Let's see where this goes (we need something), I imagine not very far but you never know. (1 rule, common sense and courteousness please).The Destiny of the cursed
Across a small path in the Brecilian forest, beneath the emerald canopy of trees the smell of fresh blood filled his nose, himself covered in blood; it began to cling to his fur, as the last drops fell from his fangs. He had gained victory once more, standing over the body of an elf that had been viciously mauled, he drew back his head and took in the scent of death. Not one other of his kind had survived the fight, Dalish and werewolf both littered the path, they had walked straight into another ambush by Dalish hunters; no doubt in retaliation for the massacre not long ago by the werewolves aided by the Warden, which was by now common knowledge. The smell of fresh water nearby offered refreshment, following it he wearily sought it out indeed found a lake, he immersed himself in the water soothing his muscles and cleaning his wounds; the air was fresh now, away from the battle site, the sky grey and threatening rain. Although he believed himself alone, he heard struggling, and turned to see a Dalish elf by the side of the lake, badly injured and bleeding heavily it was hard to tell whether the tattoos on his face were actually cuts. The elf had not yet noticed him, but he did not care for remaining hidden, vengeance on his mind - he moved swiftly out of the water to the elf, who was quickly startled, but unable to run away. The elf reached for his dagger, which was quickly knocked aside by the drenched and bloody werewolf, who then picked up him up growling and bearing his teeth in the elfs face. ''What are you?'' exclaimed the elf, desperation in his eyes. ''I am the werewolf, Swiftrunner, I lead my people; and we have embraced our destiny''.
............ (I will not add to this story for at least another 3 posts, unless nobody is interested).