» Fri May 27, 2011 1:31 pm Lycanthropy is so very unnoticed.
My Lord is so very underrepresented.
I hunt for him, so I shall impart with you a glimpse of our minds.
He bade me to speak with you, and I shall.
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From the libraries of the White Gold:
Master-et-Loria;
This most curious document I send to you for review was found on the body of an ungodly powerful Werebear executed by the local Mage's Guild in Winter Hold at the local High Fraemengaz' orders. Normally an executed lycanthrope does not change form upon expiring, but this mysterious specimen did. It must have been hidden in it's thick coat, as it appeared to roll off the monster's skin as it reverted to humanity.
Most interestingly, before taking his lycanthropic form, he was ranting about how he "would awake again in the 'Hunting Grounds.'" Personally, that sounds as foolish as the Nord 'paradise' myth of Sovngarde; however, here we refer to a Daedric Lord, and one of the most Powerful at that.
On another curious note, the local Guildmaster sent a letter stating how this unholy beast claimed before changing that he had traveled from Atmora[!] of all places, claiming to be the 'Prince of Wolves' ; changed form at will without the presence of either full Masser or full Secunda, and nor was he in posseion of Hircine's Ring.
He also claimed that 'there are others like him'. Supposedly 'Princes', namely of 'Lions, Vultures, Boars, Crocodiles, and the lost prince of Sharks, slaughtered and unavenged in the last war with 'Mthraixides King of Dreugh'.
Not only did they find a werebeast in their midst, but they managed to find a crazed one as well.
Regardless, curious notions indeed?
With the blessing of Juhnal,
Proprietor Librarian Magnae ae Dawnstar,
Marcurius Iaxieses
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HE is our aspect.
HE is what brought us into world as we are.
Not as screaming, squealing, profanities of existence.
Not as PREY.
WE are not PREY. We are no longer HUNTED.
Free to wander the realms. The Dreams. Vehk himself and all his magiks saw not freedom as we did.
We see through the darkness with clarity. No man, no elf, no Tiger, no ape, not even the Dragon Tiger, the greatest mortal, he himself can hide his SCENT.
We see the souls of the living, their fear and terror; their bravery and shouts of courage 'mongst unending loss.
Our TEETH, our FANGS, they puncture and render null the fabric of dreams. With our bite, we destroy souls.
WE ARE HIM.
HE knows our worth. The Huntsman trusts not in petty daedra, in vain Daedroth. No, he choose us, mortals. Stolen from LHRKN by HIS deft hand, he seeks to bring forth our potential, as he did once before. The King of Bears, lost to Hans the Fox in the Elder Wood in the antiquity of the Merethric, whose name we shan't ever murmur, ever growl again.
WE ARE FREE, we say, but for one lapse in vision,
THE HUNTSMAN is not god but merchant. He buys our fears and entreats us to courage, mastery of the senses, the BLOODLUST.
Our THIRST is all the now constrains us from breaking planar boundaries. From smashing through the Aetherial holes. No Liminal bridge could contain us.
The Lady of Nightmares sees us in her dreams, and fears us.
For the day we break the hold of the BLOODLUST, and take hold of spatial reasoning, we shall have passed HIRCINE'S final test, we shall have achieved the mastery he dreams of for us.
The Lady of Nightmares has seen what we can become in our dreams, and fears us.
For we shall become as Gods.
~~~~~
