C.O.T.W Chapter 1 A Matter of Honor

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    Tulen felt like iron bands were being tightened around his chest and the invisible bars got tighter with every breath he took, so he

    so he tried not to breathe. He spun through nothingness for what seemed, to him, like an eternity. Every so often, the teleportation

    spell Tulen had unwittingly cast upon himself would mislead him into thinking he was going to land somewhere that was not his

    destination. 

     

    Images could be seen whizzing by his scaled body. They would start to form just as he nears them and then, they would shatter, like

    glass would when struck by a sledgehammer. After about six minutes of seeing nothing by pure black, Tulen could see one particular

    image, amongst the countless others swirling around him, that seemed to glow a faint orange.

     

    As he got closer, Tulen could see that the glow around the image was growing in intensity, so much so that he had to squint his eyes

    in order to prevent them from burning out of their sockets. Quinchal and Tulen braced for impact as the fiery hot image loomed

    ever closer, however, the pain he had expected when they collided with the image did not come. The iimage formed what looked

    like ripples on a vertical ocean the moment when the scaly pair made contact with it. The next thing Tulen knew, he was falling 

    hrough a land of pagodas, yew trees and stone temples. "Ah familiarity, I'm home," He thought. Below him was a temple he had

    never seen before,, a temple that boasted brilliantly detailed stone arches and the statue of a dragon one the left side of the

    entrance and a tiger on the right, respectively.

    Quinchal found that he was losing altitude as the spell began to weaken. The spell lost strength completely as the tsaesci was about

    a foot above the stone steps. When Tulen's feet touched the steps, he went up to a pair of exquisitely carved stone doors and was

    about to enter when he heard someone yell his name.

     

    He turned and saw his ship, The Crimson Fang, approaching Akavir at speed. Quinchal sighed audibly.

     

    "I wonder who THAT could be." He said sarcastically, shaking his head.

     

    When the ship got within eyesight, he smiled and waveed as his brother and a golden scaled tsaesci disembarked.

     

    He walked down the cement path in front of the temple and saw a dark green Argonian walking, while the other one slithered, down

    the gangway that was promptly raised back onto the ship when the argonian got off. Hasir and Quinchal waved goodbye to the

    driver, thanked him and handed over ten gold each. He walked up the cement walkway, tail swinging side to side as he walked. He

    walked past the garden where the dragonbreath were in full bloom. He positively beamed when he saw Quinchal standing under the

    same stone archway he passed through six years ago.

     

    Tulen rubbed the back of his neck while searching hiis brain for the right words to say. 

    "Hasir, nice to see you again eggbrother."

     

    Hasir gestured to Quinchal,

    "Tulen, may I introduce Quinchal, he was my teacher here on Akavir."

     

    Tulen's brow furrowed and inquired as to what the tsaesci was teaching Hasir. The Argonian glared at his eggbrother and shook his

    head,

    "Damn it to Oblivion!" He cursed as he punched the stone wall of the temple." He took several deep breaths to calm himself, "Ok, if

    you insist," He said, drawing a deep sigh, I was not training to be a shadowscale, like our mother may have told you, but I was

    training to be the ultimate akavirian warrior, a...dragonknight."

     

    Hasir told his brother to come inside and they could talk about it. Tulen, Quinchal and Hasir sat cross-legged on two plush red

    cushioned on opposite sides of the grey stone pillar in the center in the throne room. He folded his yellow scaly arms across his

    chest. "So, young one, have you brought me news of your journeys since we parted?"

     

    The argonian nodded slowly, as if he was afraid that if he moved too quickly his head would fall off.

     

    "I have indeed, master. I don't want bore you with the details, so, I'll cut to the chase."

     

    Hasir then took a deep breath before continuing,

    "I...erm...got visited by a deadric lord in my dreams." Quinchal's golden eyes wided. "What did this daedric lord do?" Quinchal asked

     

     

    "Master, this deadric lord...he is the father of therianthropes." Hasir stood up and walked towards one of the glass windows in the

    temple. On the horizon, Hasir could see the moon just peaking over the mountains that seperated Akavir from the rest of Tamriel.

    Hasir dropped to his hands and knees and began convulsing and screaming in agony. Quinchal thought he was having a seizure; he

    had never seen someone transform into a werewolf before so he stood there powerless to appease Haiir's screaming in any way.

    Hasir's continue screaming in agony as his boddy bent at odd angles and his soul began to split. Quinchal could not comprehenend

    what he was seeing, He thought his brain was pulling tricks on him; he thought the two wolves he saw before him was brought on by

    an illusion spell or a chemical imbalace in his mind. He could not believe this a fact. It was all too weird.

     

    Tulen did not flinch as Quinchal had when the white wolf padded over to them, sat on the stone floor and began cleaning himself.

    Frost knew it had been too long since he had a bath. The black wolf, on the other hand, just stood there snarling at this new threat.

    Quinchal lowered his hands and looked at the wolf. He inched closer. Tulen transformed into his wolf form, futher leaving Quinchal

    perplexed.

     

    "Where did the slimy student of mine run off to?" He thought to himself as he patted the wolf absentmindedly.

     

    Quinchal looked aroiund him to see if Hasir was playing some kind of prank on him. "Okay very funny, the game is over you

    can come out now." No one answered him, he was alone with the strange wolf that had appeared out of thin air. As he started to

    head for the door to get help. Frost put a paw on the tsaesci's knee. Quinchal, not knowing who it was, shrugged the white beast off

    of him. Quinchal inched closer. He saw the wolf's eyes, they were the same sky blue color as Hasir's were. Tulen's wolf came over

    and looked at the tsaeci with doleful eyes.

     

    Quinchal shook his head again. "Where is Hasir? Tell me or face the consequences. Speak damn you!" The wolf just looked up at him

    and cocked his head to one side as if he was trying to comprehend what it was he was to be doing. Quinchal became even angrier at

    this pont, "Did you eat Hasir? Where is he?" Quinchal reached out a hand and reached for the wolf's mouth to check and see if the

    lizard was inside. Frost growled a low, warning growl that meant 'back off.' Quinchal froze in place, unable to move. 

    Deep inside Hasir's now canine brain, something was speaking to him. That voice was called primal instinct; it told Hasir to strike out

    and attack Quinchal because the wolf part of Hasir had not eaten in days. He tried shunning the voice, but it kept coming back

    stronger the more Hasir tried to supress it. The voice was telling Hasir that the tsaesci was not a friend; it told him that the Tsaesci

    was food. The voice repeated over and over until Hasir had heard enough. The black wolf had taken the place of the pitiful white wolf

    who was more submissive than the black wolf, who had begun backing away, tail tucked between his legs. The black wolf nipped at

    the retreating wolf, turned and let out a loud, earsplitting howl. Quinchal wrenched his hand free of the gaping maw of the wolf and

    turned to run from the wolf; in a spilt second the wolf bit down hard on Quinchal's hand and passed on the affliction.

     

    Tulen, or rather his wolf form, looked disapproving of the blatantly unwarranted passing on of the disease and, as a further measure,

    bit Frost on the nose.

     

    Quinchal screamed in pain, instinctively pulling his hand away from Frost's mouth. The damage had already been done as the

    'blessing' made its way up his veins and began changing his anatomy. Minutes later, he fainted, due to the intense pain in his hand.

    Frost rejoiced in the fact that both the voice had shut up, at least for now and that his appetite was sated. Hasir, it seemed, had

    tried to starve Frost. While he was fine, the wolf inside of him was not, he was hungry. Now that it had gotten its meal, the wolf was

    satisfied.

     

    Quinchal woke up days later to find Hasir fully clothed and standing over him. 

     

    "Wh-What happened? a bloodthirsty wolf attacked me." Quinchal said, almost in hysterics

     

    Tulen gave him a disparaging look that made Hasir shudder slighty. The Argonians brother said he was utterly dissapoint in Hasir

    and, with one last look of shame at his eggbrother, teleported to a destination he did not know in advance.

     

    Hasir blanked think rather unbrotherly love and shook his head, laughing "No..no...no." Hasir said the he was amazed that Quinchal

    had not yet caught on. "I, or rather, my wolf bit you because, well, he was hungry. He hadn't eaten in days." Hasir sounded

    apologetic, "I couldn't stop it." He exhaled heavily, My wolf thinks for himself and his needs are sometimes seperate from my own

    and sometimes they are on par with my own needs as an Argonian.

     

    "WHAT? Does that mean I'm a-?" Quinchal's eyes went wide, it was hard to tell if it was genuine terror, of course it could also be

    the minor hemorrhage he had suffered. 

     

    Hasir sighed. "Yes, but look on the bright side, at least the your hand healed so there is barely any evidence I bit you at all." He

    stated, trying to be helpful. He sighed for a second time, "Look, being a werewolf is not the end of the world."

     

    Quinchal could not contain himself, he was in crisis mode.

    "Bright side? There is no bright side."

     

    The Tsaesci stood up and advanced on Hasir, forcing him to retreat back in a corner of the temple. "Because of you" He jabbed Hasir

    in the chest with his finger. "My life is ruined, kaput, finite." He glared at Hasir who just stood there and smiled, "Thanks to this

    curse, I can never go back to a normal life. Quinchal's whole body shook with rage. He was madder than he ever remembered. 

     

    Quinchal laughed, even though it was more out of anger than hysterics, "You say that being a werewolf is not the end of the world.

    Well, listen here, buddy, when I transform into my vampire lord form, you will have wished you were never born because I...will...rip

    you...to...pieces." Each word was punctuated by a finger jab in Hasir's chest. 

     

    Hasir shook his head again.

     

    "You can't become a vampire lord because the blood I infected you with would've purged that blood from your body. It is physically

    impossible for anyone to be both a vampire and werewolf at the same time." With every word the lizard spoke, Quinchal's face grew

    steadily redder with anger. Hasir tried to get Quinchal to calm down, but the tsaesci would have none of it.  

     

    Unbeknownst to the pair of them, the moon was beginning its ascent into the night sky. Silver beams of moonlight shone through

    the temple windows, in total there were three that sat between two rows of six columns that stood about four feet apart. The

    columnades stood on each side of a velvet rug that ran from the stone temple door to a stone throne. Behind the throne was a huge

    red banner that covered most of the back wall. it had a triumphant black dragon depicted on it.

    The Argonian was used to the nightly transformation, but the tsaesci, however, wasn't. His transformation was easier, however,

    because he had no disease resistance. That was not to say, however, it did not come without pain. Quinchal screamed like he was

    being tortured, like he was being drawn and quartered. His bones broke and reformed, his back broke and arched upwards, his nose

    and mouth turned into a wolf's muzzle, complete with razor sharp teeth. The muzzle lengthened. his feet and hands turned into the

    powerful paws of a wolf, and finally, grey fur erupted all over his once scaly body. 

     

    When that was done, he growled at the white wolf for turning him against his will. In return, the white wolf ran outside of the temple

    with the angry grey wolf close behind. The grey wolf ran both wolves, whom he saw as prey, with his lips pulled back, a snarling

    sound eminated from his throat. The pair played a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Once the grey caught up with the white near

    the docks, he tore into the side of the white wolf like a wolf would tear into a deer. 

     

    The white yelped in pain as the grey wolf bit down on his prey. The white wolf tried to wriggle free, but the grey wolf was blocking

    his escape. When it seemed death was near, at the hands of a bloodthirsty mad wolf, A black wolf split from the white wolf's body

    and forced Quinchal against the red brick outside wall of the temple. The black wolf, that Quinchal thought was Frost's shadow,

    bored his yellow eyes into the tsaesci's yellow ones.

     

    Quinchal turned to the white wolf and yelled for help, but the wolf couldn't talk and even if he could, it would only come out in a

    series of yelps, whines and barks. Quinchal turned back and stared with a degree of fright into the wolf's hungry eyes. He struggled

    to break free. He even tried to throw the wolf off of him. 

     

    Quinchal looked again at the white wolf, now looking at him with sad eyes. Quinchal tried to yell at the wolf to get him free of the

    black wolf's grip, but he could not think over the loud growling of the wolf, clear strands of saliva extended down below his open

    maw. The wolf tried effortfully to bite at the tsaesci's scales. Quinchal put his paws on the frantically biting wolf's maw. The wolf

    redoubled the efffort, positioning his hind legs at an angle so it could push the tsaesci further in the wall.

     

    Quinchal know he was a few inches from certain death as the wolf's maw came closer and closer. Quinchal shut his eyes and

    screwed his face up in fright as he feared the worst.

     

    The morning sun peaked over the mountains, Quinchal removed his hands from in front of his face. He looked all around for the

    black wolf, it wasn't there, something had happened. Quinchal looked at the white wolf, who was gone also, replaced by a dark green

    Argonian. Was I dreaming the whole thing? He wonderd, Did I just wake up from some horrible dream? He looked down at his hands

    and his stomach lurked, Instead of finding reptilian hands, he only found the massive front paws of a wolf who was upon all fours

    waist deep in brown dirt. The wolf howled out a singular sorrowful note, he was crying.

     

    ...and then the sun came up.

                                    

Comments

1 Comment   |   Sotek likes this.
  • Sotek
    Sotek   ·  March 9, 2020
    What is it with grey wolves? They  are a law into themselves... or rather they try to be.