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ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

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Call of the Blood 4.2/?

[(Anonymous)]

Once it was over and the twitching lumps of shredded flesh had stopped moving, the beast ran off down the corridor that opened and moments later the gate in front of me rattled as it rose. Warily I stepped through as a naked and blood covered Farkas returned, grinning, "Hope I didn't scare you."
I averted my eyes, staring at one of the mauled corpses instead, "You're a werewolf."
He began pulling his armour back on and belatedly I realised the armour was held together by fasteners rather than buckles, easy to discard during a transformation.
"It's a blessing given to some of us. We can be like wild beasts. Fearsome."
That's one word for it. I hope they don't expect me to become one; being Dragonborn is complicated enough.
"Are you going to make me a werewolf?"
"Oh no." He laughed slightly, "Only the Circle have the Beast-blood. You need to prove yourself as a Companion first. Eyes on the prey not the horizon." The big man clapped a hand to my shoulder, "We should keep moving still the draugr to worry about."
Good advice. Though one thing was worrying me, "You normally send Companions out on their own, right?"
Farkas nodded, eyes guarded.
"If there hadn't been two of us whoever pulled that lever would be stuck in that cage. Trapped. So who are those people and why do they want to kill you?"
Farkas shook his head, "Leave it until later, Igne. And don't tell the other whelps about any of this."

The rest of the Cairn was quiet. The Silver Hand, for that was what Farkas had reluctantly told me they were called, had already been down here leaving scattered draugr corpses in their wake. Soon we reached the actual crypt, Farkas shoving the heavy door to one side with a grunt and headed over to the camp that the Hand had set up whilst they waited for us. As soon as I entered I could feel the now familiar tug of a Word Wall, a visceral pull that had me stepping towards it. It was all I could think about- something that called out to my very soul, lighting up the dark, long-buried parts of my brain.

A hand to my shoulder brought me back to the present. I shook my head, clearing my vision and turned to Farkas, "Huh?"
"You alright, little Igne?"
"Yeah. I'm fine." The echoes of the word were dispersing now, "Did you find the shard?"
He nodded, unfolding a scrap of cloth to reveal gleaming steel nestled underneath. The fragment of the Companion's legendary weapon was an intricately folded sliver of metal the size of my palm. Gingerly I brushed my finger against the edge, watching as a sliver of flesh opened up, spilling bright red blood in its wake.
"It's sharp."
"Of course it is," Farkas grinned, looking for all the world like a child with his favourite toy, "We should take this back."

The walk back to Whiterun was in pouring rain and darkening skies as night began to fall. Farkas was keeping quiet, trudging along in front of me, eager to return the piece of Wuuthrad to it's rightful home and I was brooding, trying to squash down the dark thoughts that cropped up every time I was confronted with my Dragonborn heritage.