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The Night Scale Monster. A Skyrim horror story.

"It... it was too horrific to behold, yet too frightening to turn my gaze away. I dared not let go of the beast with my eyes, too terrified that it might vanish into the shades and target me next!"

The woman had her arms wrapped around herself, wagging back and forth as her stare was locked onto the floor, still suffering from the shock. The two guardsmen and the Jarl whispered to each other silently. They pitied the woman. She was the Alchemist of the hold and had gone through quite a rough year already. And even though she had it more rough now than ever before, they had to push on to get more information out of her.

"Nova, please... I know this must be hard for you, but we need more. Details, identification or at least a description... anything you can give us. Please, can you share anything?" The Jarl at this time was a slim man in his early 30's. Jarl Harrdarr had been raised as a mommy's boy, his mother being the Jarl before him. In his youth, he was spoiled and arrogant. Never working hard a day in his life.

Then his mother died in sickness when he was but a few years into his teens, considered man enough to stand on his own and maybe even replace his mother. At first, he had taken her work as something simple and easy. But the heavy responsibilities and weighted decisions he had to make on a daily basis quickly humbled him, especially since he was still very scarred from the death of his mother and loss of his older brother to a bear hunt. He knew the pain of loss and he felt for Nova, upon whom he had grown a crush on in his youth.

"P-parchment. Warm mead and parchment... and a rag, please..." Nova stuttered, still staring into the nothingness on the floor. The Jarl nodded and made a motion for his two guards to fetch what she required. It was just the two of them for a good ten, fifteen minutes as the guards ran over to the inn to heat mead and borrow a rag. However neither of them said anything. Nova still just wagging back and forth in her shock-like state, and Harrdarr unable to bring himself to disturb what little break she got from the interrogation.

Finally the guards returned, offering the woman the items required.

With shaking, firm hands that still carried the splattered blood of tonight's victim, the Alchemist accepted the metal mug and took a careful sip of the warm, sweet brew. Only after doing that did she take the moist rag to clean her hands and some of the stains on her clothes, though with less success on the latter. She then spread out the parchment on the table and fished out a compact piece of sharpened coal from her belt pouch.

Mumbling beneath her breath, the left arm and hand of the woman began to move across the fabric and let the coal leave lines in its wake. Being an alchemist, she had spent a large portion of her life drawing and sketching for the purpose of her profession. Images of herbs, mushrooms, trees and berries was constantly needed for her, both for ordering materials or having traveling adventurers fetch them for her. Not to mention the purpose of studies.

She began to speak more loudly with the intention of her company being allowed to hear her now.

"It was tall... seven or eight feet. Maybe nine, it was hard to tell as it was hunched over at all times. The beast looked humanoid to the shape, but had nothing human about it... the whole body was covered in scales, both small as that from a fish and large enough to substitute for armor at some parts. The head... it was similar to that of an Argonian, but far more feral. I would dare to call it Dragon-Like if anything. The mouth could split the head like the claw of a Mudcrab and was large enough to f-fit her whole he-he-head..." Nova's voice and hand began to shake violently, and she needed another sip of warm mead before continuing. "The claws were bent slightly, like that of a sabre cat, but much longer. I saw it stab Annika from the front, yet I could see the blood soaked talons shimmer in the moon light as they pierced the back of her dress... they passed straight through her like arrows! It, it then lifted her with no effort and e-engulfed her head inside its own... it d-didn't bite her head off, as much as b-biting through her throat and tearing her body fr-from her..."

Nova broke down shaking once more, staring upon the drawing before her as if it had not been there a moment ago.

It portrayed a massive, skulking beast, looking much like a troll with the long, thick arms hanging long from its bent form. The head was similar to that of a raptor's, with a small stubby spike at the end of the monstrous mouth and a quite intimidating combination of upper and lower teeth like dagger tips. The jaw looked to be covered in thick plates, possibly bone or overgrown scales, just like the back of the creature's head seemed equipped with a similar material that had shaped into a set of multiple small horns. They almost stroked the armored back of the beast, which carried massive chunks of slick and smooth slabs of whatever this bone-like material must be, the same that also built up a protective chest plate.

Both the alchemist, the jarl and the two guards glared for a long time at the monster before them.

It was unlike anything any of them had ever witnessed or even heard tales of, and it was too horrific to be simple conjurations of drunken stupor or frightening dreams. And the horrified look on Nova's face was enough for Harrdarr to believe in its existence.

"I am afraid that she may be telling the truth, my jarl." The old priest sighed as he once more lifted the drawing into the dim light of the nearby torch, scanning it with a troubled and frowning look on his already wrinkled face. With a stroke of his beard, which only had just enough length to actually be stroked between a few fingers, he returned to the table where the remains of Annika laid.

"I was afraid of that... what more can you deduce?" Harrdarr grunted with a nod towards the murdered woman. His tone was rawer than he intended, but he really did not enjoy his visits in the Hall of the Dead. The stench of salt, rot, death and salted rotting death really got to him.

"Well, from the picture I can compare the wounds on the body. Claws like these defiantly fits these perfectly round holes on her stomach, no daggers could make round holes and no arrow could make them so wide. Spears could possibly make wounds like these, but I have yet to see a spear-wound so clean and perfect... it would be impossible to remove the weapon without tearing up fractions in the skin and flesh." He motioned with a shriveled, slim finger around the two nearby holes on the corpse, not caring for the discomfort of his ruler. _"Furthermore, she said that the beast partly bit through the neck but tore the body and head apart? That also seems fitting, for the back and front of the neck show traces of cuts similar to that of large predatory animals, however the spine has been snapped clean off without any traces of cuts."_He motioned once more, showing the areas of the poor excuse stump of a neck that remained on the corpse. He had cleaned it for the examination, so the cuts in the flesh could be seen.

Jarl Harrdarr nodded with a disgusted face. "And... the gaping hole?"

They had avoided talking about it until now, but there was no point pushing it any further.

The woman had a third wound, one which Nova had needed another mug of mead to manage into her story, for it was the part that seemingly had scarred her most deeply. According to her, the beast had thrown Annika's corpse to the ground after removing her head and killing her, only to open the dragon-like mouth to impossible width and begun to eat into her chest like the soft insides of a fresh gourd. The woman had been left with a gaping crater in her upper torso. Broken pieces of bones both poked out of her sides and laid in the bottom of the bloody goop of damaged organs and torn flesh.

"Ah... yes... This is actually unlike anything I have ever seen before. The flesh around her bosom, or what remains of it, shows the same traces of cuts from teeth as the neck, as does the broken ribcage. In every place where one of the bones are off, there are traces... much like if one has a branch and cuts a quarter-in on both sides, before snapping it off. No matter how I turn it about, the woman must have been scared free if lies for she seems to be telling the truth. The beast must have a mouth both filled with impossibly sharp and strong teeth, width of a dragon and strength of one as well, for it simply ate through her upper body." This was the first time that the old man seemed uncomfortable as well. He had been raised a priest of Arkay all his life, spent over sixty years preparing the bodies of the fallen for their eternal rest and healing the ill. Wounds from combat, self-harm, hunting, brawl and all possible kinds of beasts and weapons, he had seen it all on the hundreds of people he had exanimated and tended to. Living as dead.

"So this beast IS real and it IS haunting the shadows of the hold... what should I prepare my men for? Is it magic in nature or some kind of monster we have yet to discover?" Harrdarr targeted the old monk once more, if nothing else than to tear his eyes from the gore-fest before him.

"You overestimate me... I may be skilled in the arts of healing and I know how the body works, but detecting traces of magic on the killer when I only have the victim? It is beyond my powers, my jarl. There is one who could do it, but I doubt you would like the idea of it..."

"Please tell me you are not honestly meaning her..."

Nova blanked a couple of times, taken aback and dumbfounded by the question.

"Please tell me you are not honestly meaning her..." She said in a cold, tired voice. Her eyes carrying faint bags as she had clearly not slept during the night that had passed, and from her breath it was clear that she had consumed little but mead during it. Yet she was but tipsy, so the consumption must have been limited.

"Nova, you know I would not ask you this even if the circumstances were different, but you are the only one whom might bring clarity to things. Otherwise we would have to send for a member of the collage, which could take weeks if ever at all! We need to know what this thing is to better prepare both the guards and the people!" The Jarl had come alone to Nova's shop. It had been closed, but she had allowed him in due to their long friendship and his position of power.

Alas, that did not prevent nor scare her enough to NOT slap him for his request, sending that dinky crown of silver and emeralds to the floor.

"May the ghost of Alduin claim you... had I not felt that poor excuse of a beard on your cheek against my palm I would take you for a bad mead-dream! You have quite the testicular fortitude to stand before me and demand this of me right now!" She spat on the floor, seemingly aiming for the crown but thankfully missing due to her tipsy state.

Harrdarr gritted his teeth, partly from the red hot pain on his face, partly from the shame of her words carrying truth and partly from his embarrassment that he had to take it.

"You know just as well as the rest of them out there that I just barely get along on this shop, especially on my own! There is no-one in this blasted armpit of a town who respects the alchemy school! No-one whom is willing to spend a few septims on proper medicine and cures rather than pray to the Divines and then die horribly, but 'atleast faithfully'!" The woman turned around and grabbed a bottle from her table, swinging it to her lips in anger. But upon realizing that the last of her bottles was empty, she instead threw it into the fireplace where it shattered against the stones.

"Hell... I can't even afford getting drunk."

Jarl Harrdarr sighed. It hurt him deeply to see his childhood friend and secret love like this.

He knew she struggled with the taxes, he knew she had a problem with alcohol since her youth, but she got over it once she got married. That her husband then died only gave her an excuse to take to the bottle once more. He had wished to aid her, but as ruler of this Hold he could not simply aid one lone member of his area, it would not be fair to the rest and it would not be possible to hide it.

_"Nova... please. I know how much you are hurting right now, and I cannot imagine the horror of seeing it first-hand... it shames me to ask you to see Annika in her current state, but we have none else to turn to. But... maybe we can help each other?"_He tried to catch her interest, and seemingly succeeding as the alchemist turned her head towards him just slightly.

"How?" She asked with a voice on the brink of crying.

"You know I have wished to aid you in your finances. But there is just as many potions one man needs without it getting diplomatic with others whom struggle with their taxes... However... all things considered in what you just experienced and the lack of competence in the area... would you consider a hefty payment for this rare and well-needed service?" He spoke in a slightly exaggerated political way, partly to try and cheer her up and to maybe get the message through.

He could cheat the system and it would look fine to the public.

"... look at me, mom. Here I stand and being bought into discomfort and horrors with gold, like a Cyrodiil harlot..." She chuckled, before walking over to one of the many re-purposed wardrobes filled with potions, elixirs and herbs. She grabbed a bottle of something red, opened it and stuffed a few crushed berries into it, before downing it quickly. She let out an unnaturally deep belch, before turning to the Jarl once more, seemingly perfectly sober and a bit more energetic! "Five hundred septims and a dinner at the inn. All I can drink. YOU'RE treating me. Divines know I will need it." She demanded with dead-serious and awake eyes, demonstrating that go-getter spirit that used to both put her in so much trouble as young AND make her respected amongst the young boys and men.

Harrdarr smirked. For her services and considering what he asked of her, it was a bargain. He knew that she would have demanded thrice the price of anyone else though, for she had never been one to take advantage of her friends.

"Deal. I bet I could use a few myself after this..."

Putting down her large custom-made bag, (a padded shoulder bag with more pockets and holders inside than a thief-guild member's trousers, with everything covered in fluffy mammoth wool to minimalize the chances of anything crashing) she had to take a deep breath as she looked on the covered body of her friend. They had wrapped her up completely in blankets to prevent bugs and other types of vermin to access it. However, they had also wrapped up the disembodied head as its own package, lying next to the rest of the body.

"They... found her head?" She mumbled beneath her breath, still bracing herself.

"What remains of it... we don't know if it can be of any use, but if it could still speak it would have stories to tell. Not often a whole head gets swallowed and partly digested, if you catch my drift?" Before the Jarl could respond to the old priest's insensitive ways, Nova gave him a look to tell him it was fine. Or that it at least could not get worse.

She had the two men aid her in unwrapping the corpse, which she said she preferred if they did slowly to help ease the experience for her, she still needed time to get comfortable with it all, and they understood. She gagged a few times, but otherwise remained strong as more and more of the destroyed woman's body laid bare before them. She had a stool dragged forth for her as she began to unload her many flasks, bottles and pouches of various brews and ingredients. She was also offered the set of ancient Nordic tools that the monk himself used to prepare the dead bodies to help her exanimate the corpse without having to come in direct contact with it. Twisted and cruel looking items of polished and rust-free black iron and wood, designed to make small holes and hook onto organs and bones to either remove or rearrange them...

After a few hours of silent work in the dim candle light, she turned to the two males whom had been awaiting her patiently on a bench with a mug of mead each. She held her collection of notes, which she had written down during various stages of her deduction, and began with a sigh.

"Yeah... there is magic involved. And it seems to be werewolf related." She gave the two men a moment to blink in confusion, for it was indeed not what they had expected.

"Go on, please." Harrdarr said, while raising a fist beneath his chin for support.

"There are two things missing from... from Annika's corpse. Two things taken by the creature and that just so happened to be bound to a lot of magic revolving werewolves. The head and the heart. The marks from both teeth and claws are perfect, too perfect. I grind both types of every possible animal into dusts on a regular basis, and I have never seen any that could do this. They are not natural, they were designed by someone. Annika had a regular build with plenty of good flesh to her, so why would it target just the heart? And why swallow something as big and clunky as a head whole? It is said that werewolves possess the uncanny ability to drain the strength of a fallen man or mer by eating their heart, which is also bound to countless magical schools since the age of frizzle. Not unthinkable, in other words. And it is not an abduction of the heart, it was clearly eaten but hastily so, judging from the marks." She silenced slightly, looking with a disturbed face on her former friend. Harrdarr gave her a few seconds before asking.

"And... the head? Why swallow it?"

"... I am not certain. That part is not bound to werewolf behavior, according to my studies at least... no, it might be related to some other type of sinister magic. My belief is that this monster, whom is neither werewolf nor argonian, is not working alone or on its own behalf. Again, not even werewolves has teeth nor claws able of such perfect cuts. It is dagger-like, just like the good father said, which only makes me even more firm in my theory that someone created it to obtain various... items?" She shrugged at the last note. "Werewolves are not big enough to swallow a head whole, nor would they be able to... eject it naturally, even if they could. And this thing clearly did."

The Jarl looked to the priest as Nova silenced, observing his frightened but silent face.

"In other words... we have a conjured monster with custom-designed looks and weaponized mouth and hands... could you detect any magic revolving the school of its creation?"

Nova only shook her head. She explained that without a physical sample of the beast, she could do little about detecting the magic bound to it. Even the samples of its feces carried no traces that she could detect. The three remained silent for a while, thinking.

The next day all could behold warning posters around the city.

The two scribes and the jarl's own steward had been tasked with drawing copies of Nova's picture of the beast, which they had done with great surprise upon receiving the image. And since the original drawing had been quite hasty with nothing but coal and parchment, they could create near perfect copies in but half an hour per poster. Another half hour was required to write down the message from the Jarl, but one poster per hour and man was still quite grand results. During the night after Nova's exanimation and conclusion the windows of Jarl Harrdarr's house burned brightly with the many candles inside, as he offered the three all the room and materials they could need. At the break of morn, he had guards post the 40 posters both in- and outside the city, even sending one man on horseback to post a few in the small settlements of the hold.

There was not a single hour that day when the poster on the Inn's front door was not crowded with people whom could not observe and converse about it enough. The picture described something none of them had even phantom before, and the message that followed was quite curious as well.

It read:

"Beware of the Night Scale Monster! One has already fallen to this monster, which has been proven to exist both by eyewitnesses and the use of modern medicine during the autopsy of mentioned victim. The beast has been created by means of magic conjuration, believed to be dark arts, and may easily overpower men and maidens alike. Stay behind locked doors during nights and report any suspicion to the guards or the Jarl, for the beast may be a shapeshifting human."

It was hard for many to believe that such a thing could even exist. Most of them were humble townsfolk whom never dabbled in sorcery or even heard too much about it, but due to that they also believed that magic could do anything in skilled hands. So while hard to believe, believe they still did.

The bounty of three thousand septims for the head or capture of the monster was also extremely brow-raising for everyone! Even murders of the worst caliber only ever reached bounties of maybe a thousand, or more commonly a few hundred. It had the axes of every mercenary in town itching...

Several days passed, but nothing but paranoid rumors or accusations were ever brought up.

One neighbor even tried to frame his hated next-door elf as the monster, based purely on his racist believe that the elf surely fumbled with that famous elven magic and wished to off every true Nord one by one. The man got a day in a cell to calm down and was also told to restrain his visits to the inn and the consumption of alcohol done there.

However, the Jarl was awoken on the fourth day since the posting of the posters by his steward, whom shouted for him to get dressed and quickly, for there had been another attack and a witness had stepped forth! Harrdarr wasted no time and pulled on his robe, not bothering with any decorations or other rubbish as he rushed to the main hall of his home. There he found a lone guard supporting light to the elderly man in her company, whom carried the same frightened thousand-yard stare that he had seen on Nova during the night of the first attack.

"You are injured?" Harrdarr targeted the guard first, seeing the blood dripping from beneath the short sleeve of her chainmail. He could not see her face beneath the helmet, but she clearly followed his eyes to the red lines that had mixed some with the fresh sweat.

"A scratch, my jarl. The beast thankfully missed." The loyal, 30-something woman replied with a stout voice, making it hard to tell if she had suffered any emotional impact at all and simply hid it.

"Nevertheless, seek out the hold Alchemist right away. I will not take the chance of this thing inflicting its curse upon others." Harrdarr commanded, and the guardswoman nodded. They had all heard rumors of how both vampires, werewolves and other creatures could turn others by bites or cuts, so it was best to be careful. "And you? You saw this beast?" The jarl's eyes shifted to the old man, who jumped slightly at the young and healthy man-voice that echoed towards him in the dark.

"Yes, my lord... it... it tore my son to sh-shreds before my very eyes, and ran off with my wife." The old farmer spoke slowly, with a confused, furrowed brow. Almost as if he did not believe his own memories upon revisiting them. "It ran to the mountains... my wife stopped screamed all of a sudden, and I don't know what..." The old man's voice vanished and joined the silence of the night, leaving but the fire from the torch to fill the void. Tears had begun to flow forth during his description of the violent kidnapping, and it was clear that he would be of little more use when it came to details. Harrdarr turned back to the guard, asking for her name. She gave it.

"Well Agneta, tend to your wound and then head back to the barracks for some food and rest, you've earned it. I will speak to you again in the morning, for I want details about the beast on parchment for future encounters." The Jarl and the guard exchanged polite nods, as she motioned for the old man to follow her. Harrdarr had just turned around to return to his chamber, when a strong grip on his shoulder spun him around to stare into the shadow-cowered eyes of the elder farmer!

"... Find her... please. Please, do anything you can." His voice was stronger than before, solid and demanding with his desire and determination, even with his words carrying his fears and desperation. Harrdarr could tell that the old man still cried. He could catch the faint gleams of light that reflected in the dropping tears, hear the jagged breath beneath the silvery mustache and feel the violent shakes that haunted his hand. He felt such pity and sorrow for the old man, for he knew that the farmer was aware of his near future.

No doubt his son, a strong young male, ran most of the hard work on the family farm to make things run smoothly. But with the regular income of a humble farm, now reduced to nothing but an old man and maybe some chickens, he would not be able to survive on his own. The old man faced a future as another aged beggar, possibly without any family as well...

"I will have guards scout the mountains at the point of sunrise so they can see without getting ambushed by this creature. And I promise you that they will find her. I wish I could offer more, but I can at the very least offer you safe rest in my home tonight, and that I will cover the fees of the burial." Harrdarr laid his arms around the back of the old man, holding him firmly to share some warmth and comfort. The old man just sobbed, whimpering "thank you" between jagged gasps for air...

All guards and even civilians that could be spared joined the search party. For two whole days' worth of sunlight they scoured the mountains, but found nothing. The third and fourth days there were almost only guards that still climbed the rocky areas because it was their duty. It took a whole week to finally find that still remained of the farmer's wife.

Harrdarr and Nova found themselves once more in the priest's underground tombs.

Before them laid a skeleton in pristine white condition, cleaned to perfection and without any signs of recent injuries. The old priest had spent all night simply putting the pieces in order, and it was missing a few smaller bones from toes and fingers, but he had done a bang-up job making them lie in their natural human shape! Nova had been asked to exanimate once again since she was the only local with greater knowledge in both the fields of alchemy and the magic that is bound to it. While she was not happy with it, working with corpses that is, it was still a fair payment and could help the people... at least that is what she told the Jarl after some consideration revolving his suggestion.

She had gotten to work right away. Exanimating the skeleton with one hand and taking notes with the other when she was not creating mixtures in a clay bowl, dropping fragments of bones to analyze the changes in her hasty brews to locate magical involvement...

"Well? What have you found out?" Harrdarr could not resist anymore.

He and the old priest, whom had fallen asleep by then, had remained seated and waiting for her report for well over a few hours now, and the last half hour or so was just sitting there and staring at her back as she did nothing but stare into the void without a motion. His question caused the alchemist to jump slightly, startled and pulled from her world of deep thoughts.

"I... I do not know. I have gotten some results, but I do not know what to make of them." Nova rubbed her eyes with one hand as she gathered her notes with the other, turning to the two men as the younger one shook the older awake.

"Tell us what you could make out of it and we'll start there." The Jarl replied with a nod.

"To be honest, this frightens me, Harrdarr... From what I can tell, this skeleton fits the description of the lost woman when it comes to height and age, even if the skeleton looks to have been left in the wild for years. I would personally confirm this to be her."

_"Just age and height? That does not give us much to go on... we cannot say for certain that it is her and not some other woman lost ages ago. I personally offered to care for the burial, and it would not look good if we bury this corpse in claim of it being the missing wife, only for a better fitting body to show up later."_This time it was Harrdarr who rubbed his tired eyes, seeing the massive troubles that could bubble up if they did anything hasty, though Nova continued.

"However... There is one more thing that I can tell about identification. Look here." She waved for her old friend to come over, and the Jarl did as he was told. She showed him a sample of a bone-fragment in a faintly colored liquid inside a slim vial, though he could not tell what she expected from him and he simply gave her a confused shrug and raised eyebrows.

"Silver."_She said with a faint smirk. _"Found only on the right hand."

He looked at her with even more confusion on his face. "What? How do you mean?"

Nova lifted the plate containing the many small pieces of bones that had once been a hand, fishing out a few specific ones and held them to the light. One could find a few extremely thin marks on them...

"From the looks of them, these are the bones of the right hand. They are slightly thicker than the others, which is common for right-handed people. What one can't see is that these bones carry traces of silver and theft." Nova flipped through her notes while Harrdarr looked at her as if she had gone crazy, but he still gave her time to explain before judging. "I better start from the beginning... All of these bones are far too clean, too white. They look cleaned and cared for in a way even we humans do not tend to our fallen. And look at some of these..." She lifted a bone that looked far too thin and too small to be human. "Stirrup. It is nearly completely gone... Pure luck that they found it, if you ask me. You better give your guards extra pork for that search." She grinned, though Harrdarr could but nod.

"Please go on..." His voice was tired and filled with worry, trying to juggle all the mixed-up details she had gone over so far without understanding any of it.

"Sorry... What I mean to get at is that these bones are all digested. I have seen similar things in bear and sabre cat guts, due to them not really bothering to chew smaller prey like squirrel or other rodents... heck, even foxes and young wolves slide down easily. My guess is that the woman was eaten by this monster, swallowed whole and digested... I can't find any trace of the digestive fluids, they must have vanished in the rain during the time these bones laid in the wild before the guards found them, but I got two pieces of evidence for this. Not only that the bones look polished and thin, but also this right hand. As I said, it carried traces of silver. Whatever acid this monster's stomach is filled with, it is most certainly not human or even animalistic. To turn a full-grown human into nothing but bones in but a few days? I doubt even a dragon could pull that trick off. There is strong magic or alchemy at work, trust you me... this is where the silver comes into picture. The woman was a farmer, right? I bet that she still wore regular leather gloves upon being... captured, and that those leather gloves survived the longest time. This acid is so strong that it must have started to even churn away at the outmost layers of a silver ring, though gotten trapped inside the surviving glove long enough for the traces to latch onto the skeleton within."

"How do you know it was a ring..?" Was all Harrdarr could mumble, partly in his own world of horrific imagery from the scenarios that Nova had verbally painted.

"See these marks? They are faint but recent. Except from old fractures, there are no such recent marks on any of the other bones. It is on one of the thicker bone-fingers, my guess the right hand ones, and must have been from a bird trying to pick the ring off it. Hacking at it with beak and talons."

Harrdarr nodded and gave Nova an appreciating pat on the shoulder before rushing to the door where a guard waited for him. "Fetch the farmer! I will need details about his wife, say that we might have found her remains but need his information to confirm it!" He turned to go back inside the underground halls, before halting. "Double portions of mead and pork to everyone in the search party for a blasted good job, let the cook know once you get back!" The guard grinned happily before giving a quick salute and running towards the stables to fetch a horse.

"So..."_Harrdarr closed the door after him with a sigh. _"The monster is evolving then? I had hoped that the guard giving me close-up details simply exaggerated when she told me of what she saw during her encounter, but you can confirm it then? The beast does not settle for heats anymore, but entire bodies?" He stared at Nova with a seriousness in his eyes that was not too common for those that knew him, and it was clear that while he expected her to be fully honest with him at all times, he still hoped that she had lied somewhere and that the beast was not as monstrous as portrayed.

"Yes. That is what I can make of this. The description your guard gave fits that which I remember myself, and what these bones has gone through is clear to me. But what put them through such a treatment is not natural, it is a creation designed for what it does, but I could not tell you why."

Nova sighed, looking at the troubled Jarl. All they could do for now was wait for the farmer...

An hour or so later the guard returned with the old man, who looked even thinner and ragged than before. Lack of food and sleep was evident. He sat down with the Jarl and the Alchemist, looking at the woman with suspicion at first due to all the rumors revolving the potion-blender. Harrdarr had to give him an explanation that she was the one to first encounter the beast and had helped out more than anyone else, before the old man felt comfortable talking before her.

He answered every question with a rock-solid confidence and never needing as much as a second to gather memories or secure his information. T'is what one might expect from a man who spent every day working hard next to his wife for many years, he probably had few other things to ever think about outside of his beloved. Her clothing during the attack, which hand she wore her ring on, what material it had been out of, possible past fractures of the skeleton... he answered it all firmly, and it was clear rather early on that the information he gave fitted the bones they had recovered, so they allowed him to see them and pay his respects alone for a while. Nova, Harrdarr, the Priest and the guard remained seated outside in the evening sun, giving the farmer the time he needed, though never hearing as much as a sniffle or sob through the door.

Eventually, the old man left the hall of the dead, thanking both his Jarl for the support and help given, both in the recovery and covering of burial fee. He then thanked Nova and the Priest as well, claiming that he was strangely thankful for that they had found nothing but her skeleton, for he doubted he could have dealt with seeing her body in a pile of torn gore, as he had heard the first girl was found. He could now return home to gather his things in peace before selling the farm, hoping to live out the rest of his days on that money.

Harrdarr had new posters written to replace the old ones, with additional information and raised bounty for the capture or execution of the monster. He even added a bounty of 500 septims for mere information as to where to find the beast or the conjurer that created it. Of course, payment would only be handed out if the information proved valuable.

And while there came a few ideas and suggestions from people both inside the town and from the farms around it, none proved to be worthwhile. Rumors and bickering between families, nothing more or more valuable. It did not help that there were no more attack for another two weeks either, making people question if the beast truly did exist or if it was but a prank by bandits in bear pelts to scare the people while remaining hidden beneath a disguise. Indeed, the rumors grew every day that more evidence did not surface, even if the fear was ever present and real.

However, no peace last eternally.

Yet again Harrdarr's steward came rushing into his room in the middle of the night, calling for his lord's attention and presence for yet another victim. The newly awoken Jarl grunted and turned in his bed, mumbling something about a few minutes and cold water, making his trusted advisor nod and leave. Harrdarr was thankful for that it was so blasted dark, and that the candle his steward had carried was weak and flickered from having almost extinguished during his run. A proper torch had lit up the room enough to show that he was not alone in his bed.

Reached a hand out beneath his blanket of woven mammoth- and ox fur, he stroked the sleeping and warm figure of the woman next to him. Nova's body was as warm as a furnace, sweating slightly beneath the thick blanket and furs above it. She had never had enough coin to grow chubby, but it was clear that the past few weeks had done her good. The payment he had given her from her 'work' with the attacks had clearly replaced potatoes with pork. She no longer looked malnourished and thin, but instead like your average Nordic woman. Tall and stout. It had also allowed her once well-known figure to stand out a little more, putting a bit more sway on her movements. He smiled, knowing that she was faring better and allowed herself better food and even new clothing these days. Her company during the night was not part of his expectations, but ever since she could afford better food and feel more secure in her income due to more people starting to trust her and purchase her wares, she had put down the bottle somewhat. He had worried that she would drink herself to death with these past traumatic memories and sudden overflow of coin, but he constantly forgot what a strong woman she really was behind the mantle of mead.

She slept soundly beside him, and he could feel her body expand and deflate with every single breath that passed soundlessly across her lips. He had thought her drunk when she came over a few nights ago, almost demanding him into bed the first thing she did... but after having slapped him free of such thoughts, she had gotten her way through. Nova had later explained that she had considered it for quite a while, even before her husband died... but a nord does not go back on marriage, nor do they re-wed themselves in such short times, if at all. Both had agreed that it would be best for the both of them if they kept their meetings a secret, for it would not look good for Harrdarr if he was caught keeping her in bed like a dirty soldier would a harlot, unmarried and from different houses at their grown age.

He sighed as he slipped out of bed, doing his best not to stir his lover in her sleep.

Though the alchemist had ears like a wolf and slowly opened an eye upon the faint creak from the nearby wardrobe. "Another attack?" She mumbled, pulling down the blanket slightly to escape from the intense heat beneath it.

"It would seem so... I will 'call for you' in the morning if you are needed. Go back to sleep." Harrdarr smiled as he turned around. Wearing a humble robe and pair of wooly inside shoes, wielding a torch which's light grew stronger by the second after he lit it. It cast a wonderful glow that lit up Nova's body upon reflecting on the sweaty, pale skin. The Jarl longed to return to bed, to once more embrace his childhood love and to never let her go... however one does not ignore duties when in a position like this. His younger self might had, especially when now given the one thing he could never have at that age, but he was more man now than ever... especially after a night like this.

"T'was the beast, I swear! Tall as two men, covered in scales and a head like a dragon!" The man in chains had large, shifting and frightened eyes. He was put in shackles and held by each arm by guard that had captured him. He had been attempting a burglary into the town's General Goods store when the beast had leapt from a roof top and landed just next to him as he attempted to climb down the chimney. This had caused him to scream in terror and lose his grip, falling down into the stone-laid tunnel and break his ankle upon impacting with the bottom. His clothes were burned from the time he had spent trying to roll out of the hot coals with just one functional leg, still screaming in fear and by then also in agony from the injury and burns...

"I swear, my jarl! It landed just next to me, holding the Pettersson's daughter beneath a single arm! Stared down my rotten soul and hissed at me with embers flying from its gap!" The thief, also known as 'Nils of the River', was a local fisher that had been caught with his fingers in other's pockets and keyholes one too many times when he could not hook anything. "Please, my jarl, do not let me back out until you capture it! I thought it was nothing but folly and foolery, but you can't make me live outside the city with that thing on the loose!" For as frantic and frightened the man was, he made no attempts to fight the irons around his wrists. If anything, he seemed to try and pull the guards closer to him in protection from the darkness of the night.

"... Pettersson's daughter? Have she been checked on?" Harrdarr turned to the guards after glaring with tired, suspecting and pitiful eyes on the nervous burglar. The closest guard nodded.

"Yes, my jarl. I ran to the blacksmith myself to check, and apparently she is indeed missing."

_"To Oblivion with the beast... and to Oblivion with this thief as well! I am damn well close to have you thrown out the city with that broken leg of yours to fend for yourself, Nils! Take him away and lock him up before I change my mind!"_Harrdarr's judgment and burst of none-tolerance surprised both the guards and steward, though impressed them as well. The Jarl had always been a calm and compassionate soul, though for some reason he had seemed to go through an increased amount of testicular fortitude these past few days, not accepting the same amount of bullshit he normally did with nothing but annoyed sighs. He showed a bit more backbone, so to speak.

The guards nodded as they carried the limping thief away, who cried verses of thanks and gratitude for not being forced to return to his river-side hut. Harrdarr aimed a question to his steward revolving further details, but there was nothing more to be reported at the moment, so he returned to bed. Claiming that he would need it for the morning to come, which the steward had no objections to.

Nova giggled as the owner of the bed returned.

She mentioned how she heard him out there and was surprised with how rough he could be when he actually had to. She didn't pity Nils. The crook had tried to sell 'ingredients' to her in the past, though it was never anything more than regular old seaweed, moss and fish scales. She smirked and kissed him softly, pulling the blanket over them both once more.

With a hand on her stomach, Nova groaned. She had not expected this.

No traces revolving the missing blacksmith daughter had turned up yet, so she had been capable of holding a low profile. She stood leaned against the door to her basement where she kept most of her ingredients and had both meat and mead on cooling. She held her stomach with closed eyes as she slowly sat down in the silence and solitude that her basement offered, shielding her from the hustle of the town outside. She had never planned for this to go this far... it was just supposed to be a one-time thing, an experiment. But it had been so good, she simple had to try again. And now, here she sat. Hooked and beyond control. Her body, even if eager and willing, tried to tell her NO, that it was a bad idea and that she would suffer from it physically... though it was too late. Her mind had begun to falter as well, being close to giving in to her addiction and force her into more.

She looked to the flask in her hand... was she really this desperate for it now?

It had been so simple at first... such a pure-hearted intention gone so wrong.

In her childhood, she had fancied two boys for different reasons.

One was the child of the Jarl, and stood in line to be the next one. A charming if spoiled young man that still showed potential to become a good leader with a soft heart, that would also guarantee her a nice and relaxed life, unlike that she had been put through as a child. Being poor was never a good thing, especially not in a world as unforgiving as the cold north. So while shallow, wealth was highly attractive on an almost animalistic level.

The other had been an average man that she could relate more with. A few years older than her with a rough childhood that had forged him into a stand-alone and strong-spirited soul that believed in morals and hard work over anything else. She could sympathize more with him, especially after an accident that none except herself and him knew about... He had been in his early twenties and she had just crossed into adulthood, when he stumbled into her house in the middle of the night, bleeding badly from both arm and chest and seemingly lacking an eye. He had been hunting when a beast he had never seen before struck him. He had manage to fight it until it ran away with a broken arm and nose, but he had been badly injured as well.

Fighting with a werewolf rarely ended well...

At that age, neither Nora nor her future husband knew more about werewolves other than that they existed. Rumors and folklore. But before they knew what to do, it was too late to reverse the curse. His first transformation had been slow, agonizingly slow and painful for him. Terrifying for her to behold. It had been in this very basement, and she had been lucky to be as quick as she was, managing to lock him in there during the full moon night until it reversed... and so, they continued.

They shared a passion for each other, but it had not been enough to hold a wedding. No, they also needed each other. He needed her and her growing skills in alchemy to soothe his curse and try to find a cure, and she needed him for both income and ingredients. It had become a nearly sexless marriage between one who only hunted every day and one who studied every day. She dared not to allow his seed within her, risking a growing werewolf inside herself... but they had one night shared too many flasks of mead in celebration for their newly opened shop, and to her he had never looked more handsome than he did through that honey-scented glaze...

Sadly, the excessive consumption of alcohol and passion made them both forget time and date.

She had not gotten pregnant that night, if only because he had bitten her half-way through his transformation over the shoulder. Had he not been more drunk than she was, she would never have managed to push a nearly completely transformed werewolf down the stairs and lock it up, a feat she was silently proud over. However, the bite had cleared her mind enough to conjure an elixir to hopefully cure it... she hoped it did.

It was not many years after that incident that he went and got himself killed in the forest.

A bear hunt finally went wrong, and little more than his ragged and blooded clothes were ever found and brought back from the den. In a way, she was thankful that he had died a human's and hunter's death, and not over the blade of a guard or assassin. Their secret had died with him.

Until she realized that she truly did carry the curse as well.

She had managed to slow it down into a process that took several years, but it slowly began to take ahold of her during moon-lit nights. Her desperation for a cure had been immense, though her nearly none-existing income had prevented her from getting everything she needed... so... she had been forced to improvise and experiment with what she could obtain.

Nova sighed, looking at the flask with the purple-red liquid inside.

"You know, I did not wish for this to happen... and I am not happy over what I have become."

She sighed and folder her legs, pulling her knees closer to her chest in a curled-up position.

It was intended as a cure. She had studied the subject of werewolves more than anyone else she knew about. She had learned the magic of how to create one, an ancient and twisted school of curses that were practiced by both Hagravens and the demonic Deadra alike. She had read about artefacts, potions, spells and gems that could possibly effect or cleans a body from the curse, but she could not obtain said items and ingredients. The money had just not been there.

However, there had been an opening one day.

A random adventurer, nord, walked into her shop one day.

It was not every day that travelers or fortune seekers visited her, though they were far more reliable costumers than the townsfolk. At least young and foolish adventurers always needed potions that could close up fresh wounds or herbs to make salves, and they more often than not had something of value to trade or sell as well. The fresher the adventurer, the easier it was to obtain what valued item them had. This one, however, was no fool or tender meat. This one had seen his fair share and wore both armor and trinkets taken from large numbers of battles, with a large bag of stuff that he had no use for other than to trade for cold golden cash.

One of said things, was a whole water skin of blood from a dragon.

Anyone who knows anything about dragons, is how hard they are to kill for mortals.

What worse is that obtaining any samples from them outside of bones has never been easy, due to that their magical bodies instantly rotting down to mere skeletons upon having been killed by a Dragonborn, the only mortals capable of taking on the flying monsters one-on-one and absorb their very essence upon victory.

This dragon had been felled by mortals, and thus left a hot body behind it.

A body that had been harvested for near-unique materials... such as that skin of blood.

It had taken Nova a good hour of haggling to trade for that skin, once she had confirmed it to be real.

Every coin she had along with a large selection of both elixirs and potions of the adventurer's choice, but he finally agreed and the deal was made. She had wasted no time after that he left and immediately begun to experiment with the black-red liquid. Dragons heals faster than a troll in a snow storm, and possess magic stronger than anything else from creation... and are immune to the killing concept of age. She had never had a more potent material in her possession before, and she spent over a month of almost no sleep or eating just trying to perfect her experimental elixir, not knowing how long she had before the blood would turn bad or change abilities.

In the end, she stood with a brew that she hoped would follow her suspicions.

If it did, it would not cure her of her curse as much as allow greater control. Many werewolves lose their mind during transformation, turning into more of a beast than man... due to this, some never turn back. Physically or mentally, for it had been reported that there were whole colonies of werewolves that lived as primal hunters for the most of the month, before their blood would boil once again at the rise of a full moon. If she could just control herself, she could adapt her life for it. Escaping the city in the middle of the night twice a month would not be an issue. As an alchemist, she used to do that all the time anyway to fetch herbs that only grew in the light of the moon. And if she could control herself, there would be no victims! They would not even have to know about it...

"But, it did not work out as I had planned... not completely. I guess that's what one gets when experimenting with new and potent ingredients AND tries to fiddle with a curse as old as time..." Nova sighed once more as she kept telling her story. For she had brought the potion along when leaving town that night, feeling her body's muscles already stiffen and the hair on her body tingle as the moons rose higher. She had consumed the elixir, forcing herself not to gag, as it began to warp her physically! It was not only her first ever full transformation, not just growing temporarily sharper teeth or more hair like the past few years of suppressing it... no, this time she allowed it out in symbiosis with her brew. The pain of her bone growing, her nerves re-winding and her muscles flexing until they could no more and instead began to grow... the agony of her very skull completely reshaping and pulling in her flesh, her skin. Her eyes burning worse than after a night of nothing but drinking and then glaring into the bright sunlight and reflecting snow! At first, everything seemed to work. She was fully aware during the whole transformation, aware of every single perverted change her body undertook. From what she had learned, most werewolves lose their mind not to the beast, but to the pain... and she could understand why. But she had been prepared for this a long time, and courage was not something lacking in the heart of a nord! She withstood the storm, until she stood several feet taller and feeling the overwhelming strength that her new body offered... it was, enthralling. Just to tie her fist and feel the animalistic awareness of every nerve and muscle being pulled and used, to be able to smell and recognize people from town from this distance...

Then it struck her. The second rush of pain that she had not been prepared for.

She was suddenly disgusted. Wishing to tear her body apart and cleanse herself from this impure form that had been forced upon her! It was not her worthy! She began to howl and scream in pure anger over her hideous appearance, demanding it to crawl back into the darkest corners of the night and drag the fur she was covered in with it! She wished to tear every strain of midnight black hair that coated her body out one by one... when she saw them acting strange. The hairs all stood up, vibrating as if a wind had taken ahold of them, though it was as still a night as could be.

Then they began to fall. Falling off her like the white winter coat from a rabbit... though not leaving her twisted form naked, only thinly haired. The strains that remained began to thicken instead, slimming down against her powerful arms and legs, torso, neck, hands and feet. They slowly began to turn into painful, burning-hot scales. Her body once again began to alter as her coat turned into armor. Her body thickened further, growing yet another foot taller and her head again reshaping!

Nova awoke, panting and gasping. She had lost herself a moment in the second rush of pain...

She had luckily not moved from her spot, but she knew not for how long she had vanished mentally.

Looking down into the nearby river, holding out her torch to see more clearly, she saw the dragon-like beast that she would later describe to the guards stare back at her. A beautiful, elegant and efficient creature. Powerful, strong and independent. An impure version, of course, but as close to draconic as any human could ever be! She did not regret her new form, if anything, she praised it!

It had taken her closer to a body of supremacy, unlike the frail human shape she previously had.

A giddy desire to test it out arose within her, and she began to look around for prey... though quickly realizing that her transformation and howls had no doubt scared away any local wildlife. Figures. However, a quick sniff to try and locate new prey filled her mind with hope. She could smell fresh bread and honey... Annika! Indeed, she would make a delivery to the inn right about now, how perfect! She began to run back towards the town, at speeds she thought only matched by the eagles in the sky! She knew what she was about to do, she knew that she was going to kill a human for the mere satisfaction of doing it... but she did not see a fault in it. Annika had been her friend, sure, but she was also just a frail human that filled no purpose other than to feed other frail humans! And since her role was to feed others, why not a more significant and important creature? One sharing the blood of the royal reptiles that once ruled this realm? Nova drooled slightly at the thought of that rich, plump flesh from that spoiled man-brat...

Tossing the bottle up and down, Nova sighed. "I awoke shortly after, realizing that I was still bound by the rules of werewolves... only for a night every few weeks. Upon realizing that my transformation would not be permanent, I put what little skill in acting I had to use. All those years of covering for my husband and hiding a werewolf in my basement seemed to have paid off." She chuckled and caught the bottle with a sad smile. "I realize that my human side fights it. It does not wish to turn into what a human consider a monster. But it is slowly claiming my heart. These hunts, these tests of strength and skill, capacity for long-term survival... they are warping my mind. I have recently found myself utterly eager to breed, all of a sudden... to secure rich and strong seed for my future eggs. For with every successful hunt, the effect lasts longer. After every transformation, I learn a bit more how to alter my elixirs to further enrich and empower my pure form. Do you not see? It is beauty..."

Nova looked to the chained-up woman in her basement with a warm, honest smile. The kind one expects to see on a mother of plenty that stands by her cauldron and preparing a rich chicken soup for her beloved. The experience and the tale had already filled the blacksmith's daughter with fear, though the grin through growing teeth from the twisted woman on the stairs before her shook her to the very core...

"I had not expected things to turn out so well... It was risky, sure... but in the end it worked to my advantage. Both my beloved mate and future father to my brood believes me to be not only a victim, not only his lover, but also the one that will in the end provide the information to capture the beast. Never once questioning how I know so much about werewolves, only assuming it is part of an alchemist's knowledge. Never once realizing the amount of preparation put into these attacks to pull around attention. First in town to keep the guards here, then at the far reaches at an isolated farm to keep both people and guards out there searching while I can wander the city and inspect locks and doors without anyone noticing... and then, how easy it was to transform quickly and bring you here... our beloved Jarl never even noticed I was gone. Of course, an alchemist can not serve her Jarl any plain old mead before bed, now can she?" She grinned again, feeling the transformation starting to take a hold of her properly. Her clothes had begun to sit tightly around her arms and chest as her body expanded... "Thank you for listening, dear. It is nice to have a girl-talk once in a while... I needed that. However, there is more from you that I need." Nova swigged the elixir from the small flask in a single gulp, as her eyes turned amber-golden with draconic hunger once more...