O
OntosChalmer
Guest
Original poster
With gritted teeth, Azure pressed the wet bandage upon his wound and grimaced. The bite was shallow, and it was mostly the heat of the herbal infusion that caused the pain; fresh from the campfire. A mixture of wolfsbane, sage and a few other herbs, it was a hypothetical treatment that Azure's mentor once suggested, but never had the opportunity to test.
He pushed it against the wound for a few moments, before dropping it as he screamed from the searing pain. His eyes went to the corpse of the werewolf, the one that bit him. A female, by the looks of its chest. The bestial, yellow eyes of the monster stared blankly in his direction, though the other eye was pierced by a crossbow bolt.
The feral beast had jumped upon him in the middle of the evening road to the forested lands of Tiekris Londo. No one had mentioned werewolves in the cosy hamlet Azure spent the previous night in, so he paid little heed to the road. With animalistic cunning, the werewolf hid herself amongst the bushes, and pounced upon him. Taken by surprise, Azure took a bite to his left shoulder before he could pull the trigger upon his mini-crossbow.
He knew the stories. Someone bitten by a feral werewolf turned into one themselves a few hours later. Wolfsbane was believed to delay the infection, but a cure was never known.
Azure stared at the pot hanging above the campfire he made. The mixture he dipped into his bandage simmered. Wolfsbane tasted impossibly bitter, he thought. He stared at the ladle. Perhaps his last memories before becoming a mindless werewolf would be the bitter taste of wolfsbane.
With a huge gulp of saliva, Azure tentatively lifted up the ladle, filled with the green-orange mixture. He opened his mouth, and allowed the water to drop into his mouth. He choked back tears; the heat, the bitter taste, and his presumed fate filled every waking thought he had.
As the last drop of wolfsbane mixture went down his throat, he hacked and coughed, falling sideways onto the floor. He had not turned yet. But whether the mixture did anything was up to the gods.
He pushed it against the wound for a few moments, before dropping it as he screamed from the searing pain. His eyes went to the corpse of the werewolf, the one that bit him. A female, by the looks of its chest. The bestial, yellow eyes of the monster stared blankly in his direction, though the other eye was pierced by a crossbow bolt.
The feral beast had jumped upon him in the middle of the evening road to the forested lands of Tiekris Londo. No one had mentioned werewolves in the cosy hamlet Azure spent the previous night in, so he paid little heed to the road. With animalistic cunning, the werewolf hid herself amongst the bushes, and pounced upon him. Taken by surprise, Azure took a bite to his left shoulder before he could pull the trigger upon his mini-crossbow.
He knew the stories. Someone bitten by a feral werewolf turned into one themselves a few hours later. Wolfsbane was believed to delay the infection, but a cure was never known.
Azure stared at the pot hanging above the campfire he made. The mixture he dipped into his bandage simmered. Wolfsbane tasted impossibly bitter, he thought. He stared at the ladle. Perhaps his last memories before becoming a mindless werewolf would be the bitter taste of wolfsbane.
With a huge gulp of saliva, Azure tentatively lifted up the ladle, filled with the green-orange mixture. He opened his mouth, and allowed the water to drop into his mouth. He choked back tears; the heat, the bitter taste, and his presumed fate filled every waking thought he had.
As the last drop of wolfsbane mixture went down his throat, he hacked and coughed, falling sideways onto the floor. He had not turned yet. But whether the mixture did anything was up to the gods.