03.2023 | WELCOME BACK! Hello friends old and new! I'm so excited to welcome you all back to SITW! I've made some changes to the plot and added the ability to play supernatural charcaters! So come and check it out! I can't wait to jump back into this little town with all of you!
A strange history surrounds the town, it is a place where mysterious and supernatural things have been known to happen. The reputation of the town reguarly draws in visitors and newcomers alike. While some residents avidly believe in the supernatural, others are far more skeptical. What do you believe?
A large brown wolf stalked the mountainside that evening, far from the acreage of the country home he had been invited to claim as his home. It was nice, quite place, with plenty of space for a lone wolf to stretch his legs and explore and discover. His roommate had noticed his affinity for the outdoors, but thankfully wasn't much for them himself. Tristan was still considering how best to remedy this; the first step was finding the best place to go stargazing on Elrond's property.
This evening, however, he was hungry. He hadn't hunted anything larger than small game since his first month here. He had been tracking this herd for the last few days, trying to get close enough, tiring the herd out. But being on a solo hunt could be difficult. Exhausting. Frustrating. But he was determined.
The small herd of deer had moved toward the mountains, venturing lower as the cooler evening set in, the sun casing long shadows and darkening the valley despite it still being early evening. He paused, lifting his muzzle to take in a long whiff. They were close. He couldn't see them through the trees and brush and height variations, but he could hear and smell them. Still relaxed and a bit unalert from the fading warmth of midday. Tristan began moving again, slower, ears forward, padding off the game trail and moving to position himself downwind before he got too much closer.
Alcoholism and Lycanthropy . A potent mix that could be fatal or extremely dangerous depending on the person . Brian had just come from one of Sweetwater’s many bars and the man was knee deep in drunkenness . Staggering and swaying Brian made his way into the nearest treeline feeling his depression tearing him apart from within , it only made his current state worse with his self pity becoming self destructive . An empty bottle was thrown at a tree with Brian yelling some curses about himself and his past to whatever wildlife was close enough to hear his ramblings. That sudden flare of anger and anguish
ignited a chain reaction unknowingly meeting all the conditions for him to “ willingly “ undergo : the change .
Brown hair scurried over Brian’s chest and shoulders . It entwined his throat and covered his face . His jaw and nose were lengthening into a wolfish muzzle , and fangs burst free with such intensity they slashed the inside of his mouth making blood mixed with saliva . His backbone bent , with the familiar pain . His legs and arms shortened , grew thick with muscle . Sinews and cartilage popped and cracked . Clothes and shoes ripped . Then after the last yells of transformation past they were finally drown out by a ghastly howl .
Hours past with the lycanthrope dazed by the sluggishness carried over by his counterpart’s mindless boozing , it only served to hinder the wolf’s ability than outright stop it . Brian felt like he was controlling one of his many dreams with the wolf bounding through the vast wilderness on four legs instead of two legs . It was quite shocking just how fast Brian had adjusted to his canine from despite his painful shift . Although , he was in ‘ control ‘ the texan could feel the beast urging him to seek out prey . . . all that drinkin’ had left a taste for blood . Stalking through the underbrush the lycanthrope stumbled upon a herd of deer . Oh , there were plenty of them to hunt ! Foolishly , he peered out from his hiding place exposing himself to the another wolf that was in the same area .
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Jul 8, 2024 4:28:14 GMT
Tristan could smell the other wolf about. Initially, the other had been far enough away that he hadn't felt threatened by him. But over the past hour, he had drawn closer and from the volume of it, this newcomer wasn't here to hunt. It made him nervous what he was here for. But from the time Tristan had spent in Sweetwater, he could at least tell this wolf wasn't tied to either pack. He was a loner like him. Which was arguably more dangerous.
The deer heard the stranger first and bolted. The brown werewolf twitched forward, primed to race after them, but nowhere near the position he would have wanted or ready for it. Instead, he turned to the newcomer, eyes narrowing, fur on his back standing up. This close, with his keen sense of smell and his impressive age for a werewolf, he had a lot of experience. Enough to know this one did not, for one reason or another. But he could only tell his relative age, not how long he had been what he was now.
Were Tristan a talker, he might have attempted to link minds with the wolf that interrupted his hunt. But he wasn't one for words when actions would do. Instead, he advanced on the gray wolf with blue eyes, the sharped stink of alcohol apparent on him. Perhaps it wasn't inexperience so much as being entirely soused. Tristan paused a few yards away and lowered his head, a deep growl erupting form his throat. He was very unhappy to have his dinner spoiled, but even more simply defensive of this intruder in his personal space.
Brian had smelt everything ! Honestly , he was overwhelmed by every single sound , smell , and touch . It was his second transformation with the last one being more of a blur of events stringed together across his mind like a drunken haze . That explained why he personally hadn’t noticed the other werewolf to him that other person’s scent and form was just another ordinary wolf . Although , he was not bothered the other part of him : the wolf was on guard taking charge of the situation .
The lycanthropes head lurched backwards reacting to the deer’s sudden dash in front of him . Impassively , he just watched the prey flee into the wilderness until . . . everything changed . That gut feeling churned in his stomach that was the other part of him talking — telling him to be weary of this wolf that now approached him .
Fur bristled along his back , black lips curled back into a snarl , and ocean blue eyes narrowed into a sharp glare . Brian held his ground shifting his posture to that of a defensive stance , it welcomed no challenge nor threat just ready to respond if the other wished to challenge him. It was his way of telling the other wolf that he didn’t want to attack him without a good reason . . .
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Jul 9, 2024 4:35:58 GMT
Tristan wasn't a particularly aggressive beast unprovoked. But this lycan's slow reaction wasn't very reassuring. Neither was his snarl and the eye contact. A wolf not wanting a fight became submissive, not defensive. They didn't make eye contact and didn't snarl back or plant their paws. to the seasoned wolf who spent just as much time in this form as any other, it welcomed plenty of threat. But thankfully, he was very comfortable with himself and his abilities and one lone wolf stinking of alcohol was almost more...curious, than anything.
The other's fear was a tangible scent too. And fear was worse than aggression for aggression's sake. Whatever the other wolf thought he was communicating, it didn't come across that way. But if nothing else, it was probably the alcohol. Of course...even a drunken wolf knew how to approach a herd of deer. Maybe there was something else.
He moved closer, tail still up, fur still on end, not backing down from meeting the other's stare. But he was comfortable enough to trade his snarl for a softer growl, scenting the other more directly. He was younger than Tristan, which wasn't saying much from most of the young wolves he had met here. He circled the other slowly and when it became clear the intruder would not be making a mental connection, Tristan did. He hated how such a thing felt. Most werewolves claimed not to noticed, but Tristan always felt like his brain was on fire. Or like he was being stung by hornets. The feel made him shiver.
You ruined my hunt, pup. Why are you here? He directed this at the wolf before him, and while his words were certainly accusatory in nature, even the werewolf's mental words lacked any sort of tone, coming off very neutral.
Caught between two worlds . Brian was struggling with himself , the alcohol , and the wolf . It made his actions irrational even in his lycan form , but like Tristan had surmised that wasn’t the only reason for his behaviour . He / hated / the transformation from man to beast to his very core , so it made sense for him not to act like that of an ordinary werewolf . Brian hated himself and this parasite that dwelled within him — it was torture having to run on four legs and act like a stinking animal !
Blue eyes watched Tristan closely not making any move towards the other werewolf . Brian didn’t know anything about being a werewolf only that he had to close himself away on a full moon , so this stinging pain would flip his world upside down when Tristan made the mental connection with him . Both beast and man winced at the sensation that rattled his mind causing a whine to part from his maw .
“ W-what the — “ Brian’s voice echoed through the mental connection , it sounded more growly and confused . “ Is that you talkin’ or has the booze drove me mad ? “ Any earlier aggression or defensiveness was long gone with the wolf , now taking a more submissive status with Tristan being so close .
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Jul 17, 2024 2:41:13 GMT
Tristan's shoulder's twitched as the other werewolf practically shouted through the mental connection. Despite being technically deaf in his right ear, however hard of hearing he was, none of that applied to a telepathic connection. Much as he might have preferred it would, in this instance. Although a very observant and attentive sort, he didn't realize until that moment that this werewolf was relatively newly turned. Or at the very least, was not often to be found in this form except on a full moon.
His pitiful whimper did not fall on an unkind heart. The wolf was more than sympathetic, even if this was not an emotion he knew how to express. Being born into this life was one thing. Asking for it another. Having it forced on them...which was usually the case... It was not a pleasant beast to struggle with. The sheer amount of alcohol the lycan reeked of suggested he was having a difficult time.
It is, though that does not preclude your potential madness, Tristan was careful to clarify. He took another step closer. No doubt the man was dangerous, but he seemed in more pain and the wolf who had been a father many times felt the urge to assist. They were far from any people out here, yet with no full moon present, he must have come a long way under the influence. The man's control likely wasn't very good. Tristan cocked his head at him, prior frustration entirely gone. If you would prefer madness, drink more. If you prefer the opposite, drink less.
He paced anther closer circle, studying the man who was a wolf, as clearly that was how he saw himself. Maybe he did not even know what he was and simply thought this entire thing a hallucination? His nose wrinkled once again at the sharp smell.
Brian’s wolfen heart thumped in his chest each beat felt like a jack hammer urging to be heard and felt through his growing madness . Mental connections , transformations , and other lycanthropes all allured the man’s wider knowledge of the world that surrounded him . Actions mostly spoke for the lone wolf giving Tristan all the hints that would tell a quite distressing story about this rather dangerous lycanthrope . It had been a sudden shift between man and wolf these types of transformations were much more furious than the full moon ones , well for him .
Another whimper parted his maw making the lone wolf appear less than dangerous . Although this pitiful display would make him seem less than a threat , it wouldn’t quell the madness within his fur that stirred the more Tristan’s words echoed through his mind making his ears ring despite no apparent triggering them . It wasn’t the alcohol , it wasn’t the wolf , and it wasn’t him : this was real !
( “ Madness ? As if a voice in my head ain’t enough to drive any man stir crazy “ ) Brian’s mental connection mixed with submission and pure distress . When Tristan made that step closer , he felt his fur prickle from a sudden jolt of adrenaline making his body tighten up . ( “ W-wait , if you’re not some demon or my mind driven completely mad . . . Then , noo . “ )
Finally through the blur of fear and confusion everything began to piece together like a jigsaw puzzle . ( “ I’m not the only . . . ONE ! “ ) Oceanic hues widen with his first thought leading him back to the silver bullet , then he remembered Tristan’s words about answers . ( “ What ARE WE !? “ )
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Aug 30, 2024 1:13:08 GMT
Tristan huffed heavily as the stranger whined further about voices in his head, clinging to what he knew, which was to say that he clearly didn't know anything of the world. The real world. The supernatural one. He wasn't so verbose or amused to bother wasting more thoughts on the topic of madness. Either he would figure it out or he would not. And if he did not, then he was a danger not just to Tristan but to many of the other lycanthropes and supernaturals in Sweetwater and he would best be dealt with. This, however, was not Tristan job. He was just as much a visitor here as this man.
He didn't think of himself as a demon, though he knew many did. Tristan was very comfortable with who and what he was. There was no two sides of the same coin, there was simply himself. He was wolf.
The implication of his thoughts slowly trickled deeper, past the fog of alcohol. Those blue eyes widen and his mental tone was surprised, but it was difficult to get a read on the other lycan. Fear could make anyone do crazy things. Many more than one, Tristan confirmed, watching him, head tilted to the side. It was a habit from being deaf in his right ear. Yes, much of their specific conversation was mental, but the whimpers and grunts and softer noises were all important. He winced and shook his head at the strangers more intense thoughts, growling in mild annoyance and pain.
Lycanthropes. Werewolves. Wolfmen. He did little to explain, which was perhaps more what the man was looking for. We are also hungry. Come on. Tristan was, at least. And he could imagine this man was too. Even in human form, the hunger was difficult to curb and the preference for raw meat and (for Tristan at least) the thrill of catching it himself a need he sought to sate. There was no reason not to initiate the man into the real world with a meal.
Ever hunt before? This question was accompanied by both the impression of human hunting, with firearms or arrows and blinds or traps, as well as a pack of hunting wolves, all working together to bring down prey.
There it was the answer . Brian had it right in front of him ever since the beast , no — Lycanthrope had bit him and mauled his father . It took another one , another one of him to drag him away from his grief , and the man had gone through the fourth stage making it to the final stage : acceptance . Each of his pathetic whimpers and whines died in his throat eventually until nothing remained of that earlier madness . That mental connection between them had began to twist and turn with his mind flashing back to a memory of his father in the woods — now , Tristan couldn’t see this memory , but he’d see Brian’s vast shift in demeanour . It was a scene painted in blood with two figures of men standing over a dying body of a doe in the underbrush words burning into his subconscious : “ Hunter or prey . CHOOSE . “
Unlike the other wolf . Brian and his wolf were separate despite being the same entity . A lycanthrope in conflict with himself had caused this situation and now he was moments away from starting journey to embracing the Hunter . Both eyes closed for a fleeting moment with a mental image of Brian and his wolf joining together with their faces emerging together , blending together , until they were just him . . .
Like a passing storm in the night the inner conflict and last visage of the alcohol had vanished . Brian’s icy blue eyes blinked open staring back at Tristan instantly different from the pitiful mess that had stood before him a few minutes ago . Although , he had took the first step into accepting his new life the lycanthrope had a long journey ahead of him and the wolves of Sweetwater would be his key .
( “ I haven’t . “ ) Brian spoke plainly like he’d just spoken for the first time feeling his body adjusting to itself instead of hopelessly resisting itself . ( “ I’d imagine it isn’t much different from normal hunting instead you end the hunted with fang and claw , right ? “ )
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Aug 30, 2024 15:33:27 GMT
Tristan had never veen very good at reading people. Or wolves for that matter. But he had practiced and scent and body language were much more reliable than studying a face. Something he had shared with the other, or perhaps something he hadn't shared, gave him pause. Whatever distress and turmoil and fear was there originally seemed to calm.
Externally, the moment was much less dramatic. Tristan watched the wolf close his eyes and relax. And then it was over.
Tristan stood, regarding the blue eyed wolf for a moment. Which seemed a fitting short name, not knowing his real one. This is normal hunting. He didn't bother asking if he had ever killed anything with his bare hands or fangs. He was a pup, and there was simply no expectation.
The russet colored wolf turned and retraced his steps, tail much more relaxed than it had been before, demeanor a bit less stiff, though the lycan clearly had no bedside manner. It wasn't far to where he had last seen the herd of deer. Tristan slowed his pace, lowering his nose to the ground, sniffing through grass and needles and old leaves as he walked until he found the scent he wanted. There, he stopped and lifted his nose to the air.
Venison is musky. Heavy. Sharper during breeding season. But that wouldn't be until the fall and winter. Still, even a human could smell them sometimes. He looked back at Blue and then continued walking after the herd.
Tristan had unknowingly made a bet that had paid off in his favour : ‘ Blue ‘ was a Hunter . Although , it was apparent by his comments and child-like naivety that all his experience belonged to that other world where you walked upon the earth on two legs , instead of the wolfen four . Despite that fact ; it was knowledge regardless and Blue hoped that the brown wolf could transfer fangs to the opposed cold steel . “ I know that scent . . . It’s unmistakably heavy like said partner . “ Brian had observed Tristan’s methods of information gathering and tracking : it was like another kind of world to him .
“ Usually , I’d go downwind to mask my scent , then I would set up somewhere high to position my rifle and tag one of the them . “ Brian’s mental connection was clear and cold with the professionalism of a well trained hunter . “ But , I don’t think paws can hold rifles , so we could pick out the weakest among them . “ Easier said than done with Brian still trying to figure out how to properly handle his new form . “ I’ll follow your lead . “
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Sept 17, 2024 3:26:51 GMT
Tristan paused at the word “partner.” It was a strange one. Familiar, in a way. Not in others. It wasn't something he heard in relation to himself often. But he supposed the lycan didn't know his name.
He considered informing his hunting ‘partner,’ but he was much more focused on the task in front of them. Tristan didn't know his name either, but that didn't bother him.
The herd had bolted, not long ago, but they had gone enough distance that the large russet colored wolf was not yet worried about distance. In sniffing the air, he had also judged the direction of the wind against his nose and through his fur. It wasn't a strong breeze, but enough that Blue was right. They would want to be down wind.
Downwind is correct, he agreed, breaking into an easy lope, still following the scent but swinging around the windward side of the scent path. We shall stay close to the ground. Obviously they had no rifles, so he wasn't sure why Blue was worried about holding something they did not have. But it was an amusing image. Yristan had used such weapons once or twice, but it felt…strange. Not wrong but…incomplete. Still, knowing the lycan had shot prey as a man, meant he would at least understand some of the process. They could not target the heart or chest though. This would be a more personal kill.
The russet wolf kept an ear back to his partner, getting a good grasp of his motor skills from the rhythm of his run. He was still a bit heavy and clumsy so moving in closer might not be easy. But that was what made a hunt like this so worthwhile. And as they were larger than normal wolves, speed was on their side.
Ahead. he warned as they drew closer. The scent was thicker here, more recent. The trees were thicker too, making sight lines difficult and they would have to be coordinated to weave through the trees. But so would the deer. Mind your paws. Feel the ground, he cautioned, hunkering himself a bit lower, tail straight out behind him, as he moved slowly and quietly closer, staying downwind. Just a bit closer now.
Tristan’s warning caught Brian meres seconds away from an amateur’s mistake . Brian was still walking like he was a man not taking into consideration the amount of noise and movement the lycanthrope was creating the closer they stalked towards their prey . Luckily , he corrected himself through some common sense and a good warning from his unlikely mentor . Body lowered , tail raised , and oceanic eyes narrowed into sharp slits the Hunter stalked through the thick bush finding the source of the oozing scent : two deer . One smelt strong and healthy the other sicky and weak . “ That one . “ He motioned with his head but the wolf did not move until the other agreed .