A Furred One's Tale — Blue Skooma archive

First of all, I wanted an excuse to make this title. Second, this will be used to tell more recent events in Mereneth's life, and will sometimes act as fillers when I cannot go to guild functions. They might in the future be background for roleplay scenarios.

The sun was bowing from the sky and giving way to Masser's and Secunda's dance as a small house sat near the edge of a small forest, holding a few belongings to be moved as well as a rather concerned Imperial. In the front of her mind, she was considering whether or not to go to her clan's event. It was supposed to be important, not to mention her newfound friends would be there, yet her state of health was making her reconsider. The back of her mind held thoughts that she attempted to silence with graciously stretched logic. I never got a clear view of the creature, it could have been anything. Three days have passed and nothing has happened yet. There is no beast inside for me, anyway. Mereneth looked out of the window. She could make it to the meeting if she left then. All her belongings which she intended to move were packed; there was no other work.

As she turned towards the door, her eyes caught the image in a mirror which she had meant to sell with the house. For a moment, she thought there was a vicious creature in place of where her figure should be. Trembling, she walked to the mirror, sustaining her aristocratic posture. I am not a beast, she thought, looking at the mirror. There, she saw it again! "I am not a beast," Mereneth growled aloud. It simply copied her words. A claw quickly reached out and struck the mirror, creating a long crack. The creature looked ready to fight. She tore the mirror off the wall, a padded foot continuously hitting the mirror. As she repeated her mantra, her voice seemed to fade along with the mirror's image. She stopped after seeing her own form in a large fracture of the looking glass.

Where a frightened animal had been standing, there was a strong figure with muscles wrapped in beautiful fur, a noble snout, and alert ears. And the tail! Mereneth caught glimpses of it at the right angles. No longer would she be jealous of the Khajit form. "See, I am no beast," she thought she said, as she repressed a weaker form from protesting. The door burst open as she ran out, forgetting about the event. A startled cry came from her left; Mereneth looked and saw an Altmer with a cart of trade goods. She approached him with uncontrolled joy, wanting to take him in her arms and tell him the good news about her won battle. She noticed a Bosmer unsheathing a sword at her approach. A growl rose inside of her; of course, someone would ruin these fine times!

With a leap she was on top of him, his sword clattering on the road. He said something about her being a foul beast. How rude! He was tossed aside, and the woman took the mer by the shoulders and told him about her success. The Altmer merely screamed and struggled under her grasp. Well, it seemed everyone was in a foul mood that night. Suddenly, a call came from the forest. Perhaps they would be better company? She pushed the merchant down and ran towards the forest. Mereneth felt a slight tug to her right, and she veered from the path. A clearing opened in front of her, though she did not think this forest had any openings this large. Moonlight seemed to bend into a man's form. His crown of antlers and his uncovered body made him look formidable, and Mereneth approached with respect. Thoughts entered her mind, of others like her, of great hunts against the world's beasts. But I am no hunter, the weak voice in her mind said. She growled at it. An image of her bowing to the man appeared in her mind, and she copied the movements, being filled with a great sense of wholeness.

Mereneth awoke the next day at the edge of the forest. Denial and dread had left her; at worse, there was reluctant acceptance. She had certainly missed the ferry to the mainland. Sighing, she walked to town to get food for the next few days and check the boat's schedule. As she entered the square, she recognized the two elves she had seen - or believed she had seen, everything was a blur. "I swear," the Altmer was saying to some gathered, "a savage beast attacked me! A manbeast! Auridon is being attacked by the Huntsman!" There were mixed reactions from the crowd. "What should be done, then?" a Khajit inquired. A voice from Mereneth's past spoke - Liliana, not seeming to have aged a day since an Imperial child first appeared on her doorstep. "It must be stopped. Search the town! Find the beast, and destroy it in its mortal form!" Yes, she still had to attempt to harm Mereneth.

"I believe it would be best to wait. These creatures do not appear every night, and from my knowledge, only if they have a hunting target. It would be best to alert the guards, but if it does not appear again within a month, we will know it has moved on from its target," Mereneth said, putting her diplomatic skills to work. The small crowd murmured in agreement. Those who believed it felt safe, those who did not would not have any time wasted. Liliana looked at Mereneth, not showing any sign of recognition but a general disdain towards her humanity, and answered in the same manner, "That is a fair enough option. But I will not be blamed if any citizen is harmed." The elves with the merchant's cart looked satisfied, and the crowd dispersed to the other parts of the plaza. Mereneth quickly scheduled passage on the next boat to Valenwood.

Shadows danced upon the road, with Mereneth delighting in their tendrils. The caravan which Rune-Tail had tasked to her had given its load of defensive goods to the Aldmeri army, and as it was the last stop the Khajit took the night off to revel with some soldiers. No one had barred her from going out of the camp, besides a few soldiers warning about bandits. It did not matter to her. She was in a place that she could almost call home.

The journey had given her some time to reflect on her new form. She dared not shift near the caravan; her control during her first rampage wasn't admirable. Anyway, she felt no need to do so. Mereneth had done more extensive research in the towns which actually had any public collection of books, and it seemed that either the Daedra that she had unwittingly sworn herself to serve was either busy with other hunts in his realm - or farther reaches of Tamriel - or he had respect for her other duties. But she also focused on the less scholarly feelings that she found in herself. There had been such an exhilarated joy when she had taken that beast's image, she felt it could not be an illusion. Perhaps she herself was glad to be free of a relatively mundane path. If anything, Mereneth had left behind her utter hatred for tolerance.

She felt as if she could recognize hills, placing herself on top and pretending that she was empress of all she saw; all but those pesky towers which spewed forth soldiers to take her land. Mereneth had forgotten her fire from that age! The aspect had been beaten from all sides, with very little kindling being added. At the very least she hoped to find that those soldiers had made use of the fruitful land. She was certain that past the riverbed would lay a powerful mill or something else fitting the orchard. Yet, with every step the path grew more weeds, more thorns of doubt stabbing her fantasy. At the bed it was all grass, and Mereneth looked up ever so slowly to see rows of overgrown trees. In their midst were a few run-down wooden buildings, which she desperately tried to fix in her mind. This was wrong. All of it was wrong.

And the worst part was the shadow she saw, sitting half-alert on a rock and wearing reclaimed armor. There stood the figure of her race, what had become of the Cyrodillic Imperials. Her fire of passion was drenched in a pool of rage. How dare they let this happen to themselves, being reduced to stealing from abandoned families and marauding the outposts of the armies! All she wanted to do was destroy these skeevers whom infested her home. The guard even seemed to take the appearance of a beast, and he became her prey. How satisfying his death would be! Through red-tinged vision, Mereneth gained a glimpse of clarity of what she was doing - and then she willingly unleashed her rage.

It felt quicker than last time, perhaps because she was not fighting anymore, but commanding. Her growl was loud enough to bring the guard to attention, and as he nervously looked around the rock, the eyes of the two Imperials - no, the man and the beast - met, and with a shout from the bandit she lunged forward. By the time his body was disconnected from all vitals with artful gashes, more of the prey was coming out of holes in the houses. Perhaps she wouldn't be able to take so much delight in mutilating these creatures, and though she had never actually devoured her prey, she felt it was a waste. But her revenge was more important, and she delighted in the terror on their faces.

Blades were easy to avoid; arrows that sank into flesh were picked off without feeling. With every slash came a screech, and at one point in the fray she heard hasted speech about the boss being knocked down. Ah, so that was the pathetic lout laying alongside the other corpses. She crushed the man's ribcage underfoot to secure their fear, and with a cry she recognized as a retreat she began to chase her prey. Her larger size hardly hampered her movement; she knocked down those who fled as she hunted the others. One seemed particularly fast, a mer who had most likely deserted their army. He was just better sport, and she did not delight in his death quite as much as in the others'.

At the end Mereneth felt that it was a triumphant hunt. Her energy began to recede as she got back to the bandits' nest, her first home. Her thought seemed less frantic, the area being removed of the bodies and broken buildings and replaced with its glory. She could smell the orchard in bloom, wishing for its fruit to be spread. She could see the farmhouse, complete only when all the family danced through its interior. Her own childish laughter seemed to be on the breeze. How could that splendor have been destroyed so easily? She walked towards the hollow doorway, noticing that it seemed much smaller than before, and saw that a plank still stood over the entrance, carved with the single word "Oholin". The name on its own brought her close to tears. Why had she given herself an elven name? Why had she honored the mer in her fantasies, instead of ruling under her true given name and surname?

She had forgotten about the caravan as she stepped inside. Her bed had been in the loft of the house, and seeing no remaining way to get up to the roof she curled up under its old location. A lullaby from her grandmother came to her mind, along with her last words to the child: "Keep on fighting to the 'morrow." Sleep overcame her beastly form, and when the sun shone through the holes in the ceiling it had been replaced with a solemn Imperial. Mereneth felt no need to tour the place any longer. As she crossed the riverbed, she turned back to the abandoned palace of her youth, whispered a parting word, and ran down the trail to where her new home was waiting.