Title: On Lycanthropy
Author: Varnard Karessen
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Price: 419
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[/center]On Lycanthropy



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[/center]    How does one become interested in studying the disease
lycanthropy? I have interviewed a number of my peers, and
discovered that to a man, they have all entered the field
after a horrifying encounter with a lycanthrope of some
variety. I am no exception.

    In Skyrim, it is an old tradition to rub canis root on the
trees surrounding your house as a ward against werebears.
When I was young and stupid (as opposed, I guess, to being
old and stupid as I am now), I always had hoped to meet a
werebear to see if they were as impressive as legend
suggested. I would follow strange tracks in the woods until
they disappeared, with no fear or even thought about what I
would do after I had found my quarry. By Thorig's beard, I
was lucky that my investigations were fruitless.

    When I did finally see a lycanthrope, it was not a werebear. It was a werewolf, the
"common" lycanthope, which can be found in every part of
Tamriel. My father was a priest and during the coldest part
of the winter, he allowed the beggars and riffraff of
Falcrenth to stay in the relative warmth of the cellar of his
temple. We would even supply warm barley stew. My sisters
and brothers and I actually enjoyed this bit of
philanthropy, for in the cellars during the winter, it seemed there was a constant party. There were always
travellers with interesting stories and eccentricities, and
the atmosphere in the cellars was always light and friendly.
Until that night.

    By an established tradition, the beggars who were sick or
wanted rest more than food and companionship would go to
the cots at the farthest, darkest end of the cellar when they
could be assured at least relative quiet. We were enjoying
a song, and my sister Gethessa was dancing to the amusement
of all. The song ended, but a chorus continued from the
darkness at the far end of the cellar. As drunk and
incomprehensible as most of the carolers were, it took a
minute for us to realize that the sound we were hearing was not
singing, but screaming.

    No one was too concerned, for some of the older tramps
often suffered from vivid nightmares. Nevertheless, one of
father's priests went to silence the screamer and the moment he
disappeared into the murk, we heard another sound. The snarl
of a wolf. Then we heard the priest screaming as the original
scream died off.

    "Werewolf!" cried the old bard who had been leading the
song. The cellar exploded into chaos.

     I was pushed out the cellar door into the snow with the
first wave of panic, but I could see that some of the more
brave (or more drunk) hobos were rushing into the darkness to
do battle with the lycanthrope. They were all, of course,
almost instantly killed.

     My father, upon hearing of his unwelcome visitor, sealed
off the cellar after the last survivor of the carnage had
left. A seasoned battlemage from the Falcrenth Mages Guild,
who owed father a favor, went into the cellar and slew the
beast.

     "Not too tough," he said as he emerged, carrying the
carcass with him. "Winter must have been tough on him too."
Despite his bold words, the blood on his face and chest did
not only come from his foe.

     Werewolves do not revert to their human forms upon
death, despite what legends will tell you. I had the
opportunity to look at the monster's steaming body out in the
snow before it was carried away to be burned. The teeth,
clotted with the flesh of the beggars, were horrifying, but the
claws shocked me even more. I have since seen live
lycanthropes battle golems, atronachs, and other beings not
harmed by mundane weapons, and concluded that they act as
naturally enchanted weapons.

     Because the werewolf is the most ubiquitous of
lycanthropes, the term lycanthropy has been used since
ancient days to describe the disease that transforms men into
half-beast, although lycanthrope only strictly should
refer to men who change into werewolves. But that is
semantics. There are certainly differences between the seven
documented forms of lycanthropy in Tamriel, but more
similarities.

     In Black Marsh and southern Morrowind, werecrocodiles
stalk the swamps. Black Marsh also shares with the Imperial
Province and the wetter parts of Elsweyr the vile presence of
werelions. Valenwood's werevultures are not found in any
other province. The wereboar has found both the climates of
High Rock and Hammerfell amenable. As I mentioned before, the
werebear is the most common lycanthrope in Skyrim, and is
also found in the northern parts of High Rock, the Imperial
Province, and Morrowind. The werewolf can be found in every
province. The seventh lycanthrope, which I have never seen
but my trusted peers have assured me exists, is a wereshark
that roams the oceans around Tamriel.

     I have spent my life categorizing and observing
lycanthropes, but I sometimes feel that I am still a child
trapped in a cellar in my attempts to understand them. I
know, for example, that lycanthropy can be cured shortly
after infection, but after that time, the victim is doomed.
No one of my acquaintance has cured themselves after
undergoing the first transformation. On the other hand, I
have a colleague investigating a coven of witches in the
Glenpoint foothills of High Rock who are rumored to have a
cure. I remain dubious.

     Perhaps it is because they are doomed that makes
lycanthropes so aggressive. I have removed the contents of a
werewolf's stomach and found more remnants of roots and
berries than animal flesh. My conclusion is that they do not
need to attack and devour humans to survive. Yet, for some
reason they do. Does lycanthropy drive them mad, or do
lycanthropes feel the need to spread the disease as a form of
procreation? I do not know. I am not certain that any of us
who are not lycanthropes ourselves will ever know. And then,
of course, it's too late.













 
