The ground sped past beneath her as she ran. He paws propelled her forth at inhuman speeds. The smell of the blood on her claws mingled with the smell of her own. The mixed odor urged her forward. Hunt. Kill. Consume.
Aela tossed and turned on her bed roll. Her eyes darting back and forth beneath her lids.
Her prey turned to face her, terror in its eyes. The stag shewed bravery and swiftness. It had wounded her and nearly got away, a worthy prey for a worthy huntress. She howled as the stag went from scared to resolute. It decided to make a last stand… a worthy prey indeed.
Fur started to extend from the small hairs across Aela´s body.
The stag charged, mimicking the attack which succeeded earlier. The huntress knew better this time. Dodging the attack, she banked low and shot up. Her teeth sank deep into its neck, its blood seeping into her maw. Her bloodlust spiked as she began to devour the stag. Before beginning her feast, she used a claw to pierce its heart, giving it a quick death.
Aela lay in the fetal position as fur covered her body and her form began to contort. Despite her change, the argonians lying in the tent next to her did not stir. Becoming conscious of the change, Aela hurled herself from the tent shredding it slightly. As her transformation reached its end, the huntress sprinted through the forest, gaining some distance before pausing. The moon was waning, but still she howled. She must hunt. The great Alpha beckoned her.
She caught sight of a great stag, much like the one from her dream. Yet, this one stood taller, stronger with and aura of regality about it. It stomped and beckoned her daring her to follow. She obliged. She gave chase. The hunt passed much like her dream, and her bloodlust finally subsided as she devoured the great beast, the real prey of greater worth then the dream. Aela walked about the glade she had finished her hunt in. She had lead her argonian companions through most of the rift. The trio had wearied themselves with the distance they covered. The next day would see them reach the western border of the Rift.
The werewolf sat back on her haunches for a moment, thinking. She shouldn´t leave her companions alone. Motioning to head back a great light arose from the carcass of the stag. At first, an ephemeral likeness of the stag appeared before her. It nodded at her in approval and dematerialized into a glowing mist as it shifted closer to her, hovering across the cool and shadowed forest glade. When the light took shape once more, the great Alpha stood before her.
"Well done my child," the great wolf before her spoke into her mind, nuzzling her as he did so, "Of all my children, you are one of my greatest… my huntress…" He sat back on his own haunches examining his prized daughter.
"My prince Hircine," Aela said showing her neck submissively. Her heart pounded in her chest. She had rarely seen the daedric prince of the hunt since she and the companions had crossed him. The freed Kodlak´s spirit. Though weary of the hunt in his soul, Kodlak´s wolf spirit never waned. Its demise had angered the daedric prince. Compounding this, after all other companions had departed. The Dragonborn had severed his connection to the Lord of the Hunt. Aela had held some resentment towards Arthur herself for his decision, being his sire in the wolf blood. Yet, he lead the companions valiantly and lacked no battle prowess, possessing the soul of a dragon as he did. This lead her to be his shield sister. They had grown close through the journey to slay Alduin. This too irked the daedric prince. For all the trouble they had caused him, he had yet to act against them or call the great hunt.
"My child, do you know why I beckoned you this evening? The moon is not even full," The great white wolf before her cocked his head in feigned curiosity, "I don´t need to explain the gravity of your wayward brother´s actions do I? I want my dragon." The last words were said through bared teeth, and Aela swallowed deep.
"I cannot speak for him," Aela thought respectfully, continuing her display of submission, "I've offered him the beast blood once more, but he has always rejected it." Hircine growled causing Aela to tense up. The great wolf let out a sigh.
"It is good you remember who is in charge, but do not be afraid. You are my prized huntress," The great wolf stood and walked to the opposite side of the glade, "The worst I would do is call you to hunt him." Aela´s heart seemed to stop. "Oh, don´t worry, he wouldn´t die. I would turn him and oversee his transformations directly."
"When will I see you next, my prince?" Aela hoped to see how close to that decision her prince was.
"Soon," then with a howl to pierce the night, the daedric prince Hircine vanished in a cloud of white mist. The tension passed and the bloodlust diminished, Aela released herself from the beast. She could feel her body change. The hair receded from her body as it restored itself to humanity. Her trek back to camp did not take long.
She surveyed the camp with a sigh of relief. Both Argonians slumbered peacefully as when she had left. She mentally noted to scold Talen-Jei about his responsibility when keep watch. That was for tomorrow though, she would keep the remainder of the watch tonight. Already the night had faded to twilight.
As she sat alone, she thought about Arthur. His ability to anger daedric princes scared her. He spurned the gift, nay, the affection of Hircine. She surprised herself by the word choice, but it was fitting. The Lord of the Hunt relished in what are had become. Yet, after slaying his own wolf-spirit. He lead the companions on a quest through the ancient world of the Dwemer. He created for himself a crown to make him blind to the Lords of Oblivion and resistant to their touch. During that quest, he managed to anger both Namira and Molag Bol. He should be a dead man walking.
She chuckled humorlessly to herself. He was more than a man. He'd been to Sovrngarde and back. He mulled over those memories until the sun rose on the horizon's edge. The brilliant colors of the dawn played into her reminiscing, reminding her of the bright lights which illuminated the immoral landscape of the Nord paradise. She came to understand when Kodlak had long to dwell there. She remembers being barred from the Halls of Valor. Belonging to Hircine, she waited until her shield-brother emerged from Shor's Halls with heroes of old. He lived up to the legend. Sunlight now illuminated the entire glade, and Aela rose to her feet. Time to get the group moving.
Merlin walked in the dim underworld of the lost Dwemer, Blackreach. His quarry should be within the Silent City. The chase was nearly over. Around him, tall luminescent mushrooms provided sufficient light for the path added to the still functioning street lamps of the dwemer. He paused and looked at one. Should Camlorn rise, he had no doubt his king-to-be would permit research into dwemer technology to enrich his future kingdom. Merlin sighed. So, much work to do before the dawn.
His trek was over. Before him, a ramp led up into one of the few pristine remaining dwemer cities. He took in the site. A wall encompassed the city round about. Towers soared up from different areas in the city, but the greatest attraction came from what he dubbed the Sun Orb. It filled much of the surrounding area with a dull orange light that flooded the city before him. He leaned on his staff, the Azura's Rod. A gift from the goddess he served as a youth, it would be his instrument to avert the catastrophe before it began. Arthur would end the Civil War, and he would prevent the Third Wave. At least, that was the plan. The last two had been orchestrated by only one party, but now they arrayed themselves against half of Oblivion. Mortals defying gods of change and chaos. Surely, bards would sing of their deeds throughout the golden era. Should they succeed.
Merlin stroked his slim black beard, breaking his reverie. A small mustache adorned his azure face, and his black eyes. He entered the long dead city of his people. He wandered the streets marveling at the large structures. Suddenly, falmer set upon him. Thankfully, they had no archers. Merlin cast a mage armor spell as he mentally berated himself for his foolishness. Darting back from the advancing enemies, he summoned two storm atronachs. These golems of lightening and stone halted his advancing foes. Summoning a bound blade, Merlin joined them in the fray. The malformed creatures fell before them. Merlin glanced up to see a falmer spellcaster point his chitin staff at him. Dropping his conjured sword, Merlin cast a ward. Steadfast, his shield kept the thunderbolt a bay. Charging his own staff, the lighting which had assaulted his shield jumped to the grand soul gem atop Azura's Rod. Eventually, the falmer stopped his magical assault and cast a ward as Merlin returned the spell with twice the force. The force was great enough to give a small rumble of thunder which echoed across the underground realm. The falmer's ward broke, and the Merlin's spell left only a pile of ash.
"So much for secrecy," Merlin said with a sigh. Soon, every falmer in this dark world would charge him, unless he scared them off. Such was the decision of the remaining falmer, but they'd likely return soon with greater numbers. "Let's be quick about it then." He cast a detect life spell, only to find nothing. Altering the exact nature of it, he cast a detect magic spell aiming it at the staff. He had begun charging it again after the first spell failed, and when he unleashed it he could immediately sense the strong daedric magic coming from the debate hall. He hurried toward the large structure.
Merlin opened the massive dwemer doors. Pale light greeted him from the archaic lanterns, accompanied by the hissing of steam. He scanned around the room. Around a ledge, rows of stone benches were covered in blood, bodies, and…cheese. He nearly vomited, refraining. His eyes darted looking for his quarry. His eyes settled upon a man sitting smug on the ledge near a back corner. Besire him, the staffs of terrible power orbited an orb of light: the Skull of Vermina, the Sanguine Rose, and the Wabbajack.
"You truly are persistent, you know?" the nord mocked, "It's getting really annoying." Not waiting for another word, Merlin charged the strongest lighting spell he had while prepping his staff. "Wow, you're—" The man dodged the massive lightning bolt which would've incinerated him. The bolt hit the stone behind him and left it charred and smoking from the heat. "…impatient. If that how you want to be," the man brought up the Sanguine Rose and summoned a draemora. With a two handed sword, it charged him. With a stone-skin spell, Merlin endured the blows, summoning a bound blade to return blows with the oblivion spawn.
Surprisingly, Merlin managed to dispatch his enemy, but in the final blow, he saw a bolt of violet light strike him. He felt no pain, but he felt something leap out of him. Turning from the fallen demon, Merlin saw a shade of himself. It even carried a ghostly version of Azura's Rod. He silently cursed. He summoned a bound blade and quickly moved to end the threat, lunging forward. The shade summoned a ward and reinforced it with his staff. The blade bounced off the magical wall. Despite the shield, Merlin stayed close. Altering the spell from a ward to a magical wall, the shade put distance between itself and Merlin. The true mage shrugged off the pain which afflicted his body and he pushed through the magical barrier. Reacting quickly, Merlin threw up his strongest ward, not having time to amplify it with his staff.
A surge of lightning shattered his ward and tore threw him. He yelled as the magical spell left him with several burns. Despite the pain, Merlin pulled out steel dagger he had at his side, jumping up at the shade. Putting a ward in front of itself, it stopped merlin inches away from its face. Reaching around the side beyond the ward, Merlin plunged the dagger into the back of the magical construct. The shade rapidly dissolved.
With a sigh of premature relief, a flash of violet burst to his right, and Merlin felt something soft where his staff should've been. He looked at his staff of cheese in dismay. The Mage of Madness charged up the Wabbajak once more aiming it directly at Merlin, but the half-deep elf opened a portal to the surface. As he stepped through, the an explosion of pots and pans propelled him forward. Stumbling he fell to his face before a trio, exhausted and now unconscious.
Aela was having a hard time believing what she had seen. Stopping the group abruptly at the sight of a portal, an elf unlike she had ever seen stumble through preceding an explosion. A cup had annoyingly bounced off her helmet. She eyes the stranger over. He looked exhausted and had a couple of burns. The simple black robes he wore had several tears. The oddest thing of all was the staff he carried. It was made of cheese. Whatever kind of cheese it might be, it looked very unappetizing lying in the dirt like it was. They sat the elf up and laid his odd staff against the tree behind him.
"What should we do with him, land-strider?" Talen-jei asked.
"Well, the days is late. If we change course now we could stop at a village nearby," Alea responded. "We'll take him with us." Aela surprised herself with these last words. She had to keep these two safe and get them to White Run as soon as possible, but something moved her heart to compassion. She pondered if this was Arthur's influence or perhaps Mara cast her motherly eyes up on the elf.
The sun had long since slipped behind the Throat of the World as Ivarstead came into view. The odd bunch (a weird elf, two argonians, and a nord) received wary and distrustful looks from the town person. Yet, they recognized Aela the Huntress. While infuriated with Arthur's decision at the war council preceding Alduin's demise, they nonetheless respected (feared) this legendary member of the Companions. Their group would enjoy their stay here unmolested.
They settled down for the night in two rooms at the local inn. The Argonians shared one, while Aela took the other with the elf. He remained unconscious. Aela had claimed the bed opposite to him, listening to his steady breathing. She enjoyed the soft bed beneath her, but she dreaded the night to come. When had that happened? She used to enjoy the dream of the hunt. She was the Huntress after all…was. Arthur, damn you! She thought to herself exasperated. Releasing a sigh, her blood ran cold.
"Arthur," the unconscious elf practically groaned, "I'm sorry. I…I failed." The elf fell silent again. Aela sat up and eyes the stranger with deep suspicion. Then, far in the distance a great wolf howled.