White_Memories
See no evil, speak no evil
[The OOC thread can be found here]
Elgal had never expected to make a life in Skyrim of all places. Tales of people hating werewolves and the Daedra had caught his mind and made him wary of going to such a place. As a werewolf and devout worshipper of Hircine it was sure to be a rough place for someone like himself to call home. Nonetheless, he had crossed the border and not once looked back.
Skyrim was much like the people that lived there, or it would be fair to say the people matched the land. Icy winds could swoop down at any time and snow fell in many places. Had he not been relatively prepared for the cold there might have been cause for him to hastily turn back to Cyrodiil. As things stood, hunting was barely enough to take care of himself at the moment so there was little opportunity to make any profit from it.
To suppliment his income, and give coin he would need for various items and armor, he stayed near Riverwood and worked the mill. After near a fortnight of working at the mill Elgal finally made way to Whiterun, where he helped at the stables and surrounding farms. Things were far easier when he was offered food and a relatively warm place to stay in return for his work. Hunting became not only a way of supporting himself but also gaining enough to buy armor, a full set of hide armor, and a new bow.
By night, the beast blood was let loose and all Elgal wanted to do was run with the wolves as he had done in Cyrodiil. Being a lone wolf meant he had to first spend time making sure all was silent before shedding his mer self and running out on the plains. There was a whole new world to be discovered while he ran, a whole other side of Nirn.
Giants and mammoths settled in for the night, the large beings leaning against huge columns of stone as the rumbling snores filled the air. Torchbugs flew, creating dancing lights in tune with the soft and eerie fluttering on the Luna moth. Masser and Secunda hung in the sky, glowing softly as if they were the eyes of Hircine himself looking down at the gifted.
When night came upon Skyrim he became himself, the being he had slowly transformed into over the course of years. Constant loyalty earning him a promised position on the eternal hunting grounds of the Lord of the Hunt. It was a carefree time when he would leap upon anyone that remained unwary, be it man or beast, and devour them. Elgal saw no reason to restrain himself to only deer when the beast found joy in hunting man and mer. The thrill was greater as his prey realized he was coming and they would be unable to fight him off.
It was intoxicating and a mistake.
The men and woman came from seemingly nowhere, his senses fooled by mud smeared over their bodies, and a growl was his warning. Still they came and when he attacked the nearest one, a small female, a loud yelp echoed off the trees and stones as silver bit into his flesh. The wound burned as if fire had taken purchase in his veins, causing Elgal to nearly fall. His hide shivered as muscles spasmed and both ruby eyes rolled. Unable to hold all of his weight much longer he fell to all fours and hacked up foamy saliva, tongue hanging out.
All it took was a single heavy hit to the back of his head and he fell to the ground, completely out cold. And when next he woke, all there was around was the stink of humans and the shrieking of his beast begging for freedom. Mournful howls bouncing around as other lost their senses to the wolf blood and his own sanity dangled by the barest of threads.
"The lone wolf lives and dies by himself," his hoarse voice whispered out as he sunk to the farthest corner of his cage. "Always alone."
Elgal had never expected to make a life in Skyrim of all places. Tales of people hating werewolves and the Daedra had caught his mind and made him wary of going to such a place. As a werewolf and devout worshipper of Hircine it was sure to be a rough place for someone like himself to call home. Nonetheless, he had crossed the border and not once looked back.
Skyrim was much like the people that lived there, or it would be fair to say the people matched the land. Icy winds could swoop down at any time and snow fell in many places. Had he not been relatively prepared for the cold there might have been cause for him to hastily turn back to Cyrodiil. As things stood, hunting was barely enough to take care of himself at the moment so there was little opportunity to make any profit from it.
To suppliment his income, and give coin he would need for various items and armor, he stayed near Riverwood and worked the mill. After near a fortnight of working at the mill Elgal finally made way to Whiterun, where he helped at the stables and surrounding farms. Things were far easier when he was offered food and a relatively warm place to stay in return for his work. Hunting became not only a way of supporting himself but also gaining enough to buy armor, a full set of hide armor, and a new bow.
By night, the beast blood was let loose and all Elgal wanted to do was run with the wolves as he had done in Cyrodiil. Being a lone wolf meant he had to first spend time making sure all was silent before shedding his mer self and running out on the plains. There was a whole new world to be discovered while he ran, a whole other side of Nirn.
Giants and mammoths settled in for the night, the large beings leaning against huge columns of stone as the rumbling snores filled the air. Torchbugs flew, creating dancing lights in tune with the soft and eerie fluttering on the Luna moth. Masser and Secunda hung in the sky, glowing softly as if they were the eyes of Hircine himself looking down at the gifted.
When night came upon Skyrim he became himself, the being he had slowly transformed into over the course of years. Constant loyalty earning him a promised position on the eternal hunting grounds of the Lord of the Hunt. It was a carefree time when he would leap upon anyone that remained unwary, be it man or beast, and devour them. Elgal saw no reason to restrain himself to only deer when the beast found joy in hunting man and mer. The thrill was greater as his prey realized he was coming and they would be unable to fight him off.
It was intoxicating and a mistake.
The men and woman came from seemingly nowhere, his senses fooled by mud smeared over their bodies, and a growl was his warning. Still they came and when he attacked the nearest one, a small female, a loud yelp echoed off the trees and stones as silver bit into his flesh. The wound burned as if fire had taken purchase in his veins, causing Elgal to nearly fall. His hide shivered as muscles spasmed and both ruby eyes rolled. Unable to hold all of his weight much longer he fell to all fours and hacked up foamy saliva, tongue hanging out.
All it took was a single heavy hit to the back of his head and he fell to the ground, completely out cold. And when next he woke, all there was around was the stink of humans and the shrieking of his beast begging for freedom. Mournful howls bouncing around as other lost their senses to the wolf blood and his own sanity dangled by the barest of threads.
"The lone wolf lives and dies by himself," his hoarse voice whispered out as he sunk to the farthest corner of his cage. "Always alone."
