Wolf RPG

The swim from the beach to the islands isn’t the worst, but Alduin catches himself smelling like the sea. Which isn’t ideal to him. The salt will curl his fur and leave it courser than it already is. Still, his options are low. Now he and his brother have a place to make their base of operations. The Shadow even said she’d help them despite not knowing what it is they’re here for. Which could’ve been a mistake on her part, but only time will tell if she actually decides to help or not.

Her requirements are easy enough, but this creed she speaks of. The druids too. There is so much mystery shrouded here. His hair prickles when he’d gotten to the island. It gives off the same unearthly vibes as the night witch herself. Yet he is strangely drawn to it just like he is to her. He wonders what it could be, but for some reason he has his suspicions. 

So, he moves along the beach and looks around, lowering his head to sniff plants and take in the scents of the beach beneath his paws. The same, ever present, aura hits him. His ghostly friend is back, but does he really ever leave?

Alduin, my young, cursed boy. Banesteppe calls to him from a distance.

The young wolf’s auds shift and he looks up where his head is drooping from his shoulders. He sees the alien form of the man sitting on a rock a few meters down.

Noticing the wolf’s attention, the creature beckons him over. Come to me, hellhound.

Alduin’s lips wrinkle slightly, his head still hanging from his shoulders. He huffs out a growling sigh and languidly pads over to the rock. Lifting his head some to glare wine red orbs up to the foreign, yet somehow familiar, face of the spirit. His weird appendages scoop up his chin and tilt his head up. Banesteppe’s expression is thoughtful, but Alduin can see the underlying anger. 

You’ve disobeyed me, pet. Comes the man’s husky voice. The hand moves to cup his trachea and Alduin’s ears shift to lie against his skull, knowing what’s about to come next. 

He squeezes. Alduin hacks and coughs at the pressure. To anyone watching it would seem as if he had something lodged in his throat, but otherwise the scene would seem normal. It is anything but though.

I told you to kill her. You are a reaper. Are you not? You are death. You will do as I say. His voice is a growling whisper, speaking through clenched teeth as his expression twists into full out rage.

Alduin growls, lips snarling up body growing taught with the urge to struggle. He can hardly breath. There’s a wetness to his nose now. Blood. It drips from his nose like a river. A dark tongue laps at the coppery substance and a new ire finds itself in his heart. Snapping out against the force that holds him, but catching nothing. Powerful jaws click together in his failed attempt. 

A few seconds pass like this until he’s being released, Banesteppe scoffs as he does so. As if Alduin deserved to be choked to death right on the spot. And he backs away hacking up a lung, dripping crimson into the pale sand at an alarming rate. His jaws hang open as he breathes heavily, head hung between his legs, he lets his nose pour blood beneath him. Only his eyes glare up to the entity like he could could kill him with one glance. 

We’ll see how long she lasts, Alduin. Do not disappoint me. He spits down to him and stands from the rock and disappears into thin air. 

The hellhound can only stand there. Victim of the ghostly abuse once more. When will it end? He wonders, but he knows his only escape is death. He’s been cursed after all.

the scent of blood drew the listener to the saint, hackles rippling as she stormed the beach in a flurry of dark robes. yet there was no assailant, no danger; the dawning realization halted her steps, and the prophet stood in silence as she took in the scene. wind sent her fur billowing around her as she studied him.

the spirits were silent.

alduin. you are ill, she stepped closer. your aura is tainted. the spirits hide from you.

the spirits gathered near those who were blessed; they fled only from the accursed. oathbreakers, apostates, blighted souls. which of these had alduin become?

Head hanging low and blood flowing from a wet, black nose, he stands unmoving. All except for his heaving breaths and low growls. Footsteps break him from his fury filled thoughts. A scent hardly makes its way past the smell of blood. 

The shadow.

He lifts his head slowly, head tilting towards her but body never moving. He meets her mismatched orbs and holds the gaze. A purple tongue rasps over whiskered lips, flicking to lap the wine red substance off of his nose. He wonders what she thinks of him. He’d soon figure out.

Alduin. You are ill, His dark friend comments, stepping fearlessly towards him. Your aura is tainted. The spirits hide from you.

His auds shift back on his skull, not in shame, but anger. He knows. It’s not directed towards her, but more at what he’s become. 

He clears his throat and takes languid steps towards her, almost coming nose to nose with the woman — only a few inches separating them. 

“I know.” He drawls, voice gravelly and rough. But his tone isn’t malicious. Sure it’s gruff, but it's understanding. But at her spirit comment he scoffs out a humorless laugh. “Not all of them.”

He still has one. The worst one of all — his Banesteppe. His curse.

Only he levels her with a deathly look. Not one of savagery, but one of acknowledgment. “I am cursed, my Shadow.” He growls deeply, anger coursing through his veins. He can’t do anything about it.

rage set him alight at her words, a rippling heat-aura searing the air between them. he was fury and madness incarnate; voidfire given flesh and hellish cutting teeth.

blighted, too. the listener saw it in him as he stepped near and she felt the heat of his breath against her thin muzzle. he spoke of a curse, a spirit, a shadow. his shadow. the words were delicate icy tendrils up her spine, a shiver that gripped her in the chest and limbs for a few breathless seconds.

she thought of the skyrock. strange.

then we are the same, the prophet's voice was hushed. she leaned forward. her nose skimmed the fur of his muzzle, the fine prickle of his whiskers. i found power in my curse. perhaps there is power to be found in yours.

She doesn’t move away from him. She doesn’t look at him any differently when he confesses what’s wrong. Not that he truly cares about other’s opinions, but at least she doesn’t look at him with fear. Even though most of the time he likes it when he strikes fear into his enemies. It gets his blood boiling. 

Still, The Shadow watches him fearlessly, even as he crowds her. When he finishes, silence moves over them, until he’s getting an unexpected reply,

Then we are the same.

His brows pinch in the middle — quizzically so. He’s oh so curious as to what her curse might be. He doesn’t wonder for long, for she’s leaning in close to him, mismatched orbs never leaving the unhinged, bloody red of his own. Their whiskers mingle, a dark muzzle brushes against his, and their eyes lock. He pays close attention to her every detail as she speaks next.

I found power in my curse. Perhaps there is power to be found in yours. She suggests cryptically, while also sharing a pinch of her own situation.

He blinks slowly and shakes his head the tiniest bit, jostling their muzzles together softly. “I don’t think you understand, Shadow.” He hums softly. Only his eyes become more intense then, something dark and forbidden.

His face somewhat disappears from her field of vision as he leans in to grunt words in the cup of her midnight black ear. “It controls me. I get sick for this beast, I bleed for this beast, I will die because of this beast.” He’s almost growling in her ear, voice quiet, but octave low and gravely serious, but somehow she’d be able to tell that he’s accepted his fate.

the saint's features spoke of his surprise, his curiosity; his resignation. unexpected from alduin whose aura burned with heated energy, alduin who breathed fire with every word.

the listener would not accept his defeat.

you will tame the beast, she said, certainty in her voice. or we will. together. the prophet turned, beckoning over one slim shoulder for the saint to follow. determination set her stride alight, a trail of voidfire marking her path in the otherworld. daily, the line between the realms of mortals and spirits blurred further. sometimes she did not know which it was she saw.

you will see the power i hold over the realm of spirits. it will take time. but we will begin today.

You will tame the beast, or we will. Together. 

He tilts his head her direction a fraction. The determination and certainty painted in her tone almost surprises him. He knows it shouldn’t. He could tell from the day he met her that she was strong willed and ready for just about anything. And she seems willing to take on Alduin’s demons as well as her own. How chivalrous. Only he doesn’t know a way Banesteppe can be stopped, but perhaps she knows something he does not. 

She turns then, peering over her shoulder to beckon him closer. She’s off in seconds, but coercing him silently to follow her expectantly. But he only stands there. He stands there staring her down with a dark interest and maybe even a pinch of doubt that she will be able to solve this haunting.

It’s her next words that force his paws to take the next step forward. He hums low in his throat, a sound that seems more like a grunt of acknowledgment. Head held even with his back, he saunters languidly after his listener, coming to walk close beside her. There he prowls, eyes stuck forward as he tries not to get lost in his own head. Oh how displeased Banesteppe will be. Maybe this is why he ordered the hellhound to kill her. Maybe, just maybe, she could cure him. If her words are true.

“How will you do it?” He asks, but his tone makes it sound more like a statement.

He truly has no idea how to go about it but Alduin believes that Banesteppe will kill him the second he catches wind of any progress. He’ll let the shadow lead him along — he’ll play Alduin’s games and the second he sees any real progress he’ll yank the chain on his horribly short leash. Bombard him with incessant headaches, nosebleeds, sicknesses until Alduin complies. And Alduin wants to survive — he kills to survive — Banesteppe knows this and will use it against him.

Somewhere deep down Alduin knows this curse will keep him tied for the remainder of his life, but how he deals with it will make it all the difference.

he sought to understand. a hint of a smile shadowed the prophet's angular visage, fleeting and glimmering with dark magick.

you will see. first, you must learn the ways of the druids, the creed could not be forgotten. the druids would thrive only by living according to their tenets. so the listener went on. we follow three tenets, laws that will guide and protect us in all things. this is the druids' creed. first, our secrets must never be spoken to the uninitiated. apart from myself, only speakers may tell an outsider of the druids or the unnamed god. second, you must not betray any druid. those who follow our laws and obey the commands of their superiors will always be under my protection. third, you must always follow the will of the unnamed god. our god may call for violence or benevolence; passion or hatred. we must obey.

i will not ask you to answer to any but me. i only ask that you live by these tenets.

the prophet came to her altar. smooth stones of varying sizes and colors were carefully arranged in a vast circle. a single flat stone lay at the center. within the circle, pale bones were littered so thickly that they swallowed the earth below. a narrow path cut through the circle, leading to the rock, which held a curious array of sacred objects.

at the center, the skyrock. bones were arranged around it, seemingly in a pattern at first glance. but further inspection revealed a hidden chaos to their arrangement. eldritch's spine. rasha's rib. a raven's skull.

the skyrock, the listener intoned, leading alduin down the path, which was wide enough for the pair to walk side by side with little room to spare. my curse. my gift. my connection to the unnamed god. it came to me from the heavens on a great wind. do you remember it?

Alduin walks beside her, looking massive compared to her much smaller stature. His head is level with bulky shoulders and a straight back. His pelt shifts as he moves, muscles contracting and expanding beneath a silvery brindle coat. It’s begun to curl and wave due to the salty ocean that seems ever prevalent on his body. And even though his eyes look distant (they usually do) he stills pays close attention to The Listener.

She speaks of learning the ways of the Druid. His brows furrow some, not necessarily in distain, but he knew he’d have to. Next, she informs the hellhound of the creed. They seem easy enough but the wild part of the striped furred beast has an issue listening to mostly anyone besides the one’s he knows deserve his listening ear. And her unnamed god. That will also be interesting. He’s not religious, but he’s become more so due to the fact that he has a literal demon attached to him. Is Banesteppe a god? Maybe. Maybe not. Alduin has no idea. 

She does say one thing that catches his interest,

I will not ask you to answer to any but me. I only ask that you live by these tenets.

His auds shift and his head tilts slightly in her direction. His eyes meet her own for a few seconds before his gazing forward again. A low, contemplating hum sound from his throat — it’s a temping offer.

“Then I listen to your word. And nothing but your word.” He settles the deal with his own husky tone, a sense of finally filtering into it.

Only the entire time they’ve been walking Alduin has been absentmindedly wondering where their destination is leading to. His shadow seems to be leading him somewhere with hidden intent. Languid and confident she walks, but to where she doesn’t disclose yet.

That is until they reach some type of alter. Bloody orbs skate over the miscellaneous objects — mostly stones and rocks. Then, in the middle, he finds an interesting array of bones and that curious little stone — the skyrock, she says — he remembers her carrying when they first met. She still has it even after all this time. He wonders about its significance to the Raven pelted woman.

His face stays stony and expressionless as he looks upon her collection. A slightest interest could be found swirling within wine red eyes though. She leads him closer, shoulders bumping from the narrow pathway, at the same time her voice sounds in his ears. Her voice is the only noise he hears and he hones in on it. 

My curse. My gift. My connection to the unnamed god. It came to me from the heavens on a great wind. Do you remember it?

Though he listens closely, his eyes never leave the alter. A dark presence seems to accompany him here and for the first time he cannot tell if it is Banesteppe. Until it’s confirmed…

Cursed One, Banesteppe whispers in his ear just as easily as the Listener does. Why do you follow her? What do you have to gain? Why not end her misery and present her body to her false prophet? He questions almost whimsically. As if he couldn’t fathom the idea of Alduin doing such a thing.

His hackles prickle and raise at the feeling that overcomes his mind and body when Banesteppe interacts with him. It isn’t enough to distract him though. Truly Alduin is silent for a solid thirty seconds before answering her question.

“I do.” He confirms back, voice raspy and deep as he gazes upon the heavenly stone. A pause brings silence back to them once more. “This is your curse.” He states uselessly. 

A small stone — so insignificant compared to Alduin’s castle (Banesteppe’s castle), but just as deadly it seems. He wonder who or what she sees. He wonders if she can see Banesteppe. He wonders if Banesteppe is even real half the time.

The hellhound flicks a deep, purple tongue out to rasp over scarred, whiskered lips. He cannot stop staring and the hair along his spine has risen slightly — he’s getting chills. So much so his brows pinch in the middle. The dark energy surrounds him, but he assumes it’s Banesteppe. When his ire strikes he’s quite deadly. He will not speak anymore until the listeners speaks back and his eyes never leave the stone or the alter. His gaze is stuck there curiously, almost suspiciously. 

Something darker must be at play.

i am still learning of my own origins. much was lost to me while i grew. but i know that the skyrock was the unnamed god's answer to my pleas, long ago. before it came to me, i was only a creature of the void trapped in mortal flesh. thoughtless. violence without direction. now, i have control. power, she had learned this in time, only through the patient teachings of her god. but there was a price to be paid for this boon. and great pain, as well. i am chained by this gift, and through those chains i have learned discipline.

to shed blood causes me great agony. to harm another living creature with my own fangs is to invoke my curse. but it is necessary.

tell me more of your curse, alduin.

She speaks of how the rock came to be. She speaks of her life before — a creature of the void trapped in mortal flesh. Alduin feels trapped and that’s because he is. He heeds Banesteppe’s words and when he doesn’t, he suffers for it. But she says she has control now — power — but she is still chained by her god.

Tell me more of your curse, Alduin.

He finally blinks his eyes away from the alter and shifts bloody orbs over to her own mismatched ones. He’s quiet for a few moments, until he feels Banesteppe’s hand rest on his lower back casually. 

Go ahead, cursed one. Tell her. Tell her all about me — your curse. He teases venomously. 

The words and touch cause Alduin to scoff quietly. The chills only come harder now with Banesteppe’s ghostly fingers petting along his back.

“He is a man — alien to me and anything I’ve ever seen before.” He whispers out. “I found an odd structure — a den of some kind. Large and imposing with many twists and turns. The dead of many kind walked freely there, but were trapped to the land.”

He pauses for a few seconds. “That is where I acquired this curse. Now that man, Banesteppe is what he calls himself, is attached to me. He’s powerful, I can see him, feel him, hear him.” He hasn’t talked this much in a while, but there’s too much not too tell. “I have to listen to him and when I don’t I get sick. I vomit, bleed, and choke.” He ends darkly.

“He will be my undoing,” His eyes meet her own then, a dark understanding within them. But Alduin believes he can escape death — he’s been escaping it since birth.  “I cannot die, but he will be the one that ends me when it is time.”

the listener, true to her title, absorbed alduin's words in pensive silence. he spoke with iron-forged certainty, the metallic ring of a man made hollow like an empty suit of armor. his curse had taken much from him.

i must think on all that you have said, and consult the spirits. i will find you when i know what must be done, when it is time to seek an answer.

she left him to his thoughts, already lost in her own. she would need to prepare.