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    Well-Known Member
    Geel, locked in his own battle, did not hear anything but the rustle of his opponent's robes, smell anything but the brown crust on the man's skin, nor see anything but the jet black of his hateful narrowed eyes. It was as if he was in a world of his own, where nobody else existed but he and his enemy. Everything else was in the background, unfocused and dim. All that mattered now was getting out of this surreal, hellish, highlight of a scene alive.

    It was thus to his unwanted surprise, therefore, when the single dulled window by the altar turned a unearthly ethereal white, illuminating the room in ghostly paleness. Geel looked up at the window and suddenly, that little world of his seemed dim and insignificant, small and hardly worth anyone's concentration. For nothing could compare to the power of that spectral moon, which now basked unbarred by cloud and snow, lighting the world in all it's cruel glory.

    In that rarity of a moment, where the full moon shone in pure unfiltered radiance, every man in battle, every shadow by the wall, every battered body was slowly turned into a shade of white. The radius of it's white glow grew, from a small beam that cut through the centre of the room, to a wide arc that began to envelop all. Nothing could hide from that higher power, which bore an aura of evil undefined. It seemed to work some arcane magic, converting friend and foe, weak and strong alike under it's brightness, changing all their statuses to become that of a victim of it's predatory nature.

    When the moonlight beams stretched past Geel, nothing seemed to matter anymore under it's glow. His problems- Who cared about his problems? Why did he worry so much about his past, his future? Why were their fragile lives so important? The full moon erased all doubt, all trouble. He could stand forever, still and silent, illuminated under the light from the window. The ancient magics had told him the truth; Nothing mattered.

    For that moment, he didn't care anymore. Their mission, the Falmer-Who cared if they saved this crumbling, dystopian world? Staring right into the moon's orb, he wanted needed, wanted to simply lay down his weapon, turn a blind eye to the problems they were trying to fix. He could just stand here, gaze into the moon for the rest of eternity. When the Falmer came to cut him down, they would be the same shade of white as the others who stood transfixed, and their blades would only be as cold on his skin as the moon was now-He would not see nor feel a thing. In that moment, Geel was convinced that all was right with the world-That peaceful, tranquil, perfect world.

    Then the light expanded to his left and right, and that was when he broke free from the moon's manipulative aura and intent. For when those in the darkness were cast into the light, Geel saw something; something which could break even the strongest of illusions, could chill the bone and rend the mind. It was so impossible, so ludicrous, yet...

    Where his friend once stood on his right, now towered a nightmare in the moonlight.

    Flint firestorm

    The leading man, who else?
    Crows sword was out in a flash. He and Edwyn went back to back, read to face their oncoming attackers "wait for the two on the stairs to come down, otherwise they'll have the advantage of the high ground." Before Edwyn could respond the four at the bottom of the stairs charged, two at Crow and two at Edwyn. Crow dodged under the first falmer's attack and rolled past him. rising quickly behind the first falmer, Crow sent the Falmer sprawling across the room with a elbow to the back of the skull. With one of the Falmer stunned Crow charged at the other with his sword. They clashed and parry for a few moments but the falmer was clearly outclassed. Crow drew his dagger with his free hand and when their swords next clashed he stuck it between the falmers ribs.

    Crow had a brief respite before the second Falmer was on him again. It started hurling ice spikes at him from the other side of the room. relising that he had to get closer, Crow picked up the slain falmers body and used it as a shield as he charged the Falmer. once Crow was close enough he flung the body at the falmer, knocking him to the ground. Crow finished the downed Falmer with a quick slash to the throat. His two down, Crow sprinted over to Edwyn to see if he needed help.


    Well-Known Member
    As soon as Crow and Edwyn had prepared to fight, four of the six Falmer charged them. Crow would be needed to take down two of them and Edwyn would take down another two. For whatever strange reason, two Falmer remained guarding the staircase.

    Edwyn now prepared to fight. The two Falmer approached him... cautiously. That was certainly strange as the Falmer generally charged into combat what with a World to take over and all. Edwyn decided to charge them instead then. He ran at them, swung his sword at the one on the right with as much strength as he could muster then slid to avoid the other Falmer's sword. The falmer managed to block the attack and as Edwyn stood on his feet he knew he wouldn't get such an easy attack again.

    The two Falmer attacked in unison and all Edwyn could do was parry the sword on his right and jump back to dodge the one on his left. The Falmer followed up their attack quickly and, not hesitating, swung their swords in one fluid motion without ever completely stopping following the original attack missing. Edwyn shuffled to the left and, instead of a normal parry, swung his sword with all his might into the sword of the Falmer. The resulting collision of magic on metal sent sparks flying into the air from the sheer amount of force. Edwyn prepared his left hand for a follow-up attack and punched the Falmer in the face. He stumbled back.

    Edwyn lunged his sword into where he supposed the Falmer's heart to be and pierced the creature's armor, bones, lung, and entire chest. The sword had indeed gone through the entire Falmer. Edwyn pulled back and, noticing vast amounts of blood pouring from the Falmer's back, knew he was dead. Edwyn turned to face the other Falmer and, to his surprise, saw nothing. Edwyn looked closely in front of him, trying to find it, when he heard a noise behind him. Close. Edwyn swung his sword around quickly and decapitated the sneaky Falmer before it did any damage.

    Or at least, Edwyn thought it did no damage. For at the moment when the two Falmer lay slain, Edwyn felt a sharp pain in his back. He used his empty left hand to find that spot and when he did, he pulled out a dagger covered in blood. Edwyn knew the dagger hadn't gone deep enough to kill him. But it was a rather bad wound and would need time to heal. It was now Edwyn began to feel weak and his vision began to falter.

    "Crow, I am wounded. I feel too weak to fight. Kill the last two Falmer quickly. I..." Edwyn fell on the ground, unable to feel his legs. This wound can't be that serious, can it? Its not even in a spot that should cause THIS much pain. "Hurry Crow! This is not a normal wound I suffer!" It was at this point Edwyn remembered the voice of earlier warning that he would not leave here unharmed. Suddenly Edwyn lost consciousness. It was all up to Crow.

    Mr.Self Destruct

    Chosen Undead
    There was a cease in battle as all eyes turned toward the hulking shadow which stood near to the ceiling; a horrific and twisted beast of matted black fur, it's claws and teeth were gnashing razors, the later of which frothed with saliva; hungry for flesh. The cold, blackened eyes of the cultists' which were seemingly devoid of emotion now glinted with fear.

    Namira had abandoned them.

    Nothing could stop the monster as it plunged into the horde, gore and limbs were thrown about the room as screams and roars and the crunching of bones filled the air. Any attempt to retreat was made futile by the metal door, bolted shut; the cultists had sealed their own deaths. The beast worked through them effortlessly. A scream pierced the air as the Lycan's massive hands wrapped around a cultist, before pulling him apart; skin, flesh, bone giving way to the immense strength the creature possessed. The man's screams faded into the snapping of ribs, the sound of blood and gizzards falling upon the stone floor.

    The rest could only watch on, praying to their Daedra that their own deaths would be quick and painless. The creature knew it could take it's time, and so it did as it sank it's fangs into the shredded corpse; ripping forth a chunk of flesh which it gulped down. It then tossed what was left of the man; now a torn and battered heap of bones held together by strips of flesh and sinew, aside. It's eyes, burning with primeval hatred, locked upon the last of the cultists, trembling with terror.

    The beast was in no hurry to finish them, once more, screams, growling, the sounds of claws slicing through skin and flesh, the cracking and snapping of bones, filled the air. Slowly fading away, until the only sound left was the heavy breathing of the beast. It's eyes swiveled around, scanning the room for more to kill.

    The eyes fell upon the stunned visage of Geel, who stood in shock before the wolf.


    Well-Known Member
    This was a dream.
    The teeth? Impossible. The claws? Unreal. Even as he stood, drenched in the blood that was shed by the monster, his mind kept telling himself that this was but an illusion. He simply could not believe that all this while, his friend and leader had been what he was- This feral black beast.

    No, it simply could not be. This monster roared with seething rage, tore through men with utter malice. It was the embodiment of evil and was nothing, nothing like Alistair. Through their adventures, Geel had come to respect Alistair for his faith and his actions, and the goodness he as a whole represented. Not at all like this hateful beast, which flung men like ragdolls and crushed their skulls to dust. Geel refused, simply refused to believe that this was his leader.

    Yet slowly reality dawned on Geel. As he watched the Lycan dispatch of the last of the cultists, he noticed peculiar similarities in the swing of it's claws to the swing of Alistair's sword. When the creature burst forward to grab the nearest cultist in it's jaws, it was unnervingly close to how his leader lunged forth in battle, to pierce the vitals of his foes.
    The last piece of evidence was too striking for even Geel to deny. For when the wolf raised it's head to howl and bask in pale moonlight, Geel caught sight of a sword run right through it's chest. During Geel's own battle with a cultist, he thought he saw Alistair get injured out of the corner of his eye, yet assumed nothing of it. He had been too concentrated on his own foe, and was convinced that Alistair was able to continue fighting. Yet now when he saw the site of injury on the wolf, Geel knew that there was no mistake- This was Alistair.

    Now his disbelief turned to anger. He felt betrayed by his own body and experience-How could he not have smelt the wolf within, after relying on his nose for half his life? How could he have been so careless?

    Yet as Geel thought these things, he knew deep inside what he was truly angry of. Alistair had betrayed their trust, his trust. Geel knew that he would have given his life for this man, and any other member of their little group. Yet it was apparent that Alistair deemed him unworthy of even confiding in them how perilous the situation was. All that Alistair stood for, all that Geel stood for, was now in jeopardy. The group would recoil from fear, and the quest would crumble and fail.

    Suddenly, a certain stillness pierced the atmosphere. It was only then did Geel realize that all the cultists were dead and still upon the floor, and there was no barrier between the bristling back and him. A certain terror overwhelmed him then, melding with his anger to form a surge of emotion. Don't turn, don't turn. The wolf stayed still for a moment, then to Geel's horror, it swiveled it's great, monstrous head around. It's piercing amber eyes locked with Geel, and the moon light reflected off those orbs revealed Geel's own face, a picture of shock.

    It was going to kill him.

    Alistair, was going to kill him.


    Flint firestorm

    The leading man, who else?
    Crow rushed to Edwyn's side but by the time he reached him Edwyn had lost consciousness. Crow examined the wound on Edwyns back and noticed that blood wasn't the only thing seeping from the wound. poison... he needs healing and fast!. Crow had no healing potions on him and he could only hope one of the others did. As Crow moved to pick Edwyn up he remembered the two other Falmer still remaining. Raising to his feet, Crow scanned the room for the remaining Falmer but could not see them anywhere. Damn their hiding. I can't move Edwyn until i'm sure i can make it out of here with being ambushed. keeping his cool, Crow slowly walked around the room, searching for his two hidden enemy's.

    Crow was about to give up and make a dash for the exit with Edwyn when he heard something behind him. Crow instantly turned to face the noise but he turned to late. A Falmer leap from the shadows and grappled Crow to the ground, sending his sword and dagger flying from his hands. The falmer took advantage of Crow being stunned and set about choking him. It wrapped it's cold, grey hands around Crow's neck and began to squeeze. Crow desperately tried to shake the Falmer but his grip was to tight. He quickly felt searched for something to use against the falmer but his sword and dagger were to far away. just as things stated to go dark Crow spotted a lit torch lying on the ground near them. Grabbing its handle, Crow swung the torch into the Falmer's face, sending it into a fit of pain. once Crow recovered he grabbed his dagger a stuck it into the back of the flailing Falmers head.

    Once Crow caught his breath he noticed that he hadn't found the second Falmer. It was then he heard the sound of more Falmer coming from deeper in the prison. "damn, he must have ran to get back up" Crow sprinted over to the door that led deeper into the prison and locked it. "that won't last long but it might slow them down." Crow then ran back to Edwyn and began to half carry/half drag him to the prisons main entrance. once outside Crow began to call for help "Edwyns down! he's been poisoned, do any of you now how to treat poisons?"


    I'm back, bitches
    The cultists had given their small group problems from the very moment they had arrived in the room at the top of the winding steps climbing up the tower walls. Melee had expected to find a group of exhausted bandits, poorly prepared to take on any members of their group and have a chance of defeating them. The rhythmic chanting was eerie and made her skin crawl, as it seemed to rebound off the walls, almost becoming something tangible that began to entwine itself around the group until they were all backed against each other.

    Alistar made the first swing, sword slashing through robe and skin, blood covering him and those in the immediate vicinity. In a matter of seconds, everyone looked as if they had been fighting for years. Swords were swinging, magic was blasting and searing through the air, and Melee's own arrows were carefully picking off anyone in a dark, hooded robe. It was complete and utter chaos, a symphony composed of screams, metallic crashes, thuds, and the hissing of spells.

    Melee had somehow managed to back herself against a far wall, well away from the immediate fighting. She felt most comfortable fighting from a distance that allowed her to scope out her targets and provide support for her friends on the front lines. The room didn't offer much in the way of maneuvering, or space for that matter, so she found herself having to spend more time dodging spells and letting off quick shots that were too close to be considered comfortable.

    A sudden flash of bright light seemed to stop time itself, the glow of the moon quieting everything with it's strange intensity and brilliance. It made Melee uneasy, yet at the same time, strangely calm. Almost as if she didn't have a care in the world. Then, she saw Alistar, and even then the unusual serenity did not leave her mind.

    His back was hunched as he faced away from her, doubled over in pain as he fell to his knees, hands grasping his head. He was shaking violently, and the sight of a glinting blade protruding from his chest finally snapped Melee out of her dazed state and caused her breath to catch in her throat. There's no way I could heal that wound. I can't help. He's going to die. It was all she could think, even as she saw Alistar's transformation right before her eyes.

    Blood and gore flew everywhere as the werewolf raged through the room, tossing robed and mutilated bodies aside after they had been thoroughly massacred. She couldn't break out of her shocked state, even as shrieks of terror and pain filled the room once more. Her bow hung limply in her hands until the beast that was once Alistar turned sharply and moved his focus to a smaller but equally shocked figure standing right in front of the werewolf.

    Geel. Melee's bow flew to her side in a ready position, fingers locked as she struggled with the decision in her head. How do I stop Alistar from tearing Geel apart without hurting him even more? She wouldn't be able to do anything with her bow aside from shoot arrows, and that would be no good in the situation. Instead, Melee ran so that she was coming at Geel from his right, and dove into him as she saw the beast raise its giant claws in the air. They tumbled together past a few pillars, out of the immediate range of danger. Not for long, though. Melee scrambled to her feet and pulled Geel up, hoping that the tumble hadn't done anything more than knock the wind out of him. "Any ideas?" she asked him, out of breath. Her mind was racing too quickly to think of anything, and it would not be long before the beast would be on them again.
    Last edited:


    Well-Known Member
    Geel saw the beast look at him, peer into his very soul. In that brief second of their connection, all his inner thoughts and feelings were given to those searching amber eyes, revealing all he was, all he wanted and would be. In the moment before his demise, that fleeting locking of eyes, his every secret was traded away by his traitorous fear to the Lycan . Yet in return for all that wolf saw of him, all that Geel saw in turn of it was a cold wall, the man within hidden behind the slits of wolf pupils and its amber savagery.

    Geel saw the wolf read him as easily as the pages of a book; flipping through the chapters of his life with both speed and smooth calculation. As it came to the end of his story, Geel saw the Lycan pause in a brief fraction for contemplation, like any good critique would so. Then, it measured Geel, as all others before it, unworthy. Decision done, it rose up to its full, towering height. He saw the beast raise it's claw up high to strike, fur bristling, spine twisting, moonlight illuminating the blade that had lodged in it's chest. Lodged in Alistair's chest.

    Why, was all that he could manage. Why.

    The claw came down like the headman's axe, cutting through air with a whistling fury. Yet when Geel closed his eyes to prepare for the inevitable cleaving blow, the sharp talons on flesh, he instead found the breath knocked out of his side. The force sent him tumbling away from the execution block, escaping the terror of those scything claws. To his immense relief, he found Melee in the dirt next to him, her quick reaction having saved him from untimely death.

    "Any ideas?" She asked, already back on her feet. No, he wanted to say. No, he had no plan. They were going to die. They were going to be torn apart, as sure as day. As sure as night. As he got back on his feet, he looked up at the moonlight that streamed through the windows. Those mocking, cruel beams of light, laughing at the absolute power it had over their fate. Then some poetic justice seemed to slip quietly into his mind. It was all Geel could think of at that moment, yet it seemed right. Decent.

    "Melee, we need to run past Alistair and out the windows. Jump out and cling on the rim before you fall" An insane, lunacy of a plan, its success betting on the bloodlust and madness of the beast. With the right timing, they could save themselves, sending the wolf plummeting down in its haste. It would fall before the eyes of that loathsome moon. Run too slow however, and the wolf would catch them even before their plan had begun. Then the moon would bask in the glory of it's kill, and Alstairs quest forgotten by all.

    Without waiting any longer for the wolf to come to it's senses, his breathing painful and ragged, Geel began his dash across the bloodied floor.


    Well-Known Member
    Please note that I am rusty at RP, as it's been a while since I have written anything.
    Warning: This post may be lackluster, unless it's not. :confused:

    The fight went on for what felt like eternity. Like a dance, we gracefully moved around the room, succeeding only in countering each others attacks. And so we waited for the other to make a mistake, but neither of us did.

    "I am disappointed in you, brother of the spirit. I expected you to have bested me by now. Perhaps I have been a tad bit hasty in my confrontation with you, and have lied to myself to think you could have recovered your new-found strength so quickly."

    I growled as I my blade blocked his two swords from descending downward into my armored skull. "I am who I've always been, not stronger or weaker then I was before. Just because you bestowed these "gifts" upon me does not mean that I shall use them."

    The daedra took a step back and withdrew his swords in order to avoid the thrust of my blade, which would have stumbled the demon and left him open to attack. "So you have enjoyed your powers until now? Why hold back."

    I dashed forward and swung my blade in an uppercut motion, but the daedra sidestepped the attack with ease. "I shall not be a puppet! I am in control of my own destiny!"

    The daedra shot forth a fireball of black flame, with which I turned to him while jumping to the right of the blast. It missed, but was still close enough for me to "feel" the dark embers deflecting off of my armored hide. "So you think you control your destiny? You think your actions are your own? You control your new-found rage? I fear, my friend, you live in a lie if you think you control anything at all!"

    I shouted in rage as I conjured a large gout of flames in the demon's direction, engulfing the daedra in crimson fire. "I CONTROL MY FATE, AND I"LL BE DAMNED IF I DON'T!"

    As the flames died down, and the smoke cleared, the daedra was nowhere to be seen. Yet, I could began to hear laughter in my mind, the laughter of the demon. Mocking me, yet it did not bother me as much as I though it would be. Instead, I pondered the words I had spoken aloud before the laughter. "I guess I already have been damned."

    "If damned means blessed, then I agree. Oh, and good job turning me into toast. Nice way to get out your inner daedra."

    I growled aloud as a sat down on the frozen floor, but thought nothing of the taunting and instead desired to use some humor to ease my frustration. "I guess fate has nothing on my mad fire skills, right?"

    The daedra in my mind laughed again, but it seemed like more of a humored laugh than a mocking one. "I guess not. However, do not let this victory go to your head. It was more a victory of the master than a personal victory."

    "Whatever makes you sleep at night..." As the words escaped my lips, I could hear the sound of clashing steel and shouting voices from up above.

    With a sudden urgency, I sprinted to the staircase and up the stairs. The sounds of fierce howling began to grow as I neared the top of the stairs, yet a steel door blocked me from my comrades. Using my speed and strength, I slammed into the door and busted into the bloody room. My mind pounded as I joined the broken door in it's impact into the stone floor. However, I recouped my senses and quickly got back onto my feet.

    With horror, I found that the room was littered with the dead or the dying. The smell of rotting corpses greeted me, yet the dead did not come as much of a shock to me as the sight of my comrades discarded in one the corners of the room and the large werewolf looming between them and the tower windows.

    Without even giving another moment to observe the situation, I conjured my two-handed daedric blade and charged the beast.


    Devil Of The Details
    Baroth trudged through the blizzard's knee-deep blanket, behind the group he'd been tracking for....damn, he'd lost count. Either way, their skill combined was incredible and each on their own were fairly dangerous. He was there, in the tavern where they met, when they exchanged names and discussed their purpose. Stopping the Falmer. A noble quest indeed. But no where near easy. He thought it over, as he identified and carefully followed the tracks of the group. It would be hard, and the only reason he never really revealed himself is because he wanted to see how far they'd get. They got further than he thought they would, not that he doubted them. There were times when he wished to reveal himself, help them in life or death situations, but he, instead, decided that they would handle it. And then he came to the split. He had to choose which group to follow. The one bound for Winterhold or the one bound for Riften. He chose Winterhold. Why? you might ask. Well, he couldn't quite place it. He felt more challenged in the snow. It blinded him, as it did most people. It covered him in a white blanket of cold ice, making him shiver and uneasy in combat. And while his Nord aspect helped him bare through it, everyone has their limits after all.

    As the group neared the tall, ominous tower Baroth could no longer feel his knee down. He'd literally been in the snow so long, he felt as though he might have gotten frostbite. He had to get out of the snow, quick. He pushed himself forward faster as the group moved into the tower. He was a mere hundred yards away, but a few minutes behind the group, when a bone-chilling, deafening howl filled the fiercely swirling air. The blinding blizzard would cover his approach, and the bitterly-cold, howling wind would mute his steps. Going in through the front door was suicide, and unprofessional. He wanted to make an appearance. Well, at least this once. He took out his climbing claws and slowly dug them into the weathered stone structure, immediately identifying the weak point where he could and couldn't use as leverage. Within several moments, he was at the second floor's window, holding onto the ledge for dear life. He quietly pulled himself up, only letting out a silent groan for the amount of strength it took to hoist himself up, and peered through the window pane. No sooner than he did that, he saw a brief image of a hooded man, likely a cultist, being ripped apart. Blood splattered onto the window pane, making any other events obscured.

    Baroth was startled by the sudden death and nearly lost his grip on the ledge. He slipped for a moment, before he gained balance through the one hand that remained on the window's bottom ledge. He couldn't hold for long. Looking up and searching through the stingingly cold winds, Baroth spotted another window. It was a few inches out of arm's reach however. But, Baroth COULD throw himself towards the ledge and, hopefully, catch it and pull himself through the window. It was a thin-iced plan, but it was possible. He sighed. "Dammit." And threw himself over towards the ledge. He landed with a little slip on the ledge's ice, but made it nonetheless. He took a deep breath as he put his feet against the slippery ice covered stone wall and pushed himself through the window. He flew through the window in a shower of crystals and a roll as he pulled the steel shield off his cloaked back and unsheathed his steel sword, still sharp. He was ready to face the beast responsible for the multiple bodies that lined the floor. His steel armor was still in good condition so he would have a chance at least. That's when he saw the beast itself.

    Massive, void-black fur covered the beast head to toe. Large, razor-sharp canine teeth filled a snout on the beast's snarled face. It was a few feet taller than him, and loomed over him like the structure once did. It's eyes were pupiless amber orbs that explored every inch of Baroth's body and limbs. Identifying weak spots in his armor. Sizing him up. It's jaws dripped with the blood of the fallen cultists around his feet. A string of flesh hung from it's jaws as well. Baroth had fought many werewolves before, but none like this. He prepared for the worst.

    "Talos watch over me." He whispered to himself as he charged towards the beast, shield and sword raised.

    Mr.Self Destruct

    Chosen Undead
    The wolf growled, still frenzied with blood lust as it's claws scraped against the stone floor. It's massive, burning eyes were locked upon the stone columns where Geel and Melee were taking cover behind. The beast let out a savage roar which resounded throughout the room, the scent of prey nearly rendering the wolf berserk as it dug it's claws into the stone tiles and began to creep towards the columns.

    Suddenly, the door behind the wolf busted open in a flurry of dust, and lunging from the shadows came a figure wielding a Daedric claymore. The werewolf howled, reeling around as the figure poised the blade; ready to strike. The sword came down, narrowly missing the beast as it weaved to the right before swatting the swordsman aside with a sudden backhand. The intruder was sent flying, before slamming against a stone wall.

    The wolf now turned it's attention back to Geel, but instead found the silhouette of an armored warrior standing before the moonlit window. Now the wolf was enraged, stricken with anger and frustration as it growled and clawed the ground. The figure charged first, shield raised as armored boots came thundering towards the wolf.

    The monster howled in pain as the warrior's blade made contact with the Werewolf's arm, black blood spraying against the ground as the Wolf recoiled back; clutching the wound in anguish. Then the beast began to growl savagely, it's eyes burning with hatred as it charged. Tackling the figure and sending the warrior's sword clattering to the ground. The wolf hovered over the man that had wounded it, holding it's bestial and canine face over the warrior's helm and letting out a low growl. Saliva dripped from a maw of daggers, steaming as the wolf reared it's head, ready to deal the killing blow.

    Suddenly, the sounds of footsteps caught the Wolf's ears. The beast looked up to find Geel and Melee making a frantic sprint for the open window. Letting out a howl, the creature pushed the armored warrior aside and gave chase .

    Geel and Melee jumped, narrowly catching the window sill before plummeting to their deaths. The wolf roared, charging the window as fast as it could before lunging towards the moon, then, with a pained howl, Alistair fell into darkness.


    Well-Known Member
    Edwyn was being dragged, while unconscious, by Crow. Edwyn still felt like his eyes were open though. He saw blackness, nothing else. Just pure blackness. He thought he could also smell as the stench of decay filled his nostrils.

    A figure appeared in the distance. A Falmer. It was unmistakable. Yet as the Falmer walked closer, it changed. It changed from a horrible beast into a Snow Elf and on its head this Snow Elf wore an old-fashioned crown. The Snow Elf was little like a Falmer; the Snow Elf was graceful almost. As Edwyn sat in shock, the figure spoke. "Edwyn."

    Edwyn felt like his head was hit by a hammer. His eyes closed and his head ached in a quick rush of pain. Then he opened his eyes again. He could see Melee and Geel in the distance, being pursued by a savage werewolf. Where is Alistair?

    His eyes shut once more. Then they opened again.

    An army of Falmer marched onto the surface, attacking the great cities of Skyrim. They were burning entire towns to the ground. Innocent children and women were being lined up and slaughtered by Falmer soldiers. Without any sign of mercy. Edwyn couldn't believe what he was seeing.

    He shut his eyes. He opened them to see all his current companions as well as the other group surrounded by an army of Falmer. They fought valiantly but slowly and surely all of them were falling to the Falmer.

    The Snow Elf appeared to Edwyn again, though the battle remained in the distance. "This, Edwyn, is the future. Unchangeable. Unavoidable. Fate. All of the fighting you do will not change this inevitable future."

    Edwyn felt suddenly empowered, capable to speak. "That will not happen! It can't! We won't let things happen that way!" Edwyn swung his fist into the Snow Elf's face and right before he made contact, his eyes opened. For real.

    He looked up and saw Crow standing there. Crow said "Is everything alright Edwyn? The only way we could tell you were alive is your movement."

    Edwyn replied "Just a nightmare."


    I'm back, bitches
    She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was Geel really suggesting that they jump out the window in order to escape from the werewolf? There had to be a better solution than just trusting themselves to grab the crumbling, hardly existent ledge that framed the bottom of the window. Melee threw a worried glance toward the window just as a cloaked figure crashed through, shattering the window and showering the floor with shards of glass. He rolled to a stop and immediately drew a sword, facing Alistair as the beast turned its head toward the stranger.

    A few seconds later, as the werewolf was fully turning on him, the stranger removed the shield from his back, poised himself in an offensive position, and ran head-on toward the werewolf. A growl emanated from its throat, loud and deep enough to shake the floor that they were standing on. The stranger's sword swung through the air, slashing at the beast's shoulder so quickly it was little more than a silvery blur as it cut through layers of fur, skin, and muscle on its arm. A pained howl resounded in the small stone room as blood flowed from the werewolf's open wound, and it hunched over in agony.

    This is our chance, Melee thought. As horrifying and dangerous as this creature was, she had no doubt that her friend was under there somewhere. Whether or not he was conscious of what he was doing, she couldn't say. It still pained her to think that they had to try to escape from Alistair. It didn't seem right, but it was what they had to do. In that instant, it would have appeared to anyone able to observe that Melee and Geel's movements were synchronized. They pivoted toward the window at the same instant and starting sprinting as quickly as they could, but to Melee the few seconds it took to reach that window took a lifetime.

    A year to push off with her right leg and finish the first long stride that carried her toward her escape. A year to glance to over her shoulder at the wounded werewolf still across the room, and another year more to notice the bodies of the two other strangers who had rushed into the room to attack the beast. To her surprise, one of them wasn't actually a stranger, although she hadn't recognized him at first; Shadow-Tail looked different somehow, but Melee couldn't identify why she felt that way in the short time she was actually looking at him.

    It took another decade to see the werewolf rear itself up to its full height as it realized what Melee and Geel were trying to accomplish. She felt the roar as she turned her head back to the window, but she was concentrating so desperately on the window that the world around her had gone silent. The ground thudded as the beast chased under them, and suddenly time resumed its normal speed. Melee and Geel hurtled themselves out of the window and into the frigid, blustery snowstorm, managing to grab the side of the window at the last moment. They slammed into the side of the building and Melee felt the air go from her lungs, yet she still managed to hang on to the ledge.

    A black mass flew out of the window right behind them, and they heard an agonized howl as the werewolf plummeted to the ground below. Melee kept her face pressed to the cold stone of the tower, wishing that her hands were free to try and block the sound of the werewolf falling. Turning to Geel, she shouted over the wind howling around them, "How do we get up from here? We won't be able to hold on for long in this weather!"


    Devil Of The Details
    Baroth tensed up for a second, exppecting to be flailed across the room. He was surprised when the beast turned around to chase two others in the room. As they smashed out the window, the werewolf barreled after them, crashing in the snow below. Baroth got worried. Had they made it? Had they survived? He sheathed his sword, put his shield on his back, and ran to the window. No sooner than he'd arrived, did he see two people dangling from the window ledge. He immediately reached his hand down into their line of view, hoping they'd get the idea. One by one, he heaved them in. Once they were in he stood up straight and said, "I suppose you have questions. Or we could deal with that beast down there. It's your choice."

    (OOC: Chat color is still white, I'll color it later.)


    Well-Known Member
    Racing, rushing for survival. As Geel ran, he felt every living fiber of himself shifting, twisting, turning. He felt his fists clench, his eyes slit, and the soles of his feet clap the floor as it drove it's way through the sea of night. As his muscles contracted and relaxed in perfect unison, he knew that this was it- This was the harmony that would be the essence of his escape.

    Yet it was more than the confidence in his physical form that drove Geel on. When their bodies moved, taken over by the instinct of flight and the desperation of the moment, there was a strange revelation. All of a sudden, Geel realized how they had to survive. They could not afford to let themselves die, their bodies desecrated by the monstrosity. This was because a notion had overtaken him- The notion that their lifeblood was too important to be lost. For as he felt his muscles stretch and reach, his tail cut through the air, he marveled at the complexity, the power of the flesh that could make up a living being. So Geel was certain, determined that such remarkable matter, of which they breathed life into would not go to waste. They would not be devoured by anyone, especially not this... Beast.

    At one point , Geel lost this certainty.The wolf's shadow had loomed ever closer, pushed back only by the silvery light from their goal. The heat emanating from it's spiteful pores prickled the backs of their necks, hot drool hissing as it sprayed the floor at their feet. It would only be a moment before they would be caught in it's jaws, and thrown into the shadow of it's gullet.

    Yet it was as if some greater being had taken notice of their plight. A shower of glass rained down, tinkling across their skin, scale and fur. The beast paused, the intensity of it's hunt faltering. Turning up, it's crude, brutish face could only manage an expression of it's shock before a whirling severing swipe cut through the air. A howl of pain echoed through the room, and in that fleeting moment of distraction, they hurled themselves at the window.

    A similar, tinkling, cracking of glass. The window slammed full force into his skull, sending a arcing bolt of pain through him as it exerted it's vengeful blow. Then the glass wall gave way, and disorientated, he fell straight out the window. Geel flailed for a moment, his body faltering in mid-air. There was no pillar of support to save him, only the whispered promise of doom below. It was only at the last moment, right before a death-marked plummet that he managed to grab on to the window ledge. His fingers grabbed, and the rest of his body followed suit, swinging downwards. His arm, a pivot and anchor to the rest of his body, trembled in pain. He could only hope that he outlasted the beast.

    A massive form burst out the window, leaping above their heads. It dominated the night sky, sailing across it with unnatural ease. Yet when Geel and Melee looked up at the wolf, they noticed a change. The hunger that had radiated from it vanished as fear overtook it, the wolf changing from feral and monstrous to but a startled animal. It's position, one of confidence and poise, turned to a sprawling tangle of claw and fur as it began it's dive downwards. The moon had cast judgement. No longer would it be a predator of men. No longer would it hunt under Namira's guise. Now, it was just a victim- A creature left to the devices of fate.

    So they watched with teeth clenched, as beast and friend fell to their demise.


    Queen of Evil
    "Edwyns down! he's been poisoned, do any of you now how to treat poisons?"

    Circe made her way quckly, but gracefully to Edwyns side and kneeled down as Crow did. She looked over the man, clenching her eyelids tightly shut at the sight of blood gushing from Edwyn's back, but shook her head and recompossed herself.

    "I don't know about treating poisons, but I'm pretty sure I can remove it from his system altogether if you give me a moment."

    The Vampire didn't wait for a reply, instead she flipped the downed member of the group onto his front and examined the wound. A clean hole in his back. At least it would heal nicely with the right treatment, she thought, but for now she needed to get the poison out of his system. She didn't know what it's effects were, or how lethal it could be, but the one thing she knew for sure was that she was immune to it. So, taking in a deep breath she pressed her lips to the wound and began to suck out the poison. Fangs weren't needed, they were just to puncture the skin, and in this case it had certainly already been punctured.

    Five minutes had passed by the time Circe was sure that all the poision was gone. Even if there was any left inside Edwyn it wasn't enough to cause any harm. Maybe he would wake to a slight headache and possibly some sickness, but aside from that he would be healthy.

    "All we need to do now is wait for him to wake."

    And before long he did. Crow welcomed him back and there was a sigh of relief from Circe as he replied.


    Well-Known Member
    Edwyn had only been awake for a moment. As he tried to stand up, his head suddenly hurt. The world was dizzy and every noise was excruciatingly irritating. Edwyn stood straight for a moment, trying to remember everything that had happened in the prison. Everything he had seen in his dream.

    But he couldn't remember anything about any of that. All he could think was that his head hurt. And thinking made it hurt worse. Had he lost that much blood? Surely someone could have bandaged his wound?

    Something strange was going on here. Edwyn saw everyone around was looking a bit uncomfortable. Then he looked directly at Circe. The way that everyone's faces twitched, momentarily, with increased worry and increased uneasiness. Edwyn knew what had happened.

    "You... you let the vampire... drink my blood?" he said, directly at Crow.

    "You let the vampire drink MY blood!" he yelled, at everyone.

    Feeling more pain due to his increased blood pressure, Edwyn calmed himself down. "I'm... I'm going to lie down." Edwyn walked slowly to his bedroll, wanting simply to sleep the pain away.

    Flint firestorm

    The leading man, who else?
    Crow felt bad about what he had done to Edwyn but not guilty. He'd allowed Circe to drink Edwyn's blood knowing that the alternative for him was death. Still, Crow could imagine his anger, wondering what would he himself done if he had been in Edwyn's place. Crow wondered if Edwyn would have let Circe drink his blood or just let him die. Crow considered going over and talking to him but decided against it. He'd rather be alone right now. we can talk later.

    It was then that the dragonborn stepped forward and addressed the group. "Time is of the essence. a vampire bite, no matter how small, can cause vamperism. With Edwyn's health at risk and the threat of Falmer attacking us from the prision I don't want to risk staying here over night. We should push on to the NightGate inn, some distance down the road." His order took the group by surprise. most of the group was already getting ready to rest. Edwyn himself looked particularly tired. "to nightgate inn? the storm will hit us before we make it. why not just clear out the falmer? we can get Edwyn healed in the morning." He shook his head in disagreement. "No, i'd rather face a storm then risk fighting does things in tunnels. Even if we did we're right next to the Vigil of Stendarr's chapter house. were they to sense a vampire here they would attack us as we slept. Our only option is to push for the inn. Pack up your equipment. we leave in ten minutes." As much as Crow hated the idea of trying to push future with a storm approaching he couldn't argue with the DragonBorn. he was leading the group after all.

    concerned about Edwyn's strength, Crow walked over to check on him. "Will you be strong enough to make the journey? you don't look well."

    Mr.Self Destruct

    Chosen Undead
    And with the wolf's fatal plunge into darkness, all fell quiet save for the hollow echo of the wind.

    With a whimper, the beast struck the ground in a flurry of ice and snow which settled shortly after. For a moment, all was still. Snow continued to fall, nearly covering the twisted and broken mass of fur and claws which was sprawled across the ground in a lifeless and bloody heap. Crimson ran freely along the frost until the snow around the body was soaked with red.

    The full moon which still shined piercingly began to dim as dark clouds began to envelop it's pale glow. And as quickly as the moon had appeared, the haunting visage of Secunda had all but vanished from the night sky. Drowned by a sea of darkened clouds.

    As the moon's light faded, the lifeless body of Alistar fell into darkness.


    Within the tower, those who had survived the beast's transformation were left in states of shock. Geel and Melee, shaken by what had transpired, clambered back inside with the help of Baroth; who had happened upon the tower moments before. Joining them was the Argonian, who had recuperated after being thrown against the wall by the beast.

    The four stood together among a scene of blood and gore, with the remains of the Daedric cultists splayed out across the room in ribbons.

    Suddenly, a foul smell filled the air, coupled by a wave of darkness and frigid cold which washed over the group. The stench, which was akin to rotting flesh, was so repulsive it made the four nauseous. The darkness and cold continued to intensify, enveloping the group in total blackness as the temperature dropped below freezing.

    Unsettling sounds began to resound throughout the room, creaks and banging which eventually turned into strange moans and distant howling; like wind passing through the mountains. The group was back to back at this point, completely blind in the dark.

    Without warning, animal-like squeaks and cries began to ring. Distant at first, but gradually becoming louder and louder until the sounds became overpowering and deafening.

    Rats, what must have been thousands, came coursing through like a raging river. The horde passed through the group, weaving in between their legs and continuing on their way as if the four were merely another obstruction.

    Geel glanced behind him, trying to make out the direction in which the rats were headed. That's when he saw it, the silhouette standing before the dim light of the window where Alistar had fallen just moments ago. It was hard to make out, but there was no mistaking that something was there.

    "Poor Alistar..." The voice was unworldly, as if being spoken by a multitude of people at once and coming from all directions. The room shuddered as the figure spoke, as if it could feel the evil in the voice.

    "Run through by a blade, left to plummet to his death in the cold dark.... If only there were some way to save him."

    At once, the torches which hung from various mantles all throughout the room were lit.
    Sitting upon the window sill was a woman, if one could call it that, garbed in a black and tattered cloak which seemed to be sown and stitched together with patches of skin and sinew. Her oily ebony hair fell around her shoulders, parting to reveal an eerily pale face with a pair of striking, almost bestial yellow eyes which seemed to see right through the group.

    The rats were everywhere, scampering along the woman's shoulders and arms and helping themselves to the remains of the cultists. The scene was revolting, even more so when spiders and other disgusting creatures began to crawl out from beneath the woman's cloak.

    "... I am Namira, Lady of Decay."


    Queen of Evil
    Circe wasn't particularly worried about the the situation. She had healed countless mortals in the way that she had just healed Edwyn, and as long as the sanguinare vampiris wasn't given the oppurtunity to develop into full fledged vampirism he would be fine. By his standards, at least. Circe had never quite understood why the idea of being a Vampire was so unapealing. Still, she would try her best to reasure the man. After all, she had bitten him without consent.

    While the Dragonborn spoke she silently made her way to Edwyns side, but made her approach more obvious as she neared him so that he was't startled.

    "I'm sorry," she said. "Had there been no chance of curing the disease before it fully developed I would have never bitten you. But, fact is, with the right treatment you'll be fine. I only did it to help you, I hope you can understand that."

    The Vampire knelt beside where the man lay and put her satchel on the floor near him. Unclipping the gold buckle on the front she reached her hand inside. She traveled extremelly light. The pouch was hardly large enough to hold a small dagger and a handful of other useful items. A book, her mothers necklace, and some small glass bottles filled with various potions and remedies. She took one of the smaller bottles from her satchel and placed it in Edwyn's hand.

    "Here, drink this. It should help ease any sickness, or a headache if you are experiencing one."

    And then she left, noticing Crow make his way over. She was sure that Edwyn would want to be as far away from her as possible right now anyway.