Hasir righted himself agaiin; he stared back at Ocheeva, shocked,
"W-what?" He spluttered, my mom didn't tell me I had a..." He began but soon became lost for words
Ocheeva nodded glumly,
"Yes, I apologize for not sending a courier to Blackwood, but I wanted to tell you in person." Hasir looked like he wanted to hit
Ocheeva.
How could she or his own mother hide this from him? He looked at Teinaava and Talaendril for reassurance, they were as shocked as
he was.
He stroked his scaly chin; after sereval seconds he stopped and sniffed the air,
"Ocheeva, how you leave me in the dark... twice?" He groaned, throwing his hands up in the air, I'm your relative for hist sake." He
creased his forehead, "Occeehva, I cannot make neither tails nor scales of this, how in Oblivion did you gain the wolfblood?"
The female Argonian frantically insisted that she is his grandmother. The green scaled male Argonian looked into her tear streaked
eyes and saw she was hiding something,
"Come on Ocheeva, what are you hiding from me?" He said, a hint of the wolf in his eyes.
Ocheeva sighed and told Hasir that she had been turned when she was ten years old. She said she was venturing in the
Ashland region with her mom and sister when what she thought was a rabid dunmer had disemboweled the Argonian's mother
and sister; painting the ashland region with their insides. She felt tears well up in her eyes but she quickly wiped them away as she
knew tears would not help to avenge her mother and sister's deaths; she told him had to act, fast. She drew the elven dagger from
its sheath - which her mother had given her two hatching days previously - ran as fast as she could toward the dunmer, slashing
wildly; to her dismay, the dunmer easily side-stepped the blade and raked his claws across the her chest. Rivulets of blood spattered
the ashy ground as she fell against an upthrust of rock the bordered the nearby ashlander camp to the north. With her last ounce of
strength, the young Argonian, teeth gritted against the pain, stabbed the dagger outwards; catching the dunmer in the chest.
Ocheeva broke out of her tale to find Hasir lying back in his chair, sighing as he thought Ocheeva was just spinning a yearn that
she had plucked from thin air,
"Hasir, are you listening? I am telling you my life story, well, maybe a quarter of it and you are just sitting there like a lizard bathing
in hist sap but not taking in any of the hist tree's wisdom."
Hasirr yawned, interlacing his fingers behind his head,
"Ocheeva, when you tell a story, you should really try to wow the audience, not bore them to death." He said with a slight chuckle
Ocheeva stormed forward, grabbed his chair and pulled it out from under him, causing him to hit to ground with a muffled 'thump'.
He got up, dusted himself off and glared at her for a few seconds before picking up his chair, sitting back down in it and resumed his
glaring,
"What in Oblivion was that for?" he hissed at her
Ocheeva faced the angry Argonian and scolded him,
"That was for thinking you can tell me how to tell my story."
Hasir rubbed his tail, which was very sore and smiled stupidly at her,
"Sorry, but it's true, stories need a hook to pull listeners in and make them feel part of the story." He looked at her and shrugged,
"Your tale fall a little flat if I was to be honest.""
Ocheeva huffed in annoyance but took her seat at the table next to Hasir; the wood elf had left minutes earlier because they had
tasks that required her attention. Teinaava stared wide eyed and open-mouthed at Ocheeva; she ignored him and pressed on with
her story,
"The dunmer, I never did get his name, wounded me severely, passing on the disease of lycanthropy to me, though I did not know
what it was at the time. A few days after the incident with the mad dark elf, I woke up in a yurt that looked very strange-banners of
an undesipherable language were hanging from the curved ceiling and two dumner clothed in equally strange clothing were tending
to my wounds. even though my vision was still blurry, I would see they were dabbing what looked like a durzog puke on my
stomach."
Ocheeva stopped and looked at Hasir, who was hanging on every word she was saying; Ocheeva was pleased to find that he was
actually interested, unlike the last tale she had told. "When my vision returned to full strength, I could see a mortar and pestle
sitting on a bookshelf not too far from me and then I saw the same mixture , though it was ground to a fine powder, I asked what it
was and the healer told me it was a mixture of resin, saltrice and corprus weepings."
Hasir held out a hand to stop her, she looked at him bewildered,
"Hold on, so you're telling me that they put corprus weepings on your wounds? how in Tamriel did you not contract Corprus?"
Ocheeva chuckled at this and said that the weepings were fine if they are diluted with other ingredients mixed in, like a restore
health potion for example and that a person can only get corprus either from an infected individual who is showing advanced signs of
the disease or from undiluted corprus weeping which can be obtained from a corprus walker's corpse. Hasir opened his mouth but
promptly shut it when Ocheeva told him that any more interruptions would prevent him from hearing the story altogether.
Ocheeva continued, eyeing Hasir to make sure he would not interrupt again; true to his word, the Argonian just sat there, silent as a
statue,
"The healer told me to lay back on my cot so she could finish administering the mixture, I did as she asked. I could feel the slimy
substance as it coated the scratch marks; only problem was, there were no scratch marks at all. The dunmer healer shook her head
in disbelief saying that she did not know where they went and thought this was some trick of Mephala."
She glanced over to Hasir and told him that Mephala, or the web spinner is the trickster god in the dumner daedric pantheon,
"nonetheless, the healer finished her craft, thinking that the marks were still there but, somehow, were just invisible." Ocheeva
sighed as she saw a puzzled expression playing at Hasir's features, "She had to kept me there for five days, despite my insistance of
getting back to my father, for obeservation."
Ocheeva said that while the wise woman was observing her, she would tell her of stories she had heard about men, mer and beasts
turning into werewolves when the full moon was out,
"The healer thought it was all a pile of steaming kwama dung, just a story that parents tell their young to keep them in line."
Ocheeva looked at Hasir, whose eyes were wide with excitement, "On the fifth night of observation, the full moon did come as silvery
light floodied through the opening in the tent and I began to transform." She told him her wolf leapt off the netch leather cot and
ran at the dunmer healer, who was cowering in the corner, saying something about about werewolves not existing. The wolf, full
of grey fur and claws sharp as daggers tore into her without a second thought.
Hasir got up and began to walk toward the door, but as he did so, he turned around and stared wide-eyed at the round window just
above the bookshelf next to the fireplace. The two moons, Massar and Secunda had started their ascent; not only that but silvery
light shone though the cracks in the window. Hasir felt spasms of pain work their way up his spine as well as his extremities. His
eyes turned toward Ocheeva in the last few moments before his mind was torn in two.
Ocheeva's transformation was fast and fluid, going from Argonian to wolf in just under five minutes. Still holding onto his Argonian
mind, for the time being, Hasir saw a massive grey bipedal wolf, with patches of her fur missing, standing at nine feet-one foot shy
of cracking her skull on the hard stone ceiling. The wolf stared at the pitiful Argonian who was screaming in agony as his mind
seemed to fight the transformation. Hasir's hold on his mind finally broke as he felt the wolf creep into his mind like an unwelcome
visitor.
The large grey werewolf lowered onto her fore and hind paws and scurried over to the two identical wolves that had appeared
seemingly out of nowhere. She sniffed the black wolf and then the white; circling them both like a dog circles its bed before going to
sleep.
She sniffed both wolfs' anuses; taking in the Argonian's scent and settled on her haunches in the corner of the room, inches from the
two wolves, studying them for a few seconds. Deep in her canine brain, she knew that the tow wolves were the same Argonian she'd
seen a few minutes before.
The black and white wolves did the same examination of the grey wolf, wagged their tails and ran after the werewolf three times the
size of the wolves and ten times as heavier as they were. She scanned the corridor cautiously to ensure there was no one in the
area.
Finding there wasn't anyone nearby that might find the fact that there were three werewolves-even though two of the wolves
were actually one person-a bit strange. They exited the room and ran toward the sanctuary entrance with the two wolves following
her through the doggy door in the black door and out into the streets of Cheydinhal.
