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Ren stared at himself in the mirror making some pretty strange faces. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow in concentration before snapping them open again, letting out a guttural, rumbling noise. He made claws with his hands.
“Grrrrr! Grimdog’s gonna getcha! I’m gonna eat your pets and pour lava on your heads! Muahahaha!! Beware you mortal warmbloods!” Ren threatened to the mirror before sighing.
“Ugh, I feel like sheet ghost.” He said, a little discouraged.
Still, he had work to do; the very serious work of scaring the living daylight out of his friends. As he schemed about the best ways to spook the other hermits he caught sight of his brewing setup. He wandered over and picked up his large brewing recipe book. He flipped through yellow stained pages, some stained with brown splatter stains, others dog eared or torn at the edges. Finally, a page caught his eye, one outlining the recipe for a potion he’d been using occasionally in the past few months. One that could induce a, though diluted, version of his werewolf state. A smile crept up his face, his mind already scheming.
He rifled through his cupboards, filled with odd and varied plants and bones, to find what he needed. First, he popped open a jar of molten lava and poured half into a clay pot. Then, into it he gently dropped a wolf’s bone, canine, and scrap of fur, watching them disappear into the viscous liquid. Finally he very carefully added a pinch of blaze powder as a catalyst. He sat patiently and watched the potion turn from a deep red to a sickly, swirling grey. Delicately, Ren held it up to the light, watching the liquid slip and squirm like or a bag of eels.
Potions like these were appreciated. When he used them to induce his werewolf state, he actually felt like he was in control. It felt like a diluted version of the usual uncontrollable force that seemed to take hold of his body every month: Less fur, less drool, and more importantly, less bloodlust. So he’d been using the potions to practice resistance and work towards control. Perhaps then, sometime, Iskall would stop having to lock him up in an Area 77 alien holding chamber every full moon.
Since he had lost the game of demise his skin had become a ghoulish grey, his hair turned raven black, and most strangely, his pupils and irises had dulled to a near white. It even bothered himself a little so it was a good thing sunglasses were a staple in his outfits. He’d come up with the spell himself, Grian had come to him for help. His demise game needed a transformation potion and what reasonable occultist could deny such a commission?
He got to work that very night and worked until the rising sun had put the moon to bed. Eventually, he devised a simple incantation, three short sentences while holding a bat’s wing bone up to his modified enchantment area did the trick. A potion made of honey and crushed daisy would then revert the monochrome effect when the game was over.
The next time he met up with Grian he’d decided to sign up for one of his tempts of fate. He was fully willing to brush up to death for a few diamonds, though he really hadn’t expected to fall right into death’s arms on the first go around. He woke up in his bed after he died splattering on the floor, laughing hysterically.
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Ren downed the bottle of cool swirling liquid in one go. It felt like drinking cold, molten lava and it left a sharp, metallic tang in his mouth. After a few seconds he could already feel his body start to shift, strands of muscle strengthening, fur pricking through the skin on his neck, his nails transforming into claws. Suddenly he was on all fours, clothes loose around his body. He could feel the magic in the ground hum, his paws aching to run.
He crept out of his house and wandered around, looking for unsuspecting hermits. First he headed to Tango’s base, peeking through doors and around corners. When he saw him napping on a couch he smiled, his leathery paws ghosting over concrete as crept up to him. He nudged his wet nose into Tango’s hand, hoping to ease him out of his slumber. Then Ren snuck to the foot of the couch, barely able to keep down an excited whine. A short moment later he heard Tango groan softly before sitting up, a little drowsy, to instantly find himself eye to eye with Ren. His eyes shot open and he straightened up. After a moment of panic a flash of realization passed behind his eyes, and then he panicked again for different reasons.
“R… Ren?” Tango asked cautiously. He instinctively reached for his shield and realized it wasn’t there. “Do you need something?” Ren only stared, quirking his head to the side like a big, monstrous puppy.
“Wait, wasn’t it the full moon just two nights ago? How ar-AAAAAAAH” Was all Tango got out before Ren lunged and landed on his chest, maw open.
Of course, all Ren did was give slobbery dog smooches all over his face.
“Gah! Ren stop licking me, you’re breath smells like rabbit guts.”
Ren whined. The transformation also took away his human vocal chords, much to his dismay.
“Did you come all this way just to half scare me to death?” Tango asked. Ren thumped his tail on the sofa and nodded vigorously. “Bastard.”
Ren gave him one last lick, as if to say “you’re welcome” and hopped off the sofa. He had hermits to scare.
---
He went on to wander the New Hermitville, scaring whoever he came across. He shadowed Cub until Cub pulled out his sword. He wandered over to Idea, where howled at the Idea crew. As he approached them Xisuma jumped and pulled Bdubs in front of him as a shield before realizing there was no real danger. No danger yet, he wanted to warn them.
Nearing the end of the hour, he found himself wandering to Iskall’s base. He didn’t realize where his paws had been leading him until he felt the soft mycelium. He wandered around the green and grey buildings for a while before he heard a familiar voice call him.
“Ren? Is that you?” Iskall was standing on the roof of his villager trading hall, hand acting as a visor to shade out the sun. He glided down with his elytra only to be knocked down to the ground by Ren running at him full force. Iskall laughed and ruffled the Ren’s fur.
“Oh yeah, forgot you can’t talk like this. Practicing, I assume?” Iskall asked. Iskall was one of the few hermits he had talked to about his restraint training. Ren responded with a shake of his head and snapped his jaws and played dead, hoping Iskall would understand.
“I have no idea why I ask you anything when you’re like this.” Iskall responded, puzzled. “We need to invent doggy sign language for you.”
Ren’s eyes glinted with excitement for the ludicrous idea and Iskall laughed at how his ears perked up.
“You came at just the right time Ren, I need a break. I just can’t seem to get this building to look right.” Iskall sighed and let his shoulders relax, then petted Ren again. He let his fingers trail through his fur and pull out a pine needle. “Wait a second, I have an idea.” Iskall said suddenly as he rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a dog brush. “Let’s fix you up.”
Soon Ren was dozing off with his head resting on Iskall’s lap as he gently brushed the dirt and twigs out of his fur. It really wasn’t necessary, the fur would soon disappear, but Ren loved being brushed. It was a type of warm comfort he could melt into. Even if he tried to deny it, he liked feeling cared for. Demise and everything else occupying his mind faded away as he fell asleep listening to Iskall hum, feeling his black fur soaking up all the afternoon sunshine.
When Ren woke he was in Iskall’s bed. He ran a hand through his mess of bedhead and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. It was probably nearing the wee hours of the night, crickets hummed outside. Iskall’s oil lantern was gently illuminating the room.
“You’re back.” Iskall said without turning around. He was at his desk on the other side of the bedroom scribbling concept drawings and calculations into his leather bound notebook.
“Mhm yeah. I have a headache.” Ren mumbled. Everything felt just a little out of place, it always took a bit of adjusting when the magic left.
“Rough.” Iskall said. “I have some medicine for that in the kitchen, but you might want to put some clothes on first.” Ren looked down and saw a neat little stack of Iskall’s clothes that he’d left for him. “I assumed you’d need them when you woke up.” Iskall explained.
“Thank you.” Ren responded, shrugging on a t-shirt. “I can’t believe I forgot. I was so excited I didn’t think ahead at all.”
“Hmm.” Iskall hummed as he closed his book and made his way over.
“Tango came over a few hours ago to borrow some iron.” He said as he sat down beside Ren on his bed. Ren felt an involuntary smile creep up on his face and Iskall let out a small chuckle. “What have you been up to this time, Ren?” Iskall asked.
“It’s Grimdog, Iskall. I’ve been scaring people! I thought it would be fun, like a little warning from their dead pals.” Ren explained.
“I refuse to call my boyfriend “Grimdog”.” Iskall said after rolling his eyes.
“Maybe you’re just underestimating me.” Ren retorted playfully, and seeing Iskall’s reaction he crossed his arms with mock offense. “I can be scary!”
“Sure, puppy. I mean your redstone sure is.” Iskall remarked before he kissed him softly, his hand gently tucking some of Ren’s hair behind his ear.
“Ow.” Ren breathed out as he sharply pulled away from the kiss, hand rubbing his forehead. “Ugh, sorry. Magic hangover.” Iskall kiss him lightly on the forehead before getting up.
“I’ll get you that remedy.” He said before heading for the door.
“Thank you.” Ren said, leaning backwards against the bed frame. “I love you.” Iskall froze in the doorway, then turned around and gave him a big smile.
“Love you more, loser.”