To Crystal and Eliphas
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IamLEAM1983
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- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
- Location: Quebec, Canada
To Crystal and Eliphas
What's the specifics behind your respective werewolf transformations?
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IamLEAM1983
- Site Admin
- Posts: 3710
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
- Location: Quebec, Canada
As Eliphas
"I don't make it a rule to share the more gruesome aspects of my condition with others, even if the local constabulary tells me it might be considered a gesture a good will towards the youngsters' training... Madeline is looming over my keyboard, however, so I suppose I'll have to do my best in order to sate your curiosity.
Over the month, I'll notice a steady increase in the sharpness of my senses. I see more and smell aromas more keenly, while every groan and pop the old house produces suddenly falls on my ears for the first time in weeks. Unfortunately, I was never gifted with a werewolf's boons, Tala is the one who's graciously accepted a wolf spirit within herself. I, as most of the city knows, am cursed.
On the full moon's eve, I find myself restless and irate. Conflicting urges swim in my mind, and this is one day in the month in which I'm generally unable to get any sort of managerial work done. Instead, everything basely rushes forward and occupies my thoughts, leaving me impatient. I find myself hungry even if I eat a feast's worth, with the ghost of my midsection stirring at the sight of my appointed nurse. I seem to find any old excuse to stoke anger in myself, and I'll realize that I'm actively hoping for any stupid old dispute to turn into an assault on my person. I realize, once every month, that I'm in the unfortunate position of lusting for a fight, for someone else's blood on my knuckles.
Then, on that last night, I go down the wine cellar on my own. Madeline and Zebediah know to leave me be for at least twenty minutes, before coming down to assist the beast. During the evening, I'll have noticed the gradual swelling of my legs. The muscles rebuild and my dead limbs suddenly tingle, as the curse repairs my spine. For a short while, I can stand up from my motorized wheelchair on my own, but I don't have much time to spend marveling over this monthly miracle. The curse only leaves me long enough to undress and toss my clothes in one corner of my cell.
In most cases, I've barely finished that the pain overtakes me. My heart shrinks to two thirds its normal size and every major organ shuts down - my heart included. Total organ failure should kill me, and some adrenaline should have been produced to ward off some of that excruciating pain. Nothing of the sort happens. Samoset wanted me and my family to suffer, and suffer shall I.
At this stage, I can barely utter a sound. I'll have been screaming for about forty minutes, but my vocal cords have torn and reformed themselves. My muzzle is still pushing itself free from the confines of my skull, while my chest expands and my forelimbs grow longer. Coarse hair grows over me, my skull's sides are warped as my ear-holes and inner ear structures both shift to accomodate the beast's pointed appendages. All I can feel is an irrepressible force breaking my bones and pulling on them. They respond as though they were made out of some hybrid material between toffee and calcium. They stretch and warp, every second of it being an absolute agony. The legs and feet hurt the most, however, with half of my soles disappearing into the lower sections of each hind leg and my toes turning into hind paws.
Samoset designed my second form as a mockery of Nature, hoping that becoming a monster would drive me to heights of shame that would be enough to kill me. A nature-lover becoming an aberration of nature must have felt like a fitting punishment... Considering, the beast still stands on two feet and lopes forward a bit like an ape. The tail seems to help for its loping runs or for the occasional tight turn. In any case, the beast knows Madeline and Zebediah, and knows I haven't attempted to sequester it in centuries. It then waits, patiently, until either of them comes down and releases the trapdoor leading to a narrow trail climbing up the cliffside. A human would keep staring down at the crashing waves in horror of falling, but the beast is intent on reaching its quarrel for the night. Its steps never falter.
When the pain finally subsides, I'm no longer in control. I see and feel practically everything through a red haze, and the beast pulls the strings. Nothing imprints itself in my waking mind, leaving me with vague shadows of memories. Most of them involve hunting amongst the local wildlife and consuming my prey. Sometimes, the beast catches the whiff of a truck's worth of freshly delivered meat, down in Pickman Sound. It leaves the marshlands or the main island's forest and ventures out into the city to find more of these easier prey.
Cold cuts and smoked meat don't run, after all.
Then... There's silver and its byproducts. Mist of silver nitrate seems to be a recent addition to the HPD's resources, typically sprayed in the beast's face with the use of aerosol grenades. After a few hours to an entire night spent in a semi-conscious state, silver awakens me to the beast's own shot at experiencing agony. Silver hurts it as much as the transformation hurts me - so it recoils. It selfishly leaves me to endure the pain as its organs shut down and revert to human specifications. I've received a night out on the town and a handful of free Delicatessen foodstuffs, and the price I pay is partial facial or motor paralysis in the upper body, as a result of the stroke that's always involved. My legs and lower back become numb again, and everything hurts for several days. The curse is never so kind as to leave me with partial paralysis or even with speech aphasia - and everything is restored. In the best cases, I've spent my first day of the new cycle with a sagging face and a more irascible temper than usual. In the worst, I awaken after spending twenty-four hours as a vegetable - or worse, after spending a day trying to push sensible words out of my mouth, only to hear gibberish. My brain should be a mess of scars, but Samoset's made sure I'd see nothing except healthy sulci on my EEGs... All the more to endure it all another time, once the cycle ends.
None of this is as unbearable, however, as learning that my eternal companion has killed during the night. It's grown accustomed to the city and the officers know how to handle the beast in a way that's somewhat humane. Sometimes, it smells fear for too long and perceives it as a challenge. Sometimes, the beast goes hunting.
Then I wake up with blood on my hands."
Over the month, I'll notice a steady increase in the sharpness of my senses. I see more and smell aromas more keenly, while every groan and pop the old house produces suddenly falls on my ears for the first time in weeks. Unfortunately, I was never gifted with a werewolf's boons, Tala is the one who's graciously accepted a wolf spirit within herself. I, as most of the city knows, am cursed.
On the full moon's eve, I find myself restless and irate. Conflicting urges swim in my mind, and this is one day in the month in which I'm generally unable to get any sort of managerial work done. Instead, everything basely rushes forward and occupies my thoughts, leaving me impatient. I find myself hungry even if I eat a feast's worth, with the ghost of my midsection stirring at the sight of my appointed nurse. I seem to find any old excuse to stoke anger in myself, and I'll realize that I'm actively hoping for any stupid old dispute to turn into an assault on my person. I realize, once every month, that I'm in the unfortunate position of lusting for a fight, for someone else's blood on my knuckles.
Then, on that last night, I go down the wine cellar on my own. Madeline and Zebediah know to leave me be for at least twenty minutes, before coming down to assist the beast. During the evening, I'll have noticed the gradual swelling of my legs. The muscles rebuild and my dead limbs suddenly tingle, as the curse repairs my spine. For a short while, I can stand up from my motorized wheelchair on my own, but I don't have much time to spend marveling over this monthly miracle. The curse only leaves me long enough to undress and toss my clothes in one corner of my cell.
In most cases, I've barely finished that the pain overtakes me. My heart shrinks to two thirds its normal size and every major organ shuts down - my heart included. Total organ failure should kill me, and some adrenaline should have been produced to ward off some of that excruciating pain. Nothing of the sort happens. Samoset wanted me and my family to suffer, and suffer shall I.
At this stage, I can barely utter a sound. I'll have been screaming for about forty minutes, but my vocal cords have torn and reformed themselves. My muzzle is still pushing itself free from the confines of my skull, while my chest expands and my forelimbs grow longer. Coarse hair grows over me, my skull's sides are warped as my ear-holes and inner ear structures both shift to accomodate the beast's pointed appendages. All I can feel is an irrepressible force breaking my bones and pulling on them. They respond as though they were made out of some hybrid material between toffee and calcium. They stretch and warp, every second of it being an absolute agony. The legs and feet hurt the most, however, with half of my soles disappearing into the lower sections of each hind leg and my toes turning into hind paws.
Samoset designed my second form as a mockery of Nature, hoping that becoming a monster would drive me to heights of shame that would be enough to kill me. A nature-lover becoming an aberration of nature must have felt like a fitting punishment... Considering, the beast still stands on two feet and lopes forward a bit like an ape. The tail seems to help for its loping runs or for the occasional tight turn. In any case, the beast knows Madeline and Zebediah, and knows I haven't attempted to sequester it in centuries. It then waits, patiently, until either of them comes down and releases the trapdoor leading to a narrow trail climbing up the cliffside. A human would keep staring down at the crashing waves in horror of falling, but the beast is intent on reaching its quarrel for the night. Its steps never falter.
When the pain finally subsides, I'm no longer in control. I see and feel practically everything through a red haze, and the beast pulls the strings. Nothing imprints itself in my waking mind, leaving me with vague shadows of memories. Most of them involve hunting amongst the local wildlife and consuming my prey. Sometimes, the beast catches the whiff of a truck's worth of freshly delivered meat, down in Pickman Sound. It leaves the marshlands or the main island's forest and ventures out into the city to find more of these easier prey.
Cold cuts and smoked meat don't run, after all.
Then... There's silver and its byproducts. Mist of silver nitrate seems to be a recent addition to the HPD's resources, typically sprayed in the beast's face with the use of aerosol grenades. After a few hours to an entire night spent in a semi-conscious state, silver awakens me to the beast's own shot at experiencing agony. Silver hurts it as much as the transformation hurts me - so it recoils. It selfishly leaves me to endure the pain as its organs shut down and revert to human specifications. I've received a night out on the town and a handful of free Delicatessen foodstuffs, and the price I pay is partial facial or motor paralysis in the upper body, as a result of the stroke that's always involved. My legs and lower back become numb again, and everything hurts for several days. The curse is never so kind as to leave me with partial paralysis or even with speech aphasia - and everything is restored. In the best cases, I've spent my first day of the new cycle with a sagging face and a more irascible temper than usual. In the worst, I awaken after spending twenty-four hours as a vegetable - or worse, after spending a day trying to push sensible words out of my mouth, only to hear gibberish. My brain should be a mess of scars, but Samoset's made sure I'd see nothing except healthy sulci on my EEGs... All the more to endure it all another time, once the cycle ends.
None of this is as unbearable, however, as learning that my eternal companion has killed during the night. It's grown accustomed to the city and the officers know how to handle the beast in a way that's somewhat humane. Sometimes, it smells fear for too long and perceives it as a challenge. Sometimes, the beast goes hunting.
Then I wake up with blood on my hands."
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TennyoCeres84
- Site Admin
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- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:59 am
As Crystal
"I'll occasionally receive questions about my transformations, but it's really not all that common. No offense to Eliphas, but cursed types tend to get more attention. Hollywood and fantasy literature still favors the brooding, male lycanthrope who experiences an agonizing transformation. Female werewolves or even lycanthropes are a rarity in media.
As mentioned, I received my wolf spirit as a child. The process was carried out in a ceremony that had been fortunately been saved and kept secret from European colonists. They would have destroyed any knowledge of it, if it hadn't been protected by my ancestors in the Narragansett tribe. Having some European ancestry, I can't hate them personally; I hate their actions.
But back to the details of my transformation, I shift through will alone. Given that I have a desk job, I tend to use the body suit Goliath Corp. provides for all theriomorph officers. Though, I also use one that doesn't have a holster and badge pocket, so I'm spared from any embarrassing situations while shifting.The most common times I change forms is when I occasionally go hunting for small game. I could take out a deer if I needed or wanted to, but I find it a bit excessive. I just do it to keep the wolf's instincts in check. Non-cursed werewolves can still slip up and gain destructive habits. That's what my people believe happened to Samoset, changing him into a wendigo.
My transformation is like a sculptor quickly and smoothly shaping clay. It only takes a couple, painless minutes. The sensations are felt, but the nerves that sense pain are turned off. That's the only way I can describe it. My bones and muscles go through the same rearranging, shortening or lengthening as Eliphas does. My mouth and nose join seamlessly into a muzzle; my ears taper on the top of my head. Dropping to all fours, my hands and feet turn into your typical wolf's paws. My fur becomes a slightly coarser, thicker version of my brownish-black hair. My spine extends into a fluffy tail. I otherwise look like your slightly larger than average wolf.
In my wolf form, all five senses are heightened even more than they normally are. I can pick up smells from miles away. My eyes can see perfectly at night. That wolf spirit is technically in control, but I still have sway over it to prevent matters from getting out of control. I am fully aware and remember everything.
The return to my human form is just as pain-free and rapid. Now, aging theriomorphs do have to worry about arthritis, which comes from the joints shifting around so dramatically. I have at least another century ahead of me, barring being killed, so it's a mild concern for me. As long as I keep my instincts in check, life is pretty average for me."
As mentioned, I received my wolf spirit as a child. The process was carried out in a ceremony that had been fortunately been saved and kept secret from European colonists. They would have destroyed any knowledge of it, if it hadn't been protected by my ancestors in the Narragansett tribe. Having some European ancestry, I can't hate them personally; I hate their actions.
But back to the details of my transformation, I shift through will alone. Given that I have a desk job, I tend to use the body suit Goliath Corp. provides for all theriomorph officers. Though, I also use one that doesn't have a holster and badge pocket, so I'm spared from any embarrassing situations while shifting.The most common times I change forms is when I occasionally go hunting for small game. I could take out a deer if I needed or wanted to, but I find it a bit excessive. I just do it to keep the wolf's instincts in check. Non-cursed werewolves can still slip up and gain destructive habits. That's what my people believe happened to Samoset, changing him into a wendigo.
My transformation is like a sculptor quickly and smoothly shaping clay. It only takes a couple, painless minutes. The sensations are felt, but the nerves that sense pain are turned off. That's the only way I can describe it. My bones and muscles go through the same rearranging, shortening or lengthening as Eliphas does. My mouth and nose join seamlessly into a muzzle; my ears taper on the top of my head. Dropping to all fours, my hands and feet turn into your typical wolf's paws. My fur becomes a slightly coarser, thicker version of my brownish-black hair. My spine extends into a fluffy tail. I otherwise look like your slightly larger than average wolf.
In my wolf form, all five senses are heightened even more than they normally are. I can pick up smells from miles away. My eyes can see perfectly at night. That wolf spirit is technically in control, but I still have sway over it to prevent matters from getting out of control. I am fully aware and remember everything.
The return to my human form is just as pain-free and rapid. Now, aging theriomorphs do have to worry about arthritis, which comes from the joints shifting around so dramatically. I have at least another century ahead of me, barring being killed, so it's a mild concern for me. As long as I keep my instincts in check, life is pretty average for me."