If you've ever had a
conversation with me regarding The Elder Scrolls series, you'll know
that my favorite game in it is Oblivion. I think it has some of the
best quest design in modern RPGs, and still plays well today, even if
its visuals are dated. Since I had some spare time over the summer, I
decided it would be a good idea to download the PC copy I purchased
years ago and replay the game. Unlike my previous runs, which have
always been on PS3 since that's all I had at the time, I went in with
the benefits of mods.
Among the various
mods I downloaded was the Curse of Hircine mod, which appealed to me
for two reasons. For one, it offered a brand new way to play the
game, under a set of conditions I am not used to. And on top of that,
I am furry trash who relishes in the idea of transforming into a big,
strong werewolf. However, not even I would have been able to predict
the end result from installing one, single mod. What follows is a
chronicle of my journey into the darkness, embracing the animal my
character had become.
As you might expect,
one does not simply install a werewolf mod without wanting to play as
the mythical monster themselves. I am no exception to this rule, and
I molded my Khajit character accordingly. He trained in various
physical disciplines, including unarmed combat, archery, stealth,
athletics and acrobatics. A natural-born hunter, Rabrandt “the
Wildborn”, as he was known, spent the majority of his time in the
countryside exploring ruins and old fortresses in order to further
hone his already deadly abilities. Eventually, he knew he would
encounter someone who would be able to help him achieve his ultimate
goal: To become a werewolf, an apex predator. A long time admirer of
these creatures, the Wildborn began to desire that same power. And
for the trial ahead, his body and mind had to be ready.
Before long, his
quarry was found. A raving mad, nearly-naked lunatic rampaging in the
forests, southwest of the Imperial City. Any other adventurer would
have given such a man a wide berth, but not Rabrandt. These same
signs were indicative of the very same disease the hunter sought.
Sanies Lupinus, otherwise known as Lycanthropy, was within his grasp.
Fists at the ready, he charged ahead. The fight was a tough one, but
not because his opponent had the upper hand. Since the disease can
only be passed on while the infected is alive, Rabrandt had to
prolong the fight until he could feel the illness take hold within
his system. Only when it was clear that his goal had been achieved,
the 'illness' passed on to its new 'victim', did he finish the
job with a iron-fisted blow to the skull.
At this point, all
that was left was to give Sanies Lupinus time to fully take hold,
passed the point where it could be cured, and wait until the light of
the next full moon illuminated the night sky. Finally, after what
seemed like eons, it had happened. Collapsing onto the ground,
howling in masochistic pleasure, the Wildborn's feline qualities
began to change... replaced with more primal, lupine features. No one
could say his original form was weak, with all the care he took to
shape it. However, the former body of a warrior was replaced by that
of a titan. Limbs expanded, packed with muscle stronger than steel.
Claws and fangs sharpened to razor sharp points. Senses honed such
that no living being could escape their notice. Footpads padded to be
so quiet that one wouldn't sense their sound until it was far too
late.
Given the title of
this report, this is likely where you think the story ends. Rabrandt
became a monster and used his newfound power to inflict unholy terror
upon the citizens of Cyrodil. If that is the case, you were mistaken.
The former feline knew that he would have to contend with a craving
for human flesh every time his bestial nature was unleashed. For that
reason, until he could develop a strong enough will to subsist off
cattle, he vowed to only use this might on the deserving. He was a
hunter, not a murderer. And even in the context of man, there were
creatures most foul, whom no one would miss. Prowling the
countryside, bandits and highwaymen ran rampant. They would serve as
the necessary sacrifices to keep his cravings in check while
maintaining his own humanity.
And for a long time,
that is how Rabrandt continued his existence. He continued to develop
his skills, to become the perfect representation of the ultimate
hunter that now lurked within his body and soul. But beyond that, he
developed ways to coexist with society, even if they would deem him a
monster if they discovered his true nature. This fragile balance
between part of, yet fundamentally separated from, society is what
eventually drew him towards the Thieves' Guild. Those same talents
that made him an effective predator also proved useful in a life
spent stealing from the rich and powerful. Furthermore, the Guild's
policy against murder would serve as an effective check against his
own burgeoning bloodlust.
With his combined
earnings from dungeoneering and burglary, Rabrandt began to make
additional preparations for his monthly excursions, when the moon
brought out his true self. In order to provide safe places to rest,
recuperate, and transform away from prying eyes, bought property in
nearly every major city in Cyrodil. Wherever innocent people lived,
there was a place that he could call home. This too continued for
quite some time and life continued as normal for the Wildborn, as he
climbed the ranks of the Guild he began to think of as a second
family.
Once a month, during
the 3 nights of the full moon, the feline-turned-canine warrior used
his superhuman strength and regenerative abilities to purge the roads
of threats to wayward travelers, feeding his inner beast by devouring
them, leaving naught but bone. He had been called on to deal with
problems up to and including the deplorable Skooma trade, even if his
clients weren’t aware of what were hiring in order to keep their
towns and loved ones safe.
And yet, all things
must eventually come to an end. In this case, one lapse in judgement
altered Rabrandt's fate irrevocably. While on Thieves' Guild business, the rogue-warrior found himself wandering the streets of
Anvil late at night. Tired from a day of sneaking into Castle Anvil,
he checked in at a local hotel to spend the night. As he shut his
door and prepared for bed, he felt the call. For once, the
transformation would take him by surprise, and he didn't have time to
vacate the area before it happened. By fortune's good grace, nobody
witnessed the light of the full moon draw the beast within to the
surface, but that was only the first of many obstacles.
It was clear that if
Rabrandt wanted to keep the townsfolk unharmed, he would need to make
a break for the city gate, which was easier said-than-done. Getting
out of the hotel wasn't a challenge. It's guests were too scared to
do anything but run. However, when the guards in the street saw a
monster on the loose, they moved into action. Rabrandt knew that even
if he left now, they would merely give chase until they found and
killed their lycanthrope. The one blessing he had was that he was
still anonymous, even under the circumstances. If he couldn't shake
them until morning, he would be discovered. Given how tenacious
watchmen tended to be, there was only one option…. They needed to
die.
This didn't mean the
fight was an easy one, as city guardsmen are highly trained and
equipped with silver weaponry. Still, despite an aggravating healing
factor due to his legendary weakness, Rabrandt was able to win the
battle and escape... or so he thought. During his retreat, while
formulating plans to indulge in his bestial hunger, he failed to
notice another wave of town watchman had begun to tail him. Though
the beast had traveled far, and fast, away from Anvil, they had
managed to keep up with him. Again, with his options depleted, the
lycanthrope resolved to bare his fangs. This time, free of the
confines of the city, they didn't stand a chance. As the final blow
had been struck, a couple of wayward werewolf hunters stumbled onto
the grizzly scene. Valiantly though the struggled, they too could not
hope to win against a monster or such strength and skill.
Alone, left to
observe his grizzly handiwork, Rabrandt's instincts were beginning to
take hold. So many corpses... freshly killed meat... and there was
only one thing to do. That craving had to be sated.
Ten people were
murdered that night. When the wolf assumed his feline guise once
more, there was something different about him. Despite what had
happened, there was no room in his heart for remorse or guilt. In
fact, he marveled at how easy it had all been. A lesser man would
have been tempted to blame “the beast”, but he was no fool.
Bloodlust and the transformation notwithstanding, he was perfectly
aware of what he was doing. That realization was, in his mind,
liberating. He still made sure to maintain a veneer of humanity while
around civilization, pretending to be an upstanding member of
society. And yet, the reluctance to take life was gone. When the moon
shone brightly in the sky, and his full strength was unleashed, it
didn't matter where he changed, so long as no witnesses remained
alive. Bandit camps, city streets, countryside inns, were all nothing
more than farms, their populations reduced to cattle in his mind.
And one night,
awakened from his slumber, Rabrandt would be visited by a robed man,
a representative of a dark organization. Unlike the Thieves’ Guild,
who would absolutely turn on him if they learned of his true nature,
this group promised to accept him, embrace him and the talents he had
worked so hard to cultivate. His new life had begun, and a new reign
of terror with it...
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