I like to imagine what is going through my follower’s head as he is chasing after me when I’m a warewolf terrorizing the reach.
Me: “I’ll see you in the morning!” *turns into warewolf and runs into forsworn camp*
Faendal: oh gods, not again. *chases after me, saving my hide a few times*
Faendal: at least she’s running on two feet. I can keep up….. nevermind, there she goes sprinting on all four. At least I’m a hunter. I can track her down.
*he follows the carnage of dead bears, goats, and bandits catching up to me just as I’m clearing out another camp*
Faendal: aaaaaand she’s off again. I have got to invest in a horse.
* I run for another forsworn camp getting myself into trouble when a forsworn attacks me with frost. I almost die when arrows take her down*
Faendal: you almost died! Aaaaand there she goes
*runs after me*
Faendal: why do I put up with this? Oh, right. I married her…..