A/N: So here's the deal: I was rereading the last scene from the latest chapter of my other story, when I remembered how I initially thought ( and actually kind of hoped) the transformation would occur. It didn't happen, but I got the idea of a Wereraptor. I got an urge to write this out, borrowing the text from the chapter and adding/adapting parts of it to fit. I also try to be funny, with plenty of Jurassic Park references included. Enjoy!

Masser and Secunda silently loomed in the vast night sky. The city at night was quiet, with all its residents either having gone to bed or to the tavern. The guards were the only one around, patrolling the city. Archer was glad that he wouldn't have to explain to them what he was doing out this late at night, given that Jorrvaskr was a short walk away.

He made his way through the Gildergreen circle, the gray tree's branches hanging without blossoms, and he made his way towards the general direction of the Skyforge. Skjor was standing outside, a torch in hand, the flame glowing against the dull grey metal of Skjor's Wolf armor as he watched Archer approach him. Archer stopped only a few feet away.

"Are you prepared for what you will recieve?" asked Skjor.

Hesitantly, Archer nodded. Skjor turned around, and pressed something on the stone wall of the Skyforge behind him. There was a scraping sound as a section of the stone sheathed itself into the wall, revealing a previously unnoticed hidden passageway. Skjor entered, and Archer followed him after marveling over the hidden door for a moment. The door sheathed itself as Archer entered, who turned around to look at the door and make sure he didn't catch his tail in it. When he turned around to look at Skjor, his blood suddenly ran cold at the sight of the Werewolf in the room.

The beast was enormous, as large as a bear, but with the general semblance of a wolf. He reached for his sword, but Skjor stopped him, saying "I trust you wouldn't attack Aela in her Beast Form."

It took a few moments for what Skjor had just said to register in Archer's mind.

"You mean that thing is Aela?" he asked, shocked. How could the red-haired huntress he had become acquainted with also be such a shaggy, feral creature?

The Werewolf snarled at being called a thing, and Archer took a step back in fear. "Take care not to call her a thing; she can still understand you, just as she can as a human," Skjor told him. Archer looked back and forth once between the werewolf and Skjor before he finally released the grip on his weapons.

"What is it exactly that you wish to give me?" Archer asked, eyeing the giant predator in the room cautiously.

"You've been initiated into the Circle, but you won't be a full part of our group until you accept our gift," he said. "As has been revealed to you, the members of the Circle have the Beast Blood within them, a gift from the Daedric Lord Hircine. With it, we can turn into a more powerful form: a werewolf."

Archer's eyebrows rose. "You're going to make me into a werewolf?" Archer asked.

"Yes. You would be able to fight better, run faster, and overpower any opponent. You would be the ultimate hunter," he said.

"And if I say no?" Archer asked. Skjor shrugged.

"If you don't accept, we'll understand, but you won't be considered officially part of the Circle until you accept this gift."

Archer thought for a moment. He had never anticipated being given the gift of Lycanthropy before. Should he accept the gift? Yes, he'd become much more powerful than before, and he'd hopefully be able to accomplish his tasks with more ease, but at what costs? Obviously, he'd be weak to silver weaponry in this new form. He'd be accepting the blessing of a Daedric Lord as well. It shouldn't be a problem, though, if he didn't go about actively worshipping Hircine. He still much favored the pantheon of the Eight Divines, and the Hist. Then, a technical question sprung up in his mind.

"Would this even work for me?" Archer asked. "I thought that Argonians were immune to the disease that causes lycanthropy. Or at least, I've heard."

"This isn't a disease," Skjor replied. "This is a blessing from a Daedric Lord. It's much more powerful than any strain of lycanthropy. I have confidence that it will work."

Archer paused for the moment, still unsure. What argument could he have to make him not accept the gift? At the moment, he couldn't think of any.

"Make your choice, Archer," Skjor prodded. He didn't want to be kept waiting.

Archer mulled over the thoughts for a moment longer before he answered, "I'll do it."

Skjor nodded once in affirmation, before taking out a steel dagger. He walked over to Aela and grabbed her arm. He placed the arm over the stone bowl-like structure in the center of the room and then placed the dagger to her arm. He slit her arm, the force being just enough to break the skin and cause blood to pour into the bowl. When the blood level was at an appropriate level, Skjor removed her arm from the bowl. Aela's werewolf body would regenerate lost blood sooner than a normal human, so Archer wasn't concerned about that. What he was concerned about, however, was why Skjor had partially filled the bowl with Aela's blood.

"Do I dare ask what that was for?" Archer asked, pointing at the dark red substance.

"In order to give you lycanthropy, you must drink the blood from a willing forebear."

Archer's eye ridges rose in surprise. "You expect me to drink her blood?" he asked in horror.

"Yes... I just said so," Skjor said. "No, this is not some sort of sick joke. The other members of the Companions had to do this, just like you. Now go on and drink it to accept this powerful gift."

Archer looked back at the blood, dark red and stagnant. It was sickening just looking at it. He had once bitten a bandit's throat in a last-ditch effort to kill him. Having gotten a taste of blood, he decided that he didn't like the taste at all, and he resolved to only do such a thing when the situation required it for his survival. Now he was expected to drink it? He walked over to it, and looked at it more closely. He really did not want to do this.

"Do I have to drink all of it?" he asked meekly.

Skjor sighed with impatience. "Just enough for the blessing to take effect. Now drink."

Archer looked at the bowl one last time, before bending over it. He supported himself with one hand on the rim of the bowl, while the other slowly scooped up the red substance. The blood was still warm from its previous owner. He shut his eyes in anticipation, and poured some into his mouth. He nearly gagged at the iron-like bitter flavor of the blood filling his mouth as it washed over his tongue, but he swallowed.

The blood's flavor was suddenly replaced from something vile and disgusting to something else. It tasted different now, more bitter than before, but not in a bad way. His eyes shot open as he felt strange sensations pulsing throughout his body. His body was receiving the blessing. He felt his limbs growing longer, his bones stretching to accompany the new length, inciting some discomforted, pained hisses from Archer. He stumbled backwards into the wall behind him as he let the strange forces occupying his body to morph him. But he wasn't morphing into a werewolf.

Skjor looked in wonder while Aela rumbled deeply as they observed this strange transformation. The Argonian was definitely transforming, but they were being bothered by the lack of changes that they had seen in their fellow Circle werewolves. He was not growing any fur, for starters; instead, his scales seemed to be shifting and fusing into a kind of leathery hide. His tail did not grow fur either, but it grew longer and larger. The Argonian hissed in pain as his muscles were reunited for increased muscle density, but the increased growth wasn't focused on his arms and upper torso, but rather, on his rear legs and tail. His body did not gain a hunch like a werewolf, but instead, it shifted so that his torso was positioned parallel to the ground. His neck grew longer and more flexible. His arms grew, but not to werewolf proportions, staying tucked in close to the body. His toes fused so that he had a three-clawed foot, with the innermost claw growing into a large, curved talon with a razor's edge.

The creature fell on its side, tired from the exertions of transforming. Aela growled lowly, and Skjor looked in wonder at the sift of the strange new creature before them.

"What the hell is that thing….?" Skjor asked in wonder. "Because that is definitely not a werewolf."

"Grrrraugh," Aela growled in response. Skjor shook his head at her.

"No, he doesn't look like a Werecrocodile, he hasn't got any swimming appendages," Skjor replied.

"Raugh! Grrrrrruff!"

"So what if he didn't transform into a werewolf? It's not a complete failure. Look at those claws and teeth! He's amazing!"

"Grrrruph."

"What? Didn't you want a new hunting buddy? Or are you worried that he'll outperform you now?"

"Grrrrrrr…"

"Don't worry, you'll still always be my favorite little werewolf," Skjor assured. He looked back at the were… lycan.

Skjor had never seen any sort of creature that could compare to what Archer had transformed into. It might've been a Werecrocodile, like he'd heard of, but didn't those have swimming appendages? This one had nothing that looked as if it would benefit it in the water, but its curved, razor like talon and powerful legs would make it a deadly hunter regardless. Maybe the transformation wasn't a complete failure after all. There was still one question to be answered, however.

"How are we going to keep him in check?" Skjor asked. "I don't think we have any collars that'll fit him properly. His neck is too thin."

"Rrruff?"

"I got them after Farkas had his little… "accident" last time. Can't have werewolves running around without supervision."

Before they could come up with an answer, the creature's eyes opened, revealing two golden orbs with slits for pupils. The creature stood up onto its two powerful legs ad faced the two mammals. It may have been an animal, but it had the spark of intelligence within its golden eyes. A sign of a dangerous predator. It looked over the two of them with a critical, assessing eye, before it snarled, revealing rows of sharp, needle-like teeth.

Aela stood in front of Skjor, growling lowly at the Wereraptor, but the new creature was unfazed. Seeing as how it was outnumbered, it looked around and saw the door, clearly outlined on the rock.

"I Don't worry, it's not smart enough to open a door," Skjor said calmly. The were raptor walked up to the outlined area and easily found the button that opened it.

"Huh. I guess not."

The Werewolf roared, and pounced towards the Wereraptor, but Archer was faster, and he bolted out of the door, with Aela in hot pursuit.

Edvin sighed as he walked about the Gildergreen area, patrolling. He didn't like patrolling out this late at night, it reminded him too much of the scary stories his brothers told him when he was a kid. Especially those werewolves. He hated Werewolf stories the most. The howling that always came from Jorrvaskr only made things worse, as if the wolves in skyrim alone weren't bad enough, they had to bring in their damn dogs too. Frankly, he didn't appreciate the Companions' dogs always howling. The funny thing was, however, that he'd never seen them with any dogs at all. He wondered where they kept them locked up.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a roar. It was like the sound of a saber cat when it pounced, but more feral, if it was possible. He drew his sword and looked around fearfully, but the sound had come from Jorrvaskr. He gulped, and began walking slowly towards the old worn wooden structure, gripping onto his torch as if it were his lifesaver. There were the sounds of bestial conflict, a cacophony of low growls, snarls, and… hissing?

He hadn't even made it up the steps to Jorrvaskr when a ball of fur and scales fell down the steps. He yelped and jumped out of the way. Turning around, he gasped at the sight of a werewolf fighting what appeared to be a some sort of lizard-beast. The lizard beast got its leg under the werewolf and kicked it off, sending it flying several feet. It stood up, but instead of running, it turned its serpentine head towards him.

Immediately, Edvin's blood ran cold. The Nord had never expected to find something like this in his career. He couldn't think clearly. Couldn't breathe clearly. His heart began palpitating erratically. He broke out into a cold sweat. He had to think of something before the creature pounced. He glanced to the side quickly and caught sight of a stick.

Barely thinking, he grabbed the stick. He stood up and waved the stick in the air. "Hey! Look! You wanna play? Is that it?" he asked. If he had to guess, the beast had the look of confusion on its face.

"Y-you wanna fetch the stick? Go on, fetch the stick!" he said, tossing the stick over the creature's head. Well, it was intended to go over its head, but instead, it bounced off its head, clattering uselessly on the floor. The creature snarled at him angrily.

"…Oh, no." Just don't move. He can't see you if you don't move.

Just then, the werewolf returned, tackling the other animal to the ground. They struggled for a while, before the were raptor once more escaped. It backed away from Aela, but upon turning around, it was confronted with Skjor.

"Just where do you think you're going?" Skjor asked. The were raptor narrowed its eyes at the Nord. It got into a squat, and in a single bound, leaped clear over Skjor's head. It landed at the top of the steps, and ran away, bounding over the stone wall that separated the courtyard from the wild.

"Clever boy…" Skjor remarked in wonder. The Werewolf growled, and it bolted off in pursuit. Skjor turned to Edvin. "Could you… forget what you just saw?"

Edvin stared at the man in wonder. Then, he fell backwards, fainted.