Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Living Danger [1x1]

The mountain village was small but it was sturdy, home to successful hunters with hearty wives and strong families. The hunting men would return from long days with respectable mounds of kill, and the occasional tale or horror. For the most part, everyone would watch out for one another and defend their neighbors should any harm befall them, but each family would bar its doors to the over-sized wolves that were known to travel the mountain's pass. It was said that if one should cross your path and you managed to survive, it would drag you back to its pack to be either raised as one of its own...or eaten alive. Such a gruesome fate became of young Bryzain's father, and naught was heard from him as the year passed. His closest friends did what they could to assure the wife and daughter he left behind were fed, yet they had families with children of their own to care for. So the two women took to fishing and gathering the best they could, keeping back just enough to survive the upcoming winter. Bryzain went as far as to teach herself basic traps and archery, ecstatic over the prize of a few rabbits; it wasn't until she managed to track her first deer that she ran into trouble.

Technically, her first deer sighting had been a distracted spring doe - and it would have been a lucky shot had she not noticed the fawn at its heels. Her father's death had been fresh enough once more after its anniversary to instill sympathy in the young woman, and allow the creatures safe passage at the time...but moments later Bryzain had been tackled and bitten by a wolf that had also been hunting for that venison, and thought her a threat. She returned to the village, noticing little more than a fever as the wound on her upper left arm healed. Some weeks later she was well enough to hunt and much more intent on seeking out prey, with an urgent craving for meat that no rodent nor fish nor bird could satisfy and thus it grew exponentially. Having caught sight of a deer in the late morning (and desperate by then to eat her fill), she waited and watched as it fed before bounding off into the forest. This time she followed, and took care to stay close enough to have kept up yet far enough to have remained unnoticed; even stayed down wind of it and listened intensely.
Finally it stopped once more, nearly five miles from her home beneath a risen full moon. The ache her muscles experienced did not penetrate her thoughts when she had the thing's heart in her sights and let loose an arrow. It struck home, released a sensory overload of scents that she could have sworn she tasted then, on the air. It was there beside the river, in the snow-laden spring evening, that Bryzain first changed.

Bones and joints popped and cracked, tendons and sinew and skin morphed to new dimensions, and thick black hair shot out of nearly every pore. A tail extended and became bushy with fur. Her pale green-blue eyes were the only discernible features left of the woman-turned-wolf. Its heart raced and temperature soared, caused it to pant, and then drooled at the invading aroma of fresh blood. The only sound that had reached its ears was that of massive paws which plunked through icy water and brought the beast to its kill, where it fed savagely. One claw spread the viscera that the other had gutted, only to be ripped into hunks by the snout that had replaced the woman's face. And even when it had fed, it wasn't full. It craved more. And so the large intimidating monstrosity turned back, and headed for home. The village had largely gone to sleep, save the few that made last-minute preparations for the next day, but Bryzain's mother had left the door unlatched in anticipation of her daughter. What pushed its nose through that threshold was, and yet was not entirely, one in the same. While it had originated with the form of young and lovely Bryzain, it was no longer her thoughts that controlled the body, but the instinct of a blood-thirsty animal. And its unsuspecting mother died without a single scream of protest when it tore out her throat, before it collapsed from exhaustion beside the bed.

And there she laid, unconscious and covered in her dead mother's blood, as she slowly changed back into a human.

Rahime had been on the trail of a wolf for days. Not just any wolf though, a werewolf! He'd finally tracked it to a forest near some small mountain village. Night was the best time to track, and so that was when he went through the forest, stepping quick and careful. The scent of blood was easy to recognize, and it was this that he quickly followed into the town. Oh no, the town. His footsteps picked up, getting faster and faster. The wolf probably could've killed dozens if he took his time walking. He followed the blood trail right into the house, and found...a corpse.
Rahime cursed under his breath at the blood, guts and bone. That wasn't good. He followed the blood further into the house, and found it led to...a bloody girl, asleep on her bed. He cursed again. Girl probably had no idea what she'd done. He looked around for a few moments, then finally fond a sack. He put this sack over her head, wrapped her in a blanket and picked her up. Soft. He was going soft. He should kill her. But if he left her here, when she woke up and saw what she'd done, it would be worse than death. Rahime carried her out of the town, and kept walking until he came to a small cabin. He put her in the bed, took off the sack, and went to start a fire. Great. What was he going to do now?

When she awakened, the girl was quite surprised to find herself out of her village, out of her clothes, and nearly out of her mind. Not only covered in blood but her head felt groggy, as if it was swimming in soup. On top of that there was a strange man before her, and he seemed out of his own sorts. Pulling the blanket to her neck with a blood-flecked fist, and shifting a blood-clotted tangle of hair, she stammered her way into conversation.

"Wh-who are you?" Her voice trembled with her nerves, as she tried to blink non-existant memories into her thought. She had been tracking a deer...let loose an arrow...and then she noticed the man's own hunting gear. A bunch of muddled thoughts and worries crowded her head, each threatening panic.

She didn't know what she did last night, why this man would want her, or what he might have already done. There was no telling whose blood was staining her skin, but she felt no injury other than her head. And now everything would land on this man's next sentence, whether or not she might live.

Rahime glanced over. Oh great, she was awake already. "I'm the man that just saved your life." He stood up and walked over, crouching down so he was eye-level with her as she was on the bed. Which, she really didn't want to be eye-level with a man whose left eye was blank from the claw marks over it. "Listen. Those huge wolves that come through your town...they're werewolves. Wolf-people." He reached over and took hold of her arm, looking at it carefully. It had only been a couple weeks, so he could still see the faint scarring of the bite. "You were infected when you got bit by one. You WERE bit by a wolf, weren't you?"

He took in a deep breath and let it out. "Pay attention. You are changing into a wolf now, because you're a werewolf. This blood is because you attacked an animal. You're not wearing clothes because when you changed into a wolf, it ripped up your clothes." He was talking to her, lying with a completely straight face for the reason of the blood. She would probably fall into deep despair if she learned the truth. "I'm not your friend. In fact, I should have killed you. But seeing as you had no clue what you were doing, I decided to give you a chance. What's your name?"

She narrowed her eyes at the man but answered all the same. "Bryzain. And you?" Given his story, her lack of memory was explained. Guessing she changed after she shot the deer, she assumed she would have...fed. Thinking those thoughts made her stomach churn, paired with the metallic taste in her mouth. Whe felt horrid and disgusting in more ways than one. To remedy that, she tried asking her savior somewhat timidly for help.

"Since you have no plans to kill me yet...do you have any clothes by chance? Or water?" Even though she found herself questioning his credibility, she really had no reason to believe she had done otherwise. "I mean...at least until I can get home to my own clothes. Unless..." Another horrifying thought came to mind, of the supposed werewolves and the village. "Did they clear out the town? Is my mother alright?!" Her mother had been her only family for so long, she had no clue how to live without her.

Rahime stood up and brushed himself off, turning to check on the fire. "My name is Rahime. I got to you before you could reach the town. But you can't go back. You would risk the chance of turning into a wolf again and hurting someone." Someday he might tell her the truth. Maybe. But for now, he had to keep her in one mental piece. Which was already hard when you tell someone that they're a werewolf. "Now, I didn't spare you just because you had no clue what you were doing. Every Were starts that way. I have always wondered if it is able to be controlled. Or if a taming is possible...a training. So, you're my best chance to find out."
Finally, he addressed the topics of food and water. "Yes. Not women clothes, but they'll do until we reach a new town." He went to his pack and pulled out some spare clothes, handing them over to her. "There's a well just outside the house. While you change, I'll draw some water." He stepped outside without another word, and went to draw a pail of water. This was going to be interesting. Living with a Were. The last time he was near a Were and didn't kill it, he got that scar. But at least it did have some aspects that he was curious in. If he could capture and train a Werewolf, then things could get a lot less bloody.

She dressed rather meticulously, feeling fresh aches and strains with movement. With a few breaths, she stretched past it and was finished by the time he got back. Once she had drank, she grabbed a bit of cloth, soaked it, and wiped down her face and hands. Her neck wasn't too filthy, not like her hair. For that she asked to be shown to the well, a fresh bucket or two might actually do the trick. Once that was done, she pulled her hair into a low ponytail and staightened out the few awkward places of her dressing. The concept of training intrigued her, and she wanted to know more.

"Is it...something I'm able to control then? And why can't I control it now? To what end will this even help?"

Rahime shrugged. "I don't know if it can be controlled. That's what we're going to see with you. And of course you can't control it yet. You just changed. Right now, you have more of a feral instinct. Feral is ALL you have, really. IF you can control it....then I know that I won't have to go killing all the werewolves I meet. You'll be saving lives, Bryzain. And maybe even be able to rejoin society at some point." He shrugged slightly.
"Now, do you want to get some sleep, or should we move on to the next town?"

"I..." In truth, she felt ragged and worn, but the more she thought of it the closer she came to the realization that the farther they could get, the better. "I think we should go. If I turn...and can't control it...you'll kill me won't you?"

She couldn't risk killing people she knew and cared about, or even strangers. She felt the need to alienate herself if at least for their protection, if not her own. But being this near a werewolf hunter made her worry some more, about either of their chances of survival the next time she lost control.

Rahime shook his head in answer to her question. "I won't. Not at first, at least. Remember...train. You're a person now, but you're a wild animal then. If I can train you to listen to me in your feral state, you might stand a chance. So if you turn, and you have no control, I'm going to try to train you first." He had a few ideas of how to start, but telling her probably wasn't a good idea. "If you're sure, then let's go. The farther away we get from this town and the closer we get to the next, the better."

He shouldered his things and started walking, gesturing for her to follow. "Do you feel any...hunger? For meat?" She'd just eaten animal and a whole person, so he highly doubted it. But still...

She shook her head, more nauseas than hungry. Her stomach made sounds of digestion, still processing the contents of the previous night's massacre. She worried for her village and her mother, if there were more like her that might attack the people she loved.

"Thank you, by the way." They made their way from the place she had awoken, and she realized how lucky she was. "Thank you for not killing me, and keeping me from killing others."

Rahime should feel guilt about not telling her, really he should. But he didn't at all. It was impractical to tell her. "It'd just be more trouble for me if you did. Trying to train you might be a pain in the ass, but at least if it works then things will change. I've seen kids get bit, little kids, and change into were's." Not pretty.

"So...Bryzain, right? Got anything you're good at, or are you just a little housemaid?"

She nodded at her name and chuckled rather than glared, when he asked if she was a housemaid. "I used to be, before the wolves killed my father. Then I learned to hunt. I know how to use a bow, can skin and cure most things. I'm fine with firestarting. I am a pretty good cook, and can sing a fair tune as well." She smiled nervously, having always felt somewhat awkward when talking about herself.
"How about you? Anything other than slaying wild beasts?" She tried so hard not to ask or think about how far the next town was.

Rahime listened to her, content with what he heard. "Good! You'll be useful on our travels, then." When she asked him, he smirked. "No. I travel, I hunt. That is what I do." He walked along, keeping a brisk pace while making sure she didn't have trouble with following it. "You will have to tell me the moment you feel hungry. Or else things could get ugly."

Nodding again she replied, "maybe by sundown. The taste of blood has made my stomach churn since I woke." No matter how much water she had swished and rinsed and drank, its metalic aftertaste stuck in her mouth and mind. Her tongue ran over her teeth, paranoid that they had become sharper. In truth they hadn't, but recent events had pumped up her imagination; considering that myths and nightmares had become too real to consider much unfathomable.

To rid herself of stiffness, she rolled her neck as she walked, then picked her knees up a little higher as she matched his pace.

Rahime just gave a nod, then walked on in silence. He wasn't much for talking, obviously. He was more just...going on his way. When they reached a good spot, he stopped. "Let's take a break. With what you went through, you might still need some rest and adjustment." He sat down and leaned back against a tree, looking around carefully.

It was best to avoid people just yet, and he could tell there were a group of hunters nearby. Normal hunters, idiots who went after squirrels, birds, and does.

Her head still felt groggy, but the walk had taken its edge off. She drank some water and took her break, and liked that Rahime was quiet. Leaning against a tree, she sat and closed her eyes to the world to focus on breathing. She felt like she was generating heat, not in the way of a fever but as if her body was smouldering from the inside out. It didn't hurt, but it energized her regardless of her attempts to relax. After a few minutes her heart had settled, and she blinked around at the trees before her eyes closed again.

As her mind wandered, Bryzain thought back to her mother. Memories of them together, cooking or singing or sitting out a storm together...all made her homesick enough to resolve that if she could ever control this, she would come back for her mother. At the very least she wanted to someday visit the village, and see that they were okay. Her head shook when her train of thought circled back to becoming a werewolf; it just sounded insane, but she felt different and still couldn't remember anything much. The impression of running on and on was there, but nothing distinct. It took some focus to keep her heart from racing at the thought of turning again. As it was, she had grown to crave adventure and the place where she grew up just couldn't hold her interest. For all the comforts of home, it felt good to move on.

(I am SOOOO sorry!! I must have missed this in my news feed, it kinda wonks out sometime. I'm so sorry!)

Rahime stayed quiet for almost the entire time they were resting there. But eventually, he spoke. "What is something that gives you peace? A memory, a place. Something like that. What is it?" He looked over at her, watching carefully. She was dangerous, after all. A ticking timebomb. Ready to go off at any moment. That's how they all were. So he was always on guard. Just because he was quiet didn't mean he wasn't ready.

((No worries, my week was busy.))

"My mother, and learning to shoot my bow." The first time she'd hit her mark had felt like a moment of perfection; her stance, her breath, her grip, all were aligned and she felt whole. Her father's pride was plain on his face and her mother made her favorite dinner to celebrate. In general, her parents seemed happy together and in their respective roles, and had encouraged her to do what was simultaneously necessary, right and joyful. She felt fulfilled in those regards, and stood to stretch out the tension of stillness.

"My parents were loving enough that I enjoyed being around them, and they have never pressed me to marry. Maybe they knew something I didn't, or were just content with our closeness. I couldn't leave mother alone after father died, either. Not in these mountains, with these wolves. And learning to hunt made me feel better about myself, being able to feed the both of us and give back to those who took care of us. Gave me a sense of peace as well. Why do you ask?"

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