It was a stupid idea, and I should've known better. But I didn't think about the consequences at the time, so now here I am, eh? Story of my bloody life. Never thinking things through, that's my problem.
I never should've even signed up to go with the stupid wizard. But hell, he was paying mighty good coin, and I was more than a bit short on funds myself. So I went with him.
'Course, it seemed like an easy enough job at the time. He wanted to follow some old map he had that hinted at some old wizard spellbooks hidden in a cave up north of the mountains, and wanted to hire on an extra sword to keep him from harm. He was a pretty powerful-looking fellow, and I figured, sure, why not? He's probably got all kinds of spells to keep us nice and safe, and I could handle the odd orc or gnoll that tried to give us any trouble, if it came to that.
What I didn't figure on was just how far north he was planning on going. We crossed the mountains, sure enough, but we didn't stop there. No, we kept on going, passing into the coldlands, and I do mean cold. Bloody cold! 'Course, I got to give the wizard his due, he did outfit us right proper. Place called Bordertown, at the foot of the mountains, he found us a trapper's shop and bought us both the best of what was available. Fur cloaks and boots, even breeches made out of sealskin. Didn't spare no expense on us, but still, there's only so much you can bloody do. When it gets cold that far north, it don't mess around none, and there's only so much a fella can do 'bout it.
We spent the night in Bordertown, and it was a right welcome change to have a roof over my head again, instead of a tent and a bedroll. The place wasn't big, but it had an inn of sorts, where a guy could get a drink, at least, and some warm food in his belly. There was a sorta cute maid there running the bar, too, but she spurned my attempts at friendly, uh, conversation. Slapped my hand offa her butt, too, the stuck-up little wench. Figures. Just my bloody luck, too. That far out from civilization, you woulda thought she might not be so picky. We left the next morning, and I for one wasn't too upset at leaving it behind. At the time, that is.
Camping out in the tents the next few nights got real old real fast, though. I remember hearing the wolves howling at night. It happened every blasted night. Sent shivers up my spine, it did, hearing them howl like that. We even caught a glimpse of them once, running in a pack across the horizon. Looked like it was a caribou they was chasing, but it was hard to tell. One thing I could tell, though, was they were all white, every last one of them.
[1]
The wizard, he told me a bit about 'em. Called winter wolves, he said, and they could breathe a cloud of freezing-cold vapors out of their mouths in order to kill their prey.
[2] I sure wish I hadn't listened to him, but hey, it's a bit late now, huh? He seemed to know a bit about 'em, and he said they were just about the perfect predator for this environment. I remember that phrase, exactly: "perfect predator." It stuck in my head, like things sometimes do.
Anyway, a couple of days later, we were still heading north. I started to complain, even louder than normal, and I was beginning to wonder if it was all really worth it. I was wishing I'd escorted the wizard just past the mountains and taken half-pay or something, been on my way, you know? I was cold, I was tired, and to tell you the truth, I was getting just a little bit bored with the whole deal. I mean, hell, you can see enough snow to last a lifetime, and by that time I was thinking maybe I'd reached that point.
And then we got ambushed. It's like my ma always said, watch out for what you wish for, 'cause you just might get it. I mean, here I was, wishing for some excitement, and I got it all right. Out popped this bear, only it's not a regular bear like a polar bear, see? It had a beak, for one thing, and it was screeching up a bloody blue storm. I grabbed out my sword and made like to defend myself, only the bear-thing was fast for something that big, and with one swipe my sword went flying into the air and my arm just about went with it. I spun around and went flying, landing in a heap. I probably would've been done for right then, but the wizard, he distracted it with some spell attack, and the thing went after him instead.
I got up, and I couldn't find my sword. I mean, it was probably right by me somewhere, but buried in the snow. I still had my dagger, but no way was I going after that thing with just a dagger. So really, for all practical purposes, I was out of the fight, and it was gonna be up to the wizard to kill the thing himself.
And that's when I got my idea.
The wizard, he had jumped across this fissure and was climbing up this ice cliff, but the monster was heading right up there after him. So I yelled up at the wizard, "Hey! Turn me into one of them winter wolves!" It's that stupid phrase, "perfect predator," you see. I figured, hell, a winter wolf's a bit smaller than this bear-thing, sure, but it's got that frosty breath-attack, while the bear seemed to just have its claws and beak. So no problem right?
Well the wizard, he took in the situation, and I guess he saw me standing there with no weapon and figured, "good plan." 'Cause the next thing I knew there's this flash of light and I started changing.
Suddenly, there I was, a winter wolf.
NOTES
1. Some winter wolves sport a silvery pelt, although this is something of a rarity.
2. Once every 10 rounds, a winter wolf can expel a stream of frost from its lungs, causing 6d4 hp damage to all within 10 feet. Those that save vs. breath weapon take only half damage. Being intelligent, winter wolves in packs often take turns using their breath weapons to ensure there's a frost attack every round, or, if the threat is great enough, several of them will "gang up" with their breath weapons, targeting their most powerful enemy.