| He strode to the bar, ordered a gooseberry wine, then stood beside Walter, asking, �Is it done?�
�Aye,� replied Walter, �I�ve come to collect my pay.� Rykelle with drew a money purse from beneath his cloak, and tossed it on the bar. �It�s all there. A hundred and fifty gold pieces just as we agreed.� His eyes narrowed. �A hundred and fifty? We agreed on two hundred and fifty, Rykelle. What�re you trying to pull here?� Rykelle stiffened as if he were offended. �Are you calling me a liar?� he asked sternly. �Aye, indeed I am,� replied Walter calmly. �You can call me what you like, but there isn�t one person in this tavern that wouldn�t agree with me, Lycanthrope. Take the gold pieces I gave you and get out of my village.� �Like hell I will. I want what you owe me Rykelle, and I will not leave until I get it.� �Very well . . .� In a flash, Rykelle drew a broadsword from it�s sheath at his side and brandished it menacingly. The bar had gone deathly silent, watching the two men circle each other. Walter was growing angry and knew it was only a matter of time before he would change. Rykelle charged, swiping at him with the sword. Instinctively, he side stepped the blow, causing Rykelle to strike nothing but air. He could feel his eyes beginning to burn, his canine teeth growing into large sharp fangs. Rykelle tried to slash at him once more, but Walter�s spring-like reflexes allowed him to knock the weapon out of his hands, clattering to the floor uselessly. With an inhuman snarl of rage, he stepped forward, grabbed Rykelle by the throat, and lifted him clear off the floor with one hand. He growled, then spoke, sounding like a demon from the very pits of Hell. �Very foolish of you Rykelle, considering that you know what I could do to you. Did you think you could cheat me so easily? I should kill you for your treachery, however, that is not my way. Pay me what you owe me and I will leave.� �Here,� Rykelle gasped feebly, �here is the rest. . . .� He with drew another purse from beneath his cloak, throwing it weakly to him, who caught it expertly. His teeth and eyes became normal. �Thank you,� said Walter, putting him down and relaxing his grip. Rykelle inhaled deeply, desperate for much needed air. He realized the tavern was deathly quiet, everyone staring at him open-mouthed. Striding over to the counter, he grabbed the other purse, and headed for the door. Taking one last look around, he commented, �Farewell.� Then he walked out into the dark night. �No, I will not lay with you !� Zetta screamed in angry indignance, �Now, let me go!� The drunkard laughed maliciously than began removing his breeches as Zetta�s eyes grew wide in fear. She had left the tavern a few minutes earlier after that scuffle between Lord Rykelle and the stranger. She had been on her way home when the drunkard who must have followed her from the tavern, ambushed her, dragging her to this spot in the forest on the outskirts of town. She could smell the ale on his breath, and nearly vomited, praying it would be over soon. He ripped her bodice open, exposing her large, ample breasts, then smothering them in wet, sloppy, greedy kisses. He grunted in his drunken lust, as she shuttered in revulsion, her eyes staring up into the star-infested sky. The moon was full and bright, giving a dim, bluish-white hue to everything. The drunken would-be rapist began pushing up her dress as he forced her legs apart. A howl suddenly split the air. She felt him stiffen, then climb off of her. He looked around nervously as if he had sobered some. Then, from behind him, a low, growling snarl. The drunkard jumped slightly, looking around wildly. To her astonishment, a blur rushed out of the darkness, knocking him to the ground. Zetta scrambled to her feet, turning to see an enormous wolf-like creature standing in the small clearing, the drunkard in it�s clutches. She knew it could only be one thing: a werewolf. She stood there in horrified fascination as the creature shook her attacker like a rag doll, snarling menacingly in his face. Zetta had heard stories of how inhumanly strong they were, how fast they could be, how tender and caring in the arms of a lover. However, she had heard other stories as well. Tales of how they couldn�t be trusted, how they were known to occasionally attack and kill the foolish or unwary. A burst of sudden fear swept through her. What if it suddenly killed her? She thought. She watched as the now-sober drunkard slapped feebly at the thing�s muzzle, striking a glancing blow, serving to only infuriate the creature. It�s lips pulled back, revealing it�s teeth, baring it�s large fangs. It snarled again, continuing to shake him mercilessly. Finally tiring of the game, the werewolf threw him to the ground, a thunderous roar escaping it�s mouth. The man slunk away as fast as he could, running off in the direction of the village. The creature watched the man run off, panting heavily. Zetta took a cautious step backward, unsure of what would happen next. Her foot landed on a small twig, snapping it in two, startling her. A gasp escaped her as she saw the large wolf-like head swivel to look directly at her, it�s glowing eyes like red hot coals. It grunted as it turned, the brawny body coming toward her slowly. It stopped in front of her, and seemed to be looking her over. An enormous paw-like hand reached out to touch her gently, as if to reassure her.�Thank you,� she managed to say. The large head nodded in understanding. Voices suddenly broke the magical moment, catching their attention, making them both look in the direction of the source. They could see the lights of several torches, and even a few weapons. �Those lousy . . . . .� she began, then stopped. Turning to her rescuer, she said urgently, �Get out of here......quickly!� The wolf looked at her, then back at the rapidly approaching torches. It seemed uncertain if it should leave. �Now! You�ve got to leave!� she begged. The creature growled questioningly, then like a specter, it was gone without a trace. She was amazed at how fast it had moved. A group of men suddenly entered the clearing as Zetta held the torn portions of her bodice over breasts. Her attacker was in the lead, sputtering hysterically. �You d-d-d-don�t understand how big this thing was! I�m telling you it almost killed me. . . .y-y-y-you should�ve seen it!� Noticing Zetta, the group stepped forward, one man asking her, �Excuse us Zetta, but Talor here says he saw a werewolf attack you in this area. Have you seen anything?� |
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