gore tw // – vvardenfellcat

It had been a while since he had last eaten, wandering in the wastes devoid of game as he was, so the scent of a potential corpse brought hope into the Khajiit’s heart, energy in his step, and drool into his mouth. When J’hasi finally tracked the scent down to a small cave, he found the expanse of grey flesh, the Dunmer obviously dead for only a short while. His eyes flicked up to the cave mouth, listening carefully for a few moments before he relaxed. He crouched down, tail flicking out to rest along the ground as he took the forearm in a firm grip to sniff along the skin.

No poison. It was safe to eat. But his growling stomach urged him to just eat it raw, not to waste time cooking it. He could feel the hot scraping claws of hunger within his belly and it would be quicker relieved the sooner he got something into it.

J’hasi bared his teeth before he sank his fangs down into the meat of the forearm, resistance of the skin holding until a small series of pops and the ivory daggers sank down deep. The Khajiit’s tail tapped on the ground, pulling bites off of the bone, licking his lips free of the cool, coagulated blood oozing out. He preferred it warmer, but he couldn’t be picky. Especially right now, when he had thinned out to the barest of bones with fur draped over, clinging to his ribs like damp clothing. Each bite put him closer to the point that he could make a fire and cook the rest. But not yet. He was too hungry right now.

His tongue rasped against the bone, scraping off the last bits of flesh from the thicker, meatier part of the forearm before he felt something brush against his scarf. J’hasi’s eyes opened, looking down to see it was just the mer’s hand, limp and dead, fingers caught in the folds with his jostling. He returned to licking at the bones before he heard a quiet exhale, and the flesh under his other hand…shifted.

The Khajiit’s eyes snapped up to see the Dunmer sit up and stare eyelessly at him, half of their face ripped off, breath coming out in a smoky, groaning huff. The exhale caused a light in the empty eye sockets to glow, like a puff of breath on an ember. The fingers that were brushing against his scarf fisted in the scarlet cloth, dragging him closer to the bared, broken teeth, a groaning death rattle coming out from the dead…not-dead…UNdead mer.

“Give…it…back…” the mer groaned, breath rattling on the way out as J’hasi was frozen in place, heart racing, terrified but incapable of moving, speaking, only staring in horror at the undead’s face. It lifted him up a little higher by his collar.

“Give…it…BACK!” it reiterated, more smoke, the coal-eyes burning brighter as the sickly smell of charred bone and hair filled his nose. The Khajiit whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut in fear before he let out a sharp gasp, clutching at his stomach. He cringed, then cried out, squirming and writhing at the pain inside of his stomach, pain that only grew worse as he felt something squirming, ALIVE, inside of him.

“Mine…” the undead growled airily, J’hasi starting to scream as maggots ate their way out of his stomach, gagging as they came up his throat, choking him and when he coughed, more fell into his lungs and resumed eating. They were eating his throat, his lungs, his insides, the inside of his mouth and his tongue, blood dripping from his teeth as he whimpered and coughed and gagged, tears pouring from his eyes before he couldn’t make any sound at all but pained gasps and torn cries, his vocal cords devoured by the plague of writhing, pulsating, off-white maggots.

He could see the bites of flesh he had eaten dribbling out of his opened stomach cavity, carried by the swarm to be placed and reattached onto the undead’s torn arm, reclaiming its stolen flesh from the bowels of his own. J’hasi let out a small, strangled, screeching cry before blood started dripping from his eyes, the maggots having burrowed into the deeper reaches of his skull and finding new flesh to feast upon. It was agony, and he wanted it to end, to stop feeling the little bastards crawling under his fur, eating him alive from the inside out, and there was nothing he could do but watch through a growing haze of blood as the undead smirked at his suffering.

“You taste good, meat.” it hissed quietly, then the lights in its skull flared, and it bared its teeth before it lunged at him too.

He bolted upright, screaming, clawing frantically at his skin, at his face, tangled up in his blankets before he darted for the nearby shore, diving into the frigid waters and struggling and squirming against the phantom sensations he could still feel outside of the nightmare. He shivered in the freezing water before he finally surfaced, coughing and gagging and shaking. Ghost nickered at him from the shore, seeming concerned before she delicately picked her way over to him and lowered her head to sniff at his mane.

J’hasi realized he was crying, hiccuping sobs breaking from his mouth before he grasped her mane, pulling himself up onto her back, clutching at her soft mane and coarse fur, feeling the warmth rather than the sickly, clammy, cold touch of that undead. Ghost quietly walked back over to the fire, the roiling in the Khajiit’s stomach reaching a peak before he heaved over her side, vomit splattering onto the ground. Ghost waited patiently before she moved on, bringing him to the fireside before slowly settling down onto the ground.

The Khajiit slid off of her back to lay along her side, caught between the pale mare and the fire, still shaking and occasionally freaking out at the tiniest disturbance of his fur, tearing at the spot until either skin or fur was torn, leaking blood. He shuddered, burrowing as close as he could to the enormous horse, burying his nose in her fur to only smell her calm, living, breathing scent of snow, leather, dirt, fur, and grass, all tinged with chill seawater. Ghost nickered quietly again, nosing at his jaw and blowing hot air into his ear.

J’hasi wrapped his arms around her neck, hugging her as close as he could, trying to think of just her scent and warmth as the memory of the dream slowly started to fade in its intensity.

“Do you need a hand?”

The Khajiit’s ears pricked, looking up from where he was busy cleaning fish by the lakeside, the insides left in the shallows to hopefully attract more. He gave his knife a swish in the water to clean the blood off, tail flicking as he snapped the neck of his current fish.

“If you’ve got a knife and don’t mind a warm meal in a few, sure.”

Flash forward

He could smell them.

It was a scent he hadn’t forgotten, though at the time his grasp on his newfound senses at the time had been confusing, overwhelming. It nearly drove him mad the first time he’d been around so many noises and smells, and cities…cities had been overwhelming initially. But out here, in the cold and crisp air, upwind from the pack he’d run into…he could smell them perfectly well.

The scent wasn’t quite the same, though. The scent of blood from the altar outside, a recent victim’s body left to scavengers, too cold this time of year for rot distracted him, made it hard to tell what was different about the scents. The cave itself was nearly as cold, and smelled of decay and that musky scent in the shadier apothecaries he’d been in in various provinces. He drew up his scarf in an attempt to keep his nose clear for when he needed to scent, ears pricked, waiting, listening as he crept forward. He could hear the crunch of snow, claws clicking on stone and metal…ragged breathing… Fresher blood came from within, and after a small bend in the cave’s interior, he could see the source: an unlucky victim on a stone table, skin flayed open and flesh laid to bare. His mouth watered a little as he focused on his targets, one of which strode into view not long after he spotted the body. He pressed himself against the wall, eyes flicking from their face to their body and back.

They’d changed.

Faces that had once been smooth and natural were now warped, twisted until they were barely recognizable. Dark feathers sprouted from their shoulders, limbs, their backs now hunched over akin to a vulture’s. J’hasi swallowed as he saw the claws on both their hands and feet, distorted in a mixed mockery of the two forms they had taken last he had seen them: a raven, and an Imperial woman. Black eyes stared from within pale sockets, making the Khajiit shiver a little at their stare, even if it wasn’t focused on him.

He’d found them, two hundred and six years after they’d vanished, after they’d tricked him.

Ettiene, Isobel, and Fallaise…the Glenmoril Witches.

Spooky Scary Specters – Mzarkmiir/J’hasi

“You’re going to get bit by the fire again.” The pale mare snorted a little at the Khajiit’s warning, nibbling at the grass near the rocks surrounding the campfire. Its orange glow lit her side up in harsh contrast as she slowly, casually walked around the ring of stones, tail swishing in the darkness behind her flank as she browsed the small, new blades poking up from the soil.

J’hasi smiled, shaking his head a little as he turned back to cutting, peeling back the hide of the deer he had brought down earlier that evening, brief strokes of a blade exposing the meat of the buck’s hind leg. A few cuts, some twisting, and a final wrench on the limb had it popping out of socket. He picked a few hairs off, cutting a small piece to snack on, further pieces laid on the heated rocks next to the fire to cook. Ghost lifted her head up, ears flicking for a few moments before she turned to look at the Khajiit and the carcass he was working on.

“…I gotta eat too. Don’t give me that look.” he muttered. She’d been avoiding him since she caught the scent of blood on him. It was natural, but it still bugged him a little. He prodded at one of the smaller pieces with his knife, hearing it hiss as it cooked, the smell making him hungry.

[ 3. (childhood) A harsh lesson is learned. ]

“<BIG SPLASH!>” came the screeching war-cry, Gar-Dan running down the big roots of a tree to spring into the water, their thick tail slapping the water before the rest of them followed. Water splashed everywhere, even getting sprays to hit Marsh-Eyes where they were on the rocks. Jeer-rah was still on shore, trying to figure out how Marsh had gotten so far out onto the rocks without getting any of their feathers wet.

Gulum and Rei-Shaw were paddling out in the middle of the deeper areas of the pool, the murky water washing over their backs before one of the twins dove down, the other following. Jeer waded out into the water, tail splashing at the surface as they made their way over to Marsh, fans flared a little in excitement. They actually weren’t supposed to be here, but that was part of the fun, right? The adults had told them to keep out of this part of the swamp, but it was only here that the water actually got deep enough to properly swim. Marsh hadn’t liked the restriction because once again, because they couldn’t breathe water, the adults treated them like a newborn hatchling. Jeer smiled as they started to float, swishing their tail to reach Marsh.

“<Wanna swim with me?>” they asked quietly, Marsh nodding before sliding their palms over the side of the rock they were on, claws barely touching the water before they shifted their weight and they slid in. They dove under with barely a splash, surfacing a little ways away. Their hands and feet clawed at the murk, water dripping off their head and crest while their tail flicked to the surface, steering.

Jeer dove underneath, rising up high enough to feel Marsh’s feet touch their back, lifting them higher up in the water before diving down again. Their feet pushed off the muddy bottom to dart to the surface, clearing their gills of the silt. Marsh was grinning, huffing a little to keep up as they followed Jeer around the pool. They were startled when Gar suddenly screamed, flailing out of the water, scrambling over roots dipping into the pool to escape. Gulum surfaced with a grin, Jeer flattening their fans at them.

“<Gulum, c’mon. You know Gar is afraid of water-snakes.>” The twin shrugged, then dipped backwards to dive under once more with a flash of bright blue scales from their tail tip. Jeer rolled their eyes, then took Marsh-Eye’s fingers in their own and pulled them around the surface of the pool, using only powerful strokes of their tail and occasional kicks to right their course. It was when the forest around the pool got eerily quiet that Marsh started to shiver a little. And when Gar-Dan started screaming again.

“<Gulum, don’t->” Jeer’s voice died in their throat when they saw the twins on shore, eyes wide and limbs stiff with fear, the Argonian turning to look towards Gar and seeing blood in the water. It took them a moment before they could breathe, pushing Marsh towards shore. A triangular wake was heading right for them, and behind that, something big with teeth flashed out of the water briefly, Gar’s dropped tail in its mouth. Jeer swam for shore, claws digging deep into the mud when they saw the nose and eyes of the thing that was chasing them, maw opening to snap on Marsh’s tail. The Saxhleel sprang onto its head and smacked it with their own tail for good measure, yelping when they were thrown off into the pool, but giving their friend time to scramble onto shore.

Jeer managed to escape the pool by climbing the roots, getting a nip at their tail on the way up, turning to try and find a way to get Gar-Dan out, but…it was too late. They were gone.

Marsh’s eyes were locked on the area of the pool where the water was red with Gar’s blood, frothing from the bubbles that had escaped their lungs in panic. They jumped a little when Jeer-rah touched their shoulder, the four hatchlings in horrified shock as they saw the creatures grab onto pieces of their friend, spinning in the water to twist bits free to eat.

It was Jeer who got them all to move, to head back to the tribe, and after they told the adults what had happened, after the lectures, Marsh crawled into Sees’ bed that night, scared of the images that wouldn’t fade, of orange-yellow eyeshines and the groaning hisses of the monsters in the water, and the panicked look on their friend’s face before they were gone forever.

▣

He knew it, he knew that having his damned sword in the Hall of Attainment was a bad idea, but had he moved it? No. He’d grown too complacent, that much was obvious.

He had to give the whelp props for approaching him outside of town at least…

“It’s over, cat. Come quietly and we won’t have to get rough.”

“We both know that us getting rough is the least of my worries at the moment, whelp.” The Khajiit had avoided looking Aldaril in the eye since the brothers approached, the view of him clad in his armor wasn’t enough to make him forget how kind he’d been to him, but it did make him afraid. If only he would’ve had a damned helm too, it would make this easier. He took a deep breath, finally directing a hesitant glance at the taller mer’s face, hoping to find something other than what he found: reluctance, but his mind made up to do his duty as a Thalmor dog.

Damn it all to Oblivion…

“Last chance, cat. Sur-”

“I have no intention of going, quietly or otherwise.” J’hasi snapped, voice cold and sharp, gaze steely as he firmed his resolve. He’d have to kill them both. It was that or die, either here or later after extensive torture, no doubt. He readied his spear, pulling his dagger from his hip. If only they’d been in the forest, where he’d have the advantage. Out here in the patches of deep snow and glaciers? He’d have a devil of a time getting the advantage he needed to survive. He couldn’t die yet, not today. The younger mer smirked, charging up a handful of flames.

“So be it, cat.” J’hasi’s face twisted in a snarl.

“Stop. Calling. Me. CAT!” He rushed the little bastard, surprising himself as well as the other two at how quickly he closed the gap, the fireball launched and gone wide as the Khajiit tackled the Justicar to the ground, the haft of his spear pressing into his throat. He felt sparks causing his fur to rise, pupils slits as J’hasi slashed at the offending hand with his dagger, slamming a knee down onto the Altmer’s arm to keep it down while he felt the burning sting of a slice across his cheek from Icarus’ dagger, a hiss of magic signaling the reason why it felt worse than he thought it would. Enchanted.

He saw Aldaril coming from the side, a massive battleaxe at the ready, but instead of using that, a massive boot kicked him in the side, sending him sprawling into the snow. Gods damn it felt like being kicked by a horse, knocked breathless and leaving his ribs hurting like hell… At least two were broken… He looked up to see Aldaril pulling his little brother up out of the snow, the shorter mer grimacing at the cut on his hand and a little out of breath.

He had to separate them.

“You little fetcher! I’ll-!” J’hasi gasped at the strain it took to cast a fireball so quickly, missing the armored mer and nailing Icarus right in the stomach with it. He aimed more carefully, focusing, then cast levitation on his intended target.

“Whoa, hey! What’s-!?” The Khajiit panted as the soldier was lifted off the ground, floating too high up to be a problem for now as he picked up his spear, walking over to the whelp groaning in the snow. Ic’s eyes flashed briefly with fear before he lifted his hand alight with sparks, gaze darting briefly for his brother before finding him floating ten feet off the ground. J’hasi scowled at the hand, whipping the haft of his spear and striking it, the mer yelping in pain as he dropped the spell and clutched it to his chest. He aimed his spear at the Thalmor’s throat, seeing his eyes widen.

“If it weren’t for your brother, I would’ve killed you in Saarthal.” he snapped, then stabbed the Altmer in the throat, twisting the spear before pulling it free, tail swishing. The mer’s eyes widened, gurgling as he started to choke on his own blood.

“ICARUS!” J’hasi flinched at the sound of raw pain in the elder’s voice, the spell shuddering as it neared its end and he began to struggle.

“ICARUS, NO! YOU BASTARD!” The Khajiit swallowed past the guilt constricting his throat, looking up and readying himself for the spell to end. Aldaril thrashed in the air, rage and pain on his face as tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over.

“I’LL KILL YOU! LET ME DOWN, NOW! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” J’hasi trembled, almost wishing he had just gone for the older brother first… But he had to take strategy over mercy… He could’ve done without hurting Aldaril like that, but… There was no choice.

“I…I’m sorry, Al…” The Thalmor soldier fell to the ground with a clang of metal and vibrations in the ground J’hasi could feel from where he was standing, flinching at the thump. The mer groaned, huffing as he pushed himself up, barely waiting until he was upright and had his weapon before launching himself at the Khajiit with a speed that alarmed him.

The first swing J’hasi barely dodged, the edge of the axe slicing through some of his mane as he sprang aside, the next whistling over his head, the third slicing into his arm with a yelp. The next overhead one he was caught on his heels, lifting his spear up to block it, only to hear a crack of the amber-hardened wood and the pain of the axe slicing through his forehead and cheek, narrowly missing his eye. J’hasi staggered backwards, panting, one eye blinded by blood while the other looked at the enraged mer in front of him, already starting to swing again.

The Khajiit slid his grip down the remaining half of his spear that had the spearhead still attached, switching his grip on his dagger as he darted underneath the next swing, stabbing into the joint of the armor under Aldaril’s shoulder, getting a knee to the stomach and the haft of the battleaxe shortly after, knocking him back. J’hasi slid across the snow with a groan, his hands shaking as he pushed himself up to look up at his opponent.

He couldn’t survive like this.

The Khajiit coughed, blood coming up and staining the snow before he pulled on his wolf, starting to shift, grimacing at the sharp heart pains before he got up, cracks and snaps of his bones making it painful, but he had to endure. Aldaril looked confused when he dropped his weapons, pulling his scarf free from around his neck, the sound of his robes tearing as his body swelled underneath. His fur thickened, back hunching over as he grew larger, a deepening growl rumbling from him before he fell over onto all fours, tail swishing off a torn scrap of dull orange fabric.

J’hasi roared, lunging at the Altmer, knocking him to the ground and pinning him, hands shoving the soldier’s up to trap them above his head, body resting heavily over his stomach to keep him still. The werewolf growled quietly for a moment, wishing he could say one last thing before his fangs dove for the mer’s throat, tearing it out.

‘I’m sorry.’

Call of the Beast (J’hasi/Jinn RP)

sieralonapprentice:

For once moonlight glistened on the snowy landscape. A lightening of the sky to the east suggested morning at some point, but for much of the world it still clung to darkness. Wind cut through all but the warmest of clothing, and the air near froze in Jinn’s lungs, but the starry sky and its beautiful aurora could be seen without the blemish of clouds.

Which was fine and dandy for a poetic soul, such as a graduate of the Bard’s College, but for the scrawny Bosmer curled under a tree it only meant a colder night.

He’d managed to light a fire before the deadliest temperatures could set in. Snow to two sides and a sturdy pine overhead did trap enough warmth for him to survive; huddled around the embers in a shivering heap, brambles clinging to remnants of stolen clothing, he might have been mistaken for a shrub in the predawn light.

Thus, he wasn’t surprised when a deer crashed into the clearing barely three yards from where he crouched. He was surprised at the panic emanating from the beast—no mere wolf or bear elicited that kind of reaction.

He wallowed in confusion for almost a heartbeat before things became rather more interesting than he’d bargained for…

Not even a split second after the deer burst from the trees, a massive black shadow crashed out of the underbrush, a terrifying roar that rivaled a grizzly’s in ferocity shattering the relative quiet. The dark shape’s long limbs sank deep into the snow before it sprang back into the air, pouncing on the panting doe. A short, panicked bleat came from the poor creature before her legs crumpled under the weight of her snarling hunter, a flash of sharp white teeth snatching her tender throat and tearing it wide, steaming red splattering onto chill white.

The beast let out a sharp growl, shaking its head violently to make sure its prey wasn’t going anywhere, a sharp crack issuing from the struggling doe’s neck before the hunter released the ripped flesh to let out a long, grumbling breath from between stained teeth. The steam from its hot lungs rose in a smoky cloud, illuminated by the light of the twin moons as it panted, sides heaving as it caught its breath. It growled once more before diving into its kill, tearing open the soft vulnerable belly of its kill. The beast tore a long strip of flesh free, meat and fat from the belly quickly snapped up, entire pieces swallowed nearly whole as it quickly and noisily, for lack of a better term, wolfed down its meal.

It was only a few minutes of eating before the beast stilled, nose twitching as it sniffed, ears pricking. The creature’s gleaming green eyes searched the darkness for the scent it was picking up, lighting up when they snapped to a huddled Bosmer near a pile of coals.

The werewolf’s muzzle wrinkled in a snarl, blood still dripping from its teeth before a low warning sound rumbled in its chest, bright green eyes wide and dilated with the quivering rage barely contained in its body.