WEREWOLF SWORD: ORIGINS – FULL DARK
In the village of Delgado a young man named Werwick Sword was studying the art of blacksmithing as an apprentice under the Master Blacksmith, Master Sampson. As well as being expertly skilled at crafting weapons and armor, Master Sampson was also really good at using them. He was a master swordsman as well, for which skill he mentored Werwick at swordfighting. Sampson liked Werwick, most people did, as he was a pleasant young man, and he believed in him, so he vowed to pass on the knowledge and the ways of the swordfighter and physically train him.
Life went on like this for some time, incrementally progressing in skill everyday. Sometimes a young maiden who Werwick admired from obscurity would visit the town accompanied by a legion of the King’s Knights from the neighboring Kingdom of Gandeharr. They would barter and collect tax as Delgado was basically governed from afar by Gandeharr. Werwick yearned to learn more about this young woman, but he was just a lowely peasant and had no accessability, and so he spent every day in romantically inept agonizing heartache.
After a while a series of missing persons and bizarre murders began to occur, and over time it became too obvious to ignore, and the population of Delgado in general was in the grasp of sheer terror and dread.
One day Werwick was on the long walk back to Delgado at sundown from Nightwood Forest, where he had journeyed for the day for a relaxing reading excursion. The book was titled “The Art of Conformity”. It was a full moon that night, and a dark mist swept over the land. Werwick heard a scream nearby and came upon a shadowy figure which appeared to be maiming another shadowy figure in an alcove under a tree’s gaping roots. He ran forth to try and help the person but it was too late, they were already dead and half eaten. The villainous figure responsible seemed to be somekind of beast creature, and a few seconds later upon rapidly intense inspection, it was indeed more than that, it was a werewolf – And it was more than a werewolf too, there was a striking familiarity to the monster, a presence which Werwick could feel in his soul. The look in the eyes of the monster betrayed itself, and flashed despair. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t Master Sampson. That was impossible. It was though.
Then the monster cried forth “Don’t look at me!” in a menacing reverbed growl and scurried away into the darkness with a hiss. Werwick, with a blaze of insane oncoming courage, chased after the werewolf into the blackened woods. Deep and lost in the maze of the Nightwood forest, he felt a pang of intense fear and regret. He should have abandoned the situation when he had the chance, and simply ran away and tried to forget the whole thing. But how could he ever forget something like that?
He couldn’t.
There was only one path to take. That’s when he saw them. Dark figures moving forth out of the shadows with little red beady glowing eyes. Many dark figures. Then he felt a blunt club to the back of his head and everything thing went full dark.
Weird feverish dreams encompassed him. He was in a cave of some sort, flickering light from torches illuminated fur and teeth, writing, molesting. What the hell was happening? He struggled and screamed out but to no avail. The growling pulsating nightmare continued as the flames seems to grown larger into flaming pillars surrounding him.
✞
Werwick came to in an open cave. This was no nightmare, he was really here. He was surrounded by cloacked figures, lit by torches on the cave walls in the background. One figure stepped forth and removed his hood, revealing his face in the flickering orange light.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, Werwick, but you’re one of us now,” Master Sampson said.
“What do you mean? You mean… A monster?” Werwick said.
“Werewolf, actually,” Master Sampson began. “You see, we call ourselves the Night Slayers – this group of supernatural outlaws has been banded together since the dark ages. Nomadic, hiding out in caves and forests, anywhere close to the host towns where the unknowing citizens could be easily picked off at night and devoured. Then we loot their homes.” He pointed to a cave room in the corner which was filled with gold and other prized possessions clearly taken and tossed there.
“But you live in Delgado! You’re a Master swordsman and armorer!” Werwick exclaimed.
“Yeah, but I’m also a werewolf. Have been for a long time now. You’ll see what I mean. You’re part of the group now, whether you like it or not. I couldn’t just let you go free after what you saw. But I couldn’t kill ya either, son, not you.”
✞
Returning back to the village, Werwick had this sick knowledge that his life would never be the same. He had been indoctrinated against his will by his Master, someone he trusted and looked up to. Now he felt betrayed and violated while he struggled to understand. Soon after as life went on, he was freaking out keeping this horrible secret, dreading the fury fueled nightmare that he knew would overcome him at the next full moon, and every full moon after, forever.
