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+--- Thread: BWP Second Door: The Withering Siege (/showthread.php?tid=10813)
RE: Second Door: The Withering Siege - Amaya - 3/31/2026
RE: Second Door: The Withering Siege - Fable - 3/31/2026
![[Image: Viv_FablePost.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/Viv_FablePost.gif)
She wasn't sure she made the right decision in bringing her family here.
Pressed between the promise of certain war and the promise of something she thought offered them some modicum of safety, no matter how tenuous it appeared when making a blind decision, she chose what she thought was a brighter future.
She could not have stomached seeing her family cut down, and they surely would have been; Deithe would never leave any of Avon's kin alive, to do so would have been to invite in dissenters and the enemy nation thrived on their convoluted version of the truth.
They hadn't hesitated to wipe Avon's ancient kingdom from history books after they killed every last one of its citizens... or so they thought.
It wasn't bad enough that Deithe itself was a resurging threat - there was infighting within the Hand's members. They would turn on their brethren who sought refuge alongside them, all because of the Matriarch's heir's lineage.
Familiar lands were no longer safe. Samhain would run red with blood of those she had grown up knowing - and it would have included her family, had she stayed.
But even knowing what lay in store if they stayed, Fable was ill at ease with how things had transpired since their return to Mythris. Doubt was a living, breathing entity within her chest; it dragged sharp teeth against her heart and rend her stomach with twisting anxiety. She hadn't eaten in a couple of days, but it was from a litany of reasons.
Her mother was ill. They didn't know why, or with what - she knew only that her mother was weak and couldn't be allowed to venture out of supervision. She almost walked directly off a ledge - one that was clearly visible. Her motor skills were deteriorating, and her cognition overall was poor; it wrenched her heart to watch the strongest woman she knew fade.
Not only that, she still hadn't found Aisling.
She hadn't stopped searching, even after finding her trail go cold at the precipice of one of those glowing fissures. A mournful voice in the back of her mind told her she would never find her alive, but her heart refused to listen.
Fable would search until her dying breath. She wouldn't let another one of her children slip away from her - this world would not take her from her.
She wouldn't allow it.
Even as everything was falling to pieces all around her, she would do what she always did: she would fix it. She would cradle all those broken bits and bobs of the life she still held hope for - a long life surrounded by all those who made it richer for their presence - and she would fit them back together. Some of them may not look the same anymore, but neither did she with the passing of time and having been the catalyst of five precious little lives.
Permanence was an illusion, but she wanted the life of warmth and love she knew she could still have, in whatever form it would take.
Perhaps it was that finality that kept her calm in the wake of the gruesome dream. She lifted her muzzle from her paws to look at the three portals with the clinical precision of a doctor determining how best to excise something unpleasant. Though fear beleaguered her and she knew the path forward was anything but certain or safe, the time for being idle had long passed.
She could not simply hope things got better and lay low - the dream itself had shown her as much. Despite her peaceful ways, she would shed them for those she loved.
Foxglove , Aisling , Nausicaa, Illithya, Epona , Alistair, Ffionn, Fleta, Lugh, Shiloh, Fiadh , all of Avon - and all those who had not yet met her on this side of time and space.
For them, she would give up everything she possessed. Pain or threat of harm sluiced off her back like water to a duck as she passed through the second portal and directly into the palm of chaos.
Cursed creatures that reminded her of some of the Veil's worst spirits converged upon on the tree; through the dense forms of the monsters and the other wolves, she had not yet noticed the skeletons curled within the hollow. But she saw enough to know what she needed to do.
This tree was sacred, it meant something to this realm - and she, and all the others here, were meant to protect it.
A familiar blaze of fox-red fur immediately caught her eye; she wondered, distantly, somewhere beyond herself, if it was possible for either of them to not notice the other by instinct alone. Her eyes were drawn to him and, for the first time since she woke from the dream, fear roared to life within her.
He shouldn't be here - he should be back in the Meadows, safe and at least moderately warm in the unforgiving cold.
Fable pressed forward, her limbs flying across the terrain as she dove toward Foxglove , seeking to shorten the ground between them so she could be at his back. Her jaws snapped at the cursed lifeforms as she wove between them, a thunderous snarl loosing from her chest as she burned with the fire of keeping her family safe - especially the ginger-coated man before her.
Pressed between the promise of certain war and the promise of something she thought offered them some modicum of safety, no matter how tenuous it appeared when making a blind decision, she chose what she thought was a brighter future.
She could not have stomached seeing her family cut down, and they surely would have been; Deithe would never leave any of Avon's kin alive, to do so would have been to invite in dissenters and the enemy nation thrived on their convoluted version of the truth.
They hadn't hesitated to wipe Avon's ancient kingdom from history books after they killed every last one of its citizens... or so they thought.
It wasn't bad enough that Deithe itself was a resurging threat - there was infighting within the Hand's members. They would turn on their brethren who sought refuge alongside them, all because of the Matriarch's heir's lineage.
Familiar lands were no longer safe. Samhain would run red with blood of those she had grown up knowing - and it would have included her family, had she stayed.
But even knowing what lay in store if they stayed, Fable was ill at ease with how things had transpired since their return to Mythris. Doubt was a living, breathing entity within her chest; it dragged sharp teeth against her heart and rend her stomach with twisting anxiety. She hadn't eaten in a couple of days, but it was from a litany of reasons.
Her mother was ill. They didn't know why, or with what - she knew only that her mother was weak and couldn't be allowed to venture out of supervision. She almost walked directly off a ledge - one that was clearly visible. Her motor skills were deteriorating, and her cognition overall was poor; it wrenched her heart to watch the strongest woman she knew fade.
Not only that, she still hadn't found Aisling.
She hadn't stopped searching, even after finding her trail go cold at the precipice of one of those glowing fissures. A mournful voice in the back of her mind told her she would never find her alive, but her heart refused to listen.
Fable would search until her dying breath. She wouldn't let another one of her children slip away from her - this world would not take her from her.
She wouldn't allow it.
Even as everything was falling to pieces all around her, she would do what she always did: she would fix it. She would cradle all those broken bits and bobs of the life she still held hope for - a long life surrounded by all those who made it richer for their presence - and she would fit them back together. Some of them may not look the same anymore, but neither did she with the passing of time and having been the catalyst of five precious little lives.
Permanence was an illusion, but she wanted the life of warmth and love she knew she could still have, in whatever form it would take.
Perhaps it was that finality that kept her calm in the wake of the gruesome dream. She lifted her muzzle from her paws to look at the three portals with the clinical precision of a doctor determining how best to excise something unpleasant. Though fear beleaguered her and she knew the path forward was anything but certain or safe, the time for being idle had long passed.
She could not simply hope things got better and lay low - the dream itself had shown her as much. Despite her peaceful ways, she would shed them for those she loved.
Foxglove , Aisling , Nausicaa, Illithya, Epona , Alistair, Ffionn, Fleta, Lugh, Shiloh, Fiadh , all of Avon - and all those who had not yet met her on this side of time and space.
For them, she would give up everything she possessed. Pain or threat of harm sluiced off her back like water to a duck as she passed through the second portal and directly into the palm of chaos.
Cursed creatures that reminded her of some of the Veil's worst spirits converged upon on the tree; through the dense forms of the monsters and the other wolves, she had not yet noticed the skeletons curled within the hollow. But she saw enough to know what she needed to do.
This tree was sacred, it meant something to this realm - and she, and all the others here, were meant to protect it.
A familiar blaze of fox-red fur immediately caught her eye; she wondered, distantly, somewhere beyond herself, if it was possible for either of them to not notice the other by instinct alone. Her eyes were drawn to him and, for the first time since she woke from the dream, fear roared to life within her.
He shouldn't be here - he should be back in the Meadows, safe and at least moderately warm in the unforgiving cold.
Fable pressed forward, her limbs flying across the terrain as she dove toward Foxglove , seeking to shorten the ground between them so she could be at his back. Her jaws snapped at the cursed lifeforms as she wove between them, a thunderous snarl loosing from her chest as she burned with the fire of keeping her family safe - especially the ginger-coated man before her.
RE: Second Door: The Withering Siege - Solvi - 3/31/2026
![[Image: viv_honeybee.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/viv_honeybee.gif)
Nightmares were commonplace these days.
If she wasn't reliving the moment her world tilted on its axis on Mors Fjell and she looked out over the death bed of her entire natal pack, she was drawn into the more familiar fever dreams of disjointed horrors that she was certain came from her internalizing it all.
But this dream - this one was different.
It didn't belong to her, it was spawned from this world. Another piece of the large puzzle fell into place and she had a better understanding of what had transpired - of what was presently transpiring.
As she unfurled from her sleeping position, she blinked blearily out of her den, expecting sunlight despite knowing it would not come. It hadn't since her return, and it seemed to be the case for many moons earlier. She shivered, drawing into herself a little more as she sorted through her dream and what it meant.
She was given a choice between three options - but the second stuck out. A cure.
Solvi knew the importance of cures. She thought of starflowers, and how they were The Mother's give to wolfkind when all hope was lost; their periwinkle petals were as bright as the future they offered Solskin, and she knew this was no happenstance.
The Mother had brought her back to Mythris for this. She thought at first it was a punishment, perhaps even a trial she was never meant to succeed, but now she could not dismiss the signs that were before her, clear as day.
She was being asked to answer Her summons. Though it was not Her voice, and other beings were involved, Solvi could almost see the shimmering thread of her fate interwoven through it all - a bright, hope-giving lifeline.
Though she was still frail from her months of malnutrition, she felt stronger than she ever had when she gathered her paws and plunged through the second portal without a single thought. It was automatic, instinctual - she was on a course set before her, for reasons far beyond her own deign.
Even as chaos reigned the moment she stepped through, she did not regret her decision. Determination set her brow into a furrow as her small form streaked forward, a golden arrow, dodging between bodies and gnashing her equally tiny jaws at anything that ventured too close as she aimed for the tree's hollow.
This tree meant life, and The Mother expected her to protect it. And that was what she would do - Her will would be done, and the fortifying thought she could perhaps redeem herself by even a sliver was enough to steel her nerves.
Her green-blue eyes flashed with righteous fury when she finally reached the roots and turned to face one of the wraiths. She was small of stature - smaller than most, she realized - but she would make this her last stand if her sacrifice meant that Alder and Dawnbreak as a whole survived and this land could heal.
If she wasn't reliving the moment her world tilted on its axis on Mors Fjell and she looked out over the death bed of her entire natal pack, she was drawn into the more familiar fever dreams of disjointed horrors that she was certain came from her internalizing it all.
But this dream - this one was different.
It didn't belong to her, it was spawned from this world. Another piece of the large puzzle fell into place and she had a better understanding of what had transpired - of what was presently transpiring.
As she unfurled from her sleeping position, she blinked blearily out of her den, expecting sunlight despite knowing it would not come. It hadn't since her return, and it seemed to be the case for many moons earlier. She shivered, drawing into herself a little more as she sorted through her dream and what it meant.
She was given a choice between three options - but the second stuck out. A cure.
Solvi knew the importance of cures. She thought of starflowers, and how they were The Mother's give to wolfkind when all hope was lost; their periwinkle petals were as bright as the future they offered Solskin, and she knew this was no happenstance.
The Mother had brought her back to Mythris for this. She thought at first it was a punishment, perhaps even a trial she was never meant to succeed, but now she could not dismiss the signs that were before her, clear as day.
She was being asked to answer Her summons. Though it was not Her voice, and other beings were involved, Solvi could almost see the shimmering thread of her fate interwoven through it all - a bright, hope-giving lifeline.
Though she was still frail from her months of malnutrition, she felt stronger than she ever had when she gathered her paws and plunged through the second portal without a single thought. It was automatic, instinctual - she was on a course set before her, for reasons far beyond her own deign.
Even as chaos reigned the moment she stepped through, she did not regret her decision. Determination set her brow into a furrow as her small form streaked forward, a golden arrow, dodging between bodies and gnashing her equally tiny jaws at anything that ventured too close as she aimed for the tree's hollow.
This tree meant life, and The Mother expected her to protect it. And that was what she would do - Her will would be done, and the fortifying thought she could perhaps redeem herself by even a sliver was enough to steel her nerves.
Her green-blue eyes flashed with righteous fury when she finally reached the roots and turned to face one of the wraiths. She was small of stature - smaller than most, she realized - but she would make this her last stand if her sacrifice meant that Alder and Dawnbreak as a whole survived and this land could heal.
RE: Second Door: The Withering Siege - Persephone - 3/31/2026
![[Image: Viv_Persephone.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/Viv_Persephone.gif)
SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )
Her stomach rolled when the realm of slumber receded.
This world was not entirely precious to her, as it had not been kind to her in a great many instances, but as she burrowed her narrow muzzle further into Pluto's mane, she fretted for what might happen if they died here, together, beneath the insurmountable weight of a world being torn asunder. She had been returned to their shared domain, or some semblance of it, she thought; but with neither of them back there to anchor the balance of the living and the dead, would there be a way back?
Persephone hadn't given returning much thought as she soaked up her reunion with Pluto. As much as she resisted him in the beginning of their courtship, he was burrowed directly into her heart now. She could not fathom the lack of his presence, and it was only the barrier keeping her memories from her in her previous iteration that prevented her from mourning herself to nothingness.
Perhaps that was why it withheld him from her - it knew, should she come to miss him - she would never survive.
Her two-toned eyes closed as she allowed her thoughts to expand, touching on the dream. They were here for a reason, weren't they? Nothing happened by chance; she would be content to let this world be burnt to cinders and ash for all the disrespect it served her, but they were here now.
Pluto was here.
There were others who were kind.
Little by little, she pried her righteous indignation away from the ledge. If she left this world to its fate, it would die with them in its embrace, and she wasn't so sure what the ramifications would be if both sides of the same coin - dormancy and life - were to die at once in a realm that didn't belong to them.
Besides, if she dug down beyond the superficial layer of her emotions, she knew she couldn't condemn an entire populace to doom without at least trying to help. It was in her heart to do so, it was why she returned to her mother for half the year so mortals she would never know would live. For them, she left half of her heart a realm away for just as much of the year.
Maybe, in a roundabout way, Mythris was a blessing in disguise; it was not their kingdom, it did not bear their thrones, but it kept them together. Her mother was not here, and she did not feel her familiar pull of magic. This place was mostly mundane.
She snuggled closer to Pluto, enjoying his thicker coat and more robust body heat than what her slender noodle frame could generate. Though she would rather do anything than leave the near-warmth of their shelter and closeness, she knew that was not in their cards if they wanted more days like this one.
She had no illusion he hadn't received the same dream.
The tree was the right decision - it symbolized life, and so long as life was sustained, then there was always hope for a future.
With a reluctant groan, she pried herself away from her personal living heated blanket and turned to the patiently - urgently - waiting portals. They loomed ahead, ominously so, and she took a steeling breath as her gaze moved between them.
The moment her paws hit earth on the other side, she immediately recognized how dire the situation was. Ichor coated the tree and the ground surrounding it, creatures gnawing and blighting it with their touch. Her stomach flipped as it returned her to her death, but she steadied herself before rushing forward to weave through throngs of other creatures fighting against their strange foe.
Persephone stationed herself at the tree's base once she weaseled her way through, bracing for impact with all four legs squared and her muzzle folded into a flash of actionable teeth.
This world was not entirely precious to her, as it had not been kind to her in a great many instances, but as she burrowed her narrow muzzle further into Pluto's mane, she fretted for what might happen if they died here, together, beneath the insurmountable weight of a world being torn asunder. She had been returned to their shared domain, or some semblance of it, she thought; but with neither of them back there to anchor the balance of the living and the dead, would there be a way back?
Persephone hadn't given returning much thought as she soaked up her reunion with Pluto. As much as she resisted him in the beginning of their courtship, he was burrowed directly into her heart now. She could not fathom the lack of his presence, and it was only the barrier keeping her memories from her in her previous iteration that prevented her from mourning herself to nothingness.
Perhaps that was why it withheld him from her - it knew, should she come to miss him - she would never survive.
Her two-toned eyes closed as she allowed her thoughts to expand, touching on the dream. They were here for a reason, weren't they? Nothing happened by chance; she would be content to let this world be burnt to cinders and ash for all the disrespect it served her, but they were here now.
Pluto was here.
There were others who were kind.
Little by little, she pried her righteous indignation away from the ledge. If she left this world to its fate, it would die with them in its embrace, and she wasn't so sure what the ramifications would be if both sides of the same coin - dormancy and life - were to die at once in a realm that didn't belong to them.
Besides, if she dug down beyond the superficial layer of her emotions, she knew she couldn't condemn an entire populace to doom without at least trying to help. It was in her heart to do so, it was why she returned to her mother for half the year so mortals she would never know would live. For them, she left half of her heart a realm away for just as much of the year.
Maybe, in a roundabout way, Mythris was a blessing in disguise; it was not their kingdom, it did not bear their thrones, but it kept them together. Her mother was not here, and she did not feel her familiar pull of magic. This place was mostly mundane.
She snuggled closer to Pluto, enjoying his thicker coat and more robust body heat than what her slender noodle frame could generate. Though she would rather do anything than leave the near-warmth of their shelter and closeness, she knew that was not in their cards if they wanted more days like this one.
We must go, my love,she told him, her voice still roughened by sleep.
To the tree.
She had no illusion he hadn't received the same dream.
The tree was the right decision - it symbolized life, and so long as life was sustained, then there was always hope for a future.
With a reluctant groan, she pried herself away from her personal living heated blanket and turned to the patiently - urgently - waiting portals. They loomed ahead, ominously so, and she took a steeling breath as her gaze moved between them.
The second one,she muttered before stepping through it and into the thick of the fray.
The moment her paws hit earth on the other side, she immediately recognized how dire the situation was. Ichor coated the tree and the ground surrounding it, creatures gnawing and blighting it with their touch. Her stomach flipped as it returned her to her death, but she steadied herself before rushing forward to weave through throngs of other creatures fighting against their strange foe.
Persephone stationed herself at the tree's base once she weaseled her way through, bracing for impact with all four legs squared and her muzzle folded into a flash of actionable teeth.
RE: Second Door: The Withering Siege - It Without Name - 3/31/2026
It did not understand the dream. It found only irritation with the use of words, with the imagery It did not comprehend. It sort of was starting to put together what might be going as, as more images and sounds flashed before It, but in the end, all It knew was that It wanted this to end.
It did not understand the choice that was before It. It only moved forward through instinct. A desire to move forth and not stand still for long. Long black legs lead It through the second door, with the world changing before It. A thing It had experiencing walking through the shadow into Mythris.
There is a tree before It now, large and overpowering. There was a greatness to the tree that It could acknowledge, that the tree was a power being in itself. It looked up with harrowing red eyes, before focusing on everything around It.
Violence. So many others engaging with teeth, on things It had not encountered before. It feels Its hackles bristle and muscles tense. Eyes search for whoever is closest. Luckily, the closest thing was one of the wraiths. Without hesitation, the beast lunges forward and engages. Silently Its mouth parts, and It attacks relentlessly.
It did not understand the choice that was before It. It only moved forward through instinct. A desire to move forth and not stand still for long. Long black legs lead It through the second door, with the world changing before It. A thing It had experiencing walking through the shadow into Mythris.
There is a tree before It now, large and overpowering. There was a greatness to the tree that It could acknowledge, that the tree was a power being in itself. It looked up with harrowing red eyes, before focusing on everything around It.
Violence. So many others engaging with teeth, on things It had not encountered before. It feels Its hackles bristle and muscles tense. Eyes search for whoever is closest. Luckily, the closest thing was one of the wraiths. Without hesitation, the beast lunges forward and engages. Silently Its mouth parts, and It attacks relentlessly.
RE: Second Door: The Withering Siege - ValkyrieD - 3/31/2026
Valkyrie Gabrielle DeGrave
Valkyrie knew behind the second door there lay a wasteland of destruction and chaos. She knew she had to continue through, she had to fight. Pressing a nose to her husbands cheek she bid him a soft farewell and told him she loved him. Her citrine eyes beaming with love before she stepped through the door.
She heard screams and growls, snarls and screeches, her eyes narrows as she threw herself into the fray without hesitation. She had to fight for Mythris. For Jokull.
She heard screams and growls, snarls and screeches, her eyes narrows as she threw herself into the fray without hesitation. She had to fight for Mythris. For Jokull.
RE: Second Door: The Withering Siege - Azalea - 4/1/2026
This dream shit was getting annoying. Azalea was never one to particularly fall for the mystical and magical, even silently making fun of the religious nutjobs she ran into. She might find them entertaining, maybe even interesting at times...but none of it was REAL....right?
Yet this dream felt different. It felt more...real. More interactive. She was given a choice, and she stepped through the second door. Her eyes adjusted, and she walked into a world of a great tree and threatening wraiths. She knew that these wraiths needed to be driven back. She knew the reason was so important, and it flooded her like never before.
She had been feeling weird as of late. Very weird, and her movement was not as it usually was. She did not realize what was happening to her body, slowly but surely, after her encounter with the exploding mouse. Something had invaded her mind, and in a days time she would be something different entirely. Azalea rushed then, her paws wobbly which brought her great frustration. She carried on, and sought to fight the nearest wraith that dare get in her path.
Yet this dream felt different. It felt more...real. More interactive. She was given a choice, and she stepped through the second door. Her eyes adjusted, and she walked into a world of a great tree and threatening wraiths. She knew that these wraiths needed to be driven back. She knew the reason was so important, and it flooded her like never before.
She had been feeling weird as of late. Very weird, and her movement was not as it usually was. She did not realize what was happening to her body, slowly but surely, after her encounter with the exploding mouse. Something had invaded her mind, and in a days time she would be something different entirely. Azalea rushed then, her paws wobbly which brought her great frustration. She carried on, and sought to fight the nearest wraith that dare get in her path.
RE: Second Door: The Withering Siege - Makara - 4/1/2026
RE: Second Door: The Withering Siege - Pluto - 4/1/2026
Pluto followed Persephone. Wherever she went, he was merely the loyal, overprotective shadow draping his head over her back and daring someone -anything- to set ill sights upon her. His world was whole again, and frankly, little else mattered but keeping it that way.
Which, he supposed, meant doing something about the end of this world. Mythris’ rage intensified as the pieces of the puzzle were wholly revealed, and now, there was a choice to be made.
One of four, to be precise. One of the portals or just accepting what was; Pluto wasn't known to interfere in the grand scheme of mortal tidings if he could help it or, of course, his darling wife wished it so. He didn't think she would be content to sit back and watch, though. Personally, this world, this plague, it'd hurt her. Let it tear this land and each other apart, what did he care? They'd probably get to go home then! Together, they could find a way.
She spoke, still groggy with sleep, yet already knowing his thoughts.
To the tree.
He forged through the tangle of bodies with his wife, snapping at anything that dared lurch too close to her; taking his space by her shoulder to defend her moreso than the tree with gnashing fangs.
It was there he saw a flash of blue, and his eyes were drawn to a vaguely familiar, curly-furred shape. The ringed gaze of open ocean and seaweed confirmed his suspicions:
Like old times, he thought as his brother caught his eye.
Which, he supposed, meant doing something about the end of this world. Mythris’ rage intensified as the pieces of the puzzle were wholly revealed, and now, there was a choice to be made.
One of four, to be precise. One of the portals or just accepting what was; Pluto wasn't known to interfere in the grand scheme of mortal tidings if he could help it or, of course, his darling wife wished it so. He didn't think she would be content to sit back and watch, though. Personally, this world, this plague, it'd hurt her. Let it tear this land and each other apart, what did he care? They'd probably get to go home then! Together, they could find a way.
She spoke, still groggy with sleep, yet already knowing his thoughts.
Where you go, I go, sweet flower.Nothing had ever been so simple. Destruction was not the path Persephone chose, and loyally, the God of the dead plunged after her through the portal.
To the tree.
He forged through the tangle of bodies with his wife, snapping at anything that dared lurch too close to her; taking his space by her shoulder to defend her moreso than the tree with gnashing fangs.
It was there he saw a flash of blue, and his eyes were drawn to a vaguely familiar, curly-furred shape. The ringed gaze of open ocean and seaweed confirmed his suspicions:
Poseidon!A grin.
Like old times, he thought as his brother caught his eye.
RE: Second Door: The Withering Siege - Bly - 4/1/2026