DELETE

The autumn leaves danced around her as they floated down from their perch in the trees. The branches growing barren, as much as her source of food. She was careful to step over the leaves with utmost speed, agility, and attentiveness. Watching as each of the auburn pigmented leaves were crushed under her tiny paws. She was smaller than most of her breed, no bigger than a large dog, but that was considered small. Her coat was solid back, with no pigmentation changes throughout her thick, warm coat. Her tail flowed evenly to the tip, slightly curled up at the end pointing towards the sky that she would normally howl at. With her ears set loosely on her head, occasionally tipping from side to side and rotating to pick up other sounds, she quietly walked through the forest. It wasn't until she heard a gunshot that her fur raised on end and she took off. The sound startled her enough to cause her to stop watching where she was running. A fatal mistake. Soon jaws from below came up and slammed across her bone, ripping into flesh and tendon as it crunched around her thigh. She yelped loudly and tried to pull her leg free, but to no avail, it was stuck fast. She attempted to shift, but given her leg was stuck, it kept her from focusing, the pain radiating up her back into her hip. The pain of her pulling and biting at her leg eventually started to take it's toll on her body as she lay down with her leg outstretched, pulling on every nerve in her body. She started to howl softly, hoping her pack would hear her, but she was too far out. She had broken their rules yet again, never following their codes. This time might be her last mistake.

Her breathing was labored, further proven by her rapid jerks in her chest, and her muzzle agape attempting to calm herself down so she could think. She lifted her head attempting one more go at pulling the contraption off of her, only succeeding in doing further damage as it clung on tightly. It's massive, sharp teeth gripping her and never letting go. Blood soaked the ground under her as she lay against the leaves. Her vision started to dull as she lost a lot of blood from the wound. It was becoming difficult for her to think, let alone stay awake but she knew she had to. The last attempt had moved the metal monster upwards more on her leg, ripping her leg up even higher as it bit into her hip bone causing a pain to shoot up her back as it clamped down tightly on the nerve that controlled her motor functions. She panted and her eyes watered, her front paws clawing heavily into the soil as she dug until hitting the moistened ground. Her eyes started to drift closed, and her tail stopped tapping as the world around her started to darken. She couldn't tell if it was from the blood loss, or nightfall. The only thing that reawakened her senses and keen sense of smell was that of a crunch of leaves and sticks, seemingly under the boot of a human. She could hear it's heartbeat, and smell it's scent. It wasn't too close yet, so she couldn't discern it's gender.

Her lips slowly parted to reveal her white fangs that were ready to rip flesh if need be. The figure started to come more into view, she quickly recognized the crossbow handing from the figures hip, instantly assuring her that this was a hunter and he had come to kill her. She opened her maw to snarl but she had lost too much blood to lift her head, completely at his mercy. She wished her healing powers would kick in so she could run, but the foreign body that was latched so tightly to her kept those powers from functioning correctly. All she could do is lay in her crimson pool and await her fate as the figure loomed closer, closing in on her as she realized now it was a male. Her heartbeat raced as she anticipated the figure finishing her off. She couldn't help but flash back to her family, knowing that with her gone they would mourn her loss and she would never return back to those mountains she had learned to call home.

RE: Me and Campion - Werewolves aren't all the same

Lan inhaled the needles of the predawn air. Inwardly, his sinuses cringed from the unexpected cold snap for which he had not prepared. Yet even in the cold, there was a purity - it was a cold lacking the stench of the open gutters of the city streets, for which he was thankful. The only sounds were the muted clatter of leaves as the wind gave soft gusts that insistently tore them from their summer reposes to make a new blanket on the forest floor.

It it had been day, the riot of reds and yellows would have been a feast for the eyes, but in the muted starlight, colors were far too muddled. There were no other sounds, because he was likely the only person for miles around. Who else would desire to be out with no roof, no fire and not enough warm clothing?

When the Baron had caught him flirting with his daughter a second time, he'd rather hoped the old tyrant would have a stroke as the purple of the man's face had been like to bust an artery, but luck was not so kind. Instead, he'd been stripped of his post in the city and told to quest these wooded hills for 'monsters', with permission to hunt as he needed on these untraversed lands.

Passable with crossbow and significantly more than passable with sword and axe, he had not gracefully gone out and starve or fallen to wild beasts, but had flourished in the wilds. Now his five and a half foot frame was leaner, the fat of a city man gone as taut lean muscles and tendons played across one another like a bow and tuned string. His dark brown hair had grown out to his shoulders and he was only ruggedly shaven of facial hair. Shaving well was a luxury that cost nicks and the scent of blood drove off his real prey, which was only for food.

Something impinged upon the meanderings of his isolated mind and he glanced to the side. A dark mass lay on the ground, and he could only clearly see glowing eyes and sharp white teeth as it softly snarled. Yet that snarl seemed to require significant effort. Lan struck sparks and his lantern lit, illuminating the gloss midnight blackness of the gorgeous coat belonging to the bitch caught in a poacher's cruel leg trap.

His own lips curled back, but he donned chain gauntlets and grabbed a leather sack. Before she could realize his intent, he whipped it over her head and tied it, then carefully opened the torturous jaws of the foul trap. The least he could do for the poor creature who belonged here was to take the time to remain with her as she bled out and let her pain cease.

But as he turned from the trap to her, his eyes narrowed at the sight of her wound. Instead of now flowing freely, it was mostly closed. What magic was this? The Gaels had worshiped spirit animals in these lands not that long ago. It could be that this was one such and he would do well to not anger it.

Softly his words came forth. "Please lady, connect not the one who releases you from this vileness with the one who created it. I mean no ill or harm to you." He tore the spring from the trap, rendering it useless, and the most expensive part to keep, then tore the bag from her head, quickly stepping back and crouching low, so as not to appear aggressive. The leg was so close to healed and he readied himself for any attack that came from her.

"I too must hunt these woods to live, and if I catch the one who set this, he is a dead man. Please go your own way, and I will go mine with no enmity between us." Watching her carefully, he then took a stave of wood and tapped the ground around, setting off several more traps, which he disarmed. Then, slowly, he backed away from her, moving away into the forest as the predawn grew in the distance and his lantern was no longer needed.

"That was not wise." He told himself. It would have been much safer to have run the bitch through and skinned her for that perfect coat. Yet somehow his actions gave him extreme satisfaction and he paused on the trail to set some traps of his own. But these traps were designed to catch those walking on two legs, not a creature low to the ground. There was a poacher with a debt of blood and pain to pay out there.

My midday's heat, he was camped and asleep in the shade, the events of the night but a memory.

RE: Me and Campion - Werewolves aren't all the same

The pain removed the ability for her to sense the cold, all of her senses focusing on that horrid metal. The figure had come even closer now, her senses sent on high alert as he picked up and put something on. He also aimed something at her and though she tried to dodge it, it landed on her head and was pulled tight around her neck, close to cutting off her air supply. When it didn't she could feel something else, the pain being released for the most part and a crack of metal as the jaws were forced open by something. She shook her head attempting to dislodge the bag from her face. As soon as her leg was free and she could move she darted backwards, barely putting pressure on her broken leg. It would mend but for now she needed to focus on getting the blasted bag off her face! She shook her head and leaned down using her paws against the bag. She couldn't pull it free from her head and thrashed her head attempting to pull it down away from her face. It was pulled off and she looked at the guy, noticing he had it in his hand. He had pulled it off of her. She was a little lost at first, soon noticing what had just happened. She listened to him as he called truce and backed away. She watched with weary eyes as he moved away. She was very lost but as soon as he was out of view she licked her leg and started to help it heal. Once it was able to be stood on once again, she took off back to her tribe. A couple of months later, the village near to the area where she had met the hunter came under siege. A specific type of monster known as a Dire, and commonly mistaken as a werewolf, was ravaging the town. Sarences's family had been in the area fighting the Dire Wolves to save their reputation, which only made them look just as bad. Sarence had tried to explain this to her family but they wouldn't hear it.

A large dire wolf could be heard inside a house with a screaming child, the wolves about ready to move into the house and devour the child.

RE: Me and Campion - Werewolves aren't all the same

Lan had been approaching the village when he heard the scream.
Unlimbering his bow, he prepared arrows as he ran. Vaulting down the street was a massive dark wolf with an oversized head. Warg...or dire wolf as the academicians would have it.

Whatever, from his view it was a ravening monster who killed not just for food, but for pleasure and enjoyed stalking humans. A well-placed arrow through its chest sent it crashing forward onto the ground and he heard the shrill screams of children.

Veering hard to the right as he drew sword and dagger, he hurried through a broken doorway hacking down into the back of a warg looking inward.

A young tween girl had a firepoker and was swinging it wildly at the remaining warg. Her eyes displayed all the whites around her iris as sheer terror filled her.

The wolf was close to springing and Lan yanked its tail as his sword came around, slicing its neck.

She began to scream and he tried to calm her. "It's OK. Don't worry, they are dead." Only then did he realize she was pointing behind him and as he spun, he was born backwards by the rapidly healing warg. It was a were! His arm went into it's mouth and he felt it's teeth slice into his arm. Only the archer's sole leather vambrace kept his arm from snapping.

As he was born to the floor the girl swung the poker and it rebounded from the warg's head, stunning it. Lan took the chance to ram his sword up through its neck and it shuddered and froze.

With some difficulty, he pushed from it and swung twice to cut its head off, repeating it for the other wolf.
His arm was bleeding profusely and he wrapped it with a kerchief the turned back to the girl.

She had an odd look on her face as she spoke. "You know you have to die now. You got bit. Now you are one of them. You better run, because they will track you. Thank you for saving me, I'll never forget you."

He realized she was right and his mind scrambled, trying to figure what to do. As he exited the hut, he saw the other warg on a fire, and he kept his cloak over his arm.

A villager came up and bowed. "Thank you sir. If not for you many would have died. As it is, we have two that must have the mercy death."

Lan chewed his lip. "So there is no cure then?"

"None known Sir...tis an awful thing."

Lan nodded. "Indeed. Well, I have an errand and was just passing through so I must be off." He hurried away before the man could learn he'd been bit. In theory, his duty was to turn himself in, but right now he just wanted to get quickly away from people and see what his wound looked like.

Out in the woods, he heard a howl.

RE: Me and Campion - Werewolves aren't all the same

The howl happened to be a dire communicating with his pack that he'd witnessed a new turning. Dires didn't control their bite, every bite had a 100% chance to turn. Werewolves however were more sophisticated, not biting to turn, only biting to kill. Sarence had been in the are and picked up the blood and followed him for a while before they were secluded. He was bitten, and it was extremely bad. The wound was already swelling and causing him undoubtedly severe pain. Again, against her families wishes she followed this man. She recognized him from that day years ago, he helped her and now it was her chance to help him. She stalked him until it seemed he lost his strength and the ground became his bed. She quickly ran up to him to see if he was conscious, unable to tell she nuzzled his shoulder and used her head to move him so she could see his arm. The wound was festering, likely on fire as it probably felt. She looked at him, feeling bad that he would go through the change. She never had, being born a werewolf was always better than being born a dire. Dire's weren't 'born' in a way, they were bitten. Dires shot blanks. They couldn't reproduce. The only way for them to repopulate is to bite others. Turning humans was the Dires way of keeping their species alive. Dires and werewolves were as closely related as a dog and a fox, almost none. She whimpered softly as she tried to get his attention, knowing that his focus would likely be on the pain. She hoped he would recognize that she wasn't there to hurt her. As soon as he showed any signs of movement she shot back and jumped away, head down. She was cautious and curious if he would try to hurt her.

She didn't have time to find out as one of the other humans from the village had followed the two, she thought no one had, he must have cloaked himself. Clearly he knew the man that she was attempting to help because after hearing the guys name she felt a pain in her side and collapsed a moment later as her vission dimmed. He'd hit her with something... a bullet? An arrow? What was it? She passed out and relied on her pack to save her, yet again.

RE: Me and Campion - Werewolves aren't all the same

Lan knew he was feverish and he also knew he should kill himself before he became one of THOSE.

Vaguely he was aware of a wolf following and coming up to him. She was smaller than a warg. He lay gasping and another sound and he heard the pfft of a blowgun, then saw the wolf collapse.

Looking up, he saw someone he knew. The other licensed huntsman. The man approached quietly, then sat across from Lan on his heels. "Got bit?"

Why bother lying? He looked into the elderly man's eye. "Yeah...burning up. The infection's trying to turn me."

"Mhmm. Wanna beat it?"

Suddenly, he had Lan's complete attention. "I was told there wasn't a cure."

"There ain't....but there is another path. You will still change, but you can be yourself...gonna hurt. You want it?"

His arm on fire Lan nodded and the old huntsman came forward, quickly pouring some strange liquid in Lan's mouth. Then vision faded.

While he was out, the old man cut some slits down the wound, removing the vambrace. He then turned to the she-wolf he'd poisoned and whispered, "Sorry little lady, but there is need."

Pinching the skin of her forepaw, he held it over Lan's wound and cut a vein, letting her blood run into and wash the wound. He also directed some of it into Lan's mouth, and tipped his head to swallow it, then bound up each wound, dragged them under a log and covered them with brush and went to lead the other hunters in the wrong direction. His wrinkled features were set in an amused smile.

Lan awoke...he felt odd, but not feverish. It was like he was seeing the world through two sets of eyes and the views would not match up. He unwrapped his arm and it was completely healed without a scar.

Then he noticed the wolf bitch next to him. She looked familiar. Yes, this was the one he'd saved some years ago. Had Jeremy the huntsman bandaged her after darting her? He knew that Jeremy was learned in natural poisons and potions. The hunt did not seem to be near, but he knew that he had to leave. It would be best if she did too.

Then he noticed something odd. Her smell. It was wonderful and he fought a sudden strange urge to lick her mouth.

RE: Me and Campion - Werewolves aren't all the same

Sarence was out of it while he did these things she wasn't aware of any of it till she woke up with a pain in her left. She whimpered softly. 'Ow...' She said, moving her muzzle to the wound and looking at it. He had sliced open her leg but for what. She glanced around and saw him looking at her and immediately bolted up and jumped back, fangs bared slightly. He smelled different, he'd changed but... he wasn't a Warg... She lowered her head and growled, cautious of him. The growl was saying 'back off if you know what's good for you...' She stepped back slowly till she was pressed against a large log. She swished her tail to the side and continued to watch him. Meanwhile, her pack had been searching for her and started to track down her scent. Her brother was in the lead as he was the pack general in some ways. Their father was one of 5 leaders under the main one, and her brother lead the pack warriors.


The warriors didn't take long to track the scent, she was close to them when they let out a howl. She looked in the direction of the howls and a moment later her pack surrounded them. She tried to tell them that this man hadn't hurt her but they wouldn't hear it, dragging her away before she was able to stop them. The wolves surrounded him, knowing he wasn't human and cautiously started to move in on him. Their goal was to take him prisoner and take him back to the pack leader. He'd be killed for touching their sister. Despite her efforts, Sarence was unable to sway their goal. She would have to find other means to help the newly turned wolf. She knew something about Wargs though, they were basically vampires in wolven form. they had to eat meat and drink blood for survival. Blood would fulfil them for a time, but without meat and blood, they would slowly lose all strength and die. She knew this because she'd been friends with one. Her blood might sustain his life, but he needed meat to thrive. She knew her pack would give him neither. The wolves closed in on him and started to bring him down, keeping their goal in mind.


(will post more at work - enjoying this again : ) )

RE: Me and Campion - Werewolves aren't all the same

Lan watched carefully as a pack of wolves gradually materialized from the rising mists of the evening. It all seemed so surreal. Only the sound of their pants and growls punctuated the stillness of the forest.

They began to move him away from the female and he somehow was getting frustrated. But why did it matter to him whether he was with her or not? He didn't know, but there seemed to be a felt kinship between them.

As they began to herd him with snaps an bumps, he lost his fear and began to feel enraged and his vision of what was around him in the night became very clear as he suddenly grew very aware of each of their scents.

Without warning, he found himself on all fours, and when one snapped close to his ear, he snapped back. Only he did so with muzzle and fangs and the wolf jumped back far from him. They had reached a rustic village of wicciup wood and hide buildings, with a large lodge building in the center. Here there were actual people, though they looked to be a stone age throwback.

He didn't care as they were not his tribe, his pack. Now why did he think of the two as the same? Then he looked down and watched from all fours as another wolf padded over to try to dominate him. But he'd had enough. In a blink, he was a wolf and all was as it should be. His items stayed behind him on the ground, and he had the other wolf's neck in his mouth where he held it growling until it whining in submission, upon which he released it.

He shook himself as they surrounded him. He could feel their confusion, which matched his own. He was one of them. Not a warg, but a shape shifter nevertheless. One of the larger males, battle scarred and self assured, came forward.

"You hurt my sister. When you attack the pack, the pack determines your end."

Lan was confused. "This is untrue. I did not touch your sister at all. I was bitten and suffering, and I remember seeing her. I also remember seeing a huntsman who I think is a druid. He put your sister to sleep and me also. When I awoke, my wound was gone and she was there, but with a covered wound. I am confused, and don't know what has happened. But if you try to kill me I will challenge you...and I think I will win."

The large wolf stared for a while. "You can not lie in this form. It is most strange. You are now of the PEOPLE, but not of the pack. This is not usual and requires those elder and wiser than I. For now, you will stay here. My sister seems to know you, so you will stay with her. If you harm her, you will be torn apart. But as one of the PEOPLE, I have not the right to kill you without proper cause." The speaker became a ruddy skinned man, and someone handed him clothes, and a stone tipped spear.

"Human who is also of the PEOPLE, you must leave your metal items...you may keep your bow, but remove the metal tips from your arrows."

Lan was still confused, but things seemed a little better. They were pretty much removing his civilized weapons, as well as his cookery, but he retained his bow and arrow shafts. as his clothes were of soft hide or wool, he was allowed to pick them up as he shifted back to two legs and entered her home.

RE: Me and Campion - Werewolves aren't all the same

Sarence was in her room yelling at her brother, they were both in wolf form and both very angry at eachother, growling and yelling, but to him it would be just like talking, there would be no difference in a bark than there was a 'fuck you'. It would all be spoken word to him now. "He's never hurt me!" She growled at him.
"You're my sister and he's an outsider."
"you don't even know him."
"I don't care, he will NOT touch you."
"He already has to help me, we're not fucking, Jesus Christ, Thomas." She said fuming.
"Then I'll kill him already!"
"You won't touch him!"
"Are you gonna stop me? You forget I am above you in station."
"I don't care, you're being a fucking asshole."
A slap sound resonated the room as her brother shifted forms and walked out. Sarence too had shifted forms, standing with a soft pink mark on her face where her brother had slapped her. Yes, he was above her, yes, he could hurt her, all the men in her pack could hurt her, but men outside it couldn't. Women in her pack were low on the standards, they could be raped and as long as it was within the pack it was considered 'consensual'. She rubbed at her cheek and glanced over, sniffing at the air, the man was in her house now.

Her brother stormed out the house making sure to glare at the man before moving from the large 2 room teepee. She pulled the leather free from the walk-in and looked at him. She had piercing blue eyes and long black hair. She wasn't dressed for the most part, just a couple of strips of fabric covering her body. she didn't know much about the man had seen, and it didn't seem to bother her anyway.

"Are you alright? " She asked, as if she didn't just get slapped, worried about him, more than herself. Her voice was so soft that it came as a shock as opposed to what she looked like.

RE: Me and Campion - Werewolves aren't all the same

Lan was angry as the aggressive male stalked past him. Oddly, he had a strong feeling that he could take this male.
He didn't know why, but he felt rather protective towards this female.
Just then it occurred to him that he understood their conversation in its entirety.

Had he changed? Was he now a wolf? He looked at his hand and imagined it a paw. There was a very disorienting feeling and he found himself on the floor, but ahead of him was a furry pawed leg...his own. He wondered what he looked like. He could tell he was at least the size of the other male, but not wargish...and yet...within himself he felt the strength of a warg if he called upon it...not that he wished to now.
"I am Lan. I think I know you. Why does he hate you so? If he hurts you again, I want to challenge him."

RE: Me and Campion - Werewolves aren't all the same

She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "Challenge him? He's my brother. That's how we get treated here. We're below our pack brothers. Protected, sure, but they own us. If you challenge them, they will surely kill you." She said. She was shocked he was even talking like that. She looked at him and moved towards him putting her hand on his face. A greeting mostly, picking up his body temperature. "You're running high." She said. "Sit." She motioned to the wooden carved seat behind him. "Before you do, remove the excess clothing. I want to check some things..." She said, looking at him, asking him to strip his clothes as if it was normal for her.

The pack was already in a riot about the man, they didn't take long to come to the decision to refuse him passage simply based on his warg blood. The whole thing was a mess, the leader attempting to keep peace but was failing miserably. The pack wanted him dead. They didn't want him even close to their sister. She was one of 3 pack females shared among them all, it wasn't up to her who she was with. This was just what she was used to, how she was raised. she didn't know any better. She wanted a lot - but asked for very little. Freedom, to run, explore, and just get away... but that was hard to do in this civilization. She smiled at him softly and ran her hand over the scars from the attack. Warg scars didn't heal on their own, they were left open, bloody, leaking. These had healed. "Who was he, that man?" She asked, removing her hand from his chest.

RE: Me and Campion - Werewolves aren't all the same

She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "Challenge him? He's my brother. That's how we get treated here. We're below our pack brothers. Protected, sure, but they own us. If you challenge them, they will surely kill you." She said. She was shocked he was even talking like that. She watched him shift, taking in the sheer size of his bosy compared to hers. She looked at him and moved towards him putting her hand on his muzzle gently running her thumb over his nose. A greeting mostly, picking up his body temperature. "You're running high." She said. "Sit." She motioned to the wooden carved seat behind him. "Before you do, change form.... I want to check some things..." She said, looking at him, asking him to strip his clothes as if it was normal for her.

The pack was already in a riot about the man, they didn't take long to come to the decision to refuse him passage simply based on his warg blood. The whole thing was a mess, the leader attempting to keep peace but was failing miserably. The pack wanted him dead. They didn't want him even close to their sister. She was one of 3 pack females shared among them all, it wasn't up to her who she was with. This was just what she was used to, how she was raised. she didn't know any better. She wanted a lot - but asked for very little. Freedom, to run, explore, and just get away... but that was hard to do in this civilization. She smiled at him softly and ran her hand over the scars from the attack. Warg scars didn't heal on their own, they were left open, bloody, leaking. These had healed. "Who was he, that man?" She asked, removing her hand from his chest.