The next morning the two men awoke from their slumbers and made their way to the armory to suit up. The snow on the mountain peaks shone in the morning light as Logvarine gazed on through the window. After he was suited up he waited for Nivard. Eventually he too exited the armory fitted in Iron armor and ready to go, Logvarine wore a hardened leather armor set covered by a black robe with an accompanying hood. They sharpened their weapons on the grind stone, and went to the court yard.
They sat with Logvarine's father for a while at a table outside and ate, and then he tried to tell them their reason for being here.
"You are already finished your physical training so to speak, but-!" Logvarine, impatient as always, slammed his fist down on the table. Warnarn didn't look pleased.
"Stop toying around father. What are we here for?" asked Logvarine.
"Don't you have something to ask him first Log'?" said Nivard whilst sipping on a bottle of mead.
"Oh yes, you're right." He spoke turning to his father, "We need to talk about our… not so Dunmeri heritage." Warnarn let out a long sigh and then said:
"I'll give you the short version. As far as we can trace our history back, our first known relative was named 'Logvar' a Nord name as he was raised by a nord family after he was orphaned as an infant. No one ever found out who his real parents were, or where he was born. He is your namesake Logvarine. Logvar plus the title of Nerevarine roughly translating to 'Logvar reborn'. He served as a spy and soldier for Tiber Septim, who is now known as Talos, and so we have served the true empire faithfully for over one thousand years."
"I doubt this is the true empire anymore, the Thalmor have messed things a bit." Nivard spoke. Logvarine sighed in agreement.
"Well, on to business." Warnarn said. "We need to give you powers and tools worthy of Dragons."
"Father, you don't truly believe that we are Dragonborn, do you?" his father rubbed his eyes and forehead.
"That dream… it felt real, like I was there, and you're voice affirmed it. So yes, I do truly believe that you two and your brother are Dragonborn." Logvarine began looking around.
"Where is your other son, father." He said with a hint of unhidden disdain.
"Your brother is off getting his own blessings." Replied Warnarn.
"…Blessings?" spoke a now nervous Nord. Warnarn turned to his son's friend.
"Tell me, are you afraid of Daedra Niv'?" he asked with a raised brow.
"I eat Daedra for breakfast." The man shook his head.
"No, no. I mean do you fear meeting Daedra… and working WITH them maybe?" a bun was half way to Nivard's mouth when he stopped and set it down.
"Sir… what are you planning?"
"Watch this." He whispered. He pulled his right sleeve up and began making a painful looking face. Suddenly his arm started to grow fur and his forearm extended, the bone literally stretched, as his hand shaped into a claw. Nivard was taken aback. Logvarine was unfazed.
"You… can have… this power…"
Within two days they had arrived at a shrine in the middle of the woods just around twelve o'clock in the morning. It wasn't a large shrine as it simply had two benches and a statue of a man. The man had a deer head in place of his own with two large stag horns sticking out of it. He held a spear in one hand and the leash of a dog in another. As they approached, the worshippers of the shrine moved to the side and bowed their heads toward Warnarn.
"Chosen of Hircine," spoke an Imperial, "You have returned."
"With gifts." Warnarn pointed at the large sack that was on his back.
"Approach the shrine, and place your offerings." The imperial gestured with both hands toward the statue. They made their way over to the statue of the deer man and Warnarn placed his knapsack on the ground. A purple, blue and black portal opened in front of them and a spectral figure appeared before them through the opening, the same figure that was represented in the statue. Nivard stepped back.
"My Prince Hircine," spoke Warnarn as he kneeled down. The rest of the worshippers kneeled down as well so the boys decided to follow soon after. "I bring you gifts, and a proposition."
"What is it, my chosen?" spoke hircine in a very demanding omnipotent voice. Warnarn reached into his sack and pulled out five wolf pelts, and four bear pelts.
"I would ask of you a favour, Hunt master."
"You impress me, ask away."
"These two men I have with me, one is my son, and one is the son of a friend who is also under your power," he stood up, "I wish for you to give them… the same power." There were whispers amongst the crowd. Hircine crossed his powerful arms and looked up at the moons.
"I… suppose I could, do they realize what that entails, that they would have to serve me in death? Do they understand the hunger that it will instill within them?" Spoke the ghostly figure. Logvarine stood up and approached the Prince. Warnarn wanted to tell him not to step forward like that, but it was his decision.
"He explained it on the way here, my Lord." Logvarine said as he bowed forward. Warnarn had a concerned look on his face and Nivard looked like he was sweating off a few pounds. Hircine walked closer towards him until they were almost touching, Warnarn was sweating hard now.
Hircine certainly looked like a spectre, but when he reached out and grabbed Logvarine's jaw he certainly felt just as real as the ground beneath them. The Prince shifted the boy's face from the right to the left and back again, examining him like a piece of meat. He released the boy and stepped back slightly.
"You have the makings of one of my loyal guardians; the wolves." Hircine stamped the bottom of his spear into the ground. "Do you wish to be one of my guardians, hmmm?" Logvarine just stared at him for a few moments.
"Yes, I would be honoured, Lord Hircine." Logvarine said. The prince placed his hand against Logvarine's chest and the dunmer's eyes opened wide and rolled back in his skull as he gasped for breath. Nivard had a look of utter disgust on his face, while Warnarn was simply complacent. Logvarine fell to the ground heaving his breaths. His forearms began to extend as well as his snout, fur was growing everywhere and his muscles grew bulky. His nails morphed into long sharp black claws and his teeth grew sharp. His eyes turned yellow and they stood out against his jet black fur. His clothes remained on, though they were on the verge of ripping. He fell to his feet and looked upwards, howling at the moons. He turned to the group of people and went to lunge, but his father was on him and with a single swift punch Logvarine was out cold.
"I see great things in his future," spoke Hircine, "give him your ring." Warnarn looked at him with surprise.
"My Lord, I…"
"Do as I command and give him my ring." Hircine demanded. Warnarn looked down to see that Logvarine was already back to normal. His father took a silver colored ring off of his own right hand and slipped it onto his son's finger.
Hircine turned to Nivard, who swallowed hard. "You… are a nord." He said softly, "You are already strong… you could be one of my most fearsome hunters; the werebear!" Nivard had heard stories from his father of the werebears; they were monstrous beings that terrorized the Nords of Skyrim and devoured the flesh of men and mer. The idea terrified him at first.
"You… you think I could… could be a… w-werebear?" said the nervous nord. Hircine made his way over to him and grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet.
"I do not lie. You simply need to devour your fear." He pressed his hand against the boy's chest and the same horrible wrenching pain spread throughout his body. His muscles grew to five times their regular size and he grew a coarse brown fur all over his body. His hands looked similar to Logvarine's, with long claws, but the pads of a bear's paw on his fingers and palms. His snout became larger and his eyes yellow, his armor was starting to bend when Warnarn clocked him in the jaw.
"More warning please," said Warnarn as he breathed heavily. "Next time."
Hircine simply laughed.
"They will sleep where they lay tonight, to realize the comfort of nature, as is my will." The Daedric prince grabbed the furs and disappeared back into nothing. Warnarn sighed and then took a spot on the bench.
When they awoke in the morning, the sun shining in their faces and the green grass on their backs, their heads were pounding with a disorienting pain. Logvarine got up and went over to his father who was lying on the bench. "Today we go to the shrine of Nocturnal." He said.
"We already serve one daedric lord, why serve another?" his father crossed his arms and shook his head.
"Power Logvarine, Power."
"Won't they get mad if we devote ourselves to anyone other than them?" Logvarine asked.
"Not if you give the right incentive, or simply ask with a smile." Warnarn answered as he spread a smile across his aged face.
When they had arrived at Nocturnal's shrine, no one was anywhere to be seen, no worshippers, just dead trees.
"We are here." Said Warnarn. The statue of Nocturnal stood above all else in the swamp, two ravens sitting on her arms.
"Nocturnal," he kneeled down, "Hear my voice. I was made an honorary Nightingale by you some time ago, and I would like to make the same pact thrice." A purple black anomaly appeared in front of the statue and it moved and vibrated as she spoke.
"Warnarn, I have been watching your son with great anticipation…" she continued, "You think these two could offer me something when they are already bound to Hircine as his hounds."
"I know they can, I only wish for you to give them the power of an Honorary Nightingale, not a full-fledged member." He spoke "They could spread the wrath of the Nightingales and the Thieves guild, while using your power; you would only gain from this." She stayed silent for a time, and then she spoke with resounding Eminence.
"I suppose I could give them such power… are you sure that the nord is able to stay hidden at all though?" Nivard just lowered his head.
"I will train him, when I am done he will be able to sneak with a cowbell tied to each limb." Nocturnal laughed in amusement.
"Hehe, fine, you are now the agent of shadow: Logvarine," it felt like a blanket was being placed over him, but there was nothing. "You shall be an agent of strife." She said pointing to Nivard.
"Thank you, Lady Nocturnal." Spoke Logvarine.
"Oooooooh, such manners. Walk always in the shadows young ones. And take these tokens of my affection." Two black hoods with face masks appeared out of thin air and then she was gone. Logvarine tore his own hood off of his head and adorned the new mask, Nivard did the same.
"Are you really going to train me?" asked Nivard.
"Of course, and it will be brutal."
"Great." He sighed "Now where are we off to?" Warnarn gave it some thought before speaking.
"I guess we are off to see Boethiah, he's always quite fun."
"What is your definition of "Fun"?" Nivard asked.
When they arrived at Boethiah's shrine, the worshippers were all dead; unsurprisingly.
"What in Oblivion happened here!?" asked Logvarine while leaning over a dead body.
"Probably killed each other, they do that often." It made sense; Boethiah was the Prince of Plots of murder and deceit, it was only right that his followers had all killed each other.
"I could see you approaching for miles…" spoke… one of the bodies.
"Lord Boethiah, it is good to hear from you again." The body got up off of the ground, its eyes were completely black. It hovered just above the ground like a puppet on strings.
"You seek more power?"
"No," spoke Warnarn, "I wish for my son to be your new champion." The body held no emotion as blood ran down its face, it was an imperial.
"I see, do you have my armor with you?" Warnarn reached into his backpack and revealed a large set of heavy ebony armor. "Aaah, the Ebony Mail is here, let him adorn it, I must fit it to him, I will also make it stretchable-!"
"Stretchable my lord?" spoke Logvarine. The body turned lazily to look at Logvarine.
"I know you are a werewolf, young flesh, you need it to stretch, or you would have to take it off in the middle of a battle." He laughed. Logvarine put on his armor and found that it was quite baggy. With a wave of the corpse's limp and bloody hand the armor fit snug to his curvature. "You will need matching boots and gauntlets I think…" out of thin air appeared two gauntlets and two boots, all of daedric design that fit nicely up against the armor. "Go now, and carry my words with you."
"I thank you, Prince Boethiah, it is more than I could have ever requested." Spoke Logvarine. The corpse smiled.
"Anything for my champion…" the carcass fell limp onto the ground and did not move again. Logvarine looked down at his new armor.
"How am I supposed to sneak in this father?" he asked. His father smiled.
"That's the beauty of it, it's enchanted," he said, "Try walking forward." Logvarine took a few steps forward, not a single sound was made by the armor.
"By the divines!" said Nivard, "That's amazing!"
"I can give your armor a similar enchantment Niv', as soon as we get you some better armor." Spoke Warnarn. Nivard smiled. Logvarine looked down again and realized that he was wearing the amulet of Talos his father had given him; he didn't remember putting it on…
