I was writing chapter 3 for my "Running with the Wolves" fanfic, (I have two other chapters done but they need editing). And the werewolves reminded me of the Balverines from the game series Fable, which In turn made me think of Connor, the white Balverine in Fable 3. So I've moved the quest line so it takes place before the Revolution and *Spoiler alert!* during the Crawlers attack. I also have decided for the sake of the story to change Connors appearance so he looks less like a random npc, and more appealing as well. He is now younger, so no white hair, his skin is smoother. I've subtracted his annoying facial hair and mutton chops (That is the only way I can describe it…) Made him taller and a bit more muscled (Seriously, this guy is a balverine, what balverine would be that small?! Even in human form. .) And his hair is no longer all slicked back, it's a bit more fitting.' Mainly because, I don't think that when you're living in the woods you have the time or resources to spend an hour in the mirror slicking and combing back all your hair. However if you prefer his original appearance, you can keep it that way. I just wanted him to be more appealing for the princess, (I don't think the Princess would go for his original look, considering where she lived her whole life. Ex. Reaver, Nobles, her father, etc. People who were well taken care of). And for me, because it's hard to write a story about a guy that's a "bit" of a jerk, and looks all intimidating. (Really, he wanted to kill the whole village! D: He risked their lives, so it is understandable why they exiled him, but he decided to go furry and kill everyone. Yeeeaah). Oh, and I will be taking many writers liberties while writing this little story, just a warning. Quests, conversations, etc.
Oh! And one more thing~! Muriel is pretty creepy in this one, Mostly because I feel like all the noblemen/woman are creepy in fable…and two to reinforce that fact he is younger and handsomer.
I don't own anything, Hooray! :D End rant.
~O~
It was an odd feeling, breathing. The air was dense, yet unscented. But this could be expected when standing so close to the silver-nitrate torches. The silver evaporated into the air, odorless but undoubtedly recognizable. They were the only thing keeping the Balverines at bay. Connor blinked his eyes, exhausted and weary as he fought to keep off the sleep that was persistedly gnawing at his sore limbs. His eyes strained to see into the impenetrable darkness, eyes ever searching for the glowing red of a balverine's. Arms stiff from holding his rifle at the ready for hours, and from plowing the rocky soil from earlier that day, were numb with bitter cold and muscle discomfort, only adding to his overall fatigue. He shook his head slightly, in vain hope it might shake off the blurriness seeping into his vision. His body was being pushed to the limit. He paused in his patrol, leaning against the wooden 'gate' that informed any visitor they had reached the outskirts of the small town of Silverpines. He moaned aloud and somewhere in the black woods a wolf returned the call. His body, finally sick of fighting his mind for control, forced his willpower into a corner and his eyelids drooped, covering pine needle green eyes.
…
"You were supposed to be on duty! How dare you risk the safety of our town! Of our children!" Jacob screamed, spittle spraying from his lips with each syllable.
Connor openly flinched, drawing away from the man who was growing dangerously red in the face. He had only fallen asleep for a few minutes, but it was enough. One of the lamps had gone out.
For most lamps, going out was little problem and the common remedy was to simply relight it. However, silver-nitrate could only to burn when it was hot. If the lamps went out and cooled, it would take hours to heat them enough for the silver to burn again, and the town would be vulnerable to attack during each painstakingly long minute that the villagers waited for the torch to be re-lit. Luckily one of the other men on patrol, an older grouchy man by the name of Jacob had come across him and the lamp, and was quick to relight it before dragging a shocked Connor to center square. Rain had begun to drizzle lightly, however this did not distract Jacob or any of the fuming villagers.
"Punishment!"
"Put em' to death!"
"Exile!"
The villagers chanted, circling Connor. He backed away, slipping on the sodden ground and falling on his arse in six inches of mud.
"Please…it was an accident! I swear!" He begged, his heart accelerating as the townspeople closed in. Jacob cocked his head, and smiled masochistically.
"An accident eh? Well then…I suppose if it was just an accident it would be cruel to kill you…Very well Connor you be spared." Connor released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, sighing in relief. The villagers gasped, their faces twisting into vile expressions of anger as the turned on the man. Cries of protest began to fill the air, however he raised his rifle and fired it once, and all was silent. He kneeled down into the mud, "You will be spared. However from this day forth…you are exiled." He whispered fiercely. Connor gasped, but his mouth barely had time to open for several village men had grabbed him by the collar and arms and were now dragging him to the gate. He yelped, and clutching his rifle to his chest struggled passionately. One of the villagers caught sight of the gun and was quick to point it out.
"Take his gun to-! Ain't no way in 'ell is he gonna survive them balverines without it!" Several villagers latched on to his rifle and pryed it from his grasp.
"A reckoning is coming, for you all!" Connor threatened, his words coming out as more of a growl. Jacob scoffed, dark amusement flooding his eyes.
The villagers began chanting, counting all the nauseating ways he was going to die. As they reached the end of the gate Jacob ordered the men to carry him past the nitrate lamps and return so they could shut the gates. He would be unable to return. Their grips tightened and Connor fought back a whimper as they dragged him past the fiery lamps that represented his protection, and with little effort they swung him into foliage. As he struggled to climb from the thick vinery he was aware of the sound of the wooden gates closing shut. He pulled himself loose, and for a second considered returning to the closed gates, beating on them until they opened and begging for his chance to live among them again. For a second. He rid his head of the thought irritably, no. His pride would not allow him to drop that low, and he wanted revenge on the people he had thought of as family. Anger burned in him like a torch, unyielding to his memories from childhood, and the kindness he had been afforded. It had always been this way, he realized. They had always seen him as an outsider, a freak. Their kindness and their naive acceptance of him had all been a façade, a sick lie. He walked in the opposite direction of the village, fury smoldering in his heart while hoping he might stumble upon a rabbit or squirrel. But even as he did so he knew that was unlikely…whatever wasn't eaten by the over populated wolves were killed by the voracious Balverines.
~O~
It had been four days since he had been forced from the village, and Connor was already going insane. He had stayed alive thus far by eating berries and roots, but his stomach was begging for something more filling. He would wake up in the night from the pangs of hunger, and could see little red eyes watching him…hundreds of them. He would blink rapidly and peer into the darkness again; only to see the little orbs had vanished. On the sixth day, the voices began. They were thick, raspy, and most certainly male.
"Perfect…he would be perfect…"
"Yes…keep this one…"
"Finally…our alpha returns…"
He growled in frustration, clamping his hands over his ears as he tried to sleep.
"Yes…he is the one. No mere human can hear us the way he can…"
On the tenth day Connor was sure he was going to die. No man had ever made it this long in the woods without a balverine attack, this he was certain of, and now he was positive his time was coming. He sat tiredly around a small fire he had made, dark bags under his eyes making it all the more obvious that he had not been sleeping well. He had always had a high constitution, but winter was coming, and if he did not find some sort of shelter he would not survive. He shivered, pulling his holy jacket tighter about himself. Night had long fallen and he drew closer to the fire. Taking a stick he had sharpened so it now resembled a spear, he prodded the fire quickly, rewarded with a fresh onslaught of heat the end only slightly blackened. As the forest grew quiet, or as quiet as it could get in Silverpines, Connor tensed more so, a headache forming from straining his ears. He gripped his makeshift spear tighter; he could hear the twigs snapping to his right. Slowly, and without looking directly to where the disturbance came from; he rose, his hands holding the spear at the ready. The foliage separated and the body of a wolf dangled through, its neck bloody and angled at an odd direction. A sound came from behind him, and before he could turn, a claw swiped the spear from his grasp and range, a balverine stepping from the flora and fauna. It stood at least two heads over him, and he held still as possible as other Balverines stepped into the clearing. In the dim light he could barely make out the color of their fur, mostly black but with several brown, rusty colored ones. His childhood in Silverpines had made him well acquainted with balverine folklore, and he knew that the rusty colored ones were the more dangerous of the two, the ones that could walk as humans by day. He straightened his back and eyed the circle that was growing around him, and turned to the foliage where the wolf still dangled. Slowly, a brown balverine stepped from the foliage and approached in a way that it appeared almost…respectful. When it was a yard away, it dropped the body, and nudged the wolf with a bloody muzzle until it was resting at Connors feet. It bowed its head, and the others followed suite, and though its mouth did not move Connor could hear its raspy voice emanating in the glade.
"Alpha…please accept this gift in exchange for your leadership…" It rasped. Connor stood a bit straighter, eyes narrowed.
"I am no balverine." he growled and the Balverines tensed, flinching like a child that had been caught doing something naughty.
"You can hear us…can you not? Only the alpha…the White One can do so while still in human form. You are meant to be our king, The White Balverine." It answered.
Connor smiled, enjoying the power he seemed to have over them.
"And how am I to become the White Balverine? The last was killed by the Great Hero King, Sparrow."
The balverine raised its head, and game a wicked smile, several rows of teeth showing.
"In Millfields…There is a statue held by a woman in a pink house, It was created in the likeness of the Balvorn…It will grant you leadership, alpha."
"Very well, I accept your gift…and I will head to Millfields." Connor smiled, and the Balverines seemed to relax, and bowing their heads, the creatures jumped into the air out of sight. Smiling to himself, Connor received his spear and prepared to skin the wolf, prospects of his upcoming future burning in his mind.. He would need his strength if he was going to Millfields.
~O~
The Balverines had quite literally left a trail of blood to follow, and after several hours Connor found himself at the edge of the woods overlooking BowerLake.
I could stay here…work for one of the noblemen, raise a family…he mused silently. He cut the thought short however when he noticed a body haphazardly shoved underneath a bush. Pulling the nobleman from underneath the bush, he was surprised to see that the body was in almost perfect condition including the clothes, save that the throat had been ripped out. Shaking off the pity he felt for the man, he understood and pulled the clothes off, replacing them with his own. It would look suspicious to see a man in his measly clothing walking around, and if, no when, the guards found the body, they would report that it was probably some oaf from Silverpines that wondered to far from the village. As long as no one from Silverpines came to check the body (and the same for the people of Millfields) then he would be in the clear, marked dead. Walking down to the water's edge, he placed the clothes carefully on a rock and waded in, dirt and blood washing of into the water. No nobleman would be so dirty, and if he was going to blend in he would have to do it properly. Once he felt he was quite clean, he stepped out and dried off, pulling on the clothes as he did so. They were black, most appropriate since he was about to become a thief, and soft, the man that had owned them was certainly very rich. In his right breast pocket he found a small comb which he set aside, and in the inside pocket 700 gold. Using the water as a mirror he used the comb to tame his thick unruly locks, and after several attempts managed to tie the now completely red cravat properly. Looking himself over, he dusted off several blades of grass and some dirt and walked up onto the road, spotting a lone pink house with a pearly fountain in the front. Several guards were patrolling in the front of the house, if he could climb out the back door or a window maybe he could escape into the woods, statue in hand. Nodding to the guards that were traversing the road, he paused in front of the house, trying to think of a lie that would let the woman agree to allow him into her home. A clash of thunder broke him from his thoughts and he grinned, an idea come to him.
"Okay…remember…You're a suave, rich nobleman." He whispered to himself, a gloved hand knocking against the ostentatiously pink door. He heard a squeal of surprise, and the sound of dishes breaking.
"Wretched girl-! Clean that up! I'll get the door…"
The door was opened angrily and Connor allowed himself to raise an eyebrow at the woman's behavior.
"Who do you think you ar-!" she stopped, and her eyes took in his extravagant appearance and she flushed, a pink gloved hand smoothing the curls of her powdered wig. "Pardon me sir…my servant girl just made a horrible mess of things. Can I get you something?" she smiled flirtatiously, batting her eyelashes. Ignoring the double meaning, Connor gave her a charming smile and as elegantly as he could broke into his story.
"Why yes, you see I was enjoying my usual evening stroll when I looked up and realized it was going to rain! My house is quite far from here and I do not believe I would make it home before the storm hits…Would you mind horribly if I took shelter in your home until the storm has passed?" As if on cue, there was a bolt of lightning and a light drizzle began to fall from the sky. She smiled coquettishly, opening the door wider so he could step in.
"Of course Sir…! Abby! Fix me and this lovely gentleman some tea." She ordered, and a young servant girl glanced up from the ground, picking pieces of a plate she had been washing from the ground. Her eyes glanced between her mistress and Connor and a warm flush rose to her cheeks.
"Of Course, Mistress." She replied, her lips turning up in a small smile.
Connor felt his neck heat a little, Perhaps I did better with the disguise that I thought…
The woman sat down, and motioned for him to do the same. He sat, and let his eyes wander about, and he spotted the white statue sitting in a place of honor on a mahogany hutch.
"I say…what a fine house you have here Miss…"
"Muriel. And yours?" She purred.
"Richard" He stated automatically. He reached his hand across the table . "Muriel. What a beautiful name." She giggled girlishly, a trait he found, in her case at least, most annoying. Abby, or so the servant was called, took that moment to place to cups of tea on the table, her eyes darting to his face as she placed them in front of the two.
"Abby you are dismissed." Muriel stated without even throwing the girl a glance. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment and she went to her quarters, throwing him a shy smile before she shut the door. Connor, unused to females' attention refrained from blushing and focused his attention on the task at hand.
Taking a sip from the tea, he continued; "Tell me, of what significance is that statue over there? It looks very interesting…" Her eyes flashed and taking a dainty sip of her tea she smiled.
"It's a statue depicting "The White One" from what I understand…It has been in the family for generations and is worth at least half a million gold. She stated eagerly, her eyes dancing greedily. "But of course, I'm sure you could afford that." She continued eyeing his profligate clothing. She giggled again, and he forced himself to give a refined chuckle. Her eyes looked him over, as if appraising him. Connor fought the urge to turn and leave, the cravat feeling far too tight around his neck. Taking a sip of his tea he looked up through his lashes only to see that she was doing the same. Something flashed again in hers eyes, something Connor did not like.
"Perhaps you would like to join me upstairs Sir Richard." She said, batting her eyelashes. Never before had the urge to run away sounded so appealing to Connor. He forced his stomach to calm down and instead offered her a smile he hoped looked more charming and less like a grimace.
"That sounds lovely." He stated, keeping his eyes locked on hers and ignoring the urge to look everywhere but.
"Good." She stood from her chair and pulled him up by his cravat, so their faces were only a few inches apart. "Give me a few moments to change into something…more comfortable." She pulled the cravat with the last word and it fell loose, Ruining the ten minutes Connor had spent trying to tie the bloody thing. She hurried upstairs, and winked at him before disappearing over the edge. Connor wasted no-time in snatching the statue and hurrying out the back door, his heart pattering so fast in his chest he could hardly think.
~O~
I'm not the only one that gets weirded out when the Nobleman/woman proposition you "for a little fun" right? *Shudder* (Not to mention the age difference is appalling) and the fact that in Fable 3 their hanging out with Reaver doesn't help either… ;ಠ_ಠ No doubt there are some grammar/spelling mistakes -_-;;