Warning: can be erotic and scary at the same time. Scarotic. Read at your own risk.
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Thorg and Lance had been climbing the mountain since daybreak and had to stop for the night halfway between the bottom and the summit. They were supposed to climb up there for a day's hike, but because the main route was closed due a recent landslide, the had to climb an alternate route. Thorg was unhappy with this. In fact, he had been this since the day Lance asked him to join him on the trip. Thorg joined him, half willingly, because Lance begged him to go, it would be a total waste from his reward from his promotion, not to mention, extra help and protection.
Seems there's no other choice then,
Thorg thought. It got them over with. It's really an odd thing for an orc and a human to camp on the mountains. But in this day and age where anyone regardless of race, skin colour, gender and sexual orientation, it wasn't a major issue.
At least the night was young, even though they're not. They saw the stars that shone brightly, sang age old campfire songs each never sung, drank beer, got drunk, had sex (ok, no sex... yet) and headed off to the tent they shared. It wasn't much of a romantic night, if that's what they thought, but Thorg seems to admire Lance through his jet black hair and his icy blue eyes.
When midnight came around, Thorg woke up suddenly to take a leak, only to find Lance gone.
Must've stated off ahead,
he thought. Once outside, he was shocked to see the camp in a total wreck. Yet, he couldn't see Lance around the area. He must've been chasing off something that sacked the place. Nonsense, Thorg disagreed. And, through orcish instinct and imminent fear, he went off the woods.
Thorg called Lance's name in vain, searching for him. The first thing he found was his torn shirt, covered in blood. Now, Thorg was getting afraid. It's a natural thing to be afraid, even for orcs. He trekked around the forest, gathering up every evidence of Lance. His jacket, his pants, his accessories. All torn and bloodstained. And something wasn't right here. He checked the ground for footprints to whatever attacked Lance. The prints were not those of any familiar animal in the woods. It does resemble a wolf's though, but at the same time, human. Some psycho or maybe something supernatural must've killed him.
Oh, please don't get killed.
Thorg reassures to himself that Lance would be safe.
Really pissed off from this, and now wanting to take a piss, Thorg walked down to a nearby tree. As he relieved himself, he heard a rustle from the bush, and followed to where that rustle went. What Thorg saw was a shadowy figure popping out of the open, and without warning, attacked Thorg. The creature's claws were sharp, slicing off almost all of Thorg's jacket. And so deep was it claws, it bled Thorg's right arm. He saw blood from the creature's brown fur and it's eyes were glowing an unnatural yellow. Perhaps this was the one that killed Lance.
Even through warrior's blood, he can't help get thinking he would lose to this creature, and every desperate attempts to stop this creature through his bare hands fail. And with one swipe, the creature struck his claws on him and threw him halfway to the field. Still defiant and still a warrior, Thorg, will strike back against this creature who killed Lance. And true to his warrior blood, will not stop even down to his last breath.
Yet, so a instinctive creed can be futile to the creature, and off-guard, bit Thorg's left shoulder. The bite was so strong, so intense, that Thorg screamed in pain, a pain orcs cannot bear. Fallen and vulnerable, Thorg bravely prepares for what to come. His and Lance's death leads here, he thought. It ends here...
And just before his final rites to his god, another creature caught him by surprise, and savagely attacked the first creature. He was as muscular as the first one. It's dark hair tackling without surprise. The two monsters retaliated together. Their growls and snarls filled Thorg's ears with anxious fear. And he can't tell who's winning. He can't see it in the dark. Even if was the full moon and the trees cover it and...
Oh no,
he thought.
By Grummush, they're werewolves,
as he fully pictured it!
And as the fighting subsided, the screams of growling and shredded flesh fading, Thorg couldn't wonder if Lance was killed by those werewolves, or turned into one, and then got killed by the werewolves. Thorg was conflicted by this. It had been a long night.
One creature that assaulted the other approached Thorg, it's muzzle and the rest of the furry body was covered in blood. He was frightened, yet ready for what would become. Thorg thought that he shouldn't have been here. He knew he should've refused the offer, but it would break Lance, and Thorg doesn't want that. And to Lance, Thorg was the only one he could really trust, his protector, none else, and he was his friend, his handsome friend, a handsome hunk, a handsome hunk with raven hair and blue eyes.
No no no, you're not going to think about crushing Lance while some pup of a werebitch's gonna maul you.
Thorg's thoughts welled up as the walking furball stepped closer, staring at his eye.
Look at him, with all that muscled body covered in black fur and those blue eyes staring, there's no way he won't ki-...
And Thorg realized something. This creature that attacked Lance was different somehow. It had that muscled body, that black fur, those blue eyes.
