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Post by Lorren on Aug 6, 2007 14:37:28 GMT -5
Tracking a werewolf was like trying to attack a Will-o-the-Wisp with an unenchanted weapon: You always think it'll have some effect until you end up getting attacked. It was practically impossible, a complete waste of time. And the trail was going cold, literally. Skyrim was possibly the worst place to be at any time of the year, and this was no exception. The cold was unrelenting. It seeped through skin and bones until even a nice warm cabin and a hundred pounds of fur armor couldn't get you warm. And Dreth was tired.
How long he'd been searching, he no longer knew. Ever since the battle, he'd been looking for a werewolf. People generally found this odd. A vampire searching for a werewolf was one thing if the vampire was trying to kill said werewolf. But Dreth was not trying to kill her. He was trying to love her.
Haven wasn't dead, that much he knew. There'd been no sign of a body, and even magic couldn't cover that up. She was, however, proving to be the most elusive person he'd ever met. Then again, he figured she'd spent most of her life hiding herself. If she didn't want to be found, he likely wouldn't be the one to spoil her fun. Still, he wouldn't stop looking.
His constant questioning and asking around had taken him to Bruma, back to Olav's Tap and Tack, a place that held some... vidid memories for him. Olav had pointed him north to Skyrim, where apparently the Nords were talking about some brutal werewolf attacks. Nords were suspicious people, and it was likely that their "werewolf" was nothing more than a very hungry bear, but Dreth figured he didn't have much to lose by looking. Now, as the hard snow crunched under his boots, he realized that he'd been wrong. He was most certainly going to lose body parts to the cold.
Trekking through the mountainous terrain was no fun, but then again, he was a born and bred mountain man. A gaze northwest told him that there was a patch of woods just at the foot of the mountains. Perhaps he'd get lucky. With a deep sigh that filled his lungs with cold, he began his descent, hoping against hope that he'd finally have some luck. After all, it was nearly dawn, and he needed some shelter and rest.
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Post by Eaving on Aug 6, 2007 15:07:48 GMT -5
The she-wolf had fed well the previous night. Three hunters, their hounds, four deer and an unsuspecting donkey had fallen prey to her hunger. She now lolled in a small copse of trees, a mountain rising behind her. The place was secluded enough for the change that was about to take place with the rising sun. Werewolves were their weakest at dawn, and so made sure that they were well removed from any danger before they allowed the change to take hold.
The black Lycan licking the remaining blood from between her forepaws and readied herself for the pain that was brewing. The snow upon which she lay did not perturb her, nor even penetrate her thick coat. It would be most helpful in the coming minutes.
The sun finally crested the rise of the low hills to the east, making the white snow a blinding sight, and the trees shimmer with ice.
She whimpered as her skin began to sizzle, then bubble and blister, the thick hair falling away in chunks. Her very flesh then seemed to melt away, thick muscle and fur giving away to supple bluish skin, tinted purple in the dawn light.
Haven let out a pained cry and tore what flesh she could from her torso and legs, aiding herself in the transformation. She had grown used to this, but the pain still managed to surprise her.
Eventually she lay naked and panting in the snow, from glistening with sweat, the snow around her covered in what looked like black soot.
Haven rose shakily to all fours, cursing foully at her aches and pains and shuffled forward, digging up a cloth bundle from underneath the snow beside a bent fur tree. She had used this spot for the past few months, enjoying the seclusion and safety. No more Nords dare venture this far into her territory.
Humming a slow tune to herself Haven unwrapped the bundle and began to dress, unaware of the cold and her state of exposure. She pulled a thick fur wrap around her body, her thick black hair, now cut a great deal shorter than she had once worn it, mingling with the dark fur. She pulled on breaches and boots, gathered her weapons and sat down, back against the bent tree, taking the moment to relax and recover.
She had been running a long time, and was now unawares that it was starting to catch up with her.
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Post by Lorren on Aug 6, 2007 19:56:05 GMT -5
The sunlight was like lances piercing his skin as he dodged it, running as fast as his strong legs would carry him across the tundra, his long hair doing its best to keep up as he sprinted. The clothes he was wearing were doing almost nothing to stop the rays from hitting him. He'd planned on reaching the shade of the forest before the sun came up, but he'd timed it all wrong. His thoughts had run away with him, and he was paying the price for it.
With a ferocious growl, he dove the last couple hundred feet under the safety of the first trees, skidding across the hard snow until he came to a stop in front of a trunk. He lay there for several moments, letting the cold soothe his burns. He was a fool for cutting it so close. Another five minutes and he would've died.
Before he could berate himself too much, a sound caught his ears. It was faint, probably a hundred yards off or so, deep into the forest. A groaning, howling, growling mix. A werewolf. Perhaps he hadn't given the Nords enough credit. It appeared that there was a werewolf in these parts, and it was likely just changing back to its human state. The chances that it was his werewolf, however, were fairly slim.
Weary and a little off balance, Dreth stood, shaking the snow off of his body, and moved towards the noise at a hurried pace, sticking to the long shadows cast by the trees. When he got within fifty yards of the werewolf, he was able to smell it; a raunchy mix of blood, dirt, death, and decay. Whoever it was had fed well during the night.
The smell carried him past the body of... a donkey? Strange. But he was close enough now that he could see the figure huddled up under a bundle of heavy furs. Perhaps he could sneak up, get a closer look...
Crack!
Dreth jumped back and looked down at the thick stick he'd just stepped on, breaking it in two. Well there would be no sneaking up now. The wolf knew he was there. It was just a matter of what the person would do with the information. If it came to blows, he had his longswords ready.
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Post by Eaving on Aug 7, 2007 4:17:54 GMT -5
She had been relaxing, eyes closed and head resting back against the strong scented tree. She had been thinking about heading into the nearest village, restocking on gold and supplies. The world was harsh out here, and you needed to be prepared for everything. The small cache of supplies she had dug up was one of a handful scattered aound the small forest.
Haven sat crosslegged, her one remaining glass shortsword, Loss -Grief having been shattered in the battle againt the Tong- resting scabbarded across her knees.
She had stayed in this region of Skyrim for the past four months. It was secluded and safe, the locals to scared to venture too far into the forest. Just how she liked it. And, thankfully, no one seemed to tie her timely arival in the area to the werewolf attacks. Even so, she couldn't stay here much longer. Maybe one more month, then she'd need to get moving. Staying in one place was too dangerous. It led to a false sense of security, she'd drop her guard and he'd find her.
She had been running various things though her mind -the amount of food she had, what would last, where she should travel next and how to aquire more gold- when a sound, sharp in the silent morning forest, echoed off the trees.
Crack!
Her body jerked at the sound and her weapon glittering green before she even realised. Haven started forward through the trees, moving silently in padded boots and a foest she had memorised. She couldn't smell the intruder just yet, the wind was against her, and their scent didn't carry. She crouched low and moved with suprising speed away from her den.
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Post by Lorren on Aug 7, 2007 4:43:57 GMT -5
Whoever it was had definitely heard him, of that there was no doubt. The forest was silent, and even the smallest sounds carried through it like thunder. Plus, this person was a werewolf. They had amplified hearing. They were going to get up and run now, all because he hadn't been paying attention...
And run they did. Only not in the direction he'd anticipated. The person was getting closer, and the greenish skin led him on to the fact that it was a Dunmer. Whether or not it was Haven, he couldn't be sure, and a fight would put him at too much risk of exposure to sunlight right now. He would have to hide until he could be sure.
With as much strength as he could muster, Dreth leapt as high as he could, grasping on to a snow-covered pine branch. He managed to swing himself upwards and perch on a higher branch, maybe fifteen feet into the air. Hopefully it would be far enough that the wolf couldn't smell him. If it did, it would smell vampire, and that would surely end in the death of one of them.
Dreth watched from his higher advantage as the person approached, swift but cautious. The form was female, definitely, and the hair dark, but Haven's was longer than this woman's. He remembered it quite clearly. If she would just get a little closer though, then he could be sure. That was, if she didn't notice him first...
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Post by Eaving on Aug 7, 2007 4:55:59 GMT -5
She stalked low, hidden behind a drift of snow. She had almost been within eyeshot of the intuder when she had head a noise, a strange thud, and scuffling of snow. Haven muttered and stalked forward. Abandoning her cover Haven walked upright the last few ten o so feet to where the person had been standing.
Footsteps left deep rivets in the snow, the size indicated a male or a very large lady Nord. You never could tell these days. She scooped a small handful of the disturbed snow, scenting it. Definately male, Dunmer... vampire....Dreth.
Haven droped the snow as if burned and stared at the footprints, noting their abrupt end. She chuckled, and sheathed her blade, flicking her hai as a gesture of arrogance.
"You still haven't given up?" She called into the surrounding forest, eyes scanning the trees, and seeing what looked like a foot protruding behind a spray of pine.
"I had thought that all this tracking may have taught you to cover your own tracks better, Dreth!"
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Post by Lorren on Aug 7, 2007 5:10:39 GMT -5
Her movements were quick, determined, and then... She'd heard him scramble up the tree. Hell, at this point he'd have been better off just staying where he stood. He liked it much better on the ground anyway. As it was, he wasn't entirely certain he could get down now without injuring himself.
The woman stopped right underneath him and bent low, picking up his footprints, literally to smell them. He still hadn't gotten a clear look at her face. But then she dropped the snow that he'd been standing on, as though it had been laced with silver. She looked up, and recogntion dawned on both of them.
Haven still looked exactly like Haven, even with the shorter hair and the slightly hassled look to her that came with being on the run for so long. She was still stunningly beautiful, and she still made the vampire within him roar with fury (and lust). Through the sprigs of pine needles, he could see her almost clearly. And it was apparent as she called out for him that she could smell him, too.
Dreth's mind raced with the possibilities of what could happen next. He could stay there and pretend he hadn't heard her, but that would only make her angry. If he dropped down though, what would she do? Would she run? Would she attack? He never had been able to calculate her next move, he didn't know why he thought he should be able to now.
With a deep breath, he resigned himself to whatever fate she cooked up for him, and took the plunge, one that made his stomach curtle, until his feet finally hit the ground right in front of her. He swallowed, shaking off the shock his legs had just absorbed, and nodded to her as calmly as he could.
"Haven Raif. I have been looking for you."
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Post by Eaving on Aug 7, 2007 12:58:56 GMT -5
"I know that much." Haven snarled, glaring at Dreth. The glare was not forced, but she did inject more venom into it than she did truly feel. "You're the reason I'm running, muthsera."
It had been months, months upon months of constant running, snatching a few days here and there during the full moon to change and feed. That constant looking over her shoulder had worn Haven down, brought the slightest of ceases the the corners of her eyes and lips. She was tired of this nonsense. Thus the reason she had confronted him this time. He had come close in the past, but she had always avoided him, kept on running, disappeared. Now? Well, she'd slam some wisdom into that vampire skull.
Haven looked him over, her eyes catching the sunlight and shining with that odd canine reflectiveness. He was looking haggard and worn, as tired as she felt, and although he could not age, he seemed older that when she had last seen him. Her heart almost softened, and Haven scowled as she felt herself waver. He'd crumbled her walls in the past, she couldn't afford to let it happen again.
She sighed and tucked a thick slide of black hair behind her pointed ear, when she spoke her voice losing its former waspishness.
"Why haven't you given up, Dreth? Why, why haven't you let me be?"
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Post by Lorren on Sept 9, 2007 19:28:53 GMT -5
There was something in Dreth's mind that made him wonder what exactly he was doing there. He had other things, other priorities that needed to be taken care of. He should have been in Chorrol, or whatever other city the Scar needed him at the moment, helping to rebuild the guild. Instead, he was chasing after a werewolf that didn't even want him to be there. And now Haven's question rang through his mind, empty and hollow, answerless.
Why hadn't he stopped looking for her? Guilt? Love? That damned chivalry that seemed to plague him constantly? Perhaps it was all of these things. Haven didn't need him to protect her from the big bad wilds of Tamriel. She could take care of herself well enough, obviously. Still, he needed closure. Maybe he needed to apologize, though he wasn't sure how well an apology would be received.
And after all, was really his fault? Haven had survived the war, unlike many of her friends, only to take off a day later. But before that, days before, he and Haven had shared a night together, a night that they'd barely survived through their ferocity. And Sevan had known, whether by smell or by his own deductions. No doubt he was angry at both of them, but the fact that Haven disappeared shortly afterwards caused him to go after Dreth. The fight had been less than pleasant, Sevan accusing Dreth of hurting Haven and Dreth scolding Sevan for being jealous when he had no right to be. In the end, Sevan stormed off, though to where Dreth didn't know, nor apparently did Haven. Perhaps he might have went to join her in hiding, but after the row with Dreth, it didn't happen, and now Haven blamed Dreth for the loss of her friend.
It was all extremely confusing to Dreth, and he really only wanted to make things right, to be forgiven. Something about her made him need to be forgiven.
"I don't know," was Dreth's only answer. "Perhaps to try to bring you back. If nothing else, to tell you that it's time to stop running. You can't keep going like this forever, Haven Raif." He sighed, deciding that he needed to get this out. And if she never wanted to see him again, then he would leave and never turn back. "I am truly sorry for all that has happened, Haven. I hope that one day I can make things right, and earn your forgiveness."
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Post by Eaving on Oct 15, 2007 6:32:53 GMT -5
Haven watched Dreth speculatively for long moments, her face unreadable, hand slowly slipping from the hilt of her remaining blade. Why, oh why, had the gods picked her to win this man's devotion? Sure, he was nice to look at, and quite pleasant when he didn't open his mouth, but all this chivalry was becoming a real pain in the arse.
"Dreth," She said quietly, walking the few steps that distanced them and caught his strong chin forcefully between her fingers. There was nothing gentle or caressing in her touch. Haven was up close to make her point. "We had something once, a night together. That doesn't entitle you to stalking rights."
She held his gaze, eyes as forceful as her grip. He stared back with an unreadable emotion, and Haven felt her heart dip slightly. She only needed a few moments... seconds.
"I'm sorry, sweeting. But you deserve this." Haven's blade was loose from it's scabbard in seconds, her fingers tightening their grip on his chin as Dreth jumped and her lighting fast movement. Only her superior strength as a werewolf allowed here to control him long enough to bring the hilt of the blade down heavily upon his skull.
Dreth crumpled from the knees down, hitting the snow with a crisp thud. She chuckled and knelt down beside him, pressing her cold lips to his limp ones.
"Now, if thats not a hint, then you're dumber than I thought." She murmured to the unconscious man before rising and dusting the snow of her leggings. With a last, almost regretful look Haven left him lying spread-eagled in the snow, and disappeared into the trees to gather her scattered supplies and begin the trek south. Maybe she would head back to Cyrodiil?
After all, with all the chaos there, who would take the time to notice a lowly little murderess like herself?
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Post by Lorren on Oct 15, 2007 15:28:48 GMT -5
((*wonders when powerplaying became acceptable* I'm going to assume that this is the end of this thread then))
Light flooded back into his senses, making his pupils retract and his brain hurt as his eyes flitted open. What had once been a bright, sunny morning had somehow turned into an orange dusted dusk in the space of what seemed like minutes, but that he knew logically to be hours. The unseen force that had knocked him unconscious and left him lying in the frozen tundra took a good toll on him.
Shaking his head, Dreth climbed to his feet with a great amount of effort and the aid of a nearby tree. He steadied himself, trying to stop the world from spinning and calm the incescent pounding in his head. Haven was long gone, footprints leading back towards Cyrodiil, back to the place he'd tried to get her to go originally. Obviously she hadn't been looking for company on the trip.
And suddenly, Dreth felt an almost irrational rage sweep through him at the thought of her. Who did she think she was, assulting him like that when he'd come for no other reason than to apologize for any wrongdoings? All he wanted to do was make things right. And that cold, heartless b*tch repaid him by accusing him of stalking her (not that that one claim wasn't semi-warrented) and then knocked him out and left him to freeze to death in Skyrim. Apparently he'd been wrong to think that there'd been something between them.
That was just fine. He'd done everything that his upbringing had taught him to, and she'd shown him cruelty in return. He wouldn't make the mistake of chasing after Haven Raif ever again. She'd been a weakness, a distraction, pulling him away from the duties he'd sworn himself to as a young vampire. Now that she'd cut the strings tying them, he could return to Chorrol and continue his work distraction free.
With a slight groan, Dreth brushed the snow off of his body and began making the long, perilous trip back to northern Cyrodiil in the fading sunlight, newly invigorated by his anger. The days of chivalry were long gone, and women no longer appreciated his attempts at niceties. Perfect. She wanted him to be a beast, the horrid, blood sucking creature that she could easily bring herself to hate so that she didn't have to feel, then that's would he would do. He was done fighting his nature. He was done trying to ignore what he was. He was just... done.
Woe be the day that murderous harlott crossed his path again.
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