brothersofthedominion:
Icarus struggled to open his eyes, but he could definitely hear sounds– low growls rumbled through the halls of the icy chamber, followed by silence. The mers face scrunched as he yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It took him a moment to realize how cold he was and that his robes were partially soaked from falling asleep in the snow.
<”Shit!”> The mer seethed through his teeth, scrambling on his feet as the panic began to set in his mind. How long had he been asleep?! What game of Questionnaire would Ancano play with him as soon as he got up there. Why did his mouth taste disgusting. And just what-
His thoughts came to a screeching halt when a booming abhorrent howl echoed throughout the entire Midden. Every hair on the mers body raised on its strand.
And just what in the holy name of Magnus was that?!
His instincts were screaming at him to get out of that place. The justiciar was hesitant at first to open the door, maybe stay hidden until whatever that was was gone. He pulled his dagger from its sheath, stuffed the tome into his jacket. The mer creaked the door slowly, peeked both ways. The coast was clear, the sounds he heard earlier sounded like they maybe came from below. As long as he went up, he should be fine. The mer ran his way up the hall and–
Oh gods.
Sure there were plenty of ways leading up, but most of the entries he saw probably did not lead back up to the college. He glanced at all the doorways frantically, choosing one and hoping it lead up.
Worse case scenario, plenty of places to hide.
Hopefully.
The beast panted excitedly, the broken strap had allowed it to shake off the harness, leaving it trailing along behind it before another vigorous shake left it to tumble into the snow. It was free, there was fresh meat lurking in this place, and the lack of other fresh scents made tracking delightfully easy. The were sniffed the ground, then the air, following its other scent upwards through the winding paths with ease, freezing in place when it caught a stronger whiff of the prey-scent it had been teased with before.
The ‘wolf approached the messed snow, the scent of bile strong in its nose before it moved to a flattened patch of snow, sniffing carefully. Young. Relatively healthy. Ate well, and had eaten recently…presumably before it had thrown it all up across the room. More importantly, it had only left minutes before.
The werewolf lifted its head, sniffing around, then found the bootprints in the snow, baring its teeth in a hungry grin as it trotted along on all fours, sniffing, catching up to its quarry. The scent of old bones, wet stone, ice, snow…it was merely the drab gray-and-white background to the fresh, bright red scent of the prey’s blood, the tinge of acrid yellow-green of vomit, the slightly-sweet and salty scent of sweat…
When it came closer, it slowed its trot to a walk, then a stalk, sniffing and finding that the prey was close. It slipped through a door soundlessly, careful not to let its claws scratch on the floor as its muscles quivered in excited anticipation of the hunt, the chase…the taste of fresh blood and flesh in its mouth, over its teeth and claws…
When it heard the prey’s breathing, it crouched down low, sticking to the shadows, readying itself to dart forward, eyes locking onto the vulnerable flesh of its leg, a quick bite and it would be unable to flee… The ‘wolf licked its chops quietly, then issued a low growl from the shadows…
vvardenfellcat 