heading back outside, into the harsh weather of the island. Snow whipped violently past his face, catching in his hair and gradually causing his black clothing to fade to white. The Redguard drew his wolf fur cloak around him, allowing the thick hide to shield him from the wind and snow, before beginning back to his cave, only a few minutes walk from the tavern behind him.
And so he trudged through the snow, a lone figure, dark hair and grey cloak standing against the bleached white canvas of Solstheim around him.
|
|
|
Post by webster52402 on Oct 1, 2008 20:33:19 GMT
OOC: ... ... Hehehe... *Kick* Mrrrrooooo-Ght-ght-ght-ght-ght-ght! *Splatter*
... Great, now I have to clean the fan. *Trudges off*
IC: The snow no longer hurt Vantustius' hands, as they were numb now, from dragging himself through the freezing powder. He was also fairly sure that they were bleeding somehow, as he left a bit of crimson in the snow with each pull, but at the moment Vantustius didn't care. If he had cut himself on a rock or something, or simply drug them along the ground enough that they bled, it didn't matter. He was simply heading...
... Where, exactly? Where was he going? To somewhere that he couldn't hurt anyone? To somewhere that he could keep away from the creatures around him and keep him from killing them? Yeah, that'd work. His beast always managed to find something. There wasn't a place in Solstheim that could keep him from locating and killing another creature. Or a person, if he was unlucky enough for that... He was sure of it. No matter where he went, he would be followed by death.
He reached the edge of a small stream that sliced through the frozen wasteland, though admittedly it was a very slow-moving stream. It was broken here and there by floating little flotillas of ice shards and chunks, leaving it at the consistency of an ice cream float. Undoubtedly, the water was frigid enough to kill someone that remained within it for too long, but though Vantustius was saddened, that was not something that he wanted to test. He abhored death, and feared it, rightly so. The last thing he wanted to do was go to meet the Divines that had done this to him...
So instead, he pulled himself up onto his knees when he reached the side of the stream, rocking slowly back and forth. He had stopped sobbing a long time ago, having exhausted his tear ducts, but his breathing was still ragged and labored, as he gazed down into the stream before him. He looked as he always did in his reflection. Wild-haired, youthful face, like he couldn't hurt a fly... But he knew that it was all a lie, knew that it was all a trick, an illusion. He was a beast inside... Somewhere behind those eyes, somewhere within him, there was something waiting, just waiting, to take over him and kill again...
He let out a small wail of despair at that thought, his hand punching through his reflection. Immediately, the cold of the water jarred him to his senses, letting out a cry of shock at the sudden immersion. But, he still managed to pull out a handful of the water and splash it, rather undignified considering the way that he jumped at the feel of it against less numb skin, over his face and his mouth, washing away the bile that had clung to his lips, and the blood that had stained his face. He still looked like a mess, with the skin of his face red and irritated from his tears, but at the least he was a CLEAN mess now...
He rocked back and forth once more after his washing, staring hopelessly into the water in front of him. Where was he going to go...?
|
|
|
Post by FC4 on Oct 2, 2008 3:27:07 GMT
OOC: Time for the Introduction of the first druid!
IC: "You are a Druid, Islin Jecklin. Nature is one with your very being."
"Hmmm... I guess that's supposed to explain why a Cliff Racer in Ald'Ruhn tried to have sex with my face? You can do better than that, sweet disembodied voice."
"Kynareth."
"Right. So... what does being a Druid mean anyways?"
"Nature is at your beck and call, child. The wind is yours to command, and the beasts of the skies your allies."
"Sweeeeet! Now I can make a tornado and summon a cliff racer cluster ****, eh? So, when do I start?" Islin Jecklin's thin, lean elven frame stood in the entrance of Fort Frostmoth, entombed within a dark brown robe tightly wrapped over his shuddering body. The Dunmer had his collar popped up on the robe, but not to look cool; okay maybe it was. But it also served to keep the wind off his neck.
"So, when do I start." He repeated without the questioning tone, grumbling. "Me and my big mouth."
"Excuse me sir, but night is falling and we must close the gate." One of the Legion guards interrupted the Dunmer's thoughts, and Islin turned to look had him, one thick strand of vibrant red hair fluttering in front of his face. He stared at the guard for a second, then looked back at the gate, regarding it.
"But of course! If it keeps the wind down, by all means don't let me stop you!" He cried out joyously, stepping swiftly into the Fort proper and turning with watch the doors close with a smile. The wind began to die down, if only by a small amount. It was enough to make him shiver less.
"Now... where can I find a room?" Islin asked, eager to get to a fire and drink his brandy. His throat was getting cold.
"Second door on your left, sir." Islin nodded his thanks, sick of seeing his own breath. His netch leather boots crunched on the snow as he ran over to the door, and opened it.
"AH! WARMTH! GLORIOUS WARMTH!" He was exalting in the warmth of one of the torches on the wall, rubbing his gloved hands together in front of it.
|
|
|
Post by Vrek on Oct 2, 2008 6:11:15 GMT
"Last call, everyone who's gettin' off gets off! Five minutes and were settin' off!"
The last few of the travelers - would-be heroes, mostly - stepped off the ship, onto the docks of Fort Moonmoth. The sailors finished dropping down several crates, while a few of the Fort's guards came and carried them off into the walled innards of the fort.
The boarding plank was raised, and the ship shoved off, into the misty waters surrounding the island. The voice rang out again, echoing across the water, "We'll cast anchor outside of Raven Rock, trade 'em their resources in the morning." It was a common thing, something some ships had gotten down to a science. Go to Vvardenfell and the mainland, buy resources and book passage, head to Solsthiem, sell everything with high margins, and make sure your offshore by sunset. Even during such a crisis, there will always be someone looking for a profit.
But not Ian Vermouth. Though he was there, working with the sailors just the same, he never really wanted to be here. He would have much preferred sitting by the fire in the Riverhold Sanctuary, reading a nice book, perhaps doing a nice contract. Only transforming during a full moon, as it should have been. But as much as he loathed to admit it, he was but a tool of Hircine, as much as he was a tool of Sithis. He liked to think of himself as an effective tool. So here he was, every night slipping away from his place here, on this simple merchant vessel, wreaking havoc across the Sea of Ghosts.
Looking at the setting sun, Ian smiled a bitter smile. Such was life.
|
|
|
Post by Vicorva on Oct 2, 2008 10:58:28 GMT
OOC: As Vrek was so clever as to make a profit-seeking ship, anyone who's not already on the island is welcome to use that as their entry point. IC:
Solstheim, Central
Mercury had ran and ran and ran. As speed was one of the few bonuses that came of being a fox, she travelled quite far, quite fast. She also knew that she cold keep going until she collapsed- her will would allow nothing less. And so she did.
She skidded to a halt, tipping over head first into the snow outside a barrow: she gazed at its heavy stone doors as an eery howl permeated its walls. She shivered, and not from the cold.
The doors will keep them in... she thought. I'm safe here...
Or so she liked to believed. She lie there, skin tinging blue from the cold, breathing heavily and waiting for the next burst of energy to get her running again. She'd find herself a cave- a nice, cosy cave to live out the rest of her life in. It wasn't pleasant, but it was all that she had.
|
|
|
Post by FC4 on Oct 2, 2008 13:06:01 GMT
"Excuse me sir, but do you need help with something?" An Imperial in a simple shirt and pants asked, looking at Islin. The wiry dunmer looked back, a new light in his eyes; or maybe it was just reflecting off the torch he stood in front of. He flicked his head, removing one of the long strands of red hair from the side of his face, and smiled.
"Yep. How much for a room?" He asked cheerily, glad to be finally near warmth.
"Ten septims a night, sir." The Imperial replied, and held out his hand. Islin brushed aside the right flap of his robe to reach the pouch there on his belt, and felt around for coins amongst the papers there. Finally, he pulled out every coin he had and began counting it.
"Shucks. I'm shy one. How much is it for a good meal?" He inquired, somewhat sour at his lack of money for a room.
"Five, sir." The Imperial replied almost robotic, tired of holding out his hand. Five septims dropped into the man's hand, and Islin pocketed the remaining four with a grumble hidden beneath a smile, moving towards one of the tables and sitting down. As he moved one could hear the soft clink of metal on his person, and not gold coin. The Imperial room-keeper nodded towards him and a guard moved in.
"Excuse me sir, but we must check your person for weapons." The Dunmer looked up in bewilderment.
"Why, so you know what's on me if you need to use me, and I can't pull a surprise on you?" He asked with a whine, and the guard nodded. "Fine. I've got this, this, and these, and fifteen bolts in each pouch here." He said, pulling back his left robe sleeve to reveal the compact crossbow strapped there, then pointing to his saber, then his knives on his chest straps, and then the pouches near the knives.
The Guard moved in, though, and lifted Islin to a standing position, beginning to pat him down to be sure. "And what if I had something hiding in my ass?" He asked out of sheer immature curiosity.
"Then we would check there as well." The Guard said simply, stepping back as he finished. Islin gulped, eyes bulging. His hands went up quickly in a sign of surrender a plea for mercy.
"Don't worry, I'm not hiding a thing up there!" He squeaked quickly, and the Guard laughed.
"Enjoy your meal, sir. We might have need of you tonight." The Guard told him before moving back to the front of the door. Islin sat down with a relieved sigh, leaning over the edge of the table and staring seriously at the table surface.
Are the Werecreatures getting that bad?
|
|
|
Post by DarkNova50 on Oct 2, 2008 17:20:33 GMT
The wind had seemed to pick up since having left Thirsk, and Will could feel the bite of the cold against his skin. He made his way towards his cave, a large, protruding bump in the landscape, its entrance hidden facing the nearby river on the other side. He made his way around the large dome of fresh powder, towards the makeshift 'door' of heavy bear hides that had been sewn together, and now hung suspended from the roof of the entrance to the cave.
Will casually pushed the leather door aside as he placed his satchel of traded goods inside the mouth of the cave, the glint of firelight playing off the pieces of silver ore wedged into the rocks at the entrance. There was more within the cave, but he'd packed it particularly densely near the entrance, to help discourage any unwelcome guests. He prepared to head inside, when he happened to glance back, across the river.
In the distance, through the heavy veil of quick moving snow in the air, he thought he saw...something. It was hard to make out, considering how far off it was, but it looked like it could have been a person, or maybe an animal. Hell, it could have even been a large rock, for all he could tell. But it was out of place, nonetheless, and that was enough for him.
Will made his way from the cave entrance to the bank of the river, gazing curiously at the figure. "Is anybody over there?" he cried out to the figure, straining to make himself heard over the whipping of the snowstorm. "Are you alright?" The Redguard waited for some kind of reaction from the thing, still unsure of what it was.
OOC: Tag, Illusionary.
|
|
|
Post by scow2 on Oct 2, 2008 19:06:34 GMT
Along the shore of Solstheim, a lone jaguar had seemed to was ashore. After a few minutes, the unconcious form began to stir. The jaguar stood up, shaking the accumulated snow from the textured fur, as the frigid wind began to seemingly warm her. Looking the frozen wastes, it's eyes settled upon frozen weeds further down the shore. She prowled over to it, following her own scent. She nudged the foliage with her nose, confirming what she sought.
The jaguar reached her left paw forward, brushing the frozen stems and leaves away from the glint of metal. As she reached for the blade, the digits on her paws extended into a more handlike form, as her thumb moved from the back of her wrist to the side of her pads. With the new hand, she gripped a small leather cord holding the two blades together.
Now that she had her weapons secured, the transformation continued. Her thighs shifted backward, while her shoulders widened and ribcage shallowed out. She stood up as other changes occured, such as her head rolling 90 degrees toward her chest, and the six nipples of the jaguar migrating up and forming two feminine breasts. Her skin shifted to accomodate the changing musculature, filling out the tattoos of her parent-like gods on her front and back. Fully bipedal again, the almost feral khajiit wrapped and tied the ends of the leather cord around her waist, and brushing the fur over it without visible interruption.
The newly-transformed woman - if she could be called such - gazed across the wasteland, ready to begin the ultimate hunt. She listened closely to the voice on the howling wind, unharmed by the frigid environment on her bare form. Soon, she knew where to go and what to do.
|
|
|
Post by Vicorva on Oct 2, 2008 19:56:45 GMT
OOC: Ah, I was hoping the hunter would meet the weakest werecreature. IC: Solstheim, laying in the snowMercury heard a voice, through her freezing ears. She rolled over, shaking with cold, looking up into the roughed face of a redguard. As she breathed in, the tangy, sharp scent of silver filled her sensitive nostrils. She shivered, this time not from the cold. The silver frightened her, certainly, for she was not a werecreature capable of taking on even one man- but he did not know what she was. Likely, he was just being prudent- to survive on this island, you needed a weapon. "I'm fine," She said, averting her eyes from his. She kept them focused on his nose, so that it appeared she was looking at him, even though she wasn't. A small deception, but a useful one. She didn't want him to see the fear in her eyes. She sat up, snow scattering from her body as she did so. She was aware of the fact that she was soaked through with snow, but she hardly cared. Once the fox took over, it wouldn't matter.
|
|
|
Post by DarkNova50 on Oct 2, 2008 20:19:50 GMT
Will approached the figure, one he could now make out as a young looking Breton girl, as she responded to him by saying she was fine. Personally, though, he had his doubts; he didn't see anybody else around, and she hardly looked like she was dressed to handle the climate of the island.
"You don't look fine," he stated, rather bluntly, as he walked up close to the woman, crouching down near her. "You're soaked through, and if we don't get you inside with some dry clothes you're gonna freeze to death out here." He turned back the way he'd came, gesturing in the direction of his cave, and without realizing exposed the full length of his silver claymore to the young girl...something he normally wouldn't have thought anything of.
"I've got a small cave just over there, with a small fire pit," he explained, before turning back to the Breton. "Or, there's Thirsk, but it's further away. I'm not sure how long you want to spend in this shit." After listing their options, he glanced curiously at the girl. "What the hell are you doing, running around out here all by yourself, anyway? Don't you know that it's dangerous?"
|
|