The inn was situated near where the White River met with the road over the mountains, though there was not much more there. Very few houses dotted the road, and Krist figured it was probably for family who ran the inn.
"This looks like a good place to rest for the night," Krist said, happy they would not be sleeping in the wagon. He didn't mind it so much, but he was sure Hadi could not be very comfortable, due to her pregnancy.
"You are getting soft, Krist. Where is that warrior I married only a couple of years ago," she said, dispelling any notion that he was doing it for her.
She was Nord after all.

The inn was in typical Nord fashion, simple but cozy, furs lining the floor, with a fire burning to keep everyone warm. Everyone, in this case, meant Krist and Hadi.
"Hello," Krist called as they entered, his large boots causing the wooden floor to creak.
"The door is open, they have to be around here somewhere," Hadi said from behind him. Krist put their bags down and walked further in, looking about.
"Be right down," a lady called from upstairs, bringing a smile to Krist and Hadi's lips.
Since the happenings in Cyrodiil, and everywhere for that matter, one never knew what they would face. It was only a few months ago that Krist and Jorn had to kill some scamp creatures that were attacking their animals at night. Left overs, it seemed, from the terrible magic that happened in the Imperial City, as far away as it was.
"We don't get many visitors in the winter, especially in the last few years," the lady said, as she came down the stairs.
Both Hadi and Krist were surprised to find she was a young lady, younger than they were. A few years over twenty winters at best, but something about her tone made her seem older.
"My husband is out back fixing the trough, but he can help you unload some things if need be," she said with a smile, looking them over.
"We have what we need," Krist said, motioning to the bags. "I do need to unhitch the horse though. Should I put him in the stable in back?"
The lady nodded, offering him a brief smile, then turned to Hadi.
"You are pregnant my dear," she said, as a matter of fact.
"I am, five months and counting," Hadi replied, touching her belly.
"It's going to be a girl," the lady said, looking her over. "I am Restla, my husband and I run this inn."
"Good to meet you Restla," Hadi said, glancing over her shoulder as Krist left.
"Come, I have a soup on, and it will warm you up nicely," Restla promised, turning and walking to a room in the back.
Hadi hesitated, though she did not know why. The woman seemed pleasant enough. Maybe too pleasant, but she was an inn keeper. Hadi had worked at inns and taverns all her life, so she knew the keepers usually went overboard with kindness to keep customers.
"You aint getting their gold without a smile," her uncle used to tell her, when she worked at his inn.
"Don't worry, you guys are staying here, so the meal is free," Restla said, looking to their bags then to her. "I know I am young, but I promise I am a very good cook."
Hadassa nodded, and offered her own smile back as she followed.

Krist lead the wagon to the back by the stable. It was a modest stable, held 6 horses, more if you double stabled them. What impressed Krist was that it was big enough to also put their wagon in.
"Well, we have a guest," the man said, looking up from the trough he was fixing. Apparently the bottom plug had loosened and it was leaking. From one glance Krist knew the man was simply tarring it.
Also from one look he knew the man was a Breton, not a Nord.
"Two of us, my wife and I," Krist said, offering his hand. The Breton wiped his own hands off on a rag, then shook Krist's.
"I am Edwore," he offered.
"I am Krist, and my wife is Hadi." Krist said.
"You can pull the wagon all the way in, I made it that way, and unhitch the horse. There aren't any other horses so you get pick of the stables. They are all warm, all got hay. I lock it up at night, to keep wolves and such out."
Krist nodded to him.
"Need help unhitching," the man asked.
Krist just smiled and shook his head. It was a one man job.
"You get alot of wolves in this area?" Krist asked, just really for conversation.
Edwore looked at him serious for a moment, as if trying to detect if he meant something by it, then nodded slightly.
"Yes, we do," he simply said.
Edwore was a few years older than Krist, maybe forty winters, Krist could not be sure. He was definitely quite a few years older than his wife. He looked like a farmer, and Krist could tell he did not shy from hard work.
Edwore went back to work, and Krist knew it was time for him to get the horse unhitched from the wagon.
"Put the horse in a center stable," Edwore said. Krist stopped to look back, unsure if the man was really talking to him. He had to be, but he never looked up from his work.
"It's safer," he said, still not looking up.
Krist nodded, but Edwore did not see the nod. He kept working as if that conversation did not happen.

Krist heard himself roar, and a part of him knows he had done it many many times. It was not a strong roar anymore, not like, something he remembered. It was a weakening roar, and with it, the taste in his mouth became very strong. It tasted metallic, it tasted coppery. He began to spit something horrific from his mouth. Gore and such. He remembered the taste was wonderful, but now, it was not. The dream was over, and the taste was no longer his heaven. It was no longer his victory of the hunt. It wasn't his reward now.
No, it was raw, and bloody, and gore. It was terrible, and he began to empty his stomach.

Krist was naked in the horse barn, but the cold had not set in yet. He was still warm, as he was before. He knew what had happened, something that had not happened in many many months. The full moon had come and gone, and while it brought irritability in him, and brought a short temper, he was able to control it. Control his changing. Hircine could not taunt him into changing as he had before, or at least as Krist imagined it.
This time he did change. Not only change, but he had no recollection of the change. Of feeling it coming on.

"I brought you some clothes," the woman said, and startled the Fighter's Guild knight. He was still too disoriented to be conscious of his nudity, therefor not yet self-conscious. He simply accepted the clothes, his eyes still looking about, and taking in everything, as one does when they wake suddenly from a dream.
"How...." Krist began, but the words did not come to him. His body had changed back to man, but his mind was still captured by the wild. By the wolf.
"You are in our barn," the black haired woman said, pushing a pesky hair from her eyes. "I saw when you left the house, and I saw when you turned."
Krist looked to her, his eyes now clearing along with his mind. He had already put the britches on, so his modesty was at least mostly satisfied, though he was now starting to feel the cold. He heard the wind outside, differently now. It was a roar before, every noise it created filling his senses. Now though, the wind covered all of that as it blew it's snow about outside of the barn.
"It doesn't matter to me. I assumed your kind would be driven here. What has confused me is how you avoided us in the house, something many, as you are, would not have. Mindlessly they have killed many, but you, not you. You left the house, changed into the animal, and ran into the woods. I felt then as if you must have some reasoning within you. I know now if you did, it was not much."
Krist eyed the woman, whom he now recognized. She was the innkeeper's wife. He was still having a hard time remembering her name. He knew it, but his mind would not recall it. Using a bucket of cold water, Krist began to clean his face and hair off. The blood was everywhere.
"What blood is this," Krist asked, his voice somewhat shaky as if he was still trying to remember how to use it.
"Animal. You hunted in the woods, and I assume in this weather, only animals would be out there."
Krist looked to her, now with more understanding. Now his human mind grasping that he changed, that he was werewolf. That this woman knew exactly what he was. His wife did not know. His family did not know. Yet, this woman knew, and the way she spoke, she may have known before he changed.
"Who are you," Krist finally asked, this time his voice was not shaky. In fact, there was more base in his voice than he intended, almost a growl to it. Anger building in him. Or was it fear? Self preservation?
"Who are you?"

"Well I am aware that you are a member of The Fighter's Guild but you have no contract to head out into those woods, especially alone, and especially with this storm still raging," Hadassah said, a frown on her pretty face.
"Hadi, we went over this already, I work for the Fighter's Guild, and we are sworn to stop anything undead or daedric related."
She looked at him, as if looking deep inside of him to understand why he felt this way, about a guild that really had done nothing for him. He was dedicated, to anything he put his strength to, including to being a good husband, and soon, a good father, and of course that meant to being a member of the Fighter's Guild.
"I will go with you then she said," but even as she said it she knew that she could not. Krist did not even reply to that, not with any words. He just smiled, and that brought a smile to her own lips.
"I will be fine, I always am," he said before kissing her.




Krist pulled his heavy cloak about him, in hope to keep the sharp wind at bay. It had picked up even since he left the inn, and headed towards the tree line. It was as if something in those dark twisted woods was trying to hinder him.

He would not be hindered.

The woods were dark and old, but warmer than he expected. The winds could not penetrate it very well, the evergreen oaks holding it back with their large and twisted trunks. There was a definite musty smell, but not near what it would have been if it were summer. While it felt warmer, the ground was still frozen here, with patches of snow and ice.
Krist was werewolf, and his senses sharper. He could hear the scuttle of small animals as they ran over patches of snow, and frozen leaves. Then something, just on the edge of his senses, caused his hand to move towards his sword.

I can resonate with this a lot, being a Templar werewolf, also member of the Fighters Guild and a servant of the Aedra. The dilemma Krist is faced with is very strong, should he accept his gift or get rid of his course? He is dissatisfied by the curse but doesn't seem to try to get rid of it. I wonder how his role in the guild will be affected and whether he'll end up hurting his wife. The backstory of how he got it in the first place would be very interesting as well.

I like your writing and the images you post help set the tone of the scene! Like I said, hopefully you'll have enough inspiration to share more chapters!

(Story Continued)




She stood by the mound, her body mostly bare except for a thin cloth tunic covering her lower half. Krist could not fathom how she was not freezing to death. Even his blood was not keeping him completely from the chill.
"You could not help yourself, Krist, you had to come," she said, not turning about to even look at him. Instead her eyes were fixed to the totem, a great stag figure resting atop the mound.
"Why are you here, and why this mound and totem?"
She now turned to Krist and smiled a crooked smile, her dark hair wildly flowing around her.
"Uricanbeg, the Great Stag, and my most favored aspect of Lord Hircine," she said, offering a slight shrug, drawing Krist's attention back up to the totem with a motion.
"Your Lord and master."
Krist's eyes narrowed, his hand was on the hilt of his sword quicker than he himself anticipated. It drew Restla's attention away from the totem, and for a moment, her eyes widened.
"I did not mean that as an insult, Krist," she said, quickly regaining her composure. "I meant simply because of what you are."
"What I am? I am Fighter's Guild ma'am, and this totem will not stand," Krist said, yet not as firm as he had wished.
"It will, even if you knock it down, it will. You have not...." she began, then she stopped quickly, her eyes darting to something behind Krist.
Krist followed her gaze. A dark haired, dark eyed Nord stood there. He had tribal paint on every part of his body, it seemed, with fur and leathers covering him. His hair was matted and unkempt, with leaves and twigs clinging to him. More importantly he had a long axe in one hand, and a look of jealous anger in his eyes.
"Meko, no," Restla said, her eyes narrowing. "You need to leave right now, this is between myself and Krist,"
"You and him, eh," the Nord said, a sneer on his lips and anger in his voice. "He doesn't even know what you are out here for, does he?"
"It doesn't matter, Meko, you need to leave," Restla said again.
"I won't be leaving, not without his head, to add to my others," the wild man said, but he made no move toward Krist.
Krist did not take his eyes off of Meko, and while his hand gripped his sword, he had not yet drawn it.
"Defend yourself," Restla said to Krist, yet Krist still did not draw his weapon.

Meko threw his axe down, as it was apparent Krist was not going to simply attack him, and he did not appear to have a desire to just attack Krist. Instead he looked more saddened than angry, and Krist knew, as he had begun to suspect, that Meko was not the real danger here. His eyes turned back to Restla, who looked furious with the woodsman.
"Just go then, you coward," she scorned.
Meko looked to the half naked woman with pleading eyes, then to the totem behind her. His frown deepened, and he almost looked as if he were close to shedding tears.
"Have your god, and have your dog, Restla, I want nothing more," he said as he turned away. The man walked silently back into the darkness of the woods, blending in and almost disappearing as he did so.
Restla closed her eyes, and shook her head.

Krist began to understand.

"Uricanbeg will come to us, Krist, and be with us. I am sure you would be pleased once you were with him in person. Maybe you can even ask him to take away your gift...."
"...curse," Krist corrected. "And I am not begging that monster for anything."
"Then challenge him, when he comes. He will come as a great stag, and you can challenge him. We simply need to get him here," Restla said.
Restla moved seductively towards Krist, pushing her bare chest against him, parting her lips slightly.
"We can bring him here, we just need a sacrifice," she said low, her breath hot on his own lips. "Bring your wife here, show her the totem. We simply need a sacrifice, and we can have each other until Uricanbeg comes for me."

Restla felt the big man's hand move up her body, across her shoulder and to her neck, even as she moved in to kiss him. She would have him, and in turn, she would have access to Uricanbeg. The stag would come, and she would be his hind. She knew the man may resist her, but the wolf inside him would not. He belonged to Hircine, she was a priestess of Hircine, and so he belonged to her. Her own lust was building inside, much as the lust of the hunt builds in the lycanthrope. She was sure he could not resist, even up to the point when the big hand squeezed on her throat, cutting the air from her completely.

Krist felt the lust of the hunter building in him, even as he destroyed the totem. Somehow he knew it did not matter, the mound was still there, and could not be destroyed near as easy. He wondered how many dead lay beneath that mound, sacrificed to Hircine by Restla and the lovers she seduced to follow her.
Krist wanted to kill her, but it would be nothing short of murder, so Restla lay, instead, unconscious, covered now by Krist's cloak.
Restla's only power was the sexuality she possessed, and her ability to use men to do her bidding. It was the woodsman that made Krist realize what exactly was happening. She lured men, and maybe even women, to this mound, to sacrifice them to Hircine, Uricanbeg being her choice of aspect. She would have others, such as the woodsman, do the deed, with offers of sexual favors.
Meko, this time, would have been the victim, had he attacked Krist. She finally had a werewolf, someone Restla saw as a child of Hircine, to do the sacrifice. Krist had dealt with enough Daedra followers in his days to know much of the routine. It may even have worked, as Krist was drawn to the mound and totem. He was feeling the desire building in his own body for the priestess, but she failed to factor in the one part of Krist that mattered most to him.

Love. Hadi. His wife.

Restla awoke with a gasp, and began coughing. She had no idea how long she was unconscious. When everything went black, she was sure she was the final sacrifice to Hircine, yet she was still alive. Maybe Hircine himself had saved her?
She was covered by Krist's cloak, but he was nowhere to be seen. The cloak was something though. Not only did he not have the heart to kill her, but he insured she did not freeze to death. She would try again, maybe even get rid of the pregnant woman, so Krist could think more clearly. She had to be careful, she did not wish her own husband to suspect anything. Hopefully Krist did not tell his wife or Edwore about what happened. She did love her husband, but her desire to have The Huntsman was stronger than her love for Edwore. She had no real desire for Krist, though he was not unpleasant to look at. He was simply a means to an end.
These thoughts were going through Restla's mind when she noticed the dark haired Nord covered in furs and twigs and leaves standing over her. She was about to demand he help her up when she saw the axe coming toward her head, and then she knew no more.