Snippet #2774640

The Woods were chilling tonight.

Not in the sense that it was a cold night, nor in the sense that they were naturally just creepy. But tonight, something was off. The wind carried an extra voice. The voice, or voices, of Aldric Von Hardt. The first werewolf. Clutching his face, palm over his Magic Eye, he mumbled incessantly to himself. Three voices fighting for control.

One voice was tired but strong, and wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. The second voice was angry and feral. It spoke almost entirely in Irish, and spoke of going into the nearby Hayslem city and killing everyone. The third voice was entirely bestial - nothing but snarls and growls, and the occasional howl. His Magic eye Glowed a bright Crimson, his regular eye a dim Amber as he fought off the urge to shift slowly. There was nothing more in this life that Aldric hated more than shifting to his cursed Wolf form.

The Magic Eye called out to a Source of Magic, pulsing and giving away its location. Showing it directly what it saw, which right now was Aldric's palm and the forest floor through the fingers, curled painfully tight against his forehead in protest.

"No! NO! NO!!" He kept repeating to himself. Numerous Languages, each one a different tone and emotion. Aldric's Shattered mind was fighting against itself. He wore tattered but baggy rags that covered most of his body, leaving only his eyes visible, besides his razor sharp teeth as they flashed in the moonlight while he spoke to himself.

"Help me. Someone. You don't need help! You need flesh. Kill everything. Tear it to shreds! N-no. We need to sleep. We'll know where we are then. I know where we are. Hayslem city is across the forest. Go. Kill them all.[i] [i]Feast on their flesh, bitch. You know you want to. Useless, disgusting mutt. You did this to yourself."

Thus the internal and external arguments between Aldric and himself continued, unending as he stumbled through the forest towards Hayslem city.