Hank

Rain's Hand [ Culluket x Hank ]

"Why? Because of this," Gregor said impatiently, gesturing at the mess. "Who's to say that you can control all of your powers? What if this Blue God of yours, even though I seriously doubt his existence, uses your devotion as a... a... conduit to commit atrocities against humans? Gods are said to be unknowable. Even the Templars don't dare to dabble in magic, as far as I know. Either way, I don't want to have this conversation with you now," he snapped. "Yes, we're going after it. Lycanthropy is difficult to diagnose and prove when the creature is in its human form. I want to find it before it changes back. And yes... I have killed them before." Gregor unsheathed his sword and held it firmly in one hand. The mist coiled around its edge, shivering with the faint glow and the power that radiated from the blade.

Rain's Hand [ Culluket x Hank ]

Gregor scoffed and frowned. "What the Templars handed me was an unruly witch and a thief," Gregor said and jabbed his finger at Loka's face. "Don't think I don't know what you did back in Maldoror. How else would you get such earrings? I certainly did not have any in my room. On top of that, you stride over here and start asking questions as if you've been on the trail of lycanthropes for years. Yes, you are here to help me, but..." He exhaled heavily, closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "Look. I applaud your enthusiasm. For now, please let me do the talking."

That said, Gregor straightened himself. "Very well. Werewolves, also known as lycanthropes, are classified as Abominations under the Protection of the Realm act passed by Emperor Domitianus in 734. They have outlaw status and are to be killed on sight. What you see here is the reason. When the moon is full," he explained, looking up at the moonlight between the dark tree branches, "they transform into hulking, man-shaped wolf-beasts, fueled by an uncontrollable urge to kill and feed. It's an unnatural metamorphosis caused by a curse or a virus of some kind. It can be transmitted through bite marks or appear in families as a hereditary trait. This is why werewolves are not allowed to breed and families in which the curse exists have to be put to the sword in their entirety, or measures taken to make sure they will not procreate. Harsh measures, but necessary," he finished, and looked at the corpses again.

"It is wrong for humans to possess powers that should not be theirs," Gregor added after a few seconds.

Rain's Hand [ Culluket x Hank ]

Annoyed by Loka's attitude, Gregor snatched the chain and the ring from her hand with a pointed glare and inspected the sigil. He immediately recognized it for what it was before anyone else in the crowd had deciphered it. Meanwhile, Krassus responded to Loka's questions with a stuttering voice. It was obvious he was intimidated and enchanted at the same time.

"We, ah, don't know who they are. Suppose they could be travelers, aye, maybe people who didn't know about the werewolf?" he offered with a helpful smile. Gregor looked at him impassively. "Possible," the inquisitor said while he stuffed the ring into his pocket. "You're not missing anyone from the village?"

Krassus shrugged and shook his head. "Don't think so." His eyes went around the rest of the people present and they all shook their heads. "We heard the noise, gathered in the town square and came here to drive the beast away," one of them said, a short, squat woman wearing a filthy apron. "It was already gone by the time we got here."

Gregor nodded and rubbed his chin. "Well, thank you all very much. We will take it from here. Please return to your homes. Stay inside and lock your doors and windows," he declared authoritatively. The crowd hesitated for a few seconds but a nod from Krassus was enough to convince them to leave and return to the nearby village in small groups.

After a deep sigh, Gregor turned his attention to Loka. He took the ring out of his pocket and held it out for her to inspect properly. "This is the sigil of the House of Doloureux, the rulers of the city of the same name. If I had to hazard a guess, these unfortunate souls were actually sent by the lord to deal with the werewolf problem, but..." He hesitated and looked at the corpse pile again, frowning. "They look woefully unprepared. Either way, what was it you wanted to say to me?" Gregor crossed his arms and shifted his weight, raising his eyebrows expectantly. "I'm expecting something good."

OH GOD HOW DID THIS GET HERE I AM NOT GOOD WITH COMPUTER

Thread deleted.

And no, we can't change usernames. Sorry.

*drop-kicks open a window* I have no idea what I'm doing but hi.

We've already spoken briefly in the chat, but welcome. Read the introductory materials that were sent to you and you'll be fine.

I need a teacher of sorts.

Just start at a level you are comfortable with and keep challenging yourself. Join a Free or Casual roleplay and push yourself out of your comfort zone a little bit with every post you make. Create a character you think is cool and think to yourself how can I make them weaker, more flawed, more interesting? Write a post and when you're done, add another paragraph to spice it up, even if it's just to describe what your character is seeing, hearing and feeling.

Continue this for five years and you'll be fine.

Rain's Hand [ Culluket x Hank ]

Krassus bared his teeth (some of them missing) in a crooked smile. "The Gravedigger digs for us all," he said, repeating the mantra from the Book of the Dead. Gregor nodded and was about to ask more questions when he heard Loka call to him from the carriage window. "That your wife, friend? Don't want to let her see this, I reckon," Krassus murmured as he leaned in towards Gregor. The inquisitor chuckled and returned: "Thoughtful of you, Krassus. No, she's my apprentice. I think she should come and see this, actually."

Gregor looked over his shoulder and beckoned for Loka to join them. "This is our line of work," Gregor whispered as he turned back to Krassus. "The lord of Doloureux sent us." He left no window for the gravedigger to question the lie and continued: "What were you planning on doing with those pitchforks? Were you going to hunt the beast down? Do you know who it is or where it makes its lair?"

Taken aback, Krassus merely shook his head. "It's in the woods... somewhere," he added meekly.

"Pity."