Weremolf: Care and Feeding of

[Goldenhair]

That the paladin's word carried this much weight both gratified and scared her.
 
That the unconscious andamole had been slung across Auron's back as they traveled from the Parthenon to the Athyrian temple without anyone saying anything was one thing. That the Athyrians accepted her and Holtin's word of Terro's infection with lycanthropy, without doing any kind of investigation or confirmation, was somewhat disturbing. What was the old expression? "Trust, but Verify"? or perhaps the one about power corrupting.
 
For the moment, however, she had to be thankful for it. They had a secure cell that would normally be used for holding dark priests, and they would hold Terro there, as a favor for her.
 
How had she gotten to this point? she asked herself.
 
It was probably unreasonable to completely point to the dwarf. He had pressed her, it was true, but she was responsible for her own actions. Terro had changed during her absence from the Parthenon, and she could see the taint of darkness upon him.
 
But people change, or at least have to want to change. It was Holtin's insistence that "something had changed suddenly about him" that made Golden stand in his way, between him and the door.
 
Holtin had actually struck first, and then delved back into his past when Golden had knocked the mole out. "Lycanthropy," came the initial commentary from Holtin. There was wide belief that sufficient progression of lycanthropy could not be reversed. Golden remembered Terro as she had first met him. She was going to have to prove that belief wrong.
 
Golden grumbled. First Rustivin, now the care and feeding of a weremolf. Was she ever going to get her chance to just teach?

[Terro Talpis]

He had grown accustomed to waking up with an aching body in random places. Random bouts, mysterious cellar ventures, or even just hunting under the light of the moon usually ended up with him with a cloudy memory in some unknown place. This time felt different as a cool sensation mixed with a bit of numbness enveloped him. His twisted his wrists and ankles, trying to shrug off the feeling of ensnarement on them until his mind awoke to realize what had happened. The mole’s eyes flew open as his gaze pierced the darkness of a four-walled cell.

It was a fairly large cage, possibly to allow him some movement without feeling the harmful effects of the enclosure. The mole growled as there was no rock or stone wall to burst through to freedom. Instead, there were rows of silver bars blocking his route on every side. His first instinct was to find escape with little care for what had brought him here. Despite its harmful effects, silver was not the strongest substance; a bit of fire would do the trick. The mole soon attempted weaving magic only to trip over himself over the numbness of his body. The stupor wasn’t due to intoxication, rather a draining effect had been placed on him. He felt his magical energies continuously being sucked through his body to what his hands felt was a simple circlet attached to his head. The mole howled as he attempted to remove the thing, the back of his mind wondering where his crown, no, the rest of his belongings had gone.

Whoever had captured him must’ve also taken his gems! A dastardly act towards any mole to deprive him of his one true joy in this world, or so Terro’s mind echoed. If he couldn’t use magic to break free, he’d risk going through the bars. As the mole attempted to shrink down to a smaller size, he felt a sudden absence of air as he gasped to retrieve the lost commodity. His hands moved to grip a collar and tried to rip it off, only succeeding in showing its slight elasticity. He howled once more as his rage grew and clouded his thinking. In a last-ditch effort, the mole threw himself towards the bars, stopping in mid-air for a fraction of a second as the chains on his shackles cut the distance short. He tumbled to the ground and this time he didn’t howl, he roared.

[Terro Talpis]

"The itsy bitsy rat wandered near the cell..."

The mole offered the black rodent a wide smile as he flicked an oat at it. The rat graciously stood on its hind legs and caught it with two buck teeth and began to nibble on it. The mole's hand dipped into a bowl filled with oats that covered a pool of dried blood at its bottom. His meals were less than savory to quell his appetite, and he's had to make due luring the less intelligent creatures to his proximity. Another oat was flicked a bit closer to him this time, causing the rat to move forward.

The mole seemed much thinner than before and hair littered his lair. His eyes seemed to be constantly bloodshot, one would think his eyes had become permanently red. Scars adorned his body, though most were self-inflicted in his search for edible meat. In the end, his teeth had to be filed down to prevent the mole from eating himself. The rat didn't observe this though, instead it just focused on the oat that was its free meal.

"Oh you free little vermin, free to roam and frolic where you choose. No restraints binding you," the mole let out a maddened giggle as he tugged on the collar around his neck. "Certainly no care regarding these treacherous metals that seek to sear my poor skin." The rat continued to nibble on his food and approached ever closer as the mole flicked another oat at it. "No, no, and the worst you have to worry about is competition for your food... or getting killed by those who dislike you for your appearance. But I understand, we're alike... and I'd like you to join me for dinner...."

The mole then pounced towards the approaching rat who simply rushed between the mole's legs and out the silver bars. The mole growled as he shook his head amidst a smirk as his voice rose in a crescendo. "Eat and run eh... oh, you'll pay... You'll all pay!" The mole then kicked the bowl of oats towards the bars and took a seat, gibbering to himself.