Origin of Werewolves Ch. 01

1. Laurence

"People are too trusting with where they tell their secrets Cora," Laurence stated, as he leaned against the scarred wooden walls of their dark side of the tavern, his hands occupied with his ale. The air was thick with the murmurs of shady characters, their identities obscured by shadows and secrets.

Across the room, perched at a table, sat a motley crew of individuals that would make anyone not used to the type that frequented the bar uneasy. Two dark elves were unmistakably marked with the intricate patterns of the Rajani Alliance with tattoos on their arms. A grizzled Dwarf from the Kinley shire, barely reaching the height of a child, sat on a log to match the elves' eye level. His weathered face bore the marks of time and toil, with a thick, bushy beard cascading down his chest, unlike Laurence's own, adding to his imposing presence.

But what drew Laurence's attention most was the peculiar addition to their group. A small, crimson creature with bat-like wings, resembling more of a demonic entity they any known creature in Alanthorp. Its fur was deep red, its claws sharp, and its eyes glowed with an unsettling yellow hue. Despite its menacing appearance, it seemed oddly out of place, serving as either a companion or a silent threat.

Cora raised an eyebrow at Laurence and picked food from his beard. The flickering candlelight illuminated her elven features as she swatted away the strands of black hair and bread from dinner. With a sly smirk she acknowledged his knack for noticing the subtle nuances of the bar. "You always pick up on these things, don't you? So what is it this time?"

"Well, I'm trying to work out what the flying thing is, but the Dark elves' are muttering something about a book." He listened in on the older of the two dark elves, the one with dark blue skin and battle scars across his face and arms.

"It's a nimbat. A female at that."

"That thing is female?" Laurence picked up his ale continuing to listen in on the conversation, although his eyes followed the nimbat, a creature notorious for its incessant buzzing presence during conversations. His gaze travelled back to Cora.

"It's the forbidden book, those ordered destroyed by the gods millennia ago and the duchess of the Rajani Alliance wants the copy," the elf said to the dwarf.

Laurence looked back at Cora and smiled. "I don't know if it's the ale talking, but you're much prettier than that other elf. I've always had a thing for girls who have a touch of yellow." He reached out and took hold of Cora's hand, kissing the cool bright-yellow-tinted skin. "For someone who is seventy years old, you don't look a day over twenty."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? I recall you saying you were into fauns. Now, quit fooling around! We don't have time for you to be goofing off like this. What are they talking about?" Cora pulled her hand away, attempting to hide the obvious blush on her face.

"Something about a forbidden book, the dark elves are wanting to contract the dwarves, and nimbats into getting it for them." The idea sounded easy: break into wherever it was the book was being held and take it for themselves. If Laurence knew the Rajani Alliance, they would pay a high price for an artifact of the gods. But if they would, so would others.

"What are you thinking?" asked Cora, as she played with the ale that had spilt down the side of her mug.

"I'm thinking we take the book and sell it to the dark elves, or the highest bidder. If they want it, then someone else must want it also." Laurence leaned back in his chair and listened in to the conversation once more.

Amidst the murmurs of patrons and the clinking of glasses, an unexpected voice shattered the ambiance. It was the nimbat who broke the silence, her words hanging heavy in the air like a sudden gust of wind. Her voice, deep and resonant, cut through the noise, demanding attention. "We'll entertain your proposal," she rumbled, her tone carrying the weight of authority, "but not without a gesture of commitment upfront."

Laurence's disbelief morphed into a physical reaction; his jaw crashed onto the table. The words that had just reached his ears triggered a whirlwind of thoughts, nearly betraying their covert presence as he instinctively swivelled to locate the source of the unexpected voice. His eyes fell upon the nimbat.

As he observed the scene unfolding before him, Laurence couldn't help but recall what he had heard of nimbats. Despite their irritating habits, they held within themselves the secrets to the land of Nelanthorse that humans, elves, and dwarves didn't. Yet in a twist of irony, Laurence couldn't shake the thought that a nimbat, when caught unaware in its natural habitat, made a delectable meal -- a titbit of information gleaned from his extensive readings.

Cora leaned forward. "And you believe that book is valuable because?"

Laurence leaned in close too, his voice barely a whisper amongst the volume of the crowded tavern. "When was the last time you saw a dark elf engaged in conversation with a nimbat and a dwarf, Cora? And listen to what the little critter is saying. She has quite the mouth on her." Cora's eyes flicked upward, her curiosity piqued by Laurence's observation. But before she could respond, a heavy thud rent the air as something large and metallic landed on the table.

"Shit, Laurence," Cora muttered under her breath, her tone laced with a mixture of surprise and nervousness.

"So, when do ye need it?" the dwarf inquired, his tone betraying a hint of urgency. The dark elves' conspicuous display of wealth seemed to defy the very essence of subtlety, drawing unwanted attention to their clandestine dealings.

With a casual air, the dark elves rose from their seats, signalling the end of the meeting. The female elf turned to the dwarf, her words dripping with veiled threats. "I believe a week is a fair deadline," she stated coolly. "If not, I know of a plant that will eagerly consume your essence."

Her gaze then shifted to the nimbat, her warning directed at the diminutive creature. "And as for you, my flying friend," she continued, her tone tinged with malice, "you'll likely last mere hours before your essence is consumed, leaving you naught but a shadow of your former self."

With that ominous declaration, the dark elves departed, leaving the dwarf and the nimbat to grapple with the weight of their words. The patrons of the tavern remained seated, their faces awash with a mixture of curiosity and unease, stirred by the unsettling exchange they had just witnessed.

"Want to jump in on this one?" Cora asked.

Cora's question hung in the air like a challenge, her gaze lingering on Laurence expectantly.

"It'd be reckless," Laurence mused, his eyes narrowing in contemplation. "I am twice the height of Dwarfy, but he's armed, and nimbats... Well, I don't remember, but I really wouldn't like to find out." He emptied the remnants of the jug of ale into his mug, his thoughts momentarily distracted by the allure of two gold bricks. However, the rising tension in the room, fuelled by the dark elves' calculated exit, reminded him of the precariousness of their situation. This was no time for impulsive actions, especially not under the influence of alcohol. Though Laurence trusted his skills, he knew better than to underestimate the gravity of the moment.

A sudden surge of chaos erupted as one of the bar's patrons lunged at the dwarf, his intentions veiled by the haze of alcohol and aggression. Without hesitation, the dwarf reacted, his axe cleaving through the air with a visceral intensity that echoed in the bone-shattering impact of its blow. The sickening crack of bone reverberated through the tavern as the attacker crumpled to the ground, met with a chorus of horrified screams from onlookers.

Laurence, unwilling to entangle himself in the escalating violence, rose from his seat with practiced nonchalance, his gaze fixed on the bar. The bartender, unfazed by the commotion unfolding behind him, stood stoically, absently swirling a washcloth within a mug. "One for the road," Laurence declared, his voice steady despite the turmoil surrounding them.

Cora's presence behind him prompted a subtle adjustment in his order. "Better make that two," she interjected, her voice a quiet reminder of their shared purpose.

The bartender nodded in acknowledgment as Laurence slid his gold pieces across the worn surface of the bar. As he turned to observe the unfolding brawl, his attention was drawn to the nimbat, the smallest figure amidst the chaos, defiant in the face of danger. With a fierce inhale, she unleashed a burst of flame from her diminutive form, a testament to the latent power concealed within her seemingly delicate frame.

"Oh, so that's what they do again." Laurence chuckled to Cora. She rolled her eyes; he didn't care. Clinking his ale against hers, they downed their last drinks, then he took the elf by the hand, leading her out of the lively tavern and into the quiet embrace of the night air.

"So you really think we can pull this off?" she asked as she interlocked her fingers with his, and a small hiccup escaped her.

Laurence's laughter was a soft melody in the quietness of the moonlit street, his eyes alight with mischief as he responded to Cora's question. "Well, I know how good you are at 'pulling things off,'" he remarked playfully, squeezing her hand affectionately. "When have we never been able to pull something off?"

"Well..." Cora began, her eyes tracing the contours of Laurence's rugged features, each line and shadow on the man's face, reminiscent of a certain wild, animalistic charm with which she had become intimately acquainted. But before she could continue, Laurence interjected with a knowing grin. "That was supposed to be a rhetorical question, Cora," he teased.

"The answer isn't rhetorical," she smirked, her touch lingering on Laurence's hand as if to convey her hidden desire for him. "I've always wondered, Laurence, you were born on a full moon, weren't you?"

"Yes, why? Do I feel a little furry tonight? Woof woof," he muttered, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he glanced up at the moon above.

"Yes, you do actually," Cora replied, her voice dropping a little lower, laced with a hint of playful suggestion that only they shared, a testament to their nights of feral passion spent alone together. "On nights like these, when we've been out and about together, I can't help but wonder if the legends are true. Are men like you really capable of transformation? Perhaps I'll find out if I ever spend another night alone with you during a full moon," she added, her words carrying an unmistakable allure as she trailed off. Her gaze lingering on Laurence's strong physique.

He stopped walking, turning to face her with a mixture of surprise and amusement, his eyes meeting hers in silent acknowledgment of their shared desire. "And what is the verdict?"

"You already know this, silly," she replied with a playful smile, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, a silent invitation for more nights of exploration and passion between them.

His gaze lingered on Cora's features illuminated by the soft moonlight. She was a vision of ethereal beauty, her elven heritage evident in the delicate curve of her pointed ears and the subtle glow of her skin. Her eyes, a captivating shade of hazel, held a glint of mischief as she met his gaze.

"And what is the legend?" he asked, his voice carrying a playful tone that danced in the night air.

Cora's lips curled into a knowing smile, her cheeks tinted with a faint blush that added to her allure. "But you already know this, silly," she replied, her voice like a gentle melody that stirred the depths of his soul.

"I know, but I just like hearing it when you say it," Laurence admitted, his eyes sparkling with affection as he watched her reaction. He couldn't help but admire her, from the graceful arc of her eyebrows to the way her hair cascaded in waves of gold and copper, catching the moon's radiant glow. "Those children born on the night of a full moon will harness the power of the werewolf. But there is one, Origin, the Werewolf king. He will return and be the saviour from darkness, but the kind will only show his power to those children born on the night of a blue moon." Laurence gazed up at Cora and smiled.

"You should read poetry or something. There have been no werewolves for hundreds of years. You know that."

She took his hand once more and the couple continued to walk. "I know, but a girl can dream can't she."

Wood elves, with their enigmatic longevity, always held a peculiar allure. They lived twice the span of a human, yet despite Cora being almost twice his age, her timeless beauty made her appear no more than a third older. But to Laurence, her age mattered little; he adored her, and that was all that truly mattered.

"So, about the book."

"What about it? Do you have any ideas?" Laurence asked, feeling a pang of uncertainty. Whether it was the alcohol or a genuine lack of ideas, he found himself coming up short.

"I do actually. Yadiel, his tower has to have something," Cora suggested, her eyes glinting with determination.

Laurence glanced up at the imposing structure of Yadiel's tower, lifting an eyebrow in contemplation. She had a point; if anyone possessed knowledge of the forbidden book, it would be Yadiel. However, breaking into his tower was no small feat, and he couldn't recall the last time he heard of such an endeavour being successful. "Okay, we make a plan tomorrow, and we bust in under the cover of darkness." He decided after a moment's thought.

"What do we do tonight then?" Cora inquired, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

"We enjoy each other. It's good to finally have a night where we can just relax," Laurence replied, a playful glint in his eyes as he squeezed her hand. He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers, the softness of her skin so tantalising he couldn't resist. Her head arched back, as if giving him permission to do as he pleased with her lips or her body. "Who knows," he added with a suggestive smirk, "maybe I'll even show you some of my 'werewolf' moves."