The Hall of the Vigilant was silent, and other Vigilants were sitting among the benches, recuperating from their battles and finsing peace and solace. Vigilant Tolan peered over the frustrated Keeper's shoulder to view the document she held in her hands. Keeper Carcette was unimpressed that night, having received Krev's mocking missive. "Vicious scumbags!" She exclaimed with utter contempt upon clearing the document.
Moric Sidrey, who sat adjacent to the Keeper, crossed his arms. "I don't think we should play around with this one. Krev is a man of his word; at least when it comes to things like this. Make no mistake; if we don't respond, he will skin her alive."
The Keeper clenched the rolled-up parchment in her fist, crumpling it beyond recognition.
"He's challenging you, Keeper Carcette." Tolan sneered. "The coward! He would capture Cura and use her as a means to frame our organization as weak. No doubt they want funding from the Jarls. What better way to get it than to loose the only Daedra-hunting competition, eh?"
"I will round up some of our men, and some in Whiterun. Come midday, we will take the fight to the Silver Hand." Carcette determined.
"Wait, Keeper!" Moric exclaimed. "Isn't that a little bit drastic? Perhaps this is exactly what he wants."
"They aren't known for their cleverness." Carcette reminded him. "Their harsh brutality, yes. Their cunning, no. Tolan is right; this is a ploy to discredit our organization, and poor Cura was caught in the middle. I will rescue her, in spite of everything. We have to show these pretenders that the Vigil of Stendarr is not so easily mocked before the Cults in the region see fit to try and take advantage of us."
Tolan nodded, and stood up quickly. "I am with you, Keeper. Just say the word and I will find my warhammer a new sheath...in one of their skulls."
Several of the otherh Vigilants, save for Moric Sidrey, nodded in agreement at the notion. It was time that they stood up for themselves in the public eye. It would be a shame for all that tey've achieved to be turned into a joke.
"You're leaving for the South? You mustn't leave the Hall unattended, Keeper." Moric reminded the frustrated Breton as he took up his own mace.
This spurned Carcette, who turned to face him with a sneer. "Perhaps you could mind it in my stead, Moric. I won't be gone for half as long as you were."
She stormed out of the Hall, and several Vigilants, numbering fourteen and Tolan, followed her.
Moric sat in place, both angered by her comment, and forlorn in his thoughts. After all, he was in no position to argue.
When Carcette stepped outside, she gestured towards the Horses in the stable, and a Vigilant ushered a white horse with gray spots and a special white saddle and harness towards her. She quickly climbed on top of the horse, and the other Vigilants began to mount the other horses in the stable. Thanks to Cura's efforts, they had been able to afford more of them.
The Keeper was outraged by the sheer audacity the Silver Hand had. Not only were they responsible for infecting poor Cura with that curse to begin with, but they would go so far as to even use it as a means to discredit their entire organization. It was a despicable endeavour, and they were not going to take this lightly.
Stendarr's justice demands it.
After all. Cura meant a lot to them, and she had done much for their organization. To leave her there for death would be a horrific betrayal on their part, and none would so much as even entertain the idea.
Carcette whistled by putting her thumb and index finger in the corners of her mouth, and rushed down the hillside on her horse, and the other Vigilants, led by Tolan, followed suit in a procession of fury.
The Silver Hand members walked the halls, patrolling the general area as prison guards for the morning as Krev remained in his quarters, gently scalping the eyes out of the head of another Werewolf. He derived a sadistic pleasure as blood poured out from the sockets and dripped onto his hands. "Another one to add to my collection." Krev smirked. "They pay big coin for these, you know." He said to another member of the Hand, who stood by the nearby tanning rack, making leather from the abundance of fur.
"Let's hope Hircine provides us with more of them." the other warrior smirked with amusement. "We'll be wealthier than the Jarl of Solitude."
"Elisif? She's a mighty fine one." Krev's mind was filled with perverse delusions of the would-be High Queen on his lap. "I'd like to bend her forward on that table over there, you know what I mean?" He cackled.
The other Silver Hand laughed awkwardly. "I'm more of a Potema guy, myself, heh heh."
"The Wolf Queen? You trying to say something, Ogar?" Krev raised an eyebrow.
"I've always had a thing for the crazy ones." the Silver Hand finished tanning the leather, and he took it to the other side of the room and laid it flat on the table. "Sturdy. That's good. We could make some more armour outta this."
Krev nodded in agreement. "Silver and Gold is where it's at, my friend."
"And blood." the Silver Hand responded. "Or, like they say in the Reach, 'Blood and Silver'."
"We'll be able to buy more silver from Cidnha Mine." Krev informed him. "And then we'll make more weapons, kill more Manbeasts, and repeat the cycle in a larger scale. And people think we're Bandits. Heh. We're far more than Bandits."
"We're bandits with a service." The Silver Hand member chimed in, and the pair of them began to laugh.
The sun was nearing its Zenith, and Cura slowly began to stir in her cell. Her body ached, wracked with pain issued from her shattered ribs, pulsating by the beat of her heart. Blood sat on her chin and lower lip; runoff from her wounded lungs.
Cura's body was slowly trying to mend itself, but unlike anytime other in her life, the silver around her had weakened her, plied by exhaustion from her unwilling transformation. Six people. She killed six people with her hands. Not her hands exactly, but her wolflike, clawed hands. The thought made her cringe. Technically, though; it was not her fault; it was Hircine's. Since she had gotten that ring from Sinding, the thing hadn't left her hand. Strangely enough, she couldn't even remember putting it on to begin with.
An ache in her lower back caused a sharp chill to pass through her being for a moment. It had been a full day in the prison cell since her violent beating, and the Breton was only now beginning to recover, now that she was away from the silver. She stirred with a light, but audible grunt.
"Finally awake, are you?" Aela asked prudently as she scanned the outside of the cell for wandering Silver Hand members. "Enjoyed your beauty sleep, Vigilant?"
Aela's body had mended itself, as well, and the Huntress seemed more alive than the night before. Her condescension had only seemed to pick up, as evidenced by the venom that she spat out 'Vigilant' with.
"Aela..." Cura slowly pulled herself into an upright position, causing another twinge of pain which made her seethe. "Why did you give them my name?" She felt a little betrayed. She was aware of the Huntress' animosity towards her, but she thought she had a little more honour than that.
"They were beating you senseless." Aela spoke sternly. "I wasn't about to sit here and see another Companion butchered..."
A tear ran down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it off, her face quickly contorting into violent rage. "The bastards... somehow they managed to kill Skjor. He was one of the strongest we had, but numbers can overwhelm. He should not have come without me." She grit her teeth in heartbroken frustration as tears beaded in the corners of her eyes. "When we get out of here. I'm going to make sure we get every last one of them. You and I have work to do. The Silver Hand will tremble at our sight." Aela vowed as she turned to the wall beside her.
Cura was taken aback by the change in demeanour from the vicious Huntress.
"Damn it, this wasn't supposed to happen!" She slammed her fist against the stone wall with a loud scream of fury, releasing her sorrow on impact, causing Cura to flinch.
"You... really did love him, didn't you?" Cura asked sympathetically as she slowly leaned forward, adjusting her position.
Aela glared menacingly at her for an instant, causing the Breton to flinch once more, readying for a fight before releasing a mournful sigh. "I did."
Cura knew that she must have made the right choice concerning Vilkas, after all.
She gazed at the Ring of Hircine and attempted to pry the problem off her hand, but it seemed to be magically bonded to her now, in foul Daedric fashion.
When would it next activate? Cura feared it. She wanted this foul thing off as soon as possible.
"I'm sorry for your loss." Cura stated empathetically.
"Shut up. I don't need your dumb sympathies." Aela sneered, wrapping her hands around the bars, in attempt to feebly crush them in her wrathful grasp. To no avail, of course. "Gah! It's no use!" Aela snapped, punching the unmoving metal.
The ringing of the steel echoed through the stone hall as Aela pulled back her hand and quickly massaged her knuckles.
Cura stood up and began to pace the small cell in thought.
She would fight to the bitter end. If the Silver Hand was going to send pieces of her to Keeper Carcette, they'd have to sacrifice pieces of themselves, as well.
"I hate them all!" Aela shouted through gritted teeth.
A line that felt oddly familiar to Cura.
"They're wretched." Cura agreed. "The Keeper wasn't kidding about them."
"Hmph. Like the Vigil is any better." Aela's tone dropped.
"We are. Much." Cura excused the insult. "We may be extreme, I'll give you that, but we have faith. We have morals. We have a code of conduct. We are not just a group of killers. We do what we do for a reason, and that reason is to protect the innocent from the Daedric forces. Being a Werewolf, you surely know what you've done."
"I hunt animals and Bandits, mostly. Killing civilians would make less work for the Companions." Aela put it flatly. "And in your case, you've already gotten your first blood, so I suppose that makes you no better than me."
The blood in Cura's veins went cold momentarily. It was true. When she blacked out, she had slaughtered many of the Silver Hand members in that camp. A deep sense of guilt consumed the Breton, stifling her for the next while.
Aela looked at the disheartened Breton with a hint of pity. "Look, I'm sorry. I know it's not pleasant for everybody. You must be wracked with guilt about it."
Cura nodded. "Yes, that and other things I've done since my first departure from the Vigil." Indeed, she was no Saint.
At least not a Saint by Stendarr's standards. Perhaps the Dark Elves would like her; after all, they hailed a Skooma-addicted criminal who slaughtered an entire species of animal as a Saint, so why not?
Aela's curiosity was now piqued. With a string of mischief, herself, the Huntress had to wonder what the Vigilant did that was so abhorrent to her views beyond becoming a Werewolf.
She had spent most of her time avoiding the Breton, but she was beginning to feel that they may have more in common than she initially thought, and the thought amused Aela. She had no argument against Cura making for a good Shield-Sister, considering the praises Farkas threw her way, the way she had seen her handle that Giant outside of Whiterun hold, and the tales of how she had killed Dragons. That was a language she could speak.
Mild-mannered, naïve and idealistic, sure, but a fierce combatant just the same.
"We're going to get out of here." Cura spoke confidently as she approached the bars and glared out towards the hallways. "And we're going to give Skjor a proper burial. He doesn't deserve to be a head on a spike, even if he was a jerk at times." She could see that the Guards seemed to have gone on their break, and gestured towards Aela. "Coast is clear."
"Do you have any lockpicks?" Aela asked, distracted from her misery at the moment.
"No." Cura clicked her tongue in disappointment.
"I do." Aela smiled smugly as she dug in her breast armour, revealing a single hidden lockpick. A faint glint in her eye did show, however.
"You had that the entire time?" Cura questioned frustratedly. "Why didn't you pick the lock already?"
"I spent most of that time mourning Skjor." Aela noted her swollen red eyes. "Do you think I could focus, especially when they were all over the halls?"
"A fair point." Cura noticed that neither of them had access to anything that could substitute a weapon. "...If we get out, in theory, do you know where our weapons are kept?"
"In a chest down the hall." Aela gestured to her left as her back was poised against the wall in the back of the cell. "These fools really aren't that smart."
"Then we'll pick the lock and make a sprint for our arms." Cura strategized. "Then we'll fight through the lot of them."
"I like the way you think." Aela smiled. She reached around the bars and inserted the pick into the lock. The angle made the task far more difficult, and after a few moments of jimmying, the lockpick snapped in half; as did their hope of escape.
Cura looked on in silence. The time when the guards were occupied and their one chance to make a break for it was squandered.
Aela stood back and breathed out.
"I have an even better idea." she said, as she could feel a surge of primal energy slowly returning to her.
Cura immediately understood what she was hinting at, and stepped out of the way.
Aela began to increase in size, and shapeshifted into her Werewolf form, fur glistening orange as fire under the light.
With a loud roar, she grabbed the bars and began to bend them apart until they eventually snapped under the pressure. She tore them off the frame and burst through with a mighty snarl. Immediately she began to run down the hall, her energy regained, her wrath set in motion, and a vow she aimed to keep.
"They're escaping!" A voice off in the distance cried out in fearful exclamation.
Immediately, several armed warriors began to pour in from both ends of the Hall, effectively trapping the pair in the single hallway.
Cura tried to run, and a sharp pain hit her chest. She could feel the violent palpitations within her chest as the monster beckoned her once again from the abyss.
Not again!
Though, perhaps now was the best possible time, if there ever was one.
Cura decided not to fight it, and allowed the beast to emerge. Soon enough, the Silver Hand were dealing with two large and violent beasts: one orange, one white.
"We are routed! Fall back!" One of the members shouted as he and his allies took off running to no avail.
Aela, with all of her regained feral fury, leapt on top of one and began to viciously smash his head into the ground with violent smacks from her powerful clawed hands.
The ferocious white wolf, however, tore through several Silver Hands like a roaring demon, strewing body parts about the halls.
Aela, who was sentient, was shocked by Cura's sudden change in behaviour, and immediately realized that she wore the Ring of Hircine. The lost artifact that could allow them better control of their faculties-or drive them mad if they'd spurned the Daedric Prince. An easy assumption, given that Cura was a Vigilant of Stendarr.
Aela tore open the chest at the end and found their weapons within. She took Cura's mace and shield on her feral Shield-Sister's behalf, as the white wolf was busy tearing through the chests of Silver Hands in a carnal display.
The beast would have to run her course.
"Krev, it's an emergency!" one of the Silver Hands exclaimed as he rushed towards the Leader's quarters.
"There's no way that they've regaining their strength already." Krev grit his teeth as a sensation of horror and irritation manifested within.
"It has been 24 hours for the redhead, sir." The member informed, only confirming the anxieties.
"Then get the Silver Arrows! Cover me!" Krev demanded.
The Silver Hand rushed to the weapons rack and got his Hunting bow, and hurried to the nearby bloodsoaked table with a carved up Werewolf resting upon it, and pushed the bloody corpse off in order to retrieve the quiver of Silver Arrows.
"I must make my escape. Our group must live on!" Krev fled the area by the back door. It was clear that his bravado had sunk now that the wolves were unleashed. He could see his life flashing before his eyes like falling gold coins, He pried open the door at the end of the hall and pushed past several other Silver Hand members and hurried outside. "Broken Helm Hollow." He whispered to one of the Hands as he rushed past him on the way out.
The Silver Hand member nodded and quickly passed on the message to the ones on the floor with him, and they all began to evacuate the premises to hopefully avoid the carnage on the floors above.
When Krev reached the outside, there were Vigilants there in the field, headed towards Gallows Rock on horseback. They were led by Keeper Carcette and Vigilant Tolan, both of whom looked ready for bloodshed.
They had received his message, all right.
"Krev the Skinner." Vigilant Tolan sneered. "You think you could threaten our Vigil and get away with that?"
"You've picked a really bad time, Vigilants." Krev snorted a mild laugh at the prudent irony. "You've shown sooner than I'd expected, but that couldn't be more ill-timed."
"We don't intend to pay your ransom." The Keeper narrowed her eyes and the other Vigilants behind her drew their weapons. "We answer your barbaric practices with our barbaric practices."
"That's well and good, Keeper. You look gorgeous, by the way-" Krev cleared his throat. "-but you'd honestly do better to clear the field."
"And why would we do that, you fool?" Carcette tilted her head, unimpressed by his pathetic attempt at a compliment. "We've come to mete out justice. Give us back Vigilant Cura, or we'll destroy the lot of you." She lowered her warhammer to show him what was going to give him a facelift in a few moments.
Krev shivered lightly as a few of his men came running outside.
"Attack!" Tolan shouted, interpreting it as a mass onslaught. He raised his warhammer into the air, and other Vigilants readied themselves for a charge. The Silver Hand, who were grounded, were filled with a great sense of anxiety; being both outnumbered, and surrounded by foes. Werewolves behind them, and Vigilants ahead of them. They mentally cursed Krev for his stupid move.
Before the Vigilants could move, Carcette's horse began to whinny and go into a light panic. "What's gotten into you, Joile?" She pulled back the reins to balance on the alarmed equine.
Immediately, a large, white werewolf bursted through the metal door, knocking it off its hinges, where it had slammed into a Silver Hand member as he turned to see it coming, and it took his upper torso off his legs by force of impact.
"Werewolf!" a Vigilant cried out in alarm.
The Keeper's mouth flew open at the horrifying sight of the white-furred fiend coated in thick blood.
It couldn't be.
"You want your Cura? You can have her! Keep your coin!" Krev shouted as he began to flee. "I'm not dying this day!"
The Vigilants began to run towards the white werewolf, who was making short work of the Silver Hand members in the field, who were now fleeing in terror.
Vigilant Tolan was about to join the fight when Carcette cried out to him. "Tolan, no! Don't attack it!" She called out loudly. "Vigilants, fall back! Fall back, now!"
The white werewolf turned her gaze to the approaching paladins, and, holding a Silver Hand by his sundered collarbone, dropped him to the floor and roared loudly at them all, striking terror in their hearts.
"Aiyeee!" One of the Vigilants shouted as she quickly turned her horse around. The others began to scatter unthinkingly.
It was a display of their lack of preparedness. These Vigilants were clearly greenhorns when it came to fighting anything more than an Atronach or minor Vampire, True Daedric horror stared them in the face, from one of their own.
Krev continued to run through the fields, obscured by the distraction. Despite his reputation, he was really a coward. He only ever skinned the wolves; he never hunted them with less than forty men at his side before.
The Vigilants were at a moment of stagnance, where the White werewolf merely stared at them for some time, almost as if trying to remember them; to find any semblance of familiarity in these horrified faces before her.
The remaining Silver Hand members were maimed, and laying in the bloodied grass. The white werewolf had made short work of them, and the Vigilants feared they were next.
Keeper Carcette took a deep breath and slowly moved ahead, dismounting her horse.
"Keeper, be careful!" Tolan exclaimed as he quickly leaped off his own and held his hammer at the ready.
The werewolf stared at the slowly approaching Keeper blankly, much like an animal would stare at an approaching hunter or prey. The beast was in a moment of discernment.
"Is that you, Cura?" Keeper Carcette asked the monster before her as she moved forward with caution.
There was no answer, no glint of recognition, and no response to be had. She was truly speaking to an animal; not a person.
And this was when Carcette saw it. The Ring of Hircine on her left ring finger. It was Cura, surely, but this was not. This was the Daedric prince Hircine's doing.
"By Stendarr..." the Keeper spoke sadly, her voice breaking as she called the name of her god. "Cura, it's us! Please, you must break free of this!"
The werewolf began to growl, which caused the Keeper to quickly back away, and Tolan rushed to her side. From the closer inspection, he could see the carnage on display much better, and it sent chills down his spine.
The werewolf roared loudly and rushed forward to attack the pair of them, when suddenly an orange werewolf rushed out from the opened exit of the fort and leaped into the white werewolf by her side, knocking her over.
Carcette and Tolan quickly retreated backwards to their horses.
The two werewolves began to throttle each other and the white one created a deep gash in the side of the orange one, who bit down on her back.
The Vigilants of Stendarr were paralyzed in place, and confused at the display. A werewolf was protecting them from another werewolf.
Perhaps Cura was the orange one?
The two wolves violently rolled around in the grass, continuing to snap at each other, and then the white one was thrown off into the air. When she landed on the ground, she ran off into the hillside, and the orange one followed her down.
Tolan quickly rushed to the Silver Hands' corpses and marveled at the horror that could have become them. "Wow... that werewolf was one of the most violent I've ever seen... and I've hunted a few."
"W-we're supposed to contend with that?" One of the Vigilants asked, his voice trembling with terror. "We-we're just Human, Keeper!"
The Keeper said nothing. She seemed to be lost in time as she recounted everything that had occurred. And then it hit her. "Krev! Where is he?" She whipped around and looked around the fields. "Find that bastard!"
Immediately, the Vigilants began on horseback to scour the nearby area for any sign of Krev.
Carcette was out of breath, and Tolan approached her. "What does this mean, Keeper?"
"Cura approached me the other day... asking about the Glenmoril Witches. They're here in Skyrim." Carcette informed him. "She's become a werewolf against her will. The curse acted very quickly. She hadn't had time to acknowledge it before it took hold. I can only assume she may have stolen their Ring of Hircine and the Daedric Prince himself laid a curse upon it."
"Does this mean we're going on a witch hunt?" Tolan asked gleefully.
"Those witches are going to perish." Carcette assured him. "And the Silver Hand will diminish. They've been enough of a stain on this land. Justice demands it, as those who lead wicked, violent lives meet wicked, violent ends. I will go to Dragonsreach in person and explain the threat this organization holds to the Jarl. I hope that he could ban them from the Hold."
She lightly kicked her horse's sides. "Move, Joile!"
The Horse began to walk down the hillside, and Tolan followed her from the side.
Cura, the Keeper thought to herself. they will not get away with what they've done to you. I swear it!
"Keeper, what can you tell me about Magic?" a small voice spoke to her from behind.
A very young Cura tugged on the bottom of her robe as she stood before the Shrine.
"It's inherent to our people, Cura." she beamed proudly. "Magicka exists within all living races, but we Bretons are undisputedly the greatest there is when it comes to wielding it."
"Can I do magic?" the young Breton asked her.
"Of course you can. You'll just need to practice it." Carcette reassured her with a tender smile. "If you want, I can test you, see what you can do at this time."
"Yes! Yes!" the little Breton cheered happily.
The Keeper smiled. "All right. Close your eyes, and imagine a golden light. Imagine the gentle warmth from inside of you."
The young Breton closed her eyes and tried to concentrate hard, but only wound up frustrating herself. "Hnng!" She grimaced as she tried to force herself to feel the inner warmth that Carcette spoke of.
"You can't force it." Carcette stated. "It will come naturally."
Cura nodded and tried again. This time, though she could not find the inner warmth, a couple of golden sparks came from her fingertips. "Ugh! I can't do it!" Cura shouted in dismay.
"You can do it! Carcette encouraged her. "I saw the sparks of gold emerge! You came so close, Cura!"
"Why can't I just do it? Why is it so hard?" Cura was growing impatient.
"You need to look at it differently." Carcette comforted the disheartened child with a hand on her shoulder. "Don't look down upon yourself; how you managed to emit those sparks; use that same feeling to boost your confidence. You can't doubt it, because once you doubt it, it will never work."
"..." Cura was silent. She simply nodded, and closed her eyes once more. Confidence. Boldness.
She wanted to make the Keeper proud.
Cura pictured in her mind a golden flame, and suddenly, she began to feel a gentle warmth surround her.
"That's it, Cura! Wonderful!" Keeper Carcette exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Excellent work!"
Cura opened her eyes and began to look around. Nothing changed. "What?" She asked, confounded.
"You cast a Healing Spell." Carcette informed her. "A golden light surrounded you!"
"I didn't see it though..." Cura muttered.
Little did she realize it, but she had seen it, from within.
The Keeper went down on one knee before her and laid hands on her shoulders. "You've only just taken your first steps." She chuckled. "Someday, you'll be an even greater healer than I."
"No, you're the best there is!" Cura exclaimed, making the Keeper laugh.
"You're too cute." Carcette snickered as she slowly stood back up. "Now, go see Brother Adalvald. He has a story for you."
"Oh, yay!" Cura exclaimed as she ran off to see him, leaving the Keeper behind to continue her duties of prayer.
The Keeper smiled with amusement.
The white werewolf continued to run into the forest, where she slowly began to shift back into her Human form. She fell to her knees and began to gasp for air.
The orange werewolf rushed a few feet ahead of her, and shifted back into the familiar form of Aela the Huntress. "Wow... you are a fierce creature, indeed!" Aela exclaimed in near disbelief.
Cura began to tear up again. "Please... tell me I didn't kill anyone..."
"Just some of the Silver Hand." Aela stated. "I killed the majority of them, but I fear some of them escaped."
Cura knew it. She could see the trail of blood she had left. She cursed herself and the Daedric ring. She needed to be rid of it, once and for all.
"The Vigilants showed up." Aela informed Cura, which snapped her into a small trance of anxiety. She feared what she was about to be told.
"Please, no..." Cura muttered.
"I think your Leader did, as well. Is she a blonde woman?" Aela asked.
"I don't want to hear this-" Cura choked down a sob. "Please, don't tell me I-"
"I stopped you from tearing them to pieces." Aela stated matter-of-factly.
"You... you what?" Cura was shocked at what she was hearing.
"Yes, I know." Aela dismissed. "Look; I don't particularly like you, or your group. But I respect you enough that I don't want you to live with having murdered your loved ones on your conscience."
"Aela..." Cura slowly approached the Huntress and pulled her into an embrace. The Breton buried her face in her shoulder and wept. "Thank you..."
Aela stood there, silent for the moment, and reciprocated unto the embrace, putting her arms around Cura reluctantly. "You're welcome, Shield-Sister."
