Author's Note: I'm sorry for the very (VERY) long absence. My laptop broke, and I had to go through the process of trying to get it fixed before eventually just having to get a new one.

Chapter 8: Packbrother

Farkas led Tyradus to Jorrvaskr once more. As they passed Breezehome, Tyradus spotted Kh'aaru leaning against the left side of the house, hooded. There was a look of seriousness on the Khajiit's face. After leading their way through the crowd in the plains district, they arrived at their destination.

Tyradus looked around as they entered. His father was nowhere to be found. The others looked at him with expressions indicating that they knew everything about him.

Farkas brought him down the stairs into the living hall. They turned right and went straight from there.

Kodlak crossed his arms as he saw the young Nord.

"So, you're Tyradus?" Kodlak took a long look at him, before looking down and stroking his beard. "Your father, Engar, has told me about you. You're angered by the fact that the Companions have been keeping our Lycanthropy a secret?"

"That's right, Kodlak. You shouldn't be werewolves in the first place, much less keeping it a secret. Now, I've seen you, so I'm leaving to find a cure at the College."

"Boy, I'm afraid that there is no cure for Lycanthropy. At least, not yet. Honestly, I myself have been... trying to find a cure."

"You just don't appreciate the gift..." Farkas scoffed.

"Quiet, Farkas," Tyradus shot him a dirty look.

"Yes, I've been trying to find a 'cure', but there are other things on my mind. There is a group who knows about our secret, and is determined to bring us down. They call themselves the Silver Hand. I've been too busy worrying about them to look into the rumors of this Lycanthropy alleviation, and I simply don't have a strong enough group to take them down. But, if you were to join us..."

"But, sir, you can't be serious..." Farkas wore an agitated look on his face. "This kid probably doesn't even know how to fight. He's lived most of his life in Cyrodiil!"

"Yeah, as an adventurer!" Tyradus proudly replied. Farkas glared at him.

"Kid, I bet you can't name a single creature you've killed that I haven't."

"You ever fought a Land Dreugh? How about an ogre?"

Farkas scowled. He hadn't fought either of those, not even in his trips to Cyrodiil.

"That's enough, Farkas," Kodlak raised a hand to him. "Look, how about I let you test his mettle? Take him out back, and test him. I'll let him prove his worth to you personally."

"Accepted," Farkas chuckled smugly. He turned to Tyradus. "You think you can take me, Tyraducks?"

"Tyradus..." He corrected. "And yes, I'd be glad to put you down! And, as for you, Kodlak, I'll gladly join the Companions once I finish with Farkas. At least, if that means I can cure the ailment.

Kodlak let out a slight laugh. "He's got a fire in his heart, that's for sure."

Tyradus followed the big man out into the back.

"I guess I'll see you later," Farkas glared. "...In Sovngarde." He drew his iron greatsword.

"I was about to say the same to you!" Tyradus drew his small glass blade.

"You plan on defeating me with that puny weapon?"

"I don't see why not."

Tyradus swung his blade in a horizontal attack. Farkas raised his weapon and blocked the blow, before delivering his own. Tyradus tried to step back and dodge the strike, but it was too late to move. The greatsword dug a gash on Tyradus's left shoulder.

Tyradus winced as the blood soaked a part of his robe. While Farkas recovered from the recoil of his attack, Tyradus quickly applied a weak Restoration spell to his shoulder. It didn't reduce the pain, but the bleeding lightened considerably.

The young Nord looked back up, just to see the Companion readying another attack. Farkas swung his weapon upward.

"You aren't taking me out that easily!" Tyradus shut his eyes, grabbed his sword with both hands and thrust forward. He heard the piercing of armor and felt the tearing of flesh. He opened one eye to see that he had stabbed Farkas, straight in the chest. The Companion stood there, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

Tyradus removed his blade. The cut was only a few inches, thankfully. The young Nord didn't aim to kill.

"Ready to accept me, yet? Or, do I need to show you more real Nord strength?!

In less than a day's time, Farkas's wound was treated. Not healed, but treated. Farkas brought him back to Kodlak.

"So, how did the newcomer fare against you, Farkas?"

"Well enough, I'd say. I guess that I'll accept him as a... Pack brother. At least, if you do, Kodlak."

"Pack brother?" Tyradus gave Farkas a questioning look. "You mean, Companion?"

"Those are just the normal members. The members of the Circle are referred to as Pack brothers, at least by other Circle members."

"I guess I never knew that Circle was a code word for 'Daedra worshiping cult.' At least you've hidden it well.

"There's not much time left," Farkas said, ignoring Tyradus's smug remark. "I've already informed the others of your induction. Your Blood Ceremony will take place tonight. As a half-blood, you aren't truly a Werewolf. You will become a full one once the Ritual is performed."

"Who said that I wanted to become a full-blooded Werewolf? My Lycanthropy is what I plan to rid myself of."

"Maybe so, but it will benefit you while your time as a beast remains. You will become stronger, both in Nord form and Beast form. Werewolves also can't catch any diseases. Besides, you won't have access to the cure if you aren't a full member of the Circle."

Tyradus closed his eyes and sighed. "Fine, then. Let's get this over with."

As night approached, the members gathered in the Underforge. They prepared everything for Tyradus's arrival and induction.

"This way," Farkas pointed at the secret entrance.

Tyradus walked in, startled to see a Werewolf gathered around the other members. His father was there as well, with a stern look upon his face.

"Don't worry," Vilkas chuckled. "It's only Aela." He took out his sword and grabbed the arm of the werewolf. He cut Aela's wrist, letting the blood drip out into a small cauldron, sitting atop a stone column.

"Now, drink the blood of a beast, and become a full-fledged member of the Circle."

Drinking blood? Though he had done it before because of his Vampiric transformation in the past, the idea still sickened him. He pulled up his sleeve and dipped his hand in the dark, thick liquid. As quickly as he could, he threw the handful back.

Immediately he felt a pulsing in his muscles. It was happening again. He transformed.

Tyradus roared in completion of his change. The beast took a quick look at his father, before darting away without even a glance at the others. The second he came out of the underforge and into the central square of Whiterun, guards were upon him. The werewolf threw to guards aside before grabbing a third and sinking his fangs into the man's throat. He lapped up the gushing blood and howled with triumph.

Tyradus pinned another guard up against Gildergreen. As he began to tear out the man's chest with his claws, he felt a painful sting in his left soldier. It felt like an arrow, but was smaller and struck deeper. He looked up to see a hooded Khajiit atop the wall of Whiterun, holding a crossbow. It was the one person he could recognize, no matter what he had become. Though his own blood lust and confusion hazed his mind, Tyradus couldn't stop himself from staring at Kh'aaru.

The Khajiit leaped down from the wall, landing perfectly on his feet. He fired one more shot at Tyradus before beginning to run toward the main gate.

The bolt struck into Gildergreen's thick bark, just barely missing Tyradus's snout. The beast howled angrily as he began to pursue his brother on all fours. The Khajiit looked back to see the monster chasing him and smiled. It was exactly what he had intended.

Tyradus jerked awake. He could tell that it was midday. He looked down to see that he was wearing robes, but not the ones he had transformed in.

"Awake, finally?" He heard Aela behind him.

"Yeah, now." Tyradus's head throbbed.

"So, how was your transformation?"

"Unbearable... I couldn't control myself, but I could see and feel everything I was doing. I felt the blood of innocents on my hand, I-"

"Look, don't overreact. It happened to all of us. Besides, you'll learn to control your beast form over time. Now, if you're done complaining, we have work to do."

"I just have one question... Where did I get these robes?"

"Well, since yours were destroyed when you transformed, we gave you new ones."

"All that work I put into the enchantment... I should've thought about this..." Tyradus let out a long sigh.

"Does your stupid magic effect really matter at this point in time?"

"Tell that to all of the human souls I used perfecting that enchantment."

"Would you just shut up for a few minutes? This is where your first assignment begins!" Aela pointed at a huge tower to the east of them. "That's a Silver-Hand base. We're going to raid it, and defeat their leader, Krev the Skinner. I don't think I need to tell you why they call him that."

"I think the fact that he's a Werewolf hunter makes it clear enough."

"Good. Now, let's get moving. Skjor is already inside.

As they entered, they immediately saw the heads of many werewolves mounted on spikes. Blood dripped to the ground, indicating that they were somewhat fresh. The stench of death filled the air.

Tyradus stopped and buried his nose in his elbow. Aela, ahead of him, beckoned him on. He held his breath and followed. As they walked down a short passage, Tyradus heard a voice.

"Stop!" Tyradus whispered to Aela. She looked at him and nodded. He heard the voice again.

"It must've been one of those damn Companions!" They heard a man shout.

A female replied, "Don't worry about it. Even if that monster gets all the way through, Krev will take care of it."

Tyradus took a step forward to see the two heavily-armored Nords standing over the dead body of an Orc. They looked weak enough for him to take on by himself. He raised one of his hands and signaled to Aela. "Stay here, I'll handle them."

"I hope you're right. If the skinner is killed, then we're finished. He's the strongest that we got."

"Whether or not Krev is killed, you're finished."

"Wha-" The woman didn't even get a chance to turn around before blood shot out of her lower body, along with the edge of a glass blade.

She dropped, and the man saw Tyradus with a smug look on his face. "So, would you care to be next? Or, do you feel like running? I could use a little target practice with my magic."

"That's some practice you'll never get the chance to take, beast!" The Silver-Hand reached for his sword, but a gout of flames hit his face before he even reached the hilt. He fell to his knees and cried out in agony. Tyradus effectively silenced his shrieking by giving the man a blade to the chest.

"Nice job," Aela commented. "You killed them without even taking a scratch."

"That's just the way I like it. I'd rather not sustain life-threatening injuries every time I get into a fight. Now, come on, we should catch up with that Skjor person."

They made their way through the rest of the Silver-Hand base without much trouble. They took care of every Silver-Hand member they saw, and ignored the feral werewolves that were imprisoned in the tower.

Just before they rounded the final corner, Aela stopped.

"This is where Krev the skinner should be. I've no doubt that it'll be him and at least seven or eight other werewolf hunters."

"Doesn't sound too difficult. Seeing how weak the other members were, I doubt it'll prove to be much of a challenge."

"I wish you were right, Tyradus. Now, come on, attack!"

Aela drew her steel dagger and Tyradus his glass sword. They charged into the room, where the Silver-Hand were ready for them. Tyradus charged directly toward the one at the center, who he knew to be Krev the Skinner. The Orcish warrior smiled and prepared to swing a silver greatsword. It was an attack he knew that his Nord opponent would walk right into.

Tyradus opened his eyes wide. He didn't notice the attack before it was too late; the Orc was rushing back toward him at great speed.

Three words suddenly echoed in Tyradus's mind: Tiid Klo Ul.

What the...?

His mind raced back to the day he nearly died in the fighter's guild.

The Khajiit kicked him down, and stood over him with a dagger in hand.

"Shouldn't have tried to play the hero!" The bandit shouted as he clutched the handle. He prepared to give the final blow.

That's when it had happened: three strange words appeared in his mind. He felt urged to say them.

"FUS RO DAH!" The next thing he knew, the bandit was off of him, and Tyradus had won the fight.

His instincts saved him once before, he had to trust them again. He shouted the words aloud.

"TIID KLO UL!" Tyradus opened his eyes. Everything was slowed, as if time was stopping. Tyradus saw his chance and took it. Before the skinner's blade made contact, Tyradus plunged his own into the Orc's stomach. He heard a long scream and blood splashed over his hand, as the slowing of time ended. He felt his enemy struggle for a few more seconds before finally falling limp. Tyradus slid the glass blade out of the body, feeling victorious.

The feeling didn't last long. Immediately, more Silver-Hand were upon him. He did his best to defend, but he took blow after blow from all sides. He knew that Aela could not help him, as he heard her struggling against her own opponent.

One of his aggressors knocked the weapon from Tyradus's hand. The Nord struggled to gain the concentration needed to cast a spell. As one of his attackers prepared to end the fight with an axe strike, Tyradus cast Flame Cloak. He shut his eyes as he heard his enemies shout while their skin boiled. He dispelled the fiery outfit when he heard the smoking bodies of the Silver-Hand hit the ground. He opened his eyes and saw Aela, standing over something.

"Aela?" Tyradus asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Th- they killed..." She stuttered. "They killed Skjor."