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Autholius

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About Autholius

  • Rank
    Citizen
  • Birthday May 16

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  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    United States
  • Interests
    Composing Music, Classical Music, Contemporary Music, Pop Music, Electro Music, Jazz Music, Reading Good Fantasy Writing, Reading Good Sci-Fi Writing, Science (All Fields of Science), Videogames (esp. LoL), and Roleplaying (Obviously)
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    Full Time Student

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  1. Hey everyone -- I have returned (this time, I hope for good!) under a new name: @Pseudonym

     

    Sorry for being off the radar for quite a while -- it's just been such a long time, and I felt the need to start over --

     

    Start fresh with a new leaf.

     

    Regardless, I am back!

     

    Happy New Years to all of you, I missed Valucre and I'm glad to be back.

     

    - Your friend always,

     

    Autholius (AKA Peter (AAKA Pseudonym))

  2. Yes, the new character I made is practically a re-creation of the original Welfrick Jagdhund who I have reworked into someone less edgy and hopefully more realistic (with more realistic character motives).

    1. Autholius

      Autholius

      Also he has not been proofread yet! I just put the rough sketch in just recently -- but I'm very tired and would like to sleep.

      If anyone would be willing to give their critique on him, it would be much appreciated!

      Here is his link: 

       

    2. Autholius

      Autholius

      Also my writing skills are very rusty -- just a warning

  3. Return From A Long Hiatus

    Greetings everyone! To whom it may concern (primarily to those who I roleplayed and interacted with), I would first like to apologize for leaving a few months ago on such short notice. Life had become very busy, and I was at a point where I didn't have time to write anymore or participate in Valucre. Rest assured, I am back! I just finished creating a new character of sorts so I can start fresh (he'll be based in Genesaris this time), and I can't wait to begin writing with everyone again! Valucre is an amazing community that I definitely don't want to leave, and I am happy to finally have the time to rejoin the world. Seriously though, I really cannot wait to create vivid adventures with all of you again. See you all soon! Sincerely, -Auth
  4. Welfrick Valjer Jagdhund

    Welfrick Valjer Jagdhund [Art W.I.P.] QUICK SHEET_________________________________________________ NAME: Welfrick Valjer Jagdhund (WEL-frik val-HARE jawgd-HOOND) IS A(N): Genesaris human / Werewolf BIRTHDATE: 12/25/572 WTA PLACE OF BIRTH: Valjer Town, Genesaris GENDER: male AGE: 23 MARITAL STATUS: single SEXUAL PREFERENCE: heterosexual HEIGHT: 6'2” WEIGHT: 180 lbs. (normal); 300 lbs. (cursed) ALIGNMENT: neutral good STATUS: alive EYES: pale green SKIN: pale HAIR: short, messy; auburn VOICE: baritone DOMINANT SIDE: right-handed, left eye dominant PERSONALITY: too stubborn to ask for help, bold, reckless, blunt, light drinker, adventurous, bookworm, observant, charitable, curious, candid REPUTATION: N/A RELATIONSHIPS: N/A ABILITIES: OUTFIT: PARAPHERNALIA: CURRENT THREAD(S): BIOGRAPHY________________________________ Growing up, Welfrick was raised in a relatively large family, sharing a cramped residence with several half-brothers and half-sisters in Valjer. His father was a blacksmith while his stepmother tended the house. Being the only red-headed individual in his family, Welfrick always knew that he was different from the rest of his siblings. "The Blacksmith's Bastard" was his moniker in hushed gossip; however, this did not stop Welfrick from working. His father kept him busy everyday with arduous tasks at the forge -- he didn't have time to be concerned about what his reputation was or what others thought of him. Still, the illegitimacy of his birth lingered like a cast shadow. Most of his siblings ostracized him with a cold demeanor. His father treated him as if he was a mere apprentice. Even his stepmother wanted no part in his upbringing. His only friend was his older brother Sebastian. Being with Sebastian was Welfrick's only source of comfort in his antagonistic household. His older brother would tell him stories before he fell asleep: tales of Wolfbane and Deepdelve Rangers, of explorer's and wizards, of the fantastic world of Genesaris and continents beyond their homeland's shores. When Welfrick hit the age of eleven, Sebastian began to take his brother out and away from the firey billows. He took him to see the town in it's entirety, from the countless shops and buildings to the Deepdelve passages. He took him out hunting in the forests, teaching him how to shoot a bow and how to survive in the wilderness. He brought him to see the cyromancers of Valjer's military who performed acts of magick that Welfrick thought he would only see in his imagination. Most importantly, he gave his brother happiness. As Welfrick became older, Sebastian became more occupied with business trips to Shrine City on behalf of their father. While his brother was away, Welfrick began to immerse himself in reading. Over the years, Welfrick had acquired a small collection of texts in his room. He had small novels that Sebastian bought for him when he was a kid, old textbooks that some other children in Valjer didn't need anymore, and even an encyclopedia of elementary magical topics that Welfrick found in an unattended bag in the marketplace. He was enraptured by the written word. History, fiction, science, magick -- he was fascinated by all of it. Every page he read fed his yearning for the world outside of Valjer. When he became a teenager, Welfrick began to go out more into the woods to conduct his own miniature explorations. He created his own map of the forests around Valjer, recording his own personal discoveries in his chart of the land. It was exciting, it was liberating, it was beautiful. Out there among the trees, under the open sky, he felt free. * * * 12/22/585 WTA Welfrick found himself caught in a blizzard. It was a flurry of frost and ice, and forced Welfrick to take shelter in a small cave. As the storm cleared that night, Welfrick walked out into the pale moonlight, only to feel a strange sensation running up his spine. Was he sick? Did he become ill from being out in the cold too long? It was only a few steps out in the wilderness when he was stricken with overwhelming pain. His muscles lit on fire as he felt them tearing themselves apart. His bones twisted and cracked as they reshaped themselves into something else. Red liquid splattered on the ground, painting the white snow with vivid tones of crimson. He howled in agony as he writhed on the ground until he blacked out from the pain. When Welfrick woke up, the world was still spinning and his vision was red. "Damn the gods..." he muttered to himself as he struggled to bring himself up. As he stood up, Welfrick couldn't help but notice the world seemed slightly smaller than it had been before. Something was clearly different. As soon as the coppery scent of blood faded, his nose was assaulted by a cacophony of smells. There was a tinge of evergreen that pervaded the air alongside the earthy smell of a nearby riverbed. Then there was one note that rang out clearly among all others, a musky scent. Food. Turning his head towards the direction of the overwhelming aroma, Welfrick felt as if his guts were being torn into shreds, his stomach now a gaping void in his abdomen. Without hesitation, he began to walk towards the source of the odor, no, run. Before he knew it, he was sprinting as fast as he could. He couldn't wait a moment longer. The need to sate his burning starvation was the only thing on his mind. Meat. He could see it in the distance -- a large male elk. Several hundred pounds of walking, raw flesh. His eyes focused in on the bag of meat that was grazing a few hundred meters in front of him. Before he could even process what he was about to do, instinct took over. The elk had little time to react or struggle against him as Welfrick tore into it. There was only a muted cry and a fountain of scarlet, and shortly after, the taste of blood. * * * Initially after discovering he was not completely human, Welfrick was at first fearful. He questioned whether or not it was safe for him to stay with his family -- if he would end up hurting them. From what he was able to gather, he was not human, but rather some sort of amalgamation of wolf and man. At first, he wanted to tell his brother; however, he decided against it. Every child in Valjer knows that wolves are to be hunted and persecuted without hesitation. The white wolves are a hated symbol, and Welfrick did not want to find out how he would be dealt with if the townspeople discovered what he was. As much as he hated it, Welfrick figured it would probably for both him and Sebastian if he did not speak of it. Over time, Welfrick had come to mild terms with his affliction. On full moons, when he could not at all resist the transformation, he ventured off into the woods in secret to prevent himself from endangering the other townspeople. On other nights, he had mild control of himself and could even remain somewhat reasonable when he shifted. Something more remarkable that he discovered while hunting during the day was that he could even transform in the bright of day -- a useful skill that proved useful for tracking. Despite everything, there was one aspect of the change that persisted no matter the phase of the moon: hunger. Even when rational, Welfrick found himself consumed with starvation shortly after changing. He would have to forage for big game to satisfy his voracious appetite -- one or two elk were usually just enough to prevent him from going rabid. When he reached the age of eighteen, Welfrick had just about regained control of his life. He was an average, normal, Valjerian -- almost. At this point, it wasn't difficult for him to keep his true nature a secret, and it didn't interfere with daily routines. Additionally, Sebastian had been coming home more often, so that was a benefit. Life seemed to be getting better. Until that disastrous night. * * * 10/13/594 WTA Welfrick had just finished hunting with Sebastian, and was relatively tired from a long day out in the forest. They had just finished dragging home a large bear, two hogs, and a small fox -- fine catches for the end of autumn. It would definitely serve to feed the Jagdhunds for the harsh winter that was approaching. Before the two entered the house, Sebastian said that he was going to buy some bread from the bakery and some vegetables from the grocer so that they would be able to have a large dinner that night. As his brother departed, Welfrick's ears picked up on the sound of breaking glass. He dug into his pockets, grabbed his keys, unlocked the door, and ran inside. What he saw was less than pleasing. His father had always been a drunkard, but he was definitely passed being tipsy. He saw his stepmother on the floor, badly bruised and beaten. Although Welfrick never liked his stepmother, this was too far. He heard a slough of curses being thrown at the women, for what, Welfrick didn't know. All he knew was that his father needed to be stopped. Welfrick thrust himself inbetween his father's raised fist and his stepmother's battered body, protecting her from the drunken man's wrath. Welfrick turned his face towards his stepmother and told the woman to go to the room where it was safe, to which she hurried off. As he looked back, he felt a hard blow on the top of his skull, shards of bottle and drops of beer scattering in all directions. His hearing was shot, but he could see the fury on his father's face. He felt his anger rising as well, and he punched his father. Their were still stars in his vision, but he watched as his father was taken aback for a moment. A look of pure hatred awashed his face. The man turned around, and began to walk outside towards to Welfrick's small shed, grabbing with a lit lamp. What was the man doing? Welfrick's hearing was coming back slowly, but he could only hear a bit of what the man was saying. "...should have left you, you stupid son of a whore.... You want to know what happens when you disrespect me boy?!" his father yelled as he stood in the middle of the garden Whether or not Welfrick believed what he was seeing was out of the question. His father threw the metal container of burning oil at the room, fiery snakes climbing up the dried up ivy that covered his abode. The flames quickly consumed the old wood and spread across the entire shack. Before he knew it, his entire shack was covered in an ardent blaze. All of his belongings, his bow, his personal stack of books that he had spent so much time collecting -- all reduced to ash. Smoke rose up into the sky, illuminated by the raging fire. Welfrick was beyond anger, beyond seething fury. He felt his blood boiling. Welfrick's arm moved faster that his own body, feral claws aimed at severing the blacksmith's frail frame. The drunken man raised his arms in defense, but his son was slashing at him in fury. By the time Welfrick was finished, his father was a mangled corpse -- parts of the man scattered across the yard. The fire was dying down now, only smoking embers and the full moon's pale light illuminating the night. Welfrick's ears perked towards the front doorknob which turned. It felt like an eternity as the door swung open, the werewolf's sense of time slowing down as his senses heightened. A paper bag hit the floor, vegetables rolling out on the floor in disarray. It was Sebastian. Whether or not he recognized his brother was out of the question as Welfrick immediately felt an arrow pierce his shoulder. The man had just shot at him. Welfrick lunged at the aggressor, pinning him to the floor. Welfrick went for the kill, maw agape, dagger like teeth glistening. Sebastian raised his arm in defense, and in the moments that ensued, lost it to the mouth of the beast. Inside of Welfrick's mouth was his brother's arm, and only when he looked down did he realize who he was attacking. He dropped the detached limb onto the floor and backed away from his brother, the only one he ever truly cared about. Rage was suddenly overtaken by horror. "What have I done?" Welfrick turned his back from his home, and ran. He ran as far as he could, ran as far as he could from the grave sins he had committed. * * *
  5. Festival of Faces Interest Check

    Is it too late to join in the fun?
  6. I seeeeeee you

  7. Sorry for being inactive guys, but some issues came up that I have to deal with. It may take a few weeks, but I will be taking a (hopefully) short hiatus from Valucre. To all of the people I am currently roleplaying with, please feel free to continue without me for the time being. I would hate to stifle anyone from expressing themselves creatively because of forces I can't control. Hope to be back soon.

    -Auth

  8. [LEGENDARY eRP TOURNAMENT]

    Red stole what I was about to say... "Sweatshop of Horrors." *shudders*
  9. Lux Ex Tenebris

    He lowered is bow slowly, waiting to see if he'd make any sudden movements. There were none. He unnocked his arrow and held it in his hand for a moment, glaring down the strange man. The sandy haired fellow was not an immediate threat, but still seemed very suspicious. Why should he be trusted -- a complete stranger who seemed to appear out of thin air? The hunter considered slashing at the man with his short sword, but there was something about his arrogant smile that made Welfrick reconsider. Additionally, he reasoned that whatever strange weapon Tanner held in hand would probably cause some sort of loud raucous since it was small and unassuming -- the kind that looks harmless, but holds a deadly surprise. Any effort now would be useless, and it seemed that the stranger still had a gimmick up his sleeve. How else could he sneak up upon a group of three? He would forego violence for now, and try civilized discourse. There were still many questions to be answered. Welfrick lowered his bow, and let go of some of the tension in his bowstring -- his arm now relaxed. "It depends Abigail. People who just appear without any warning is something not to be taken lightly." There were no indications of malice or misdirection in the other man's voice when he spoke to the group that Welfrick could pick up on, but it was better to err on the side of caution. Why should we trust you," he asked the man directly. "You haven't even given us your name yet."
  10. Outside of Ebony Walls

    Welfrick had a few things he wanted to say to the individuals who were guarding the entrance to the dungeon, but he was pulled along by the Psion before he could utter a single word. It was for the best -- if he said what he had thought, then he surely would have been spending a few more hours locked up in a cell. He was still slightly aggravated at the young man's naive reaction. He so strongly wanted to say yes -- he was a man. He wanted to say that to every guardsman and woman they passed. They all made him feel like a rabid circus animal that was prematurely let out of his pen by the ringmaster. He wasn't dangerous -- he was clearly human, not a beast. Couldn't they see that? Still, he couldn't blame them for their distrust -- they had every right to not trust him. He didn't know how much they saw, or what exactly what they saw, but he knew that they saw something. He hoped -- so very strongly hoped -- that he didn't eat someone the night before. If he did, it would not surprise him if they had sent a handful of military officers to watch over the duo from the shadows. Then it hit him: why was he so trusting of Raveena? She was military -- a General at that --; however, she treated him completely differently. Sure, she was a shifter, but it donned on him that she could have some ulterior motive. All she did was help him, but why -- what made him special? Was she going to use him? It was hard for Welfrick to fathom why she had been so kind -- why she had been so understanding (and more importantly why she was in his arms when he woke up). Why did he let his walls down so readily for this woman -- a complete stranger? He had been so sorely out of character lately, and was not acting like his usual self. Perhaps it was just the fact he was tired from the night before, or maybe her appearance smote his better judgement. Thinking back, it was as if he were a begging dog, asking her for help. Stupid, he thought, regretting spilling most of his secrets to the psion. In hindsight, he could have been more dignified in the way he had asked her for assistance.As they proceeded into the the town, his ears caught the sounds that marked the hustle and bustle of a thriving populace. Children laughing and playing in the streets, the clanging of freshly forged steel from the local blacksmith, the crinkling of freshly baked bread, the rabble-rousers at the nearby tavern, and the townspeople -- a lively bunch -- talking and chattering away. Welfrick could see an assortment of lively colors pass by as he was pulled through crowds of people by Raveena. To both sides, there were buildings that were clearly built by the hands of the inhabitants -- some modern, some traditional. He couldn't help but grin as a child ran in front of the two, carrying what looked to be a small toy of some sort. It was a fresh, new experience, but It was also oddly nostalgic, reminding the hunter of the happiness he had back in his village. It was nice. He wondered for a moment why didn't he just live here in Predator's Keep -- a place that he could see himself residing in. He could find a wife, start a family, grow old! Live life, and be happy. It was a fleeting thought, one that was killed immediately when he smelled the distinct musk that every hunter knows to be the smell of a fresh kill. He turned, and saw a bowman walk by with the carcass of a wolf slung over his shoulder, an immortal snarl plastered onto the dead creature's face. Vivid memories of blood, carnage, and the change came into Welfrick's mind. It was best he didn't stay in towns. He quickly glanced back towards the child running clumsily over the cobbled stones of the road, waving a wooden sword as if he were some noble warrior. The boy was smiling. Welfrick didn't want to risk taking that smile away. * * * * * * * * * * * * * They were nearing the great walls that surrounded the town now -- a towering monument of black stone that encircled the keep. Were they going to exit, were they going somewhere else within the town? The Psion had been pulling him through the city, almost impatiently, leading him through the town at a brisk pace without giving him the slightest clue of their destination. He was afraid that any sudden disturbance would interrupt her focus -- her eyes looking strange ever since they had left --, but he needed to know where she was taking him. He gave a slight tug on her hand. "What do you see? Are we almost there, Raveena?"
  11. Outside of Ebony Walls

    Welfrick blinked twice in disbelief at what he just witnessed, stepping backwards at Raveena's demonstration of her abilities. He thought to himself that if she could so easily tear a metal door from it's hinges, what could stop her from pulling the hinges that held his body together apart? It was a brief, yet cautionary observation -- one that the hunter would keep in mind in their future conversations. Even though she seemed very cordial and caring, it perhaps would be best if he did not try to test her limits. Despite the looming threat of possible instantaneous dismemberment via psychokinetic impulse, he was relieved that someone as powerful as Raveena was going to accompany him. This was indeed the first time he had been to Predator's Keep, so having a local guide him would be invaluable. Her powers would also be a great asset in both subduing enemies, and possibly Welfrick himself. It would be best for him -- and the rest of the town -- if she kept him in check. She didn't die when he rampaged the prior night, so luck may have it that she had the ability to survive a second encounter with the beast. Even with her small display of power, Welfrick knew. She was a force to be recokoned with... ... and she was also his way out of whatever godforsaken prison he was stuck in. He took her hand carefully, his hand feeling the rough, calloused skin of hers. This only reaffirmed his previous observation: she is definitely not a dainty magus. Raveena was no stranger to physical work, although he still wasn't sure whether or not it was from manual labor, combat, or some other laborious activity. Welfrick furrowed his eyebrows and paused for a moment, taking in everything that she had just said. "A Psionic what?" he asked thoughtlessly, having no idea what the two terms put together meant at all. Maybe he should have asked something else, but he was still in awe. Magic is pretty amazing. It was then he had the strangest feeling that she would whisk him away, godspeed, away and about without answering his small question.
  12. Sorry everyone for not being as active as I usually am -- been doing a very large amount of work in the past few days both in college and at home, but my schedule should be clearing up soon. For now, I'll hash out all of the threads by tomorrow! Thanks for being patient!

  13. Outside of Ebony Walls

    It seemed as if reiterating the matter would not bring him any closer towards finding a solution, and that to Welfrick was vexing. Was it a coincidence that he became a shifter? Did it really matter? He was one now, and it didn't matter how he became -- at least, that is what he believed. He wanted answers, not questions. Despite his urgency, he couldn't help but sympathize with her as she opened herself up to him -- a complete stranger. The two were very alike in the way. Here he was -- moved from place to place because of the beast, not because he wanted to move, but because he was forced to. Every home he was welcomed into? Razed by his feral form. Every city he entered? Put into a frenzy by sightings of a demon, a monster prowling on the outskirts. Sooner or later, they would find the source of the hysteria... and if the townspeople did not get to him first, the beast would get to them. Then there she was -- Raveena. His only company -- in fact, the only person he's had a 'real' conversation with in a while. Although he would never be able to understand what it was like to be sought after by those in power, he understood -- understood what it was like to not be in control. But to Welfrick, just because she wasn't in control doesn't mean that she should just let go of the reigns to her life. He ignored her small words of flattery (partially because he didn't know how to respond to being called 'broad') and spoke, "Well, you can think of yourself as a convenient tool, but I don't." The hunter couldn't help but walk over to the bars himself and let his fingers wrap around the rods of cold iron, squatting slightly so that he could look at her at eye level. "You," he said, pointing to her chest with conviction, "You are free to be whatever you want to be. If you feel as if you aren't in control of your life, fix it. Seventeen years, and I haven't stopped searching for a solution." He paced back towards the center of the cell -- merely a few steps since it was very, very small -- and looked through the barred casement that shed light from the city streets. "It is a big world out there, and I want to explore it, free from this ridiculous curse." He paused for a moment as if to emphasize his next point. "If you feel held back, fight back," he stated. He had always thought of himself as a caged animal, but this time, he quite literally was a caged animal. Obviously, he could do nothing about his current state within the jail; however, he could try to do something about his curse -- the thing that has kept him barred from normal life. It was something he would fight against until he regained the reigns back to his own life. Then he heard the characteristic sound of someone who sounded somewhat peckish -- a slight growl of peristaltic movement. Turning around, he looked back at the empath. "Here, take this," he said, holding out the succulent red fruit to her, "You look hungry." As he offered the orb of red, delicious, sweet flesh, it dawned on him that he had perishable goods inside of his satchel that was left outside. And there was also his wallet inside of his bag... and his precious mementos from home lying beside them... and his armor, his well-used. well-made armor.... Essentially, everything he owned was probably outside waiting for some thief to take it. "Oh... and, please, do try to get me out of here soon! I just remembered that all of my important things are still outside of the walls of this city. My bow, my bag, spare clothes, armor -- everything. Could you tell your subordinates to get the keys or something... oh Gaia, that is all of my stuff...." He had some things inside of his bag that he really didn't want other people seeing -- but that would be a conversation for another day.
  14. Outside of Ebony Walls

    Comfortable. It was a quaint word used by those who had the time to enjoy the smallest luxuries of life -- something that Welfrick could not afford himself. Every day he spent idle was another memory gone -- another part of his humanity, lost to oblivion. Becoming a beast at night had many tolls on the hunter -- all, he could handle --; however, he didn't want to forget who he was, where he came from, his own flesh and blood. It was already too much that he could not recall his father's face, let alone name. All traces of his childhood were naught but erased, the only proof of its existence bound between the two leather folds of his journal. He didn't have time to be comfortable, he needed to become normal again. Getting up on to his feet, the hunter winced slightly in pain, bones and muscles still sore. He wanted to show her that he was not weak -- that he could handle his 'small' injuries. He'd experienced far, far worse in the past. "If only there was a reason," he muttered, unwilling to imagine any good coming out of his seventeen years of misery, his aching body not helping. He looked back at her and said, "Thank you, Raveena, I really do appreciate the fact that you healed me, but I can't be wasting any more time." Back, where he grew up, a hunter could not allow themselves to waste a single second of daylight hoping for game to walk by -- swift and cunning action must be taken. There were tracks to follow, men and women at home to feed. He may not have had any people to take care of anymore, but he still had his own issues, and he wanted to address them with haste. Would the beast wait for him to recover before switching places with him for the night? Welfrick began to unclothe himself -- still wearing the appropriate undergarments to retain respectful privacy -- and dropped them on the floor, his iron arm and knee guards clanging with the stone ground. It was chilly -- his naked flesh exposed directly to the air. Still, he was unfazed by the cold, proceeding to take his somewhat tattered shirt and tearing it into small strips of cloth -- hopefully cleaned by the beast's quick dip in the river.... Carefully, the hunter wrapped makeshift bandages around the palms of his hands where the monster's claws had bore tiny holes in. Next, he continued to dress his other wounds -- a plethora of small scrapes, scratches, and the occasional gash, along his arms and legs. After finishing his own rudimentary self-treatment, he grabbed the clothes that were on the blanket. "See.... I... can... handle.... myself!" he said, struggling to put on a strangely tight shirt -- the guards really were impish in their own respect. To his dismay, the pants were also tight and too short. "I guess these will just have to do," he sighed, noticing the apple that sat on the ground. He picked it up and tossed it a few times in the air. It was a shame at how the men here treated the food with such disrespect. They should try starving themselves for a week and try throwing food to the floor again. "Wow Raveena, you were right. You do have great company. Your leader seems like such a great guy for assigning them to you" a slight hint of sarcasm to his voice -- a small smirk on his face. His tone grew slightly more serious as he switched topics. "Since you are a psion, could you help figure out what is wrong with me? That is why I traveled here -- the scientists at Ashville were no help at all."
  15. Outside of Ebony Walls

    As the woman's fingers traced along his wounded palms, he was relieved of the stinging sensation that he had felt earlier. Immediately, the hunter had one thought that popped into his mind: she was a witch -- the title he unanimously gave all mages, witches, warlocks, and the like. This woman could use magic -- a talent that he had never been gifted with as a child. His village's only practitioner of magic was a healer; however, she was much more rough when handling her patients when she did her work. That nurse worked for over fifty years and dealing with the moans and groans of the wounded, the ailing, the whiny brats, and brutally maimed -- no wonder she was so crabby. His company, on the other hand, was much more gentle and careful when she healed him. It was pleasant. He wanted to ask her what her name was so that he could thank her... ... but that is when she asked: "Are you Welfrick?" He was very surprised at the fact that she knew his name. Turning his head around quickly, he looked back at the woman as she released his hand. The hunter gave her a questioning look, as if to say, "How in the world did you know that?" There were only two places that she could have possibly found the name on, one being his family heirloom dagger -- Schatz, but the dagger was out of the question. She couldn't have possibly made out his name from there since it was not just his name carved into the steel blade -- the names of countless other ancestors of his also chiseled into the object. That only left one possible object: his journal. He tensed up immediately, eyes darting around the small cell as he looked around for his satchel and the rest of his personal effects. They were left outside of the wall last he remembered. Could she have taken a peek into his meticulous documentation of his personal life, his most precious journal? Before he had the chance to ask where his belongings were, or more importantly, if she had dared to open the black leather binding of his most sacred book, she continued to speak. He'd have to ask her later. There was an awkward silence for a few brief moments. When the woman -- Raveena -- left the final question hanging with an "or," the hunter immediately knew what alternative scenario she was referring to -- he just didn't want to acknowledge the fact that it was even brought up. On any other occasion, he would never answer such a prying question; however, if she did read his journal -- like he thought --, there was no point in hiding anything anything from her. "To answer your question, I was not born this way.... I was, well, cursed," he sighed. "I was out on a hunting trip with my father several years ago, and there was this -- this accident...." Welfrick looked down at his own weathered hands, still feeling the lingering grief. It was difficult for him to speak of that memory -- the day his father died. Today would be the day he had ever divulged it to another set of human ears. "It was my fault, my mistake...," he faltered, struggling to speak, " There were beasts everywhere, godforsaken monsters...." "When I killed the leader of them, that red-eyed mongrel," saying that last word with bitter emphasis, "I began to look -- look like one of them." The hunter covered his face with his hands and shook his head, still hoping that this all was just some long, drawn out, excessively cruel nightmare. I have no idea how it happened, why it happened, it just... happened." After a brief few moments, he recollected his thoughts and regained his composure. His hands dropped from his face as he looked up towards Raveena. "This is Predator's Keep, right? You mentioned Psions, and I came here to look for one that could help rid me of my affliction. You said that you are also a, what do you call it, a shifter, right? And you also know about magic I'm sure! Could you help me?" he asked with renewed hope. Help him kill the beast destroy the curse.
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