|
Post by Vicorva on Oct 9, 2008 9:47:27 GMT
Mercury had been about to come in before the taint of silver reached her nose- followed by a horrible barrier of pain, preventing her from going any further. She gasped as she took a step forwards, before staggering back. The sun was nearly completely set: soon the moon would be at full potential, and she would be outside in its light, forced to change.
She gazed at Will fearfully. "I... um... There's something else I need to be doing right now..." she muttered, throwing her cloak to Will as lazily as she could manage. The lie wasn't well-executed- she could hardly see the point. Her reaction to the silver was clear enough: he'd peg her for another werecreature, and that would be the end of her, because she certainly wasn't the sort of wercreature that could fight a grown man.
She was, however, the sort of werecreature that could run away. But as she turned to leave, the sun finally set and the moon rose to its prominent position in the sky, bathing the world in its (ironically) silvery light. Mercury was not prepared for the pang of pain that accompanied the forced transformation, but she held it back, sweating profusely, half-bowled over and clutching her stomach against the pain. "Get back inside your cave!" she called in a strained voice to Will. "I won't be the only creature out tonight..."
|
|
|
Post by FC4 on Oct 9, 2008 20:34:34 GMT
The man looked towards his crossbow as Islin held his left arm, the sleeve pulled back, crossbow level. The look in his eyes was immediately accompanied by a hasty scramble away, snow kicking up. Islin let out a startled cry and instinctively took a step back, expecting the man to strike.
*shink* *crunch*
A second later Islin opened his eyes, looking at the scene. The man was gone, small bits of appendage showing from behind the tree as the only sign of his current location. The crossbow was empty, and the silver bolt gleamed as it protruded from the small snowbank, reflecting the light....
The light of the moon. Islin cursed and grasped the lever on the side of the crossbow, pulling it back quickly until it clicked and snapping a bolt off the belt of them around his bow arm, placing it on the bow with all the care of a drunken man before spreading his legs and leveling the crossbow yet again. He tried to aim for the small amount of body the man was exposing, but his arm was shuddering too much to accurately fire the bolt. He was barely even able to keep his hand extended to stop the bow from firing.
His right hand weaved under his cloak and brushed it aside with a flapping of cloth, before grasping the handle of his sword nervously. The man would change, and Islin would have to fight him. The Dunmer Bounty Hunter gulped, heart beating rapidly.
Calm down. Focus. Focus. He's just like any other target. You just have to be calm and focus, Islin. Focus. You can do this.
|
|
|
Post by webster52402 on Oct 9, 2008 20:51:12 GMT
A scream of agony came from Vantustius behind the tree, as the first rays of moonlight touched him. NO! He didn't want this! He didn't want to turn again, he didn't want to end up a beast, hunted! He didn't want to let it out! This was shown in his actions, as his hands pressed against his chest, as though if he pressed hard enough, he could keep the beast from exploding within him.
It was to no avail, as deep within his mind bubbled up the instincts of a predator, of a hunter... Of a killer... A desire to see blood staining the snow, a hunger to taste the flesh of the creatures that shared the night with him, a lust to destroy those that dared to call themselves worthy of the life that flowed through their veins. Each thought, insidious and dark, appeared as though it were unbidden in the back of Vantustius' mind, frightening the man. But... He didn't know what he could do about it... He couldn't shut them out, they seemed to come from everywhere inside of him, even when he focused, all it did was make him want them more...
His eyes squeezed shut, a frustrated tear running down his cheek. It didn't make it all the way down, however, getting caught up as his skin seemed to boil, roiling and twisting as the skeletal structure beneath changed. A surprisingly loud grinding sound echoed through the woods, surpassed only by the screams of agony that rushed unhindered past Vantustius' lips, the innocent face of the man that Vantustius was when human slowly becoming that of the slaughter-oriented Wolf...
His jaw pushed out, along with the muscle and bone of his nose, grinding its way out to form the rough beginnings of a snout. As the skeleton pushed from his face, there was a sickening, wet tearing sound, as the skin that covered Vantustius tore as though it were paper, peeling itself back to reveal heavily furred skin beneath instead. However, the skin that tore did not fall, curling back on itself as though it were being burnt, to vanish mistily back into his body, as though he were re-absorbing himself.
The Imperial collapsed into the snow, his howls of anguish echoing through his surroundings, as his spine gave a sharp *CRACK* that echoed like a rifle shot, pushing and reforming itself to form the more pronounced, slightly hunched back of the werewolf. His shoulders made much the same sound, two sharp snaps sounding as they adjusted to the increasing size of Vantustius' chest, and the lengthening of his arms to allow for more reach when slashing. Much smaller, but nonetheless sickening, pops echoed from his fingers, which were lengthening into claws, the fingernails blackening and lengthening, sharpening, so ready to rip and tear...
His change was beginning...
|
|
|
Post by Vrek on Oct 9, 2008 23:47:39 GMT
Ian looked out the cabin window, in a bored, perhaps a bit nervous fashion. He was always thinking about the time, but it wasn't what his attitude was towards. In his hand was a handful of cards, around him were his jolly friends on the ship, playing a hand of poker.
"I fold." Ian said with a sheepish smile on his face. "I think I'm gonna head out to do some fishing now, anyhows." He placed his hand of cards on the table, a rather good hand, too: two pair- queens overs tens, and pushed out the door, with a happy roar from friends following him.
The last of the red-orange glow of the horizon was just fading from sight. With a meager smile, he lowered a rowboat into the water. The assassin often had to wonder if the rest of the crew actually knew about him. He only brought back fish every once in a while, and if they moved about at night, they would likely find the empty rowboat, but it always stayed exactly where he left it.
Maybe they knew, and accepted it. They had been good friends of his even before he settled into the cycle of changing every night. Or perhaps they knew, and were glad for the steady elimination of competition; they were here on greed alone, after all. He never seemed to attack that ship anyways, for reasons he couldn't guess. Maybe it was warded with silver, or his counterpart held some logic in itself.
Plopping into the boat, he decided it didn't really matter. Either they didn't know, or they didn't care, or accepted it. He still had a nice boat to call home, for now. He pushed away from the ship, his practiced hand rowing him far from the it.
The sun finally fell below the horizon, with the twin moons brilliance truly took hold. And the change began. No matter how many times he would feel it, he knew he would never get used to it. His eyes changed first. He hated and loved that the most. His vision blurred, without the water to help it's clarity. He was stuck to imagine what was changing the most. His arms pulled back, shortening and flattening, forming large fins. Two new rows of teeth burst painfully from the roof and bottom of his mouth, taking out small packets of blood with it. His skin felt as if being stabbed by thousands upon thousands of needles, which, infact, it was. Minute barbed hooks pushed from his skin, giving him the shredding quality of a shark's skin. Breath as lost to him as gills pushed open on his widening neck.
Gasping for air, Ian stepped onto the rim of the boat, held his arms-turned fins out wide, before letting himself drop into the icy water. A few moments more and his transformation was complete. Black eyes scanned through the water, looking for the telltale signs of a moving ship. A jolt of his tail sent the shark bolting through the water, searching for prey.
|
|
|
Post by DarkNova50 on Oct 10, 2008 23:33:08 GMT
"Get back inside your cave! I won't be the only creature out tonight..."
That was all the provocation Will needed, as he instinctively reached for the hilt of his claymore, the distinct shrillness of silver sliding on steel crying out to the night like a warning to any other creatures that might be near. As he stood there, motionless, poised to strike with his claymore that seemed to glow solid white from the silver moonlight that struck its edge, Will glared at Mercury with a barely contained rage.
She's one of them... he thought angrily to himself, his Redguard blood burning with fire as the betrayal played through his mind. She's nothing but another damned beast, just like the rest of them! With every thought that passed through his mind, Will's rage grew, and adrenaline began to surge forcefully through his veins, blood vessels expanding beneath the surface of his darkened skin, bulging upward.
But there was still time; she was vulnerable, caught between her human shape and the beast that lurked beneath the facade. If he struck now, he could finish her. Will's knuckles turned white as he gripped his blade, before stepping forward, raising his blade, and-
Stopping dead. Amidst the rage that seemed to run rampant in his mind, a single thought emerged. She's fighting it...fighting it to warn me. But...but was such a beast capable of something like that? Surely, she could have hid it from him, found a way to somehow ambush him, if she'd wanted. What if...what if killing her was a mistake?
His killer instinct screamed at him to finish her, swing down and take her head, once and for all. But...part of him saw only her facade, a young, Breton girl. And for good or ill...he could not bring himself to kill her.
Slowly, Will lowered his blade, and took several steps back, to the silver near the entrance of his cave, his green eyes never leaving Mercury's form. "I'm sorry..." he muttered softly, though he was unsure if he was apologizing to Mercury, for his inability to help her...
Or for the innocent victim he'd just condemned.
|
|
|
Post by Vicorva on Oct 11, 2008 10:11:14 GMT
Mercury looked relieved as he stepped back into his cave. Though her hearing was supernaturally good, she was too stressed to register his words. She was just glad to see him safe- but barely had time to be glad he hadn't killed her when she released the beast inside of her with a scream.
Her change was fluid, her body shifting forms so smoothly it was impossible to tell the excruciating pain she went through, save for the scream she released. Clothing was swallowed up by fur, her bones shifted and elongated, her features became more feline, and fire raced through her blood causing her muscles to burn with a heat like no other. But in view, it was a beautiful change- the change of one who had been created not to strike fear into others, but as a pretty fancy. It was a cruelty she would never forget.
Her human mind slipped away into the backseat, that movement causing her to put her shaping paws to her head against the pain and squeeze her eyes shut as the beast that always lived within her moved to the fore.
A vision flashed before her eyes, the same vision every werecreature was having on the island at that time, though before her half-breed eyes it was blurry and unclear.
The Hunter stood atop a mountain, pointing his spear towards the Skaal who lived at sea. "Here is your prey..." he said, the dominant, the pack leader, the biggest fish in the sea. An image of them, believing themselves to be safe swam into focus, sitting around, weapons left careless leant against the walls. Easy prey, if one could survive the freexing cold swim there. "Whoever kills some of these will be given my blessing."
She opened her eyes after what seemed like an eternity but was only a few moments, and gazing out of her was the scavenging werefox.
She was fully formed now, only as big as she'd been in human form, the werefox was tiny compared to true werecreatures. Her long fur was a bright and vibrant russet red, her stomach white and legs and ears black. She swished her white-tipped tail as she looked at Will within the cave.
Silver... she thought. The Werefox was a more cunning beast than the wolf: she thought first and leapt later. Silver wall, and silver blade. That man is not prey: he is too big, he would kill me....
She turned tail to run away, in search of better prey.
|
|
|
Post by FC4 on Oct 11, 2008 16:14:45 GMT
"Oh shit!" Islin cursed, and his entire body tensed as he heard the horrid sounds of the body shifting and changing against the man's will. Run, man. Run! Get your ass out of there now! RUN! RUN DAMMIT! He screamed in his mind, but a morbid fascination kept him rooted in place, watching what little he could see of the transformation occurring. His legs... they were simply no longer connected to his brain, and no matter what he thought, they remained in place. In fear as the beast changed he looked down.
"Aw man!" It certainly explained the rooted in place situation; he was buried to his calves in cold snow. This reality seemed to hit home in his mind, and force his body to react. He had to escape, had to live. He began to frantically dig at the snow around his feet, until he got one foot free, then worked on the other. "Come on come on comeon."
|
|
|
Post by webster52402 on Oct 12, 2008 20:03:56 GMT
Slowly, Vantustius fell still in the snow, falling silent at long last. The abrupt change from screaming agony to a hush that seemed almost supernatural in origin was disturbing to say the least, though only to those that actually cared. Which, Vantustius no longer did, of course...
Bright yellow eyes snapped open, fixing the world with a predatory gaze. And slowly, the wolf that Vantustius had become pushed itself up, its powerful arms rippling. It was a simple matter for the werewolf to regain its footing, stretching itself almost lazily as it took a few steps forward, ignoring the struggling Islin for the moment. It wanted to RELISH the night, wanted to revel in the embrace of the moon's soft light, in the chill of the night...
Between soft, ragged, almost growling breaths, the orders of the Hunter flashed through his mind, causing the werewolf to let its eyes drift closed, almost peacefully. Behind his closed eyelids, a scene flashed in front of his eyes, seeming to project itself into the black void there.
The Hunter stood atop a mountain, pointing his spear towards the Skaal who lived at sea. "Here is your prey..." he said, the dominant, the pack leader, the biggest fish in the sea. An image of them, believing themselves to be safe swam into focus, sitting around, weapons left careless leant against the walls. Easy prey, if one could survive the freexing cold swim there. "Whoever kills some of these will be given my blessing."
And, with the Hunter's orders given, the Wolf's eyes opened once more, as it tilted its head up towards the sky above, its muzzle dropping open. The howl of the Werewolf rang through the cool night air, challenging all those that would seek to stand against it to come, let their blood flow into the snow at its feet, let its flesh sustain him, and sustain his predatory nature... And the first would be...
The howl snapped off, the Werewolf's gaze snapping like a lightning bolt to the struggling Islin. A growl rumbled through the powerful Werewolf's throat as his gaze focused on the struggling man, slowly, terribly, turning towards him. It took its time... For now...
Run... Run, so I may hunt you...
|
|
|
Post by FC4 on Oct 14, 2008 2:57:01 GMT
Islin stopped as a hush came over the night, the agonized screams dying out. The Dunmeri bounty hunter looked up to see the back of the hairy monstrosity as it looked to the night and howled.
That single howl knocked Islin into his senses, and spurred a renewed frantic digging out of his leg. Once he had it freed, he straightened himself and looked up. And right into the eyes of the beast.
"Ah damn...." He muttered under his breath, his mind working in overdrive. He knew if he ran it would pursue. He knew he could run to the fort for protection. But something -call it a niggling in the back of his mind, said this was not a good idea.
Why it was not a good idea went beyond all reasonable mortal comprehension, in Islin's opinion, but he went with it anyways in the craze of the moment. Hunters.... hunting beasts... he knew they were less inclined to hunt prey that fought back...
And he knew werewolves hated silver. The idea formed quickly, and he glared back at the beast, getting a distinct impression that it wanted him to run.
Oh, he'd run alright. Islin moved quickly, running forward while reaching under his cloak. The instant he came near the beast his right hand lashed out from within the clothing, a silver-plated blade joined to the appendage as he slashed forward to cut the hound open.
Of course, whether or not he hit was irrelevant to the Bounty Hunter. In fact, he continued to run at the hound as he swung, and didn't bother to confirm a hit or reaction, but continued to sweep past, fleet-footed and adrenaline crazed in his pursuit of freedom within the forest.
|
|
|
Post by DarkNova50 on Oct 15, 2008 1:45:06 GMT
Will watched with a complete and utter feeling of helplessness as the werecreature...some sort of fox by the look of it...that had once been Mercury ran off into the night. Part of him wanted to hope the creature was too small, too weak to hurt anybody...that the most it could do was hunt down an animal and feast upon it. But he knew that such creatures were more cunning than that...they found a way to catch prey.
And he had let it go.
"Gods damn it!" the Redguard screamed, plunging his claymore angrily into the snow, punching the wall of his cave with such fury that had to wonder if the rock itself would fail. Of course, it proved far more resilient than his hand, but the Redguard didn't take much note of his now bloodied fist, scratches marring his skin. Instead, he simply looked out into the blackness of the night, whipping snow made silver in the moonlight rushing across the expanse between him and Mercury.
Did he bother to go after her? What could he do for her, really? He was no mage...short of hauling a savage werecreature back to his cave until daybreak, the best he could do was kill her. And it was more than likely that between him and her was one of her more fearsome relatives.
No...he'd have to wait until daybreak, when she and the others had returned to nor...well, to their humanoid forms, anyway. Will gathered up his cloak from the ground before him, and made his way back into the cave.
It was going to be a long night...
|
|
|
Post by webster52402 on Oct 16, 2008 17:27:42 GMT
Of all the things that the werewolf had been expecting, a berserk charge was not one of those things. As the prey dug itself out of the snow that it had previously been trapped in, the werewolf began to tense, waiting for it to turn and run like everyone else before it, waiting for it to scream its terror into the night, only for the screams to be turned to agony and then the choking gargles of death a short time later. Waiting, for the hunt to begin...
And instead, there was a flash of silver, the cold metal burning the Werewolf before it even got close to him. Letting out a shriek of pained surprise at the unsheathing of the cold, cold metal, the werewolf was reacting even before the swing began, twisting itself to one side to duck behind the tree again. The slashes that were meant for the beast's body instead sliced through the bark of the tree, sending splinters of wood in every which direction, as the berserk prey charged right past him, wailing and waving its blade like it was a sparkler. A surprised werewolf peered out at him from behind its tree, growling low in its throat. How in the world was he supposed to get near that silver?
The call of the Hunter rang in the back of his mind once more, making the Werewolf turn his head. Ah, forget him... His mission lay elsewhere, the greatest of hunts... At least, that was what the Alpha said. And the Alpha knew all. He looked back at the wild man, letting out a final snarl, before turning and dashing into the woods, aiming himself in the general direction of the Skaal that thought they could hide. He would get his blood this night...
|
|
|
Post by Chaos 303030 on Oct 17, 2008 2:55:56 GMT
Arya shivered as she stepped off of the boat. The khajiit that had been accompanying her had been making bad jokes for the whole trip and dancing around screaming about fishy sticks and moon sugar and pretty lasses and someone called "Renoh". Odd fellow, that one. He had a date arranged with some horker lasses when he tried to grope at her in a moonsugar induced haze. She sincerely hoped he froze to death.
The boat wobbled gently as she stepped onto the hard, stone dock, and as she looked back she could not help but wonder how the dinky wooden boat had managed to survive the journey from Khuul. She gripped her staff and drew her cloak tight, grumbling about the cold of the land. She patted her bags and checked her sheath, to make sure the khajiit or the boatman hadn't relieved her of anything.
She looked around. Although the fog was quite thick and she could not see very well, something didn't seem exactly right. She was unsure why she was here, but she would soon find out.
|
|
|
Post by Vicorva on Oct 17, 2008 10:17:23 GMT
OOC: Lol, Chaos! Scow, I think the Shandi line lives on... IC: The werefox ran swiftly through the woods, nothing more than a russet-red blur to the world. Dimly, the part of her mind that remained human acknowledged that she wished she could alays travel like this- it was if one moment, she was on one side of the island, and the next the other- and far more exciting than teleportation. But as she ran, a horrible scent hit her nostrils: a very smelly, sweaty human. She slowed slightly, prowling now at great speeds, her black paws sinking and rising from the snow as easily as if it were not there. And that's when she saw him. A huge, naked nord, wearing nothing. She might have neared but for the scent of silver: not something she wished to face. The hazy memory of Hircine was nothing more than a memory to the unnaturally-born lycanthrope, and she wandered around on her own steam. This man was far too large for her to take. As she watched, her bellowed suddenly, and the earth shook, and her heart rattled around in her chest. Terrified, she pelted off in the opposite direction, back towards Will's cave. Once again, the world rushed past, but as she ran, a huge, lumbering creature appeared before her, snowy white in colour and as large as a mountain: a snow bear. The werefox froze in her tracks, tail swishing anxiously as it approached. It's slow... she thought. I can take it... lead it into the water, where it can't move as well... perhaps let the horkers take a bite out of him.
Then... when he's weak... attack...
|
|
|
Post by FC4 on Oct 17, 2008 13:59:27 GMT
His sword arm rattled as it the tree and chunks of something came off along with splinters, but Islin kept running. And running, and running until he looked back, crossbow pointing behind him, and realized the wolf had stopped following him.
The realization came to late, however, to save himself; He slammed straight into a tree. Luckily for his nose he had been looking the other way, but the collision still set him sprawling into the snow, dazed for a few moments.
He stared at the night sky in a dazzled goofiness, a grin on his face. It worked... it actually worked. Something had actually worked; minus the setback of hitting the tree of course. But Islin hadn't actually expected it to work as well as it did.
Sitting up, he picked his sword off the ground, only to curse. The saber was chipped, small amounts of the cheap silver plating having come off in the impact with the tree. He actually picked off a small flake with his fingers. Getting to his feet, he sheathed the saber angrily before pushing the crossbow arms back, clicking them in place and essentially putting the bow in 'safety' mode.
"Well, nature lady, what now?" Islin asked the night winds, not sure if he was expecting an answer or not. So, he instead pulled out the rudimentary map he'd acquired before coming here. Thirsk was the next closest place, might as well head there. Islin began to walk through the woods, heading north towards the Nordic village.
|
|
|
Post by scow2 on Oct 17, 2008 19:09:51 GMT
OOC: Now that Chaos has thrown Dar'shandi in here, I may have to create a second character >.> No way he would freeze to death up here, he's INVINCIBLE! ... -ish... somewhere... in his own mind...
IC: Sartharina grinned as the twilight faded into the gloom of night, announced by the howling of the werewolves. Night, she reflected, was always the most fun when her "father" was involved. She had been following a certain world-shaking shout, remnicient of her prey in Skyrim. She continued heading in the direction, hoping to find this man. It had been far too long since she had any challenging hunt. Not even the werebeasts threatened her much, since she learned how to deal with them long ago.
|
|