Hello, welcome to this... Project of mine. Muahahaha! *cough* Sorry 'bout that. Anyway, I felt that the writings I've posted so far are too... Sucky. I'm not a good writer, but I am a Master level reader. I've been lurking on this sight for years! And now that I've said that, I realize just how weird I am. ANYWAY, I'm doing this to just see if I can, maybe see if I'm getting better at this writing thing. It's also 2 in the morning... But really, the authors note might be longer than the actual fic at this point. Here we go!

Warning! If you do not like blood, death, slightly dark themes, kidnapping, or the word 'fuck', please leave now.

(P.S. The SI is not really me, but my mental version of me, who kicks ass)

~Line-Break~

Backstory time! I really don't know why I feel like I have to do an internal monologue right now, but the urge is too strong. Really weird. Anyway, my name is Morgan, and I'm a 15-17 year old male who lives in the south-eastern area of the U.S. I'm pretty average, nothing special.

Average height, average face, average eyes. Even average hair! I own 4 short sleeve shirts and a single hoodie, blue jeans and some waterproof boots. I carry a knife everywhere I go. I like driving, eating, video games, and hunting. I'm a meat eater, but I can eat my greens just fine. I go to church every Sunday, and most Wednesday nights.

I can fish well, even caught craw dads with nothing but a stick and string once! Same with hunting. I can kill squirrels, rabbits and deer at respectable, if not noteworthy, range. I'm good with most guns at average distance, and I can actually hit the target 7/10 times with a bow.

I'm getting to that awkward age between being a teenager and being an adult where I can still eat twice my body weight, but if I don't exercise I'll get a bit flabby. I'm not fat, but I'm not in shape. I'm not weak, but I'm not that strong. I'm probably not a badass, but I can sure as hell knock someone on their ass!

All in all, to the average eye, I'm pretty normal; with a few quirks that everyone is allowed to have.

However, I'm not that normal. I'm an Internet dweller after all.

I spend more hours on YouTube that Netflix. I look at memes for days on end. I am more than capable of holding my own in a battle of wit and intelligence in the comment sections. But, my greatest pride and my greatest shame, is that I probably read more fanfiction than most 14 year old girls that live in the suburbs.

I'm not gay, though with me being socially awkward people have thought that. I'm into the deep character struggles, the action/adventure! Not fickle romances. Plot, story and lore give me so many ideas and thoughts...

I probably know more than most about fictional lore in things like the Elder Scrolls, Star Wars, and Harry Potter; to name a few. But I have to dumb down my knowledge sometimes. I'm even more awkward on the internet than in real life. On the few occasions I've had conversations about stuff, they usually stop responding when I give one of my theory's or headcannons. It's kind of sad, but I got over it quickly enough.

When you add all of this together, and the fact that I'm left to my thoughts for hours on end thinking on random topics that range from Orc physiology to philosophy, I'm sure that I have at least a few mental health problems.

I always seem to accept and adapt to things others struggle with. Death, people and animals, doesn't effect me much apart from the initial confirmation. Where others mourn for days, sometimes weeks or months, I usually accept it and move on in a few hours, maybe a day. I roll with the punches. Bad car accident? Oh, I'll help you out, what do you need? Need help around the property? Sure, I'll go stick my hand into the hole filled with black widows to turn the water on.

It's strange, how I think compared to others. I know for a fact that I'm not the only one that is like this. There are almost 8 billion people on this earth, I'm probably WAY below average on this level of the weird scale. But the people around me?

I have my slightly quirky but otherwise normal public persona, and then I have the nut job lurker who knows way to many useless facts and memes. It really sounds like I have some kind of mental disorder, now that I think about it...

Well, now that you know me, even if only slightly, how do you think I react to things? What would I do if I was pushed into unexpected situation?

I found myself in just that, right now.

~Line-Break~

I was walking through the woods, checking on the deer stands to make sure they were secured properly to the trees, safety first and all, when it happened. I heard a really loud windy noise, spreading through the trees. I shook my head, ignoring it, and continued on my way. It was unusually loud, but wind was common enough. I glanced around me before heading to the next stand.

At least I would have, if a giant hairy RAT of all things didn't try to attack me.

"What the hell!" I yelled as I took several steps back. I looked at the thing. It was bigger than a cat, colored an oily, greasy black, and had the most disgusting face I had ever seen, with a mouth full of crooked teeth. My examination was cut short when the thing started tumbling towards me! It wasn't even sprinting! It could barely walk, but it wanted to maul me.

Now, I had killed dangerous animals before, but never one that was actively coming after me. I usually just scared them off. But this thing? It was rabid.

It was only a few feet away now, and instinct took over for a few seconds. Right when it got close enough, a few feet away, the thing leapt at me! Only, right after it left the ground, my very heavy thick leather boot, attached to my surprisingly strong leg, hit it right in the face. There was a sharp 'crack' noise, and I knew I had broken it's neck, and probably most of its skull as well. It rolled back a few feet before stopping, dead.

Now that it was dead, I slowly walked over to it. It looked familiar... No. Shit no. It was a skeever! A fictional animal! I got very, very still. I remembered reading a fic that seemed very close to what was happening right now. Except it was a sabertooth (THANK GOD IT WASN'T A SABERTOOTH) and right after it was dead, there... was... a portal...

I, very slowly, turned around. Now that I wasn't focused on the dead creature in front of me, I could feel the strong winds that seemed to tug at my clothes. And right there, was a large dark purple portal. Seconds before I was sucked into it, I muttered what would soon become my catchphrase.

"Aw, fuck."

~Line-Break~

When I woke up, it was with crystal clarity of what was happening. There was no groggy recollection of past events; I knew what happened before I lost consciousness, and what was probably still happening. So, I took a deep breath, and opened my eyes. Observe the situation.

I noticed several things in rapid succession, and they went in this order. I was in a cave. I was in a cage. There were several cages around me. The scent of blood made me want to gag. In some of the cages were werwolves (WERWOLVES!), and they were much, much bigger in person. There were several werewolf heads on pikes around the cave. And finally, there was a really creepy looking guy in blue robes looking over a table that was cluttered with silver daggers, scrolls, and books. I noticed all of these in that order, but almost simultaneously.

When I saw the werwolves, living, breathing, snarling werwolves, a sort of calm came over me. I was a go with the flow kind of person. I could roll with the punches. But this? This was insane, impossible. But I saw it, and something that has happened to me in the past happened again. I don't know the proper term for it, but I think it might be some form of shock.

My brain ignored the impossible nature around me, and focused on what the guy was saying at the table. I couldn't catch a lot, but I could get some.

"Need more subjects... No, more blood, no... That won't work... Maybe Beastfolk? No... Has to be human... Krev will not be happy..." And he mumbled off with that.

Immediately, my mind began turning the new information over. Silver weapons, werwolves in cages, 'Krev' not being happy? I was in Skyrim, held captive by the Silver Hand.

But why? I had to think fast, my shock(?) induced calm only lasted five minutes at the longest. He was a Mage, obviously, and he was someone's scientist (Experimenter? What was the term?). He needed more subjects. Humans. I looked at the werwolves around me, and noticed they all seemed feral, and incredibly thin. Subjects lead to Experiments lead to Results. It's roughly mideval times, so...

I almost laughed. They were trying to figure out a cure! Maybe a spell, or a potion? Would it be a poison? I don't know, but...

My fingers started to feel cold. Numb.

I looked down at my hands and they were just barely starting to shake. I was almost out of time for my rational thought. Shit.

Movement brought my attention back to the wizard (Mage? Necromancer?). He was walking towards me.

"I would say I'm sorry, but I'm not." The magic user started fiddling with a vial. "You just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, little Breton. Don't worry, though," here, he seemed to give a small grin. It was demented and sent a chill up my spine. He uncapped the vial and hit me with a green light from his offhand. Instantly I couldn't move, and my mouth was stuck open. "You will help us destroy these beasts. We will tame the curse long enough to hunt down the wild ones, and then you will die."

My eyes seemed to project the question why well enough, because he chuckled. "Well, Krev needs hounds to hunt the beasts, and what better than a fellow animal?" Here he gave another demented smile. "This little potion I made is composed of Beast Blood, Troll Fat, and Giant Skin. It will make you a slave loyal to us, and make you stronger than the other beasts, so you can hunt them down."

Then he dumped the whole vial down my throat, and I reflexively swallowed when I could move again. Instant pain lanced through my body, boiling my blood and peeling my skin.

Seconds before I lost consciousness, I saw the door blast open and two familiar figures walked in, weapons drawn. Then red seeped into my vision and I couldn't even think.

My last thoughts were, "Aw, fuck."

~Line-Break~

There. Done. Took me about three hours, which doesn't seem to bad. Will probably leave it at this, unless you want me to continue. Then I'll try to keep writing. Like I said at the top, I'm trying out different writing styles, trying to find my niche.

I've had this idea for awhile, the whole 'Silver Hand making super werwolves to hunt werwolves for them' thing seemed like something they would do. If you're worried about Morgan being overpowered, then you really have nothing to worry about. He's a teenager. From America. In Skyrim. The worst he's experienced is falling off a roof. In Skyrim Dragons kill everything, and Vampires run around doing whatever. Sure, he's a 'super' werewolf, but still.

Btw, I'm using 'Lore Elder Scrolls', not 'Game Elder Scrolls'. Big difference. One of those differences is Shouts destroy mountains if they're strong enough. The Greybeards shake the world when they whisper, Alduin eats the world, and Deadric Princes are evil Demon gods.

Review if you want more. I might make more anyways, but I'm not a consistent writer, so bear with me.