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Fredro DeTwix
First Patroll

First Patroll

This is not what he expected to happen on his first mission as a member of the city guard. He was supposed to protect the city from the filth that lined the streets every night, save a girl or two, and have them confess their undying love to him on the spot! He was supposed to get familiar with all the local shopkeepers and carry a sword on his hip - not lie on the ground in a mangled mess, releasing oceans of crimson onto the cobbled streets while the heavens lamented the tragedy before them!

But there he was: bitten, scratched, bleeding out. His vision was slowly falling out of focus - there wasn’t much time left. Even if he survived, his life would probably be ruined. There was little love for the Lycanthropes of this city, and a bite was often all it took to be thrust into their ranks. Frankly, it was better to die than live an outcast’s life, especially when your family hated you for most of your life.

He vaguely felt the rumble of armored boots approaching his location - not like he cared anyway. His time was up. The muffled voices comforted him that his death wasn’t in vain, that he was respected and honored among his comrades, even if he only joined last week. Everything faded to black and then came back into focus. Fuck.

“I think he’s coming around. Make sure the restraints are secured, and then fall back! We don’t know if he has the curse!”

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The atmosphere in the room was thick enough to cleave with a dull stick, but nobody had the time or presence to break the tension. However, there was no need to do so, as the young soldier realized he was not only alive but also restrained to his bed.

“Wha- what’s going on? Why am I in bed? And why am I tied down? I thought I was dead!”

A well-dressed superior officer from within the guard stepped forward and read from a scroll: “Private Fredro DeTwix, you came into contact with a Lycanthrope criminal on patrol three weeks ago and fell in the line of duty. You were found nearly dead at the scene, with bite and scratch marks all over your body. It is a miracle you’re even alive now; bless the Aboves for their kindness.

Due to the nature of Lycanthropy, you are to be restrained in this bed until we can confirm whether or not the curse of the Lycanthrope afflicts you. If you are found not to be afflicted, you may resume your duties in the Guard and will be promoted. If you are afflicted, you will be discharged immediately and dealt with according to the wishes of your next of kin. Do you have any questions?”

The confused Fredro Detwix couldn’t even formulate a coherent thought. This was the worst fate possible; their life was as good as over. Of course, he had plenty of questions, but he couldn’t ask anything before the emissary of doom left the room.