Hunter Or The Hunted? Options

[The Wolf]

I'd by the way like to submit this to the short story section. Is it worth it? Should I? How?


Update will come in a day or two. (I've been lazy now)

[chips]

awesome story man! i thought the nords were the werewolfs, then that nord came i think it was the guy in the bar. my first time here in this forum i think i'll stay

[ike the imp]

yeah its brill!!.hey chips u got bunny in signatur too. i hope we help him take over the world!


edited by burntsierra: and try to keep on topic please.

[The Wolf]

His body gave the altmer only two options: wake up, or die. He woke up, his mind dizzy with the cold. His body was all numb, he could barely move his fingers and toes. He opened his eyes to the dawning light, and stumbled up, leaning to a tree. Had he drunk too much again? But why was it so cold? He numbly stared at the tree. Slowly, but surely, it dawned to him that the trees aren't supposed to be red. He touched the red stuff with his finger. It was some sort of liquid. It wasn't loose. He tasted it. The taste of iron filled his mouth. Blood. Then he remembered what had happened. It felt like waking up just to notice that the nightmares didn't end when the sleep ended.

He stared at the view in front of him. Then he turned around and vomited the little remains of food away. Then he turned back. His face was green but expressionless. The only thing left of the nord was his head, and his axe. He picked up the axe. Right next to the head was two corpses of werewolves. He examined the head more closely. He recognized it. It was the head of the same nord that had tried to warn him at the tavern. He buried it in the cold and hard land.

He felt slight pain all over his body, as the cold started to creep away with his movement. He studied himself. His clothes were shredded, and his body was filled with tiny wounds made by fang and claw.

He watched those wounds, confused. Those beasts could've slain him easily, but had left him alive. Why?

Then it struck him. Sanies Lupinus. The curse of the beast. Hircine, or some other creature of darkness with enough power to control werewolves sought him alive. And insane.

Now he had no option. He'd have to flee in hope that he would find a priest or a mage or an alchemist soon enough.

No use to stick around in this desolate place. He head off to the closest nord village. There he could take a sip of mead and visit their local shaman. The village hopefully wasn't too far away. He could make it during the daylight.

He would follow his own tracks back to the village.

He ran once more.

_____


It always seems so much more when it's on text document than when it's here...

[mplantinga]

So, he is now infected. I hope he manages to get healed before it's too late. I feel like something significant will happen on the way to the village; I guess I'll have to wait to find out. Thanks for a great update.

[The Wolf]

Trees flickered past Hecerilar as he sped through the forest, keeping his eye on the tracks. He stopped only few times, to catch his breath and to take a sip of water. It was late afternoon when he noticed a familiar hill. He stopped. If he remembered correct, the village was right behind that hill. He tried absent-mindedly improve his outlook, but then decided that it wasn't worth the trouble. He would buy new clothes from the village. He hurried to the top of the hill, and observed the village. It looked calm and peaceful. Yet there was something strange about it. He couldn't really put a name for it, but longer he watched the village, the more restless he came. He started noticing little things. No smoke came from chimneys. No one walked on the streets. No sounds.

Hecerilar took his bow and few arrows from his backpack and carefully stalked to the village. The snowy lane was filled with werewolf tracks. He putted away his bow. Werewolves are mere humans or other intelligent creatures during the day. There, in the center of the village, were some corpses. There lay the guards of the village, ruthlessly butchered. Their corpses were only partially intact, and it was hard to tell how many there had been. Around them were some corpses of the werewolves. He studied one of the guards corpse more closely. It had been propably killed last night. Then he noticed something strange. Tracks that were definitely not made by werewolves – at least not in wolf-form. They came from the northern side of the village, and seemed to visit all of the houses. There were more tracks coming out than going in. It was clear to Hecerilar that the people of the village, at least some of them, were held as prisoners. He dared not to imagine their fate. Hecerilar hurried forward, to the place he remembered to be shaman's house.

He opened the door, and started to search for a potion cure disease. He noticed a shelf full of potions across the room.

He stopped and stared it, horrified, and sat down to cry. He did not sob. Only tears leaked down his cheeks.

On the front of the shelf, on the floor, were three potions, shattered. The label was still readable. There were the potions he had been looking for, but now when he found them, they were useless.

Those bottles were purposefully destroyed. It was a message.

[mplantinga]

Someone is clearly going to a lot of trouble to see that Hecerilar becomes a werewolf. I'll be curious to see who it is, and why they want him so badly. Thanks for another great update.

[The Wolf]

Okay, I've almost written an another update (*sigh* I know, I've for some reason lost inspiration for quite a while).


But now I have to ask it. Do you want to know what will happen to Hecerilar?

[Aki]

Okay, I've almost written an another update (*sigh* I know, I've for some reason lost inspiration for quite a while).
But now I have to ask it. Do you want to know what will happen to Hecerilar?

Yes!

[mplantinga]

Yes; I would definitely like to know what happens. You've managed to get me sucked into the story; it would be very sad to leave things where they are.

[The Wolf]

Very well then, back to the writing...

I'll try and update this in couple of days.

[The Wolf]

When he got up, he had made up his mind. He read the labels on the rest of the bottles on the shelf, until he picked up and drunk few healing and fatigue potions. Then he took a bag from the floor and started putting the rest of the potions in. Once that was done, he walked to the door and went out to the beginning blizzard.

At this weather, he couldn't travel. He would have to stay for the night in some house, and in the morning hurry after the tracks. It would be a long and difficult way, but with these potions, he could do it. They were a real treasure.

Hecerilar letted his gaze wonder around the street and the houses, in search of a proper housing. There was a somekind of a sign in front of one house. He walked to it, and studied it more closely. The picture on it was two swords crossed and a smith's hammer. He tried to open the door, but it was locked. He took the nord's silver axe from his bag, and started bashing the lock, until it broke. He pulled the door open with a creaking noise, stalked into the house and jammed the door shut as best as he could. The darkness of the room blinded him momentarily, but soon his eyes started to get used to it. Only little light came from the thick-glassed, small window that was on his left side. Right in front of him was a long desk, the one that is usually used in shops. On his right side were a couple of shelves that were full of items. On the corner next to the desk were stairs leading up. He opened his bag and pulled out a potion of Night-Eye. He drank it. Slowly the room lit up in his eyes. That room was full of various weapons. On the walls hanged swords of different sizes and styles from claymores to shortswords. The shelves were filled with knives, arrows and other projectiles.

He cautiously sneaked across the room to the stairs, managed to bump his knee on the corner of the table, and limp up those stairs with some swear-words.

The second floor was quite simple. A bed, desk with candles on it, table, chest, fireplace, few shelves with forks, spoons, knives, table cloths, plates and books. There was a larger window in this room, granting him some light from outside.

He relaxed. No one was around in this house. He went to the fireplace and begun to start fire on it with the firewood next to the hearth. With the first tiny flames on the wood, his night-eyes vanished, leaving him to the twilight.

He stumbled his way to the desk, took some candles and went back to the fireplace to lit them. He placed few of them on the table and the desk. Then he did his best to seal the window from any outside intrudors.

He sighed heavily. He felt really tired. He blowed out most of the candles, leaving only two left, and added some wood on the fire. Then he lay down on the bed and tried to get some sleep.




****


Okay, soon is time to start writing the next update...

[mplantinga]

He certainly is determined. I am a bit concerned about the locked door; if the village was carried off as prisoners or killed, why would one of the houses be locked? And with nobody inside? I sense great danger for our dear Hecerilar.

Thanks for the update. I'm looking forward to seeing how much my instincts have misled me

[pete tong]

ohh please hurry up, ive been coming over here(this topic) everyday(sad i know) to see if there's been an update to the story so please hurry

[The Wolf]

Nightmares bothered him. Hecerilar walked the icy lanes of the small village, and saw his father across the street. He shouted to him, calling him to come. His father did not respond. He started to walk slowly to his father, speeding as he went. He yelled his father's name. Charislar.... Suddenly the voice started to echo. ....Hecerilar....

He woke up slowly from his deep slumber. The echo didn't die, but turned into loud voices calling someone. “Little elf! Where are you? Come out, we won't hurt you!” The last phrase sounded somehow.... Malicious. He could here more shouts little further away. He bounced off the bed and to the window.

Suddenly he realized something. The fire. He quickly took the bucket of water he had melted from the snow, and threw it to the fireplace. The fire hissed. Then he realized the full extent of his error. He had added the last wood to the fire late last night. There were only embers left in the fireplace, and he had just thrown a bucket full of water to it, extinguishing the fire to cease some little puff of smoke that it created, only to cause a large cloud of smoke to rise from the chimney.

He hoped that the – whoever they were – had not noticed it. If his guess was right, he would regret the fact that he would be found. He listened.

“Hey! Feros! Did you leave a fire burning to your forge?” Hecerilar cursed heavily under his breath, and tried to move as silently as he could. He picked up his outdoors clothes and put them on. Then he grabbed his potion bag. The voices were getting closer. He took a restore fatigue potion from the bag, and with some juggling managed to drop it. He froze. “Did you hear that?” Hecerilar cursed with extreme words now, and not under his breath anymore. He took another potion from the bag, and gulped it down. He expected the rush of energy to come. He checked the label. 'Restore fatigue', it said with large clear letters. No apparent effect. He shrugged, grabbed his sword and headed downstairs.

“Hey! Feros, your door's lock has been broken! The elf must be here! All, come! Remember, catch him alive! Mere fast death would not be enough for this one!” Hecerilar froze just down the stairs. He could see someone opening and closing the door, as if to see the damage done to it.

He made up his mind fast. There was no way out upstairs, and the windows were too small downstairs. There was only one way out of here. The door. He took a deep breath, and sneaked to the door. He could hear the man breathing outside, and see the breath from the little opening.

He kicked the door to the man's face and made a run for it. He could hear the man cursing behind him. He headed up to the hills, where the tracks lead. An arrow flurred past his head. He ran and ran until he was out of breath. He was away from the village now.


*****

Yet to continue....

[pete tong]

Nightmares bothered him. Hecerilar walked the icy lanes of the small village, and saw his father across the street. He shouted to him, calling him to come. His father did not respond. He started to walk slowly to his father, speeding as he went. He yelled his father's name. Charislar.... Suddenly the voice started to echo. ....Hecerilar....

He woke up slowly from his deep slumber. The echo didn't die, but turned into loud voices calling someone. “Little elf! Where are you? Come out, we won't hurt you!” The last phrase sounded somehow.... Malicious. He could here more shouts little further away. He bounced off the bed and to the window.

Suddenly he realized something. The fire. He quickly took the bucket of water he had melted from the snow, and threw it to the fireplace. The fire hissed. Then he realized the full extent of his error. He had added the last wood to the fire late last night. There were only embers left in the fireplace, and he had just thrown a bucket full of water to it, extinguishing the fire to cease some little puff of smoke that it created, only to cause a large cloud of smoke to rise from the chimney.

He hoped that the – whoever they were – had not noticed it. If his guess was right, he would regret the fact that he would be found. He listened.

“Hey! Feros! Did you leave a fire burning to your forge?” Hecerilar cursed heavily under his breath, and tried to move as silently as he could. He picked up his outdoors clothes and put them on. Then he grabbed his potion bag. The voices were getting closer. He took a restore fatigue potion from the bag, and with some juggling managed to drop it. He froze. “Did you hear that?” Hecerilar cursed with extreme words now, and not under his breath anymore. He took another potion from the bag, and gulped it down. He expected the rush of energy to come. He checked the label. 'Restore fatigue', it said with large clear letters. No apparent effect. He shrugged, grabbed his sword and headed downstairs.

“Hey! Feros, your door's lock has been broken! The elf must be here! All, come! Remember, catch him alive! Mere fast death would not be enough for this one!” Hecerilar froze just down the stairs. He could see someone opening and closing the door, as if to see the damage done to it.

He made up his mind fast. There was no way out upstairs, and the windows were too small downstairs. There was only one way out of here. The door. He took a deep breath, and sneaked to the door. He could hear the man breathing outside, and see the breath from the little opening.

He kicked the door to the man's face and made a run for it. He could hear the man cursing behind him. He headed up to the hills, where the tracks lead. An arrow flurred past his head. He ran and ran until he was out of breath. He was away from the village now.
*****

Yet to continue....

ohh yeah thanks, i wonder were those people untransformed werewolf's and how did they know our hero ???

[pete tong]

whens the next update???????

[mplantinga]

Thanks for the update; it's been a while in coming. Hecerilar seems unable to extricate himself from this series of problems; I do hope that his luck will soon change.

[pete tong]

ohh come on, more story more story...

[The Wolf]

I don't know.... I haven't been working on this in ages. I'm also participating one rp in another forum, and planning to participate another in Elderscrolls.com. I've also acquired Oblivion about a week ago, and I'm busy playing on that do.

They're rather timeconsuming.

I will propably finish this fanfic some day, but it might take months before I find the inspiration and will to do so.

And I also have a real life.

This post has been edited by The Wolf: May 27 2006, 01:15 PM