Ordinem Sarum Lupus. Let me tell you OUR tale

lauraleach1990

Three millennia had passed since the last holy war.

I can still smell the fetid languish of the corpses laid to rest and preserved in years gone by. They are protected by the blessing of Stendarr, left visible as such a vivid reminder of an era nigh reluctant in its passing.

Those memories. My memories ebb and flow in sudden flashes of violent abruption. The terror of absolute betrayal as those sworn to fight by our sides. Allies and friends turned upon my kind making us fight for our very survival. Those atrocities so impossible to forget allowed me to contemplate settling old scores and older ones still, it had been the only way I knew to find worth in the loss of so many of us.

Voices. So many voices echoing from every dark recess, each black shadow were almost inaudible against the massive cacophony of countless warriors slaughtering us because of our modesty in our God’s given power and our tolerance of them, so different from us. Our cruel and undeserved fate seemed sealed! The insurmountable effort applied to exterminate every last life. The humans revealed their deception by deceiving our misplaced trust, harbouring and bolstering the darkest of our enemies. Tear stained cheeks muddied by blood marked such devastated faces, faces that had born the inner peace of a sustained stability and promise of happiness.

The spineless mortals. They disgraced their kin by shattering the accord ensuring the cooperation of my people. By their hands alone was our course of action laid out before us. Too Eviscerate them all!!!!! Warm blood, cloying and sweet is such a potent reminder of that dark time only in its infancy though it had long continued besides the march of years.

We fought with a maddening certainty, stepping up to face the onslaught of our foes. Their hideous intentions had dropped something entirely unprecedented into the realm of possibility, a chance that would allow nothing to halt us again.

Flesh was strewn about the place! No shelter could exist for any soul to avoid the righteous flames of our fury. Bone chilling screams carried on the winds from the terrified people we were too late to save whilst our homes burned down around them. Our families butchered, lands called ours for time beyond remembering salted and stolen. Sacked and pillaged by our former friends. The coin had been flipped revealing it’s other side and yet salvation was approaching. Fast.
What became known as a massacre in the histories of our adversaries was actually a turning point for the ancestors of my ilk in the last hours of their beleaguered humanity, salvation came in the form of gnashing fangs and serrated claws.

Flying across the blood drenched field of battle with still quivering hearts in great, furry hands was the proof that the humans had invoked their most primal fears. We kept fighting pushing slowly forward during the time out new found allies tore through the enemy ranks. Their mistake had been their betrayal witnessed by the eyes of one beyond the planes of Mundus, not simply Wolves but so much more than that. The Beasts of the Wild Hunt. The Chosen of a Daedric Prince.
We were misunderstood like them. A mere stone in an ocean against a cliff withstanding it’s unceasing barrage. The Wolves ended their miserable human condition and inside the ensuing panic so did we hunt them mercilessly.

Their right to claim what belonged to us was vanquished, scattered to the wind blowing cold. An army once beyond counting with iron clad determination was a cowed, quaking quim or so we thought....

Shrouds of liquid darkness obscured all from our sight. Caught unprepared for another onslaught, so bone tired from fighting wave after wave, we were hurting, utterly despairing of the fresh threat looming above the shoulders of those few left.

The Father of the Hunt spoke to me of a future sought by our adversaries. A future so close to fruition where the howl of the Lycan would no longer travel through a stormy night and have their dreams dogged by the spectres of demons treading paths in beast form.
We were the last of our people.

And the Wolves were the last bastion of Hircine’s children .

Facing extinction. Our forebears struck a deal with Hircine for his bounty.

We became Wolves of the Wild Hunt. Lycanthropes.

We became Lycans.

And so it came to be that our Father was the only God not to forsake was in our darkest hours. He made a promise to purge the corrupted hearts of Molag Bal’s children. The Vampires. And bring down the treacherous babes of Arkay to bear beneath of fangs, claws and paws. Yet it was not upon the day of our First Changing.

So we retreated to a sanctuary, beaten though far from broken. We had to wait till we could bring forth a new generation.

Hiring would guide them to us. Listen to the whispers deeper than even your bones, do not simply ignore the consuming ache in your ignorance. Feel his boon coming through flames in your veins and come to us. Hear the Wolf inside of you and let him guide you through the journey home.

To the redemption that can be yours freed from human fragility to become what you were truly destined to be.

To become one of us.

To become a Lycan.