Once upon a time there was a little chapel built upon the cliffs on the border between land and sea. The chapel was dedicated to a golden goddess, the saviour which had once come to the aid of mankind in times of great peril. It was a simple chapel, constructed of mortared stone and topped with a timbered roof. It was looked after by the people of a small fishing village not two hours way from the coast, but there was no priest living there. Because of this, the chapel was empty most of the year save for the times when festivities and ceremonies were held in honor of the goddess. The chapel was not empty today, however, but neither were there festivities or ceremonies being held there. In the middle of the dark, dank room sat one single man in front of the roughly cut altar and prayed in silence. He had never been there before, nor would he ever return, but his stay at that chapel would come to change its story forever.

Bors sat with his eyes closed and begged the Golden Goddess for courage and strength in the challenge which lay before him. If he was not mistaken, it would not be long before he was going to be tested. The beast he had been tracking had somehow reversed the hunt, turning Bors into the hunted rather than otherwise. He would need all the help he could get to make through this time, he knew, and even though the wooden likeness of his Goddess remained silent in the face of his prayers, he found solace in the fact that he now slept under the watchful eyes of his beloved deity.

Darkness crept across the world as day turned into night. Bors prepared himself for the night and lit a torch at the entrance to the chapel, both as a welcome and a warning; you're welcome to take me if you can, but know that this is the house of light and that God sees all who enter.

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When the moonlight shines through the ocean skin
And his beams spread like tentacles around you

It seems like you alone are the focus of him
And this is true for everyone everywhere.


Day or night, it was ebbing half tide and waxing gibbous moon that night, a good time for fishing at the pools beneath the cliffs.

When Fisher ascended the cliffs with a brace of fresh squid, he noticed the lights at the chapel and decided to trade some food for fire; he never could get the hang of lighting fires.

"Ho there, fellow! Well met, can I cook on your fire, please?"

The lone human looked like a hunter, or a bandit. Fisher turned half away, ready to sprint for the door if the answer was no.

That's when he saw the werewolf blocking the exit.

The werewolf was fast, but Bors was for once faster. The creature lounged for the defenseless fisherman, determined to devour him, but Bors managed to get his shield between them in the last second. The impact sent him tumbling with the beast on top of him, its jaws snapping at him only a few inches from his face. When they finally stopped, the werewolf was on top of him, trying to bite his face and raking his mail with its claws. In a desperate surge of strength, Bors managed to catch it on its chest with his legs and shoved it off him. By the time he got up it was on him again, slamming its weight against his shield. He deflected the creature and slashed it across its back, causing the it to send out a yelp which echoed off the walls of the chapel. The werewolf tumbled into the likeness of the Golden Goddess, which tipped and fell to the floor, but was up on its legs again in a heartbeat.
It was a hideous creature, Bors reflected. Its fur was ragged and black, its eyes small and filled with hatred. The jaws were bleeding red, twisted things full of yellow and brown fangs. The werewolf snarled menacingly, but circled the hunter this time in stead of charging in. They learned fast, these predators.
Bors knew he couldn't kill it with the steel of his blade alone. He would need to pierce it with his sacred silver dagger before cutting it down. Slowly, he reached for its holster located on his back, only to find it empty! He must've dropped it while tumbling with the beast! In a moment of being unfocused, he forgot to keep his eyes on the wolf and tried to spy the dagger with his eyes. As a result, he was knocked back onto the fallen likeness of his deity and fell into the wall behind it, hitting the back of his head against the cold stone and dropping his sword in the process. It was all he could do to cover behind his shield as the beast came down upon him, tearing and bashing at his mail and shield with fangs and claws. He could see his sword just a few feet away from him, so he tried to reach out for it but could only manage to touch the pommel with the tips of his fingers.
Help me! he called out, hoping that the fisherman had not fled, get it off me!

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Fisher had only seconds to act.

Praying it would not be his undoing, he called upon the Tides with the power of his blood.

The werewolf was easily a hundred kilos, if not two, but most of that mass was pure water...

To its surprise, the monster flew up towards the moon and bounced off the chapel ceiling.

The agile human rolled to one side, snatched up his sword, and was ready when the beast fell back down...

He did not know why the werewolf had jumped away from him, but he wasn't going to ask. With sword and shield in hand he was able to face his enemy, but... he could still not dispatch of it without the silver dagger. As the beast got back up on its feet, Bors once again swept along the floor in search of the blade. He caught a glimpse of something familliar but had to advert his eyes before he could make out what it was to be able to block and deflect the wolf in time. His sword flashed in the torchlight as he once again swept it down across the back of the werewolf. Then, with the beast recoiling from his strike, he threw himself over the Golden Goddess and rolled in the direction of the thing he had seen. He could hear the beast coming at him from behind as he grasped for what fortunetly turned out to be his silver blade. He managed to spin and meet his foe in the last moment, smashing rather than stabbing the creature with the silver.

The werewold howled audibly and stumbled backwards towards the wall, paws raised in front of its face in defence. Black smoke rose from the bubbling, sizzling wound where the dagger was still stuck. When Bors approached it the creature started to growl, black blood running from its twisted jaws and spilling onto the cold stone floor of the chapel. This was the most dangerous part, Bors knew. Werewolves were never as ferocious as when they got the taste of defeat in their mouth.

I could use some further assistance, he said in a calm, steady voice. If you flank the bastard with that spear of yours, you could hold him down while I give him the finishing blow. Think you're up for it?

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"Um... no." Said Fisher.

He was used to large, wounded prey. This was child's play complared to harpooning a whale from a canoe. But Fisher was used to vast, open spaces and he was in fact claustrophobic. Being cornered inside with a werewolf and a warrior was too much for him.

Fighting his panic for an extra second, he grabbed the bait net from his belt and threw it at the monster in one, smooth motion. It unfurled like a flower and entangled the werewolf perfectly.

"Run!" He shouted, and did.

Run!

Wha- no! No, wait! I... Damn!

He couldn't run. Not now, not when he was this close. It had to end here and now. Luckily for him, the net thrown by the fisherman did the job Bors had intended for its owner; the beast was entangled and forced to being defensive. At least for a few moments. Even now the werewolf was tearing at the net with teeth and claw, coming closer to freedom with each second.

Bors decided to chance everything on one card and stabbed at the monster with all his might. He hit the beast exactly where he intended, straight into the chest, but something else went wrong. The werewolf had somehow freed one of its arms, which it used to scoop the hunter with it when it fell backwards towards the stone floor. Even in its dying moments it held him down with supernatural strength, not letting go of him even though he twisted the blade back and forth and fought to get loose with every bit of strength he had left. Then, suddenly, the werewolf had untangled its head. Horrified, Bors managed to let go of his sword and get his hands up in front of him in defence just in time to stop the beast from biting his face of. The monster was ridiculously strong, but Bors had the better of it now. Even though the beast was strong and tough, the situation would slowly turn to Bors favour; the werewolf was dying and he was not.

Just as the beast seemed to give in it caught Bors by surprise by twisting its head fiercly to the right, catching him off guard and unable to resist with his by now trembling hands. It got a firm grasp of his shoulder with its jaws, and bit down hard. Bors struggled in terror, hoping against hope that the mail would be enough to protect him.

But no. The neast bit through and let its tainted blood mix with his own. In panic Bors started screaming loudly, thrashing about in the werebeasts firm grasp, trying to wrestle free. Finally, the beasts strength was used up and Bors could get away. By then, though, it was too late.

In its final moments, the wolf seemed to smile at him through its crooked, bloodstained teeth.

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Bors awakes to find his shoulder bandaged and the smell of smoked squid. Strangely, there is no pain.

"I don't know if the poison will take, I tried to bleed it out. There are four days until full moon king tide. I'll carry your silver knife for now.

"I owe you a debt, stranger, so I will help you. I can heal wounds but for curses you need a witch. The gypsies speak of a woman in the deep forest who may be able to help, for a price..."