A Pack of Lone Wolves(closed)

[thewriter]

A dwarven-made airship passed over head of Narida as she sat on a gray rock, looking over the ebony plain known as the Black Steppe. She could barely make out Ettermire in the far away distance, a few days if she and her companion were fast.

Neoku was lying down under the ledge of the rock that Narida was sitting on. It would rain soon, they knew. But Narida secretly reminded herself that no amount of rain would bring this desolate field of dried blood and dead trees to life again.

Her hopeless reverie was bound to be started with a new theme though, for her stomach growled at her with a fierce passion. She sighed heavily and pulled some dried fruit from her bag - the last of her rations save the salt meat, but that was for Neoku.

"Well little brother, it's become tight-belt season," she told the large wolf as she threw a chunk of the salt beef to him. He scarfed it down immediately. the hunger was hitting him too. If she broke into his rations, that would give them a day and a half if they were conservative with consumption. Ettermire was at least a four day tread.

"Best camp here the night, then," she told Neoku, regardless of whether he heard her or not. She hopped down from the large rock. "Can't find another rock that's big enough to shelter both you and me under it - this one we might be able to fit a fire under."

As the rain poured down later that night, Narida was leaning against Neoku, gazing at the fire, looking back to when she got this bloody job....


Flashback

"What's 'er business here ma'am?" the guard asked her outside of a gargantuan and lavish house.

"I was summoned by your lord master," she told him, displaying the letter. "Open the gates now."

The guard did not seem keen on this outsider ordering him, but she had the writ of old Jack, and really couldn't do much to question her. He opened a black iron gate that was twisted and curved to look like two ships firing at one another - though the pattern was hard to make out at this time of night.

The sea and ships split in two and Narida strode forward, Neoku at her side as usual. She knocked on the white marble door with a golden image of what one could interpret to be Calypso the Sea Witch engraved on one door, and Poseidon on the other. The doors were pulled open, and a serving maiden stood before her.

Her client made his servants dress like the people of his homelands it would seem. A blue head scarf covered her head and face, while she wore matching blue pants that had lots of room and a top that had some hefty midriff. "My lady Narida of the Beast Elf tribe, I-" she began, bowing.

"Please, drop the lady act," she told her, forcing her upright. "I did one job that involved being ladylike, but that doesn't make me a lady." A quirky smile spread on her lips. "Is that you Jhareez?"

The woman smiled under her scarf. "It is. M'lord waits to see you though-"

"Did it work?" She asked her. "Did you do as I said?"

Another sheepish smile crept out. "I leave in two weeks."

That made Narida laugh. "What did I tell you? Men who are in love are the easiest things to trick!"

"Well, never you mind that...Narida," Jhareez warned her. "My lord waits for you."

Narida huffed. "Oh, that. right, right...better give that smuggler what he wants then..."

end flashback

Narida blinked her memory from the fire. Jhareez was probably back in her desert village, where she belonged from the start. She had to persuade dear old Jack a long time to let her go, but love does funny things to one's decision. But here she was, in exchange for letting go the woman he loved, she had to go and kill the man that was stopping his black market from taking hold in an entire country. Graf Franx-yuuka, Captain of Guard of Ettermire.

Jhareez, I hope you are happy back home, she thought. For the road that I must take to keep you there is not an easy one.

Erasing memories from her mind, she leaned against Neoku, who was already asleep and settled down to do the same. It would be a long, painful journey from here, that much, she knew. Better to be wide awake for pain then sleepy.

[Allenslob]

The tavern was a dark place, looked like it was deserted for a while due to the lack of people ion it and dusty cobwebs hanging in the corner, the only patrons in the tavern was the barkeep, one old man, and a young boy, bout 16 by the looks of it.

“Can I get you anything,” the barkeep asked,

“Yeah, you can get me a beer and a job if you want,”

“Well I can get you a beer and as for the job, do you care what kind it is?” The barkeep asked with a smug grin looking around the tavern at the cobwebs.

“If you want me to clean here, that out of the question.” Raphael said as he was given his beer.

“If it’s a job you be wanting then look no farther.” The old man on the other side of the room said.

“You? You have a job for me?”

“Yes, as long as you don’t mind getting your hands dirty.”

“Haha, getting my hands dirty? sir i'm sorry but most of my life my hands have been dirty, and i've been out of that life for sometime and wasn’t hoping of going back to it.”

“Well if you change your mind ill be here.” And the old man went back to his drink as did Raphael

the whiskey must have been getting to Raphael because he started thinking more and more about the job, what could it be? Finally letting his curiosity get the better of him he walked over to the old man’s table and sat down.

“Change your mind did ya?” the old man said with a smug grin.

“First of all tell me what you want done.” Raphael said straight out.

The old mans face went from smug to serious,

“First, if you hear about this job, then you have to take it, I believe you know the rules of the hit.”

Of course he was talking about the rules of hearing the details of the job, if you wanted a job you had to hear it after you made the agreement to do the job, this is how most people were tricked into doing the hits that got them killed most of the time, it was a risky gamble but one that Raphael was willing to take, and desperately needed.

Raphael remembered this rush and welcomed it back into open arms, he missed this, not knowing where this hit would be or who it would be on, it was exhilarating.

“Yes, of course I remember and I agree.”

“Ok, but first,” he said turning to look at the barkeep, “can I get two beers over here?”

The barkeep nodded and walked over and placed the two beers on the table, when the old man was sure that the barkeep was out of hearing he started

[The-Ace-Of-Spades]

"What?!" Seth yelled at his agent, Mark. "All the hits I've done over the past few months and this is all I get?" he held up a small bag of gold.

"Seth, lets face it. You never come to see me anymore for new jobs, you grab a handful at a time and you disappear for months. I can never tell if the jobs gets done unless I hear it through town gossip and I can't even be sure your still alive." he sighed before finishing, "Think of this as punishment for not coming by."

Seth scratched his head in annoyance. "Tsk, your such a pain in the ass. You know I always get the job done. I'm the best hitman you got, old man."

Mark sighed again, "You know, I really spoil you sometimes." he pulled another bag of gold out and tossed it to Seth. "I'm only giving you that because I'm in need of your skill."

Seth made the fake gesture of putting his hand over his mouth. "Oh, my skill? Your making me blush." He lowered his hand and gave a cocky grin. "Who's the poor son of a bitch this time?"

"Cut the cocky act, I'm being completly serious when I say this will be a total test of your skill. It's a dark elf of very high standing, if that were the gist of it then I know you could do it without doubt but he has many soldiers under his command to do his bidding so if your careless then you may end up with a army at your heels."

"Well then I guess I'll have to be careful then, now won't I?"

"Also, apart from having to be careful, it will be a race."

"A...race?" Seth said confused.

"Yes, this guy is one of the highest bounties at the moment. I'm sure you realize what that means."

Seth fully realized what it meant but he felt like playing with the old man. "Umm, I'll....be rich if I kill him?"

"No! smartass, it means that other hitmen and bounty hunters will be trying to kill him as well." he regained his composure, "Seth, I'm only sending you because I have the utmost faith in you. Without you this agency would have went under a long time ago. If you kill this mark then that will put us back on the map. So...please....do everything in your power to do so." he paused for a moment before finishing, "And even if you are too late or your too far in over your head, at least come back alive. That is all."

Seth burst out in laughter, "That almost sounded generous of you."

He gave Seth a angry glare, "shut it."

"Look, don't worry about me. This job is already as good as done." He turned and made his way to the door. Thanks old man, I'll do anything I can to put this place back on the map.

Seth bought provisions and other stuff for the journey at hand in the market and in less then an hour he was standing at the border of Black Steppe.

"Weather is good for now but there are dark clouds on the horizon, hopefully it will be clear by the time I get there."

With that he entered Black Steppe to make his way to Alerar.

[Warklaw]

In the early morning, much is not clear. The heavy fog clings to the trees like a lover, the early morning creatures move out to begin their day, another day of survival; the early dawn also fogs the mind with fatigue, making it difficult to differentiate between reality and a sleep deprived brain. This is how Ayerwulf hunted this particular prey.

A dark rider, garbed in silky black robes, riding a black horse, wearing a black hood, was darting through the thick redwood trees of the wilderness. The rider was scared, he brought seven of is best men along with him on the journey, now only four remained. The rider and his mounted guards jumped as they heard a bestial howl pierce the fog, the guards made a circle around their master, ready for anything, almost anything. Suddenly, the first guard was grabbed, seemingly from nowhere at the ankle, and was pilled down to the muddy ground, followed by a scream and a blood fountain, then it was over. The other guards turned to see their comrade completely open, spilling blood and bile on the muddy ground.

"Lets GO!" the rider commanded, his remaining three guards gladly followed him, they rode hard and fast, their horses snorting with strain.

"Petur! Lay down your bear trap." No response, the rider yelled again, not taking his eyes off of the twisting trail before him,

"Petur!" He yelled. Then it happened, a metallic snap along with the rider's horse whinnying in pain and crumpling to the ground, the rider fell onto the earth. A voice commanding as a god, but as deep as hell and as unnerving as thunder spoke coldly,

"Petur is right here." The rider looked up to see a massive man holding the head of Petur, not severed from the body, but torn from the shoulders. The rider screamed, he looked about for his other guards, but saw them hanging from he trees by the bear traps they had brought.
The rider tried to run to his horse and grab the bag he needed to get to his master, but the massive assailant beat him there, and removed one of his legs.

"Ahhggrhh." the rider screamed, looking up at the massive man, "p-piss of you b-b-bloody man-dog!" The bite of deathly cold steel entered his midsection, then the assailant spoke,

"I told you people! I told you people to never take from my Tribe!" The gargantuan man's voice was rumbling with anger, the once icy blue eyes, replaced by feral golden-yellow ones. The rider choffed, though he was in extreme pain,

"Your tirbe...? You are the only one left...A big mistake by us. When the Master hears of this, you will die... alone... and crying," the rider looked into the assailants murderous gaze, "just like your mother." The assailant was bubbling with anger, he was Ayerwulf Warklaw, the last of the Warklaw Lycan Tribe, and he was vengeful,

"That is the last mistake any of your order will ever make." Ayerwulf growled lowly, as he stomped his iron clad foot on the man's head, smashing his skull and turning his head into a bag of mush.

Ayerwulf walked over to the large brown saddlebag the man tried to reach and opened it with extreme care. Inside was a trembling little wolf pup, looking up at Ayerwulf with loving, yet scared blue eyes.

"Damn it, Nalva... One day, I 'aint going to be there to save you." He picked up his wolfsister and held her in the crook of his massive arms like a babe, "But until then, you have nothing to fear, my little one." He scartched her tummy with affection and began to walk. He now knew who his prey was, the bastard that killed his mother after doing much worse things to her, the damned Dark Elf, no number of coin could deter Ayerwulf from his goal...

...Revenge

[Azazel Relizic]

Azazel stumbled into the Tavern, quite drunk, and wobbled to the bar,

“Ger anotha beeer, pluz,” Azazel mumbled,

“I think you’ve had quite enough for one night, Mister Relizic, and that would be 40 gold coins,” the barkeep said to him

“I aint painin nuthin till I gets me anotha bur,”

Azazel looked around and the room, it was mostly empty with the exception of an old man and a younger looking man drinking beers, the old man looked like he was talking to the boy in a hush hush type of matter. All of a sudden the room began to spin and Azazel passed out on the floor, hitting his head on the stone floor.

DREAM

Azazel “woke up” in the middle of a meadow, pink, yellow, and purple flower were surrounding him.

“Come on Az, let’s go, come on,”

Azazel got up and looked around, the only person that ever called him Az was his little daughter, and she had been dead for a couple of years. But her voice was ringing clear as a bell in his head.

“come on your going to be late if you dont come on, you know how mom gets when you don’t get there on time.”

There it was again, Azazel got up and looked around, only meadow for as far as the eye could see.

There was a big flash as Azazel fell down and when he got back up every thing was gone, the beautiful meadow was gone and replaced by a burning village.

“I remember this, this is where...”

The beautiful meadow was replaced with his home village of Restington, the same village that was burned down two years ago, where most of his family was killed.

“Wake up.”

Azazel looked around, first he was hearing his dead daughter now he was hearing a voice telling him to wake up. This was all very confusing to him.

“wake up you fool, I have a job for you”

The burning village melted back into reality

END DREAM

“You stupid baboon…ahh your finally awake,” this was the old man from the bar, along with the young boy, except this time he was wearing all black, even his face was covered in black. Azazel looked around and noticed that he wasn’t in the bar anymore,

“Where am I?”

"You’re at my house,” this came from the voice behind the mask, now that Azazel was no longer drunk off his ass he could actually smell,

Azazel jumped up, reaching for his dagger, “You, you’re a vampire,”

“As are you, now sit down, I am not here to kill you, Half-Breed.”

“We, or rather I have a job for the both of you, as I was about to tell this young vampire here before we were so rudely interrupted by your drunkenness last night.”

“Well what kind of job is this?” Azazel asked getting off the bed and putting his daggers away.

“A dirty one, I need you two to assassinate…”

[DT!]

2 Days Before...

The Jaeger community, despite being on a mostly uninhabited island that was a nice tourist spot was quite large and even though it was off season time for any sort of real business to be had there were still those stragglers who couldn't take the hint that it was time to go back to their normal lives. No more rampant running around and exploring the island, no, it was time for those rich folks to go home.

It actually made Reimund smile everytime he saw something like this; like a hunt in and of itself just for the tour guides to drag those stragglers off.

"So I see you still haven't left your kiddie side behind you, Reimund."

Reimund turned to see a middle-aged man, we'll say 50. He was holding a strange cane with a mixture of animals faces acting as the handle of the cane itself. The man himself had a rather large and grotesque scar going across his face over the bridge of the nose and to the other side.

Yes, this man of 50 was dressed in a plain white silk shirt with one sleeve outrageously longer then the other sleeve. Obviously used to cover something up. Despite all this though Reimund smiled at the man.

"You're one to talk, Nyrikki. Weren't you the one just last weak grabbing some of the tourist and throwing them onto the ship?" Nyrikki smiled a bit. "Yes, it's true, but I've also heard that just last week you took down a Sleeperbeast."

"I had help so I can't take full credit on the kill, but those things are trickier then what information the hall has on them." Pulling out one of the larger feathers from his back Reimund showed it to Nyrikki. "They're feathers despite being colorful were also back to disappear in a way. Really hard to keep up with in the -."

Nyrikki tapping his cane stopped the young hunter from talking anymore. There would be time for pleasantries later and the fire in his eye told Reimund it was time to learn about the next prey. The details were given on a parchment as well as what seemed to be a drawing of the prey. Humanoid, a dark elf? A really powerful official of Alerar as well? To Reimund the dark elf was definetly not as strong as the ones in the community. He just looked like another weak prey to kill.

"That's it? He's not really intimidating."

"Just get to where you need to go."

2 Days later.

Alerar wasn't far now. A day more? Two at most if he really wanted to push it, but it was there and his hunt wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, but one thing that bothered him was the client. His prey's own lackey made the contract and still serves the Dark Monster. A snake of a client never ends well for the Jaeger.

This would be one hell of a show.

[thewriter]

It was Neoku that woke her the following morning. He got up from under her, letting her back and head fall rather unceremoniously to the hard black ground. To this she rubbed her head and yawned. "You know little brother, there are more polite ways to wake someone up," She complained, but the wolf did not seem to care. He simply began smelling through the pack for food. Narida sighed, and took out a portion of the meat, which he ate in one mouthful easily.

"I can go without food for a couple days," She told herself. But Neoku had a connection with her via the gods, understanding her easily. He nudged the back to her, even trying to dig out some meat with his nose. "Alright, alright," She said, giving up and taking a small piece to munch on. "Are you happy, mother wolf?" Neoku grumped and walked off to smell for anything he could hunt. While he did this, Narida looked over the monochrome plain.

She could not understand why this place had become the center for battle. It was a desert with no sand - almost unbearably hot in the day time, unbearably cold in the night time, and unbearably free of life or a glorifying setting. Curious, she cupped the ebony grains in her hand, after chipping at it some, and smelled long and deep, closing her eyes. Neoku wasn't the only one with a good nose.

It was hard to decipher anything under the overpowering reek of dry blood. What more interested her was the smell of the blood blended together - the sweaty, earthen smell of human blood that mixed with staunch, salty scents of the lizard folk. The light, sweet air of the noble high elves that became one with the coal-like scent of dwarven blood. Opposites that had sworn to kill each other had become one - colors, races, what did it matter? All had turned to black dust that lay cupped in her hands.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Neoku's howl. She looked up at what he howled to and smiled. A vulture. It wasn't the best meat to eat, but better then weeks'-old salt meat rations. she loaded a bolt in her crossbow quickly, took steady aim of the circling beast, and fired. The arrow punctured the swell of it's belly, and it fell to the ground, shrieking painfully. She got closer to it, and ended it's misery with a swift chop that decapitated it with Black Ice. Neoku eyed it with the same hunger Narida had. "I have to cook some for me, then you can have the rest," She told her wolf, who was patient enough to do so.

After getting the fire going, and dressing the large bird and such, her left ear twitched - an instinctive motion you see in animals of prey when they sense another presence. "Neoku," she said calmly. "If you find someone behind us, watch him. Perhaps the blood on your muzzle from eating will deter them from following, if that is what they're after."

Neoku nodded, wetting his muzzle in the half-gizzard that still spurted blood like the fountain in a town square, and sat atop the boulder above their campsite.

[Allenslob]

“Well, tell us this man you want killed, I am assuming this is what you want done, right?”
Raphael said as he and the half breed sat down in the middle of a large room in Raphael house, which was probably his reading room, since the room was lined with books. There were books as small as a hand and books as thick as a human head. The parts of the room that weren’t covered in books were covered with posters of maps of places that Raphael had been over his past travels.

“Yes, as a matter of fact you are only half right, I want you to kill someone but man he is not.” The old man had been looking around the room with interest, probably because Raphael had a collection of books and scrolls that most libraries could only hope of getting.

“You have quite a collection of books here.” The old man said to Raphael while picking up a book and blowing the dust of it.

“Yes, I know, now tell us about this creature you want up to kill.” Raphael said, his patience growing thin.

“Come on old man, tell us, I need the money.” Azazel said, getting up from the chair he was sitting in. As he got up, dust came out of his chair, combining with the dust from the book, filling the air in the room with dust.

“Ok, ok, the creature I want you to kill is the Captain of the Guard in Alerar.”

“Whoa, you want us to kill him? Have you ever been there? Have you seen where he lives? It is close to impossible to even get within reach of throwing a dagger at him. Thrust me, I have tried.” Azazel said ready to quit. “I’m sorry but when you said that you have a job for us I thought that you meant a job that was possible. If this is the job then thanks but no thanks."

“To bad, you have already heard the job, you have to complete it now.” Raphael said, “I’ll have to kill you if you leave this place and not go to help me kill this Captain.”

As Raphael got up he grabbed Voidholder, his six foot long Katana, pointing it at Azazel. At the same time Azazel got up and took out his sword, Wolves Disappointment, and knocked Raphael’s sword out of the way.

“Know hold on there a minute you two, there is a way for you to get to him.”

[The-Ace-Of-Spades]

The sun began to slowly rise over the horizon as Seth continued to travel down the barren land of the Black Steppe. This wasn't the first time he had traveled this same path but he could never get used to the place. The land was barren of life and only some animals were capable of living in such a place.

He had glanced up to see a vulture flying over head. "Don't get your hopes up pal, it'll take more then this to do me in." The vulture continued to fly forward and almost out of sight before he saw the creature go into a tail spin and landed somewhere within the next 5 or 6 miles.

"Mmmm, thats strange. Vultures are capable of living in such weather, so what made that one just fall out of the sky." he pressed forward and figured he would find the creature before long.

He walked about 3 miles before he was confronted by what looked like a wolf. Its nose and mouth were covered in blood and it was staring right at him. "I didn't even think wolves were capable of living in such extreme conditions."

He tryed to walk around it but the wolf continued to move into his path. The wolve began to growl furiously, "Whoa boy, It's ok. I don't mean no harm." he through his hands up but it wasn't working. Maybe it has baby pups in that direction. I should probably proceed with caution.

Upon getting a little closer he noticed the wolf was much larger then most. "Alright, Alright. I'll walk around." he said the the beast. He began walking around the it hoping that it wouldn't attack.

[Warklaw]

The further Ayerwulf walked into the forest, the more it died. He couldn't help but loath the place, it began to stir something in him. It all started as a collection of small whispers, like a soft wind through the leaves, but soon the whispers became voices. They began to speak to Ayerwulf, they grew louder and louder. He twitched as he tried to push them out of his mind, it worked, but only for a time. They cam back, tormenting him.

"Go away! Leave me be, Tormentors!" He yelled, he started to quicken his pace, but the voices where in his head, he could not escape. The darkest parts of Ayerwulf soul and mind began to creep out, seizing more of him with their daemonic tendrils. It would not be long until the change would start, Voices of the Damned where the first steps on the slow and bloody road to becoming a Forsaken.

[Azazel Relizic]

“Well talk old man, how are we going to get past all of that?” Azazel said to the old man with out taking his eyes off of Raphael.

“Well it is a bit cliché but you can go in through the sewers under the city and come out in the street next to his house, you have to do this all at night of course, and then take out the patrols then scale the walls and from there you have to sneak into his house. Know here you will have to fight a couple guards, maybe even a lieutenant, or if your lucky you can even fight a commander.” The old man stopped and smiled at the two, who were still in a death gaze, “That was a joke, you should laugh.”

“Haha,” Azazel said sarcastically, “so vampire, do you think we can do it?”

“Well, since we have already heard the plan we must carry it out. We must leave now.” Raphael said lowering his weapon and placing it back on his back. As Azazel did the same,

“Well I guess we only have one way to know, lets do it.” Azazel said placing his weapon on his back and jumped down from the chair he was standing on




“So, Raphael was it?” Azazel and the Vampire dress in black was already leaving to head out to find this hit the old man had told them about. Azazel looked at the other vampire, he was al dressed in black, and everything was black, with the exception of his hair, which was snow white.

“Yes” was all that he heard the vampire utter from his mouth.

“So tell me more about yourself,” Azazel said, ready for a long walk before them, and he hated to be bored.

“No. not now.” Was all he said again.

‘Damn vampire, he needs to be more talkative’ Azazel thought, just after they left the town Raphael stopped and looked inside of his bag. He pulled out a hook with some rope attached to it.

“What is that for?” Azazel asked.

“Ok, this trip will be less difficult if you shut up. No talking at all.” Raphael snapped as he wrapped the rope and hook up and attached the hook to his waist.

Azazel was a little thrown off, he never meet a vampire that didn’t like a good conversation with another. Perhaps it was the fact that he was only half vampire, and half Lycan, since the two were at war for a couple hundred years.

“Ok, then, ill see you there.” Azazel said as he took off running, faster than that off a normal human, and almost as fast as a wolf.

[thewriter]

The vulture meat was cooking on a pseudo-spit that she had hastily crafted from some nearby sticks in the firewood pile. Narida's stomach was grumbling at the very smell of cooked meat. It had been awhile since she'd gone this long without food. She had to be careful not to eat too much or her stomach may reject it.

Neoku growled then, interrupting her train of thought. She turned to see what he was growling at and was surprised to find that her paranoid ears were right - someone was out here. But she also saw that Neoku was threatening this poor traveler, who no doubt had his own business to attend to, and called to her wolf.

"Neoku, to me!" She told the wolf. "Come eat, little brother." She put aside his share of the vulture to her right, and kept her eyes on the man. He was human, and did not seem to be very troublesome. However, you could say that about all humans - at first they do not seem to be liars, or mummers, or thieves, or bastards. The wan sun filtered through the gray clouds, casting a very bleak atmosphere around them - a mist-less field that's still all the eerie.

With most of the vulture eaten by Neoku, the second she turned to look at the vulture meat, her stomach groaned as loud as any war horn could, making the atmosphere now eerie and slightly awkward. She averted her gaze from the stranger, and chose instead to focus on making sure the meat was not under-cooked.

[Warklaw]

Ayerwulf's head was spinning, phamtom voices and tormentor's screams echoed in his skull. The unearthly screams and yells of his inner daemons made his head seem to be splitting. The large lycan man was stumbling, the world around him was spinning, he fell. The pain from his head was spreading, every nerve in his body screamed as it was slowly being tormented by something beyond human, beyond elf, beyond simple beings of this earth.

It was him; The Hunter, Destroyer Wolf, Fenrir. The Wolf of Chaos was stirring, this was all part of Ayerwulf's burden. Each of the Warklaw Wolves were born with a part of the Wolf Spirit in them, with each one that dies, the rest become stronger because the part of the Wolf Spirit wanders into the rest of the tribe. So there he was, the last of his kind, the entirety of the Wolf Spirit of his tribe in him, each day makes Ayerwulf less human. Now, his once blue eyes where a fiery amber with vertical pupils, his muscles looked like they where barely contained by his skin, veins popped under his flesh, looking like serpents under his skin. His ears where no longer that of men, they where shaped like that of a wolf, yet they held some human resemblance. The Destroyer Wolf spoke to Ayerwulf in ways he could not comprehend, the memories of all those who had bore this spirit coursed through is head.

"Father Wolf, why have you damned me so? Why Father Wolf?" Ayerwulf howled up into the tree canopy. The bestial howl of his words scattered the birds from their nests and perches, his voice carrying through the tangled forest until it faded. He was going through the process of being a Forsaked, a Wulfen; those of the Warklaw tribe who could not withstand the Spirit within. Many succumbed to only the fraction of the Spirit they where born with, Ayerwulf had seen clan-kin become Forsaken many times during the 30 Day Hunt, when so many of his people died and the Spirit grew and became more unbearable.

The last of the Warklaw tribe felt something warm dribble from his mouth, he touched it, it was blood. His teeth where changing as well, all sharpening and elongating, becoming only a weapon for rending flesh, he hadn't much time left. He needed help, as much as he hated to admit weakness and call upon others for help, he needed it. The only person he knew who could help him suppress the Change was his mentor and childhood guardian, Narida; but as far as Ayerwulf knew, she could be on the opposite end of the world at the moment. He ran his rough fingers over the ivory amulet that he Narida had given him as a child, a complicated Beast Elf hieroglyph carved into the smooth surface with masterful craftsmanship. Hanging next to the amulet was one of the Rune Fangs he had in his possession, One of the Twelve. If Ayerwulf's memory served him, the Dark Elf that had sent those poachers after Nalva took One of the Twelve during the Hunt; if he was lucky, he might be able to get it from the Elf, thus pushing the Change back and retarding its advance, buying him some precious time.

"Time," Ayerwulf whispered to himself, he looked down to his little wolfsister, Nalva, who was sitting on his lap, curled up tightly. "Time is something I don't have Nalva." She looked at him with her big blue eyes, tilting her head, a little confused.
"Listen Sister," Ayerwulf said coldly, holding Nalva's head lightly in his massive hand, "if I Change, if I becoem Forsaken, promise me you will run. Run and never turn back. If I die, so does my kind, but I will not have you die along with me. When I go, find Narida and Neoku, they will keep you safe." Nalva looked at her big brother with a sense of sadness, but she understood.

Ayerwulf had fallen asleep, the trials of the day had tired him.

+ He dreamt of his family, his mother and father and kinfolk. They where all celebrating the Rahu, the full moon. The children where playing and the young men, like Ayerwulf, where courting young lasses. Ayerwulf was laughing, drinking the famed Warklaw ale, said to be the strongest in the northern world. Other men his age where wrestling and dueling, trying to show who was the better for whatever girl they wanted. Warklaw girls where lucky, they got flattered often because men would bash each other senseless over a single dance. Ayerwulf took part in many of these as a lad, he won most of them too. In his dream, a silver haired lass was sitting across the mead hall, alone. She wore leather cloths that hugged her frame tightly. He stood and walked over to the young woman,

'Excuse me, lassie,' he said with his heavy Highlander accent and a slur of ale, 'would ye' be likin' t' dance with me?' The woman looked up, her face was covered by a white mask. Suddenly, the mead hall fell back into the darkness and Ayerwulf appeared in a blackened field, the sounds of war rattled his brain. The masked lady, her hair like liquid silver, held out a fair yet strong hand.

'Take my hand, child. Your family is dead. I am here to take you away.' Ayerwulf was suddenly looking up at the woman instead of down, he was a child, no more than ten years old. He was crying from the death of his family. The masked woman walked over to him and placed one soft hand on his reddened face,

'Don't worry, pup. It will be over soon.' Black steel pierced Ayerwulf neck, he fell to the ground, a wet crimson bed growing around him. . .+

Ayerwulf awoke and roared, instinctually ripping his sword from it's sheath and slicing in a deadly arch around him. I was all a dream, a horrid dream.

The sound of feet striking the ground in a fast run reached Ayerwulf's lupine ears, the sound of a racing heart and sharp breathing. Someone was running, running towards Ayerwulf. The massive lycan rose and turned his nose to the air, he could smell a scent his people had been born to hate, Blood Spillers. He growled in a feral rage, Blood Spillers, or Monster Hunters, had been hunting lycankind for centuries. They slew lycans and sold their pelts, teeth and claws like a poacher. You bastard, you have the scent of my species on you. Are you trying to finish what you started? Wiping us out? Come then, huntress. Let us see how well you fare against me, Ayerwulf thought. Leaping into the canopy of the trees as Nalva darted into a hallow trunk of a massive redwood, Ayerwulf sat on a thick branch of a massive tree, sitting back on his haunches, resting his elbows on his knees, Fenrir's Fang ready, waiting to bath in the blood of the enemy it was forged to kill.