Decisions (Werewolf story)

[Zerrif]

Okay so with myself having been sucked into Werewolf/Mafia in yet ANOTHER form (I.E., on heRO) it's inspired me to write. I don't know how long this'll get, but who knows.

And no, I haven't forgotten about Beliefs. It's just on hold-- I lost the storyboard I did for that and can't remember where I planned stuff XD

---

"Gerik, run! Come on--!" A male voice shouted, looking down the rocky incline that he'd been scampering up. Further down was the priest, trying his very best to make his way up the jagged slope in his robes.??As aggravated as he was, the owner of the voice calmed himself down-- he already knew that Gerik was exhausted.

They had been running for days. The last two survivors of their town having been overrun by werewolves, there had been two chasing them down. However, the minute that the wolves had shifted to kill them, Gerik revealed that he was in fact a clergyman. As one of the beasts struck him, he was shielded by a great barrier of light-- and the beast's chest had ripped open as if it had clawed itself.

Blessing. Curses. The whole idea was far beyond his understanding-- but with one left against the two of them, they decided to run. The beasts were vicious and reckless-- and Gerik was a priest, not a hunter. He could not dispatch the beast as hard as he tried, and apparently the "Gods" would not accept another prayer of intervention.

"I'm sorry, Silvarnes. I'm still tired and..." Gerik started. The priest was thin and he had large bags under his eyes-- he seemed frail, and weak, especially with all the stress he'd been going through. His messy, straw-like brown hair was matted and crusted with blood and sweat, and he pushed some of it out of his face. "Let's keep going."

---

"People, stop!" Gerik cried. He was standing in a group of villagers-- well, when the rest of them were alive. "This is going to get us nowhere!"

"Gerik, please." Someone placed their hand on the then-unknown priest's shoulder. He turned his head to stare at a blue-haired villager, stocky and largely built for being the town's blacksmith. "They have the right to speak."

"I cannot, and will not accept this!" Gerik said back, adamantly. "They have no proof to hang you, Wilhelm. They are doing this simply out of fear-- and if you are innocent, then it is simply going to be this fear that kills us!"

Everyone else didn't seem to share the sentiment. "HANG HIM! KILL HIM!" They chanted, and Gerik shook his head, holding out his arms.

"Gerik, stop." Wilhelm said, moving past him. "Would you rather I die here because of this, or die at the hands at one of those things?" He smiled over his shoulder at the priest, who he dwarfed slightly. "If my death can mean a sign to these people to stop their idiot mobbings, then they can at least snap out of it in time to save you and Silvarnes."

"Shut up!" Gerik shouted, although he was ignored. He watched as one of his best friends walked himself up to the gallows, and placed his head in the noose. He looked down to the ground, tears having already fallen. He couldn't bear himself to watch, but he couldn't stop himself from hearing the trapdoor swing open.

Snap. Crick. Silence.

Gerik looked up, to see Wilhelm dangling horrendously, his body already limp and his face having gone slightly blue. He was smiling.

Nothing changed.

Seconds felt like hours. Gerik felt his heart beat almost painfully, the dull thump of it echoing in his head as if he were surrounded in a tunnel.

Wilhelm was not a werewolf.

More tears fell.

---

"We should be safe here..." Silvarnes said, as he helped the Priest hoist himself onto the ledge. They had chosen to run from the werewolf to the nearby rocky mountains, having run up an untrodden path in hopes the beast would be clumsier than they were. They took refuge inside a cave not too high from the cliff, hoping that it would at least hide them from sight, and smell.

Gerik didn't say anything, just sitting himself against the wall of the small cave. It barely was big enough for the both of them, and he curled his legs inwards, into a ball. Silvarnes looked over, brushing aside his long blonde locks. They were stained and crusted with blood-- considering that the wolf that Gerik had inadvertantly slain had spattered over them both.

"Gerik..." Silvarnes started, and he shook his head. "Listen. You couldn't have stopped it."

"..."

"What happened to Wilhelm... he knew it would change things. And it did, right? People began to listen. People began to look at things properly. You were, you are a doctor. You analyzed everything, you took steps and precautions-- you led us--"

"I couldn't lead him." Gerik mumbled softly. "Silvarnes--! I couldn't save him! I saved people's lives everyday, but not his! He... I didn't need a martyr at that time. What I needed was--"

"Salvation? Gerik, you are a Priest. A Messenger of God. You are not an Angel. You are not God. You simply did what you could. And you did fine." The blonde wasn't lying, either. Their mayor had been killed off first, and leadership had been given to the three friends (In truth, Silvarnes was the real mayor-- having been the mayor's son. He simply entrusted his friends in being his aides). While under their watch, more fell to the wolves, but wolves also fell. Suspicions arose and evidence was slowly attained, and judgement was dealt.

Wilhelm had been the only innocent death, and he had been the first of all the townspeople other than the mayor to have been killed.

"I could do nothing, Silvarnes. Nothing. I could only watch him... I could only pray." Gerik shook slightly.

"I'm sure he heard it... I'm sure he's thanking you for it. Don't let his sacrifice be in vain."

No response. Silvarnes sighed, and decided to slip over, to peer out the cave and over the lip.

He didn't expect the wolf to be staring up, with a grin. The beast had to be eight, no, nine feet tall. It was a horrendous sight-- it was built and framed human, but covered in fur from head to toe. Its claws glinted in the moonlight, and had to be as long as half-quills. It's body was grotesque and powerful, and its fangs were bared-- even longer than its claws.

One of those huge, beastly arms reached up and hoisted the werewolf up onto the ledge, Silvarnes retreating into the cave. Gerik was already snapped into attention, staring at it.

It howled, and smaller howls were heard off in the distance. Silvarnes looked around. There was nothing that could have been done, and he had no weapons with him. They had been left in the village (although few of them had even proved to be effective)

He couldn't react as Gerik suddenly pushed off the wall, and tackled the werewolf-- having caught the beast off guard as well. He watched as they both went over the edge, hearing the dull thud as they hit the ground. The fall wasn't enough to kill either of them most likely, but upon peering over the edge, they were both stunned.

"GERIK!" Silvarnes shouted, trying to bring Gerik's attention back to matters at hand. The priest stumbled to his feet, and placed his back against the rock wall. "GERIK! Dammit-- you idiot! I don't need a martyr!"

There was a light chuckle.

"No... no you don't. Do you remember, Silk? The time when you, me, and Wilhelm... when we took Farmer Cauthon's bull and rode it around...? Do you remember how it bucked and how we had to get out of it's way?"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SPOUTING!?" Silvarnes shouted, nearly wanting to jump off himself. But before he could, Gerik began to glow slightly.

The beast itself had recovered from its daze, and it stood up now, snarling at the priest-- whose aura seemed to grow, and grow. Silvarnes just watched in complete, dumbstruck awe as the beast charged.

God, it was like before, when the first one was about to strike at them. Time, the entire world, existence itself seemed to slow down before Silk's eyes. The beast lunged, claws extended for the Priest's body. Drool fell from it's mouth, and a voracious growl pierced the air.

Suddenly, Gerik's glow shone furiously bright, and the blonde had to avert his eyes to avoid being blinded. There was an extremely loud roar and a howl, the light shining for a good few seconds before it died away.

Silvarnes didn't waste time. He looked over again, but the shine had caused his eyes to need to readjust fully to the darkness. He continued to peer, squinting to try and focus faster-- to see two forms pressed against the rock. Fearing the worst, he scrambled to his legs after he realized neither of them were moving.

He clambered his way down, and righted himself once he was on the ground. He stared in silent awe at the sight.

The beast had had large amounts of its fur seemingly burned off, its body smoldering and smoking, embers still present on its demonic form. It had, however, had the time to sink its claws deep into the Priest's chest-- pinning him against the cliff.

What amazed him more, was Gerik. His hands were pressed together in a praying position, and a look of peace was on his face. The front of his robes had been burnt away by the same force that had burned the wolf, apparently, and his wound had been near-instantly cauterized.

The rock wall had large scorch marks on it extending out from the Priest, in the shape of extremely large, angelic wings. Above the scorched picture, was a message.

"I did not choose to be a martyr. I chose to be your salvation."

Silvarnes dropped to his knees, only able to stare. First Wilhelm, now Gerik?

His cry pierced the silence of the night.