C.O.T.W Chapter 33: Strength in Numbers

  • Death did not come for him as he expected it to, instead, Ysgramor opened his eyes, rubbed his hand against where the wolf had

    scratched him and was amazed to find he had stopped bleeding. He looked for some reflective surface to do a more thorough

    inspection. All he could find was a basin in the center of the room, he got to his feet, walked over to it, found a mirror inside the

    stone basin and held his infected area so that it could be seen in the mirror.


    He reached down to pull the mirror out to check if it was indeed a dream or just some cruel reality when a figure called out to him

    from the shadows,

    "I would not do that if I were you."


    Ysgramor let out a yelp of pain as he dropped the mirror and nursed a burn wound on his hand. It landed with a clatter on the stone


    "Why must all my children be complete idiots the first time?" Hircine muttered to himself. 


    He strode over to the stone basin, near where the harbinger stared at his hand in disbelief. Hircine put a reassuring hand on the

    stunned harbinger's shoulder,

    "Sorry to tell you this, but that mirror you picked up was silver and in human form silver only knock you out for several hours if

    scrathed by it or it is held., but if you transform and silver so much as scratches you, you begin to grow weak, wounds won't heal as

    fast a, and what's worse is the fact that you will  be unable to transform back. You will be stick that was as the poisonous silver

    ravages your bloodstream. "


    Ysgramor glanced sideways at the god of the hunt and gave him a questioning look. Hircine looked taken aback,

    "I apologize again, did I forget to mention that small but equally important detail?"  Ysgramor turned his head to more clearly get a

    look at the wolflord. He shrieked, which echoed around the empty underforge, and made for the rock door that led into Whiterun.

    Hircine asked Ysgramor to stop and that he was being foolish. He also said that Ysgramor wanted this and if he wanted out, the only

    escape was death.. Ysgramor calmed down, walked to the stone basin turned to the wolflord and said he did. He wanted it for the

    battle between the companions and the falmer  who had turned against them and become belligerent for some reason. He would

    rather not use whatever it was Hircine had gifted him with but if he had to use brute force to make the snow elves see reason, he



    Ysgramor looked up at the wolflord nervously as he had begun to transform, his bbones cracked a reformed, his human sketelon

    became more of a wolf one and grey fur sprouted all over his body, legs, arms and face. He wolf form stood four feet taller than his

    five foot human frame would allow. The two were together, a hound with his hunter and the hound realized when the hunter directed

    him to kill he would do so. Ysgramor, or rather, Grayfoot, became indebted to Hircine that day and many days after that.


    Terrfyg turned the page and continued reading as the witches looked on,

    "When the harbinger's fear became accustomed to his new werewolf form, Hircine patiently waited as the new wolf clawed

    relentlessly at the wall and started going crazy as he scanned the near-pitch blackness and saw no humanoid in sight. A long, high

    howl rang out around the underforge as grayfoot called for his brethren to come rescue him from this stone prison he now found

    himself in. No answer came, Greyfoot ceased his nonstop howling, weakened by not consuming any meat and circled around an

    invisible spot on the concrete floor and fell asleep.

    When he awoke, he was human again. Hircine looked at the weary harbinger and smiled,

    "Hey sleepyhead, you survived you first transformation. Well done. Sorry about me not letting you out to prowl Whiterun unchecked,

    but everyone's first transformation is always the hardest and I did not want you to end up in jail on your first night as a



    Ysgramor struggled to stand, limped over and knelt in front of the wolflord. When he spoke, he found his voice as weak as a

    newborn wolf pup,

    "Now that I received your gift Lord Hircine, I can finally take the fight to the snow elves, erm, so to speak." 


    Hircine told Ysgramor to get up and stopp acting like a dog begging for a bone and get up and go to Saarthal with his companions

    and captains to as he said, 'take the fight to the snow elves.' Ysgramor said that he was grateful for the wolflord's gift, kissed his

    hand-an act that made Hircine groan-and left the underforge to see how Tulvar was fairing. He walked up the steps, past the long

    table on the back porch and pushed the doors open.


    Upon entry, he found Tulvar standing there smiling with five captians and ten companions flanking him on each side, 

    "All set to go to Saarthal and fight those bastards?" Tulvar asked, parting his long, black hair with one hand.

    Ysgramor nodded and the harbinger, his captains and the eleven companions walked from the mead hall, down the Whiterun main

    street and out to the stables. Ysgramor's horse, which was a chestnut stallion, was saddled and ready for his departure. The other

    captains and companion mounted their steeds that stood next to Ysgramor's own. They rode for what seemed like a loong time until

    they reacheed a ruins with carved nordic pillars positioned like sentinels guarding an equally magnificent nordic rune engraved stone

    door with three circles of varying sizes, had different symbols adorning the gold plates. The harbinger rode up to the ancient nordic

    puzzle door and scanned the door for a way to open it. 


    He scanned the rock face when his eyes fell on a gold plate with a claw shaped indention on the door. Ysgramor turned his horse

    around, rode back to the line of companions that formed behind him with the captians in the front and asked if anyone knew of

    anything that would fit inside the claw-like indention. He looked at Yngol and Ylgar, his two sons, and they said they had no idea. He

    then rode over to Yeek of the river, his most noteworthy captain and repeated the question. To ysgramor's surprise, he did know of

    an item that would fit and better yet, had the item on his person.


    Jeek withdrew a green dragon claw with nordic symbols and handed it to Ysgramor who turned it over, and there, on the 'palm' of

    the dragon claw were three symbols engraved on small golden plates: Dolphin, Eagle, Bear. Ysgramor thanked the captain and

    rotated each stone circle so that the correct symbols lined up vertically. He put the dragon claw in the slot and for minutes, nothing

    happened. He was about to try other combinations when the stone circles embedded themselves, one by one, in the door, which

    then started seperating until it revealed a large, cavernous entryway. 

    Both he and the captains unsheathed their weapons, ysgramor hefted a weighty two-hander while the captions  all relied on either

    the sword and shield for close combat or the bow for attacks from afar. They approached the nordic temple entry and crossed the

    threshold. When they were inside the temple's main room, the door reformed itself behind them. Ysgramor set his bag that was

    slung over his shoulder like a wolf carcass on on the stone floor and  pulled a torch from it. He scanned the darkness with his new

    wolf eyes to find a source of light, he found nothing. In the distance, however, he could just make out thhe outline of a snow elf,


    His heavy footfalls echoed on the stone floor of the magnificent nordic temple. He scaned every inch of the blackness of the room for

    a viable light source, still not finding any, he sighed, put away his unlit torch and made a ball of light appear out of nowhere; the ball

    of white light floated an inch ahead of Ysgramor. Finally some light, now I can see what we a dealing with, He thought to himself. 


    A huge main chamber set with strange red banners with a styilized black wolf head adorned the wall and were set two feet apart

    from one another,. Giant altars with monstrous heads filled the space between some of the banners. Some red liquid that looked,

    and smelled, like blood, poured for the monster's mouths.  Upon closer inspection, Ysgramor saw that they were of viscious

    bloodsuckers. He screwed his face up in disgust and tore his eyes from the grotesque statue. They continued down the winding halls

    that adjoined to a long hallway with more wolf banners and vampire headed blood basins.


    Ysgramor parted from the captains who stould near the open porticullis and came up to an iron door with nordic symbols and it. He

    wided his peripheral vision and saw scribbled in huge red slanted letters: All hail lord bal, may He reward the faithful and punish the

    heretics. Ysgramor snorted in digust and put all his weight against the door, but the strangest thing happened, it didn't open. He

    stepped back from the door and upon closer inspection he saw two wrought iron rings with iron bars extending halfway down the

    door that ended about an inch above the floor. 

    He threw his weight against the door once more. He bounced off of the steadfast iron door, flew in an arc through the air and

    collided with a nearby blood basin, sending the basin hurdling through the wall leaving a gaping hole where it had once been. The

    harbinger scrambled out  of the hole and dusted himself off.


    He turned to his captians and offered them a sheepish grin,

    "Oops, I, erm, mean to do that," He motioned for the captains to stay put. "I will be right back."


    The harbinger scrambled up the remains of the altar and disappeared into the newly formed hole. His eyes beheld a chamber with a

    tiled floor with twenty four gray tiles with various symbols on them and four dwarven enhanced crossbows on four stone plinths in

    the corners of the room positioned on the central four tiles like a big invisible X. The pressure of the tiles, if stepped on would set off

    the mechanism that would cause the crossbows to fire their poison-tipped steel bolts. 


    The harbinger's eyes glowed bright as he tried to determine the proper plates to step on that will activate the door on the other side

    of the wall. Ysgramor tightened his nordic carved armor and prepared to step on the first tile, sweat beads glistened on his forehead.

    As his boot descended on the first tile, he sighed with relief as the pressure plate did not trigger. He scanned the remainder of the

    tiled floor. His hands glowed a poisonous green as he dual cast the vision of the tenth eye spell. A magical white line extended from

    the tile that he was standing on and he followed it east then north, west and finally two steps north to the center of the room. It lit

    up only the tiles required to activate the iron door as any misstep would inadvertantly cause the crossbows to fire.


    A sound like a whip cracking and a stone sliding from a cave entrance was heard. Ysgramor crossed over to the entrance, only

    stepping on the tiles that were lit up but once he stepped off of the tile, it would turn dark so that if he stepped backwards,

    crossbows in all four corners will fire, killing him in an instant. He continued backtracking to the section of the tomb where his

    captains were waiting but he lost his balance on his way to the hole in the wall and his foot touched an unlit pressure plate tile and

    the crossbow in the left rear corner of  the roomfired its bolt.



    The bolt flew theough the air and would havesplit Ysgramor's side wide open if he hadn't quickly shifted his weight on a lit panel in

    front of him. The whizzed passed him and smashed into the rock wall in the southeast corner The rock wall exploded with the force

    of the bolt.  Ysgramor finished travesing the path five seconds after the bolt had smashed into the wall. Ysgramor smelled it as it

    passed by, the foul stench of poisoned blood filled his nostrils. He walked over to the bolt hidden amongst the pile of rubble and

    shifted the rubble and extracted the bolt. Ysgramor's hand felt like it was in a fireplace as he closed it around the bolt...and some of

    the poison,  except itwasn't poison, it was actually wolfsbane ground to a powder. 


    Within minutes, he felt very weak and not only that, but, he also started got burned where his hand touched the silver. The room

    started fading in and out of view as the silver particles traveled through the wound on his hand and found their way into his

    bloodstream. Once there, they started poisoning his blood cells thereby slowing his rapid healing so much that if wounded, it would

    take him days to heal instead of minutes.


     The habringer stood up, a little unseady due to his weakened state and leaned against the wall. He felt blindly along the wall for the

    hole that he had entered through due to his vision failing him. He managed to get out before his eyes failed his completely. He

    toppled out of the hole, landing in a heap on the ground. With his last ounce of strength, he managed to flag down his captains, who

    came running immediately. They formed a circle, well more like a five-pointed star, around the wounded harbinger. 


    His two sons pulled Jeer aside and asked if he knew what was wrong with their father, the bewildered captain did said he didn't know

    but he did see this before,, the two nord boys asked where he saw it. Jeer told the boys about one particular rainy night when he

    and his fellow captains had to go to a fort to liberate some prisoners that some rogue werewolves had set up shop in. The captains

    and wolves charged each other and the wolves got ran through by swords made of the purest silver, their only known weakness. The

    wolves writhed in agony, dying a slow, and painful death partly because their blood was boiling due to the silver poison.


    He snapped back to reality as he thought on what was happening to the harbinger and likened it to be similar to what the

    werewolves he fought all those years ago went through, the same exact slow, painful death. However as the captain walked closer

    to the harbinger, he saw something...odd on his fingers. He lifted the harbinger's right hand and saw some rather strange purple

    dust on his palm.


    Jeer pulled an alchemy book from his bag entitled 'strange plants of tamriel' and flipped through the pages until he found what he

    was looking for. On the left showed a picture of a beautiful flower with dropping petals, fashioned like monk's hood. He started

    reading the text on the next page,


    "Wolfsbane, also known as Monkshood or Aconite is a common flower in both the Nibenay bay region of Cyrodiil and the hunting

    grounds of the daedric lord Hircine. It's smell is known as a detterant to those infected with lycanthropy. A lesser known fact about

    this volatile flower is that it can act as an allergen to werewolves if they rub against it or travel through it, causing rashes on the

    hands, feeling feverish and, if inhaled through the mouth or nasal cavity, even trouble breathing." 


    Jeer shut the book and gasped, covering his mouth with his free hand,

    "Oh Gods, so he has been poisoned with not only silver but wolfsbane as well? HOW?" He asked no one in particular


    He looked at the book again to try a see if their was a cure for this dual danger and the book said the cure for silver is crushed up

    charcoal. The charcoal must be swallowed by a victim affected by the moon metal. Now, for the wolfsbane cure Jeer thought. He

    flipped to the wolfsbane page. The cure for wolfsbane was taking a torch to the plant, or powder and placing the person's affected

    body part over the flame, ensure it is not touching it, just enough so the plant is burnt off the skin. Jeer was unsure where to get

    charcoal in a shrine to Molag Bal so he took his torch out of his bag, which was resting against the rear wall.


    After that was done, he conjured up a flame spell and dipped the torch into it. The torch lit aflame with a mighty 'Woompf' allowing

    Jeer to go over to Ysgramor, lifted his right hand and tugged it so it was right over the torch. The poisonous purple powder burnt

    away of its own accord. He then wrenched the torch away from the harbinger's arm and swung it about the immediate area, trying

    to find even the faintest hint of charcoal. As luck would have it, there was a piece the size of a cheese wedge lying amongst the

    brown dust on the floor


    He opened the harbinger mouth a shoved the charcoal down his throat and massaged his throat so the charcoal would somehow

    enter the bloodstream, purifying it of the poison. The harbinger's eyes snapped open and he slowly got to his feet. He looked around

    at the captains and then at the gaping pair of iron doors leading into a massive throne room with statues of molag bal and a huge

    throne with a snow elf named Celegraith. Two snow elves stood to either side of the throne, named Edhelbor and Sidanyis and ten

    more unamed snow elves knelt, five to a side, in front of the throne sword dug deep into the ground. Between the kneeling snow

    elves were the children of Molag Bal.


    Celegraith stood up and came down a set of marble steps, his elven sword clanging against his snow elven cuirass as he walked. He

    flew like the wind right to where Ysgramor stood. The two eyed each other for a minute befere Celegraith spoke.


    "Well, well if it isn't Ysgramor. Tell me, old friend how are you?" He stuck up a hand to stop Ysgramor from replying, "No, I don't

    want to know, howver, I am curious as to why you have entered my kingdom."


    Ysgramor chuckled as he loooked around at the elf's 'empire,'

    "So this is where you store all your loot huh? Interesting." He said as he neared the snow elf, "Tell me something, why have you

    betrayed us? Do you think us humans weak? There must be a reason."


    Celegraith's face went as white as the snow,

    "How dare you suggest that!" He spat, "For your information, we came to these ruins to find treasures that were passed down from

    our ancestors!"


    Ysgramor sniggered,

    "You're ancestors? Don't be stupid." His lips pulled back in a snarl, "These are nordic treasures. Keep you filthy paws off, falmer!" 


    The racial slur cut through Celebraith like a knife,

    "Ok, enough talk, you dare besmirch our good name? We found these treause fair and square so back the fuck off!" He snarled back


    Ysgramor's body began changing as he grew even more angry, he grew is size so that he was about an inch away from hitting his


    grey furred head on the throne room ceiling. Celebraith ordered the snow elves to attack. They came running at the werewolf

    brandish curved elven knives and some even sported hunting bows notched with silver arrows. The wolf crashed upon the elvess like

    a wave on a beach. The captains, however, stayed back as that thing in the throne room was nto Ysgramor, but some devilish being.


    Grayfoot swiped the snow elves' weapons from their hands and mauled them, one by one, to death and bit their heads off for good

    meausre. He saved Celegraith and the vampires for last. He ran at them like a mad dog, bearing his claw and teeth. The wolf,

    backed by the lord of the hunt, tore through the vampires like a knife through cooked meat. He ripped their heads of as well. At last,

    it was him and the elf celegraith, who hid behind his throne, cowering in fear like a scared child. Grayfoot used his enhanced smell

    to sniff him out,. When he found his scent he gave chase. The sonw elf heard the wolf's panting breath and growls of rage. When he

    came to the throne,  Ysgramor's wolf tore through the stone with a swipe of one massive grey claw.


    Celegraith retreated around the throne as the wolf went around the other side, sniffing the ground to catch his scent. He caught it

    and ran as fast as he could towards the snow elf. The wolf bared his fangs and lunged for the snow elf's throat. He collided with his

    neck at such a velocity that he had pinned the poor elf on the wall next to the hole he created earlier. With one fluid motion, his

    teeth punctured the elf's neck and ripped it out. The elf's now limp body slid to the ground. Greyfoot howled out in victory. He

    turned and saw his captains cowered in fear from the beast, shrinking into the shadows.


    An imperial wearing full plate armor stepped forward, unsheathed a silver greatsword and snarled at the monstrosity before him.

    "Hey Wolf, where the hell did you come from? Its creatures like you that give companions a bad name. We honor Ysgramor and not

    whoever made you, unholy beast, begone from this place." With those last words he gave a mighty shriek and rammed the wolf

    through the stomach. The beast shrieked in pain for what seemed like an eternity until its lifeless body slumped to the floor. It

    stayed in its wolf form, trapped forever as a beast in death, saving Tulvarr, er, my grandfather from learning that he killed his

    harbinger. Some of the captains who supported my grandfather in extermination of the beast and the abominable god of the

    hunt fled to Gallows Rock after the death oof the harbinger of the companions in order to avoid persecution or even death by the

    chopping block. And that is the story of how we became known as the Silver Hand. 


    Terrfyg closed the book, set it down oon the stack next to the rock and stood up to thank the witches for their helping him

    understand what it means to be one with the beast world. He sat baxk down on the rock near the altar and lent over to the stack of

    books and placed the book on top of it. He removed the middle book, which caused the stack to topple over. Terrfyg groaned and

    slid his hand down his face. Heopened the book that he removed from the stack and started reading. He shut the book after five

    seconds of reading. He was so disgusted that he had to advert his eyes and swallow his lunch somit did not come up.


    He turned back around and creased his forehead in digust, his face followed suit,

    "Eeurgh! By Hircine, this book is foul, who would even do such a thing?" He turned away again as he finally did throw up.


    The witches had to leap out of the way, narrowly avoiding the volatile projectile. The witches hid their heads under their disgustingly

    grotesque arms. When he was dry again, they glared at him with their huge, yellowish-brown eyes.


    All the while this whole exchange was going on, Twilight and Sheogorath looked on from the shadows. Twilight cocked his head to

    the side and wondered, in his canine brain, what the book the nord had read was and why it disgusted him. Twilght let out a whine

    and went to run out of the shadows. but Sheogorath stuck out his hand to stop the wolf. Twilight looked up at the daedric lord and


    Sheogorath shrugged and nudged the wolf's hind quarters forward a bit,

    "Well wolfie, if you want get disgusted too be my guest but don't say I didn't warn you." He said, waggling his finger in front of

    the wolf's muzzle.


    The wolf narrowed his eyes and growled even more. Sheogorath literally shoved Twilight full in the haunces and he fell flat on his

    snout, causing him to yelp in pain. Twilight got up and shook the dust off and padded over to when Terrfyg sat, crouching low so he

    would not be seen. He lowered his nose to the books, a familar scent of paper, ink and wood assaulted his nostrils. He could hear

    the sound of pages turning and smell ink and paper two feet above him. He followed his nose and saw a book in the nord's hands. 


    Twilight saw the title and cocked his head in confusion. He padded behind Terrfyg and read the book alongside him. Well, wolf brains

    can't comprehend words written by humans. Wolves see fewer colors than humans, they see varying shades of yellow and blue.

    That is what Twilight saw, the book, however, gave off the scent of decaying flesh. When the scent filled his nostrils, he gave out a

    loud yelp and ran from the book with his tail between his legs and cowered against the stone altar in the center of the room.


     Sheogorath strode over to the scared wolf that lay against the pale gray altar. He bent low to asked 'wolfie' what he had smelled

    that spooked him  so much that he ran away like a werewolf hunter was chasing him. the daedric lord's eyes narrowed and he saw

    what had done the scaring. He promptly slapped the wolf on the rind hind leg, hard enough to make the yinyang wolf yelp,


    Sheogorath scolded the wolf like he were a disobedient child,

    "I told you not to go and 'read' that book, you stupid bastard, He thrust his hand into into the pocket of the suit he was wearing,

    hand closed around an imaginary twig, "See the stick, boy? go get it!" He threw the imaginary stick away from the altar.


    Twilight looked at him with malice and growled,

    'Don't patronize me, you filthy daedric lord, go play with some cheese'  the wolf thought as he continued baring his teeth at the

    foolish lord of madness.


    The daedric lord stopped antagonizing the wolf and silently slunk back into the shadows. The wolf got up from where he lay and

    padded over to where the hagraven and lone nord girl stood, once again forming a circle of sorts. Twilight sniffed the hagravens. All

    but one smelt of old women and whatever the hell a bird smells like. Twilight wondered why every person except for the nord female

    in this room was transformed into a hagraven. Did she not grant someone lycanthropy and thereby sacrificing her beauty?


    Sheogorath grew bored with this scene and snapped his fingers and once again, Hasir's wolf felt the familiar sensation of the very

    fabric of reality being torn apart as the cave began to ripple and sway amd the cave began to fade from existence and the strange

    scent but familiar scent of fabric and steam filled Twilight's nostrils. 


    Twilight groaned, which was really a healf-hearted whine,

    "Oh Hircine, what now?" He thought as the mansion's living room solidified around him.


    Moments later, his eyes adjusted and he beheld various men standing at the foot two sets of stairs bowing out from a small

    overhang on the second floor. They were all wearing ebony armor were faned out to the sides of-Twilght growled ferociously at this-

    Molag Bal, Hircine's enemy. He looked at Sheogorath and whimpered as if to say 'Sheogorath do something, turn his to cheese, do

    anything please.' 


    Sheogorath instead started at the lord of domination and bent to one knee,

    "Ah, Mr. Bal, it is nice to see you again, I did as you requested. I went with the dumb wolf to 'help' him find a cure for what

    'misfortune' you placed on him and his entire pack. It turns out that wolves are as dumb as mortals." He shrugged, "Who knew?"


    Molag Bal strode across the run in two enormous strides. He lifted Sheogorath's chin with hiis finger,

    "Arise, my servant. You fooled the wolf into thinking you were on his side, for that alone, you have my deepest gratitude."


    Sheogorath's long grey beard shortened and turned black, so did his hair. His face distorted into a sunken face with yellow

    eyes. What the former daedric prince wore also was replaced by ebony armor sans helmet. he unsheathed his dragonbone

    greatsword and swung it in a wide arc over his head.


    He rolled his head to relieve some unwanted strain as Sheogorath was about an inch taller than he was,

    "Ah, much better, if I had to masquerade as that moron for  one minute more and I think I would've cracked."


    The lord of domination patted his servant on the back,

    "Adrian, I did not see you there. did you find out any valuable intel I can use against Hircine?" The daedra's servant nodded


    Molag Bal smiled, he gestured to his elite servants,

    "Adrian, this," he said, gesturing to his left, "is Inigo, Farkas and Vilkas." Over here, he said gesturing in the opposite direction, we

    have Kodlak Whitemane, Akar and Arnbjorne. They all nodded in Adrian's direction, he returned the gesture. 


    Molag Bal smiled and nodded, mischievously rubbing his hands together,

    "Good, now that you became acquainted, we can go about diving head first into the next phase of my revenge plan."


    Adrian asked his lord what phase two was. Molag said it was to destroy Hasir's life from the inside out. Enough that he will denounce

    Hircine and accept him as his lord. Molag Bal also told the room at large that he will also cause Hircine physical pain for preventing

    him from obtaining the object of his desire. 

    Twilight's lips pulled back showing multiple rzor-sharp, pointy canine teeth, issued a growl thaat came from deep inside and ran

    toward the high elf. He raised his greatsword to defend himself, the wolf bounced off of the two-hander and skidded on all fours

    towards the daedric prince. He dug his claws deep into the floral-printed carpet to stop his backwards momentum. Molag Bal's

    thunderous voice boomed throughout the manor as he odered Adrian to 'take out the trash.' Adrian nodded, sheathed his

    greatsword and began weaving a spell between his hands. the spell steadily grew in strength and soon doubled what the normal,

    non-charged version of the spell would have. He aimed it at the opposite wall and joined his two hands together and he cast it.


    A bright, shimmering blue portal opened in the center of the wall below the overhang. Twilight scoffed at Adrian. Is that the best you

    can do? He thought. Adrian was already two steps ahead of the wolf as he got down on all fours and transformed again. This time he


    became a gigantic shadow wolf with tiny yellow suns for eyes.



    The elf sneered at him, his yellow eyes seemed to cut into Twilight's very fur,

    "Poor wolf, your protector was really me in disguise, did you not know?" He scratched his chin, "Also, did you know you were the

    test subject for our lord? That's right, little pup, we have you to thank for making us what we are todayyou made us shadow

    wolves." His voice oozed menace with every word he spoke.


    He ran for Twilight in a full on sprint. Twiliight stood his ground, his hackels, teeth and claws stood at the ready. When Adrian's wolf

    was mere feet from him, Twilight sprang to life, using his powerful legs as a springboard, lauching him at the shadow wolf and full

    speed. Molag bal ordered his other shadow wolves to attack. Everyone, except Inigo, transformed. In, fact Inigo was physically

    unable to. His elite transfromed until where five humans stood were five equally gigantic shadow wolves as Adrian and all with the

    same, menacing eyes. As one, they flew at Twilight and dog-piled on top of him to stop him in mid air, slamming him to the ground.

    Twilight struggled to get free, but the wolves had them pinned to the ground under their heavy combined weights.


    With Twilight in a heap of trouble that he could not get out of, he saw his chance. He landed on Twilight and ripped him from the

    fray, leaving the wolves to fall, either on their backsides or faces and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and forcibly threw him

    into the portal, well he tried to at least.


    A blue khajiit ran behind him and whispered,

    "Not my friend, you moron!" Inigo then raised his bow, positioned the arrow so the it was in line with the shadow wolf and the

    portal. Twilight struggled free of the wolf's grip and nudged the shadow wolf so that he was perfectly aligned with Inigo's ebony

    arrow and the portal. Twilight barked. The khajiit shrugged, as if he did not understand the wolf. Fire the fucking arrow dammit! The

    wolf snarled, it was obviously growing inpatient with the smart blue cat. 


    Inigo finally understood and loosed the arrow. It flew threw the arc and fell feet short of the wolf. Twilight 'groaned,' Aim higher

    damn you!" he barked at the khajiit. Inigo notched another arrow, but this time, he aimed the bow above to wofl, who had noticed

    Inigo and was slowly advancing towards him. He let the arrow fly, it struck true, blood came spurting out of the shadow wolf's left

    eye socket, now empty. He staggered backwards, howling in pain unaware that the portal to Hircine knows where, was a few inches

    behind him. the shadow wolf gave one final howl of protest as it disappeared into the portal, which promptly disappeared afterward.

    The wolves that lay in a heap in the middle of the living room transformed back into their normal selves, no longer under Adrian's

    mind control. Molag Bal stepped out from behind a pillar where he hid during the dog, er, wolf fight. The daedric lord laughed as he

    watched the pathetic mortals scrambled to their feet. He laughed again and was surprise how stupid the mortal were for actually

    believing his pitiful servant would do a powerful mind control spell when in fact in was him all along. Molag Bal leapt in the air and

    was about to tear the traitor apart when a door opened upstairs.


    Silhouetted against the shadows was the daedric lord of madness himself. He wordlessly aproached the wolf and group of men on

    the florr and snapped his fingers, They left the mansion and ended up somewhere different.