Genvieve 30, 1806: Chaos In The Skies, Primary Entry

From the Journal of M. Maelstorme Smythe
Captain of the Signet Ship "Seraph"
Captain's Log: Official Log, the Eighth
Date: Genvieve 30, 1806, Year of the Drake

We have suffered greatly these last few days, losing several crewmen...one of them being my first mate. I have been unable to write on these events until now - my presence has been required to perform other captain's duties as well as time spent in the ship's infirmary.

It began on the 27th, at roughly three of the evening. Augustus approached me, telling me that the change would be upon him soon. I knew already; I have been Gus's friend so long now that I can almost feel the change coming over him myself. Augustus stepped into the "flying brig," where the well-fed cow had already been placed. The animal shrank from the doctor immediately, lowing pitifully and trying in vain to step through the corners of the solid iron bars. The doctor sighed, sitting calmly upon the small wooden chair that Aul set inside the iron cage. I handed the doctor an older medical journal to read during the wait, and he accepted with a gracious smile. Even on the verge of monstrous transformation, Dr. Augustus Dayafter is the very soul of a gentleman.

I ordered a pot of tea brought to the doctor before his launch in hopes of calming him a bit; there are times that his final temper as a man will effect a calmness upon the wolf as it overcomes him. The tea was brought by Chef Gregoe himself; a true honor, as the good chef rarely leaves his galley. The officers joined us, including Aul (and the irrepressible Morrigan, flapping in through the open cargo bay and perching upon my shoulder). We were given small chairs and a large round table, where we had both tea and our supper as we all sat boasting, laughing and talking of many things; anything really to draw our friend's mind away from his upcoming fate. And for that brief time, he seemed to genuinely enjoy our company.

But how well do all of us know how quickly time passes during those incidents of purest pleasure? At half past five, the sun began to set, and Augustus began to sweat. He kindly thanked us all for our company, asking all but the engineer and myself to leave. The officers all offered encouragement and returned to their duties. Morrigan remained perched upon my shoulder. Augustus looked to her, saying, "Please, m'lady." She nodded and flew off.

Augustus told me to go to her, and that he would be fine. I refused, reminding him that she and I had the rest of the night, but my time with him was important at that moment. We clasped hands, and we both smiled a bit, repeating our old adage, "This too shall pass." Then, with a gallant composure that I shall never possess, Augustus carefully removed and neatly folded all of his clothes, handing the stack carefully to me. We both nodded, and he held the cage bars as it began to rise from the floor and float slowly past the doors of the cargo bay. I watched calmly as the chain grew taught, and he began traversing the cage, peering out at the sky and the sea, smiling contentedly. The cow lowed loudly, staying as far away from Augustus as possible.

Soon, Aul was beside me, chewing on a turkey leg, watching the cage and trying, in engineer mathematics, to assure me of the success of the operation. I smiled and told him to brace himself. The sun began to set, and Augustus gripped the bars of the cage tightly. He was sweating profusely now, breathing heavily. His eyes glowed yellow in the dusk as he gazed up at the moon. The cow's eyes rolled with fright. I was inclined to shoot the poor animal, but I knew the wolf would want fresh meat. Living meat. Between the bovine and my crew, my crew won. Or so I thought.

The doctor's teeth began to grow as he rattled the bars of his flying prison. His hair began to grow long and thick, new hair covering his body. He screamed in torturous pain as the sounds of his body changing form echoed through the calm night. He fell to the floor of the cage, tears of pain falling from his bulging eyes. Bones twisted and cracked, lengthening and taking new positions within his flesh. Muscles grew and tightened, and he yelped. Aul cursed in Scythian as the doctor's face began to lengthen hideously, and Augustus' agonized screams slowly, chillingly became the howling of a predator...

The werewolf rose from the floor of the cage slowly, its head brushing the ceiling of the steel cage. All was silent as it breathed rapidly, snarling clouds of white vapor even as drool dripped from its maw. The creature and I calmly regarded each other as equals, as we have on past occasions. For even as Augustus Dayafter is my brother, so will this black beast that ushers from him always be a bitter, if respected, enemy.

"Schrauben Sie mich seitlich! I'll neva get used to zat!" Aul whispered. Immediately, the wolf began slavering, roaring and snapping its jaws. Its hairy arms tore at the air, trying in vain to reach us through the bars. Aul shivered. The cow began lowing dumbly, struggling desperately against the confining cage.

The wolf rounded on the cow slowly, enjoying the fear that radiated from the terrified bovine. Before the poor animal could low again, the wolf sprang, his jaws lifting the cow by its throat even as his savage claws tore into the defenseless beast's underbelly, strewing innards and organs all over the cage. Blood soaked the cage floor, pouring in windblown rivulets into the ocean far below. Aul shook his head and ripped off another bite of turkey.

"Fazinatink," Aul mumbled.

"Watch'im close, Aul. Call me if there's a change," I said, clapping Aul on the shoulder and turning to go. I quickly made my way to my cabin, stopping to bark orders along the way. Every officer was posted at a different station, all with their eyes fixed upon the cage. All of them also knew that the small phial of sleeping potion he held could only be administered orally.

I stopped for a moment outside my cabin, examining an ornate silver dagger that Augustus gave me long ago. If the wolf is Augustus' burden in that curse, then this dagger is surely mine. I sheathed the blade and took a deep breath, stepping into the warmth of my cabin; the idea of Morrigan in her true form never ceases to transform me into a blundering, nervous schoolboy...even now. The small fireplace was burning, and the lamps were doused. Candles were lit across the room, centering on a lovely meal set upon my dining table, completely with a bottle of fine wine and two glasses. I can only assume that Morrigan has found a way to communicate with Chef Gregoe. I called out to Morrigan, my heart quickening within my chest.

Morrigan stepped from the shadows, smiling sheepishly. One of my thinner white tunics covered most of her, leaving just enough to my imagination - exposing only slight color changes and curves beneath the soft, loose fabric. Her skin was radiantly pale against her shining black hair. I imagine that I grinned like a fool as I gazed upon her for that first time in a month; her pale brown eyes caught mine in a stare that nearly buckled my knees. In that stare we became one again, as we always do. Love, lust, pain, sadness, anger, frustration, joy, madness, realization, relief, contentment - all levels of the human condition filtered into one longing gaze - and then she was in my arms. No drug nor naturally induced condition has or will ever compare to the feeling of holding her. Time became meaningless.

I watched her dine, picking at my own plate and continuously offering it to her. I watched as she slowly savored each bite of food and each sip of wine. It is humbling to witness one who truly enjoys, holds and treasures what it is to be human...all the things that I take for granted daily. In this, her true form, she is the definition of all that makes a man love a woman...a portrait of divine femininity.

The wine long gone and the candles low, we sat conversing in front of the fireplace...the long, whispered, timeless conversations that only lovers have and treasure. She held my left hand, running her soft, thin fingers over the terrain of my skin. Scars, burns, and callouses met her perfect touch, then she was turning the silver ring with the talon-gripped onyx stone setting. She smiled sadly and asked where her ring was, whereupon I produced a long, thin silver chain from beneath my tunic, removing it and sliding off a small silver ring with a talon-gripped pearl setting. As I placed it upon her finger, she cried. I held her and watched the fire...

...and the rest, ladies and gentlemen, must remain a cherished memory between myself and Morrigan...and that alone. There is much that I am willing to share in these pages, but only so much to remain within the bounds of decency and honor.

I am exhausted, and require rest so that my body may continue to properly heal itself. Besides, Morrigan is currently pecking at my hand, and apparently refuses to stop lest I finish up my writings for the evening. I shall resume my tragic tale on the morrow.

- Mael