The Moon Beckons (closed)

In the woods outside Falkreath, Arla Neerus, first born of Suronios and Jarilla, tossed and turned in her bed roll. Asren was nearby in another tent, the fire outside embers. Dreams of running, teeth and claws, blood all ran through her head keeping her from gaining a good night's rest.

A cold sweat over her body, Arla's eyes blinked open. She shivered violently, fever wracking her body. Her wound ached. Breath coming in short bursts. Nine...she needed water. Without bothering to dress, she stumbled out of her tent, fabric ripping as she clawed at the buttons.

Her eyes watered in the blindingly bright moonlight. She crawled towards something, anything to help her. She began crying, realizing this was her death. The horses whinnied once before pulling hard at their reins and sprinting off.

The horses...got to get them or get..trouble. Arla's fever racked mind forced her to follow after the horses, running deeper into the woods. Keep moving Arla, they aren't far.

Her body began to shake violently, as she collapsed under a pine. A small white figure in the dark woods.

Arla tried to grab a root, pulling herself through the dirt. Her body convulsed hard once more, a fine layer of fuzz appearing on her skin. Fire coursed through her veins as she felt her spine start to snap as her muscles contracted hard. She shut her eyes, brow furrowing as her skin began to rip and tear. Each finger snapped and twisted, nails starting to harden into claws.

"Stendarr, have mercy......." She cried out, praying for death as the fur began to lengthen and darken. Her hips made a cracking sound as her back arched. On her knees she screamed, the high pitched scream of true pain turning into a long mournful howl.

Arla planted her claws on the ground as she took her first deep breath, eyes red, she sniffed the air. She was reborn.

A black shadow, she vanished into the woods.

His name was Hrokr. Raised in Falkreath, he had always been taunted for the similarity name wise to the large sea going creatures found to the north. When he reached manhood, Hrokr traveled northward to hunt a make a name for himself. He slew many of the beasts their meat, teeth, and skins gaining him minor wealth and fame, enough to return home to settle down.

Blood..blood...feast...prey...kill...


Tonight, Hrokr had already settled into his favorite chair, his wife bringing him a mug of mead before taking a seat beside him, resting her head as he relaxed in front of the fire. He began to drift into a state of semi sleep, letting the warmth of the fire flow over him.


Food...blood food...kill...kill...


Hrokr was pulled from his slumber by his wife shaking him. "Hrok, Something is outside!" He had enough sense about him to hear something scratching at his door. He had built his home away from the town for the seclusion and had to deal with the occasional wolf or even bear, Fire and a couple arrows usually did the job. "Be careful Hrokr.." His wife, cautious as ever, warned him.


Food..so close..so warm..


Hrokr kicked open the door, bow drawn. His wife stood behind him with a torch. The woods were empty. "Do you think it was a bear again?" His wife turned to inspect the deep gashes in the door she had just this day painted. The green of the door contrasted with the bright wood underneath. She sighed. Hrokr however felt something. His hunting instincts were going into overdrive. "Honey, get in the house..." His voice barely a whisper. She looked up, confused and now very afraid. She froze.

SO CLOSE...BLOOD

"Get inside now!" he turned his head for an instant to look at his wife before a pressure on his skull covered his eyes. He screamed loudly, more surprised then afraid. He could hear his wife screaming as he was pulled off his feet. He felt a sharp pain and then something wet and warm fall down the front of his body. The pressure on his head vanished and he looked down to see a black mass gorging itself on his innards. "Get...inside..." The last of his air spent warning his beloved.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"HROKR!" She screamed as her husband was mauled by some creature. Larger and faster than she could believe. He told her to get inside and that's what she did. She slammed the door behind her. Back against the door, she slid down it. She could still hear the beast feeding on what was left of him...wait...she couldn't...

BLOOOOOD

The door was thrown off it's hinges, mercifully knocking out the widow. She opened her eyes groggily, wondering what had just hit her when she realized she was face to face with the muzzle of a wolf. She opened her mouth to scream but as the jaws clamped down around her throat, all that escaped was a weak hiss

A long howl echoed across Falkreath that night, chilling the bones of the elders and frightening the children in their beds. There were monsters afoot tonight. Above all sat the full moon, silent and watching.

Arla woke up in a clearing. She sat in a small little hole that something had dugout. It was warm and comfortable to be honest. She felt like something big and warm had just been there. Just about then, she noticed the bones next to her. Chunks of flesh still attached. Her hands had blood on them. It started flashing back to her, the moon, fur and hunger.

She froze for a moment, right before swaying and landing face first in the dirt. She was a murderer and she killed someone and it..was..getting dark...

Arla passed out, protecting her mind from being traumatized.


About an hour later, she woke up again, this time ready for the grisly scene.

She scrambled out of the hole, not looking back, running out of the woods. She remembered the mountains from the day before. She would get to town and make something up. She sprinted along, the only thing she uttered were her prayers to the nine.