Betrayed, broken, and beyond repair. The poor creature didn't deserve this.

But, like a feral, aggressive beast, past the chance of redemption or healing, the kindest thing now was to put it out of pain.

Caiaphas slunk forward through the chaos. Leave your misery behind, dear one. I hope your next life is kinder. She lunged to kill.

OOC

Attacking chains

---

The end of the world was upon them once more.

It seemed a strange theme, didn't it? For every world that Amaranth and Valeska entered, there seemed to be some earth-shattering end. An end that, oftentimes, led to their own ends. Earthquakes and landslides. Natural disasters. And now, unnatural disasters. But it did not matter what the danger was, because Amaranth would chase Valeksa into the end of days every time. In every lifetime.

Perhaps this time, though, there was hope that they could free their world from dark suspension. If they could, then everything that had been built here could be spared. Elysium. Their family. Their allies and friends. Perhaps this time, they could fight their way through, instead of being victims of an aching world and aching magic. 

The denizens of Mythris appeared together, flocking en masse through the portal that would change everything. Amaranth, too, would follow into war, trailing in the background of the blue-tinted tunnel as her amythyst gaze flashed. Her decision was easy — break the chains alongside her family. Free them of their own sufferings in freeing the broken wolf from his own.

From the outskirts of the dark dream, she would appear ... casting Amaris a gaze that lasted for a bit too long before settling to work next to Valeska. Together, she'd hum, turning her intense gaze to those around her. The High Augur did not have much strength left in her brittle bones, her ankles still aching (for some reason), but she would meticulously set to work on unlocking the metal prison.

What she lacked in strength, she attempted to make up for in strategy, aiming her blows toward whatever weakened connective points she could identify.

---

Here was the moment of his ascension! Wolves piled around the great wolf, a mass of shadow cast bodies fringed in blue. They pulled at ancient chains. Tore at ancient fur. He ignored them all, save one — Rook. Lunging to her side with a fearsome growl, he grinned in a shape that seemed too wide to be entirely mortal against the glow of magical restraint.

She promised to bring him the Heart. From it, he would claim his rightful place above all others, mortal and god alike! But Janus was not a benevolent Lord, or a generous one. This was a mark he wished to savor all his own. Lunging at the prisoner's throat, Janus proclaimed, I'll take it myself!

---

Gonna laugh my ass off if Janus dies here. If we can choose death/reincarnation then I would like to do that for him

Lyra wanted nothing to do with any of it. The wraiths, the sky-plague, the black ooze, the chained wolf, the moving isle — beyond mortals. Beyond her. Ghosts speaking in dreams begging her to be a hero was nothing she'd ever signed up for, let alone wanted.

But she didn't want the world to end, either. And these days, she had more to think of than herself.

So, yes, she picked the big fuckoff door that would take her to the big fuckoff island to face the big fuckoff wolf responsible for trying to ruin all of her shit.

And stood at the threshold of the ancient prison, bottlebrush fur fluffed out with fear and static. First at the wolf himself, monstrous, bleeding from the pull of tightened chains and ripping fangs.

Then, worse, at the ones trying to free him. This, their executioner!

She'd had millennia fewer to nurse hatred for the man who betrayed her, and no act of mercy from him would ever have stayed her wrath if he was put before her now. She'd burned ships before, with same fervor this monster sent blue claws to rend the earth.

But she'd burn this tyrant, too, for thinking he had the right to decide her fate, or the fate of her pups.

'Ave ye all lost yer damn minds? Lyra snarled, rushing to the fray in desperation. Ye set tat beast free an' it'll kill ye all, an' yer mates, an' yer whelps, an' everyone else! Teeth latched to the mangled leg, aiming for an artery to cleave open.

Nate hesitated at the gates.

Sing.
Sing like the Red Bird, and bring back the joy of Sun. His throat tightened. He felt the burden of his ancestors.

Fight.
Fight monsters, fight for land, for family, for freedom. He'd been sold that lie before. But he'd been good at soldiering. Maybe this time it would be different... maybe it would matter. Maybe it would be his end, but maybe that would be worth it.

Judge.
Nate swallowed.

All this time, and it was only another man. Lost and alone and hurting... and... it felt strange, to give Nate, or anyone else, a say in what the consequence should be for losing hope.

But he had to choose. The only route beyond consideration was to do nothing at all.

It could matter, to simply lift his voice in song.

Hadn't he given enough, already? Would he ever?

Others would take the harder roads. Bear the weight of responsibility.

...But what if no one did? What if he kept his peace, and the silence of a single man meant hatred won, instead? Or what if his voice still wasn't enough to turn the tide?

He looked back at the first door, again.

Then — turned into the third.

---

Grimacing through the uncomfortable tingle of magic on his fur, Nate shivered, blinking through a sudden bright blue. Then stared in awe at the battle underway between crumbled stone. Sorrow turned to violent rage bled from every wound across the captive stranger. Nate ached.

This was an enemy.

They were dangerous.

But wasn't everyone? Nate knew what grief did to the helpless. And this one, he'd waited... all this time, for a rescue, never faltering. How many others could claim that dedication? It seemed the shock, the sudden pain of having everything you hoped and believed in ripped away, ruled this captive now.

Which meant they must have a way back.

Nate had to believe there was a way back.

The right thing and the smart thing weren't always the same. In Nate's case, he was still waiting for the day they'd both align. But he'd still made the choice, in an instant.

He's not the enemy! Nate called out, ears pinning at the violent accusation of a calico she-wolf dressed in gold who had come in just before.

He's been trapped here, just like the rest of us! And lunged after her, then, set upon the task of putting himself between the captive and his attackers, to give the rest time to free him.

We're not like the others! We can be better, we have to be! Nate snarled. Let him go!

---

If Nate rolls death/reincarnation, I'll take that roll. If not, then I want to give him a major injury!

skill: warrior

Another dream. It ripped her from the confines of the little hollow she had smashed herself into somewhere in the Great Woodlands. A place as Ambassador of Nordfall had been a lonely one during this dark winter and though she ran into many, none seemed to stick. Now, even sleep would not offer her rest of mind and she would be left with three choices.

And what's behind door number 4? But there were no other options. There was not a place which might bring her to Valhalla for some sense of peace. Fine. She takes a heavy breath, weighing her options.

The singing within the first portal lifted her spirits and oh how much she wanted to dance and sing among them! Yet she had seen in her dreams the destruction of the island. A guardian of Mythris meant to protect it which also meant killing everyone within it and starting anew. Journey knew another life would be had, should she die, but it wasn't herself which her heart went out to, but her Stormborn Family, Northfall, all those wandering souls she had met in her time here. They did not all deserve this fate and so the journeyman would return to the form which she had born and fight as a valkyrie she still was within.

Journey ran through the gates of portal three.

Howling cries pierced her ears, causing them to flatten. Causing her to fall to her elbows as she struggled to press her front limbs against her folded ears to drown out the sound. Pain and rage engulf the wolf so many, many, many years of torment and torture that no amount of words of comfort and begging might bring him back to sanity. Could Journey suffer in such a way and not become maddened by it?

Her thoughts ran to Fenrir. Bounded by celestial chain, bound because they had feared his power and capability to use it. Fear had drove the gods to betray him. Fear is why they would perish in the battle of Ragnarok. The gods would fall. All father would fall. The valkyries - Journey cried out at the thought that if this were the end of times, she might not see life again. No, he could not escape. Could not be freed, lest it be the ending of them all.

We cannot! She yells out, though it is but a whisper among the chaos which screams out here. A great many aid in the freedom of the beast - Vitus, Nate, wolves of Elysium, so many faces passing in a blur. There was some which attack flesh and bone here instead of chain. No where many as compared to the latter. You bring Ragnorok upon us all! They wanted to help, they wanted to do the right thing by releasing him, but sometimes doing the right thing was not the easier choice to make, to live with… She could not help after him.

Journey attacks the bound wolf for it is an easy sacrifice to make to save this world.

Ezra steps through the third portal without reluctance, for to fight the moving island which was waging war upon Mythris sounded like a great battle to be had, with what very well may be the greatest creature he might ever face, including those eerie blue bear-wolf things some seasons ago.

When he enters the heart of the island at its core, he was faced with a great many wolves clamoring all around. There, at its center, was the wolf who had been forgotten. The wolf who was left to suffer while others moved on without him…. Ezra felt his gut turn, his own memories rising to life at the sight of the bound beast.

Many sought to free the beast, for what reason, Ezra couldn't not begin to fathom. Perhaps a swift death to their suffering in this world is what they sought for surely he would destroy them all. Others, a lesser amount, went to attack the eternal beast whose power held enough destruction to terrorize the world even while bound. Imagine the damage he could do when freed?

Ezra readied himself to attack the wolf in turn, to fight, as fighting was his instinctual reaction to all things. But then, a thought, a thought hit him - Fenrir. Was it him or some cheap great value version of the giant which made his gods shrink and shriek with fear? Did it matter? Ezra felt as though perhaps the details did not. If he were to help free Fenrir, then he would be set to destroy Odin. The god which smiled upon his family's misfortunes (and in some instances, said to be the cause of it) for so long. Let Fenrir be released, than! And let Ragnar of Ragnorok rise from the world's ashes!

It would be Ezra's own demise, surely. If only for a little while until he was reborn anew, whole - sanctified.

And if it was not? He would bathe in blue flames by this Fenrir-maybe-not-Fenrir as the world consumed itself, to await the true end of times battle among his kin.

Bring Ragnarok, than! He would yell, unhearing, unseeing of his aunt's own cry, as he raced towards one of the many chains, setting mouth to flame as he heaved with unknown others to aid in the release .

skill: warrior

Fuck you! It is spit onto the dream visitor's feet, spoken in the common tongue so that she would be certain he understood her clearly. The woman on any given day had little patience for tricks and theatrics and her pregnancy only left her to be less so tolerant.

If this world ends, so be it. You sicken me with your lack of conviction! Lanzadoii words now speak, for they would not carry the same weight if she struggled to find the proper means to speak it any other way.

This ‘dream visitor’ had left behind a wolf who had become broken. He could not march on, had so fallen behind. Such as the way of Lanzadoii! To give self pity for a decision he made for the survival of the rest was sickening. Especially so when it was a manner of survival for their species on this world.

She is stubborn, she is vile, and so, refuses to believe that this dream walker or his problems has any weight upon her own. Still, she must choose if she were to be able to be released from their deity's grasp. Meleys chooses the third portal, plunging through so quickly she does not allow the weight of it, the words of others, or the howls of the trapped wolf get the best of her. She had made up her mind and that is to attack and kill this creature which should have been put to death for its weaknesses long ago.

The pot of rage that Mythris held for its inhabitants finally boiled over. A massive white-out storm to smother those that lived upon the continent once and for all.

This was all it come to? The searching, the waiting, and the dreading? The spoiled earth, the parasitic pests? The dancing fires?

Juniper can only be grateful that the sundering Mythris arranged was not that star-pelting rocks that once destroyed its very face. In the grand scheme of all things, winter was the season of death. Death of cold, death of hunger, or death of illness. Each was a possibility, and death was always an eventuality.

A familiar voice pulled Juniper out of their thoughts.

Him. The Dream Visitor. The voice that spoke within their dreams. The one who spoke at the revelation of a rune.

He speaks once more. He speaks of betrayal, of disloyalty. He speaks of a man who shared his own blood that was left behind. A man who wasn't granted the peace of death.

There is hope that we can end this cycle at last.

It is with awe in which Juniper watched the doors form. Runes flitted through the air, pulled from various places across the continent. Was the one found beneath Southeast there too? Was he granted this choice too? Where was her boy?

The path of healing. The first door caught the druid's attention with only its name. Juniper would have loved nothing more than to bring peace to the earth beneath her feet. To return light and warmth to a land so cold and dark.

Their breath stills at the image held within the second door. The path of the warrior. The grandest, most majestic tree they could have imagine was under siege. Even more tucked within its roots was a plant more potent than the blue turtle head they had been tasked to cultivate.

The druid almost stepped into the second door, but the sight of the third and final door froze her in place.

A land mass stared back at her. The one that moved and loped across the world like any other wolf. One that ripped and tore and carved great blue canyons into the earth. The Isle roared in agony. A noise so pained it brought the druid to tears.

The path that may ask everything of her, one that didn't need her to heal or harm? What else could it need? What could she give?

She could never live with herself if she didn't learn what the last door required of her.

Stepping through the third door, they are almost suffocated by the foreboding atmosphere within the cave. The walls groaned with each shift of the stone. Metal chains clattered and clanked as the bindings were fought against by the captive wolf. The one who was left behind. He whose agony bled into the air and pulse through the stone floor.

He is all that Juniper could see in those first few seconds inside the door. He who was forgotten. He who was broken. He who was hurt. It is only when he eyes landed upon her that Juniper grew aware of others within the space.

The chained wolf roared and all present took action. Wolves ran for the chains, clamping teeth to metal the sizzled and hissed. Others ran past the chains, some even lifting their voices to discourage the chain breakers. They planned to grant the chained wolf death. Their teeth were bared and set upon bound flesh.

Juniper does not know everyone within this chamber, but she knows that they are all inhabitants of this world. There are strangers. There are neighbors from the Howff. Her friend and leader, Kirain, charged forward to free the wolf. Her fireside companion stood to wrench the wolf free of the chains.

The most important wolf in the world was there. A scruffy, willowy boy with sad brown eyes and one leg held high off the ground.

The druid remembered the day that they met.

We don’t have to lock anywolf away? Ever? I don’t want to do that.

Juniper's answer hadn't changed from that day. Not once. Nor would it ever.

Jaws parting wide, Juniper ran to Southeast's side and clasped her teeth around the chain. It bit back, searing her throat and singing her lips, but it did not dissuade her as she attempted to break the chains.

[she doesn't know that the world is turning just for her]

Skill: [none]

---

The last month had been a whirlwind. In the wake of so much calamitous change, after her heart was done tearing itself in two, the maiden could not help but feel empty. Things settled, and she felt so equal and balanced that it made her skin crawl. She had become addicted to the intensity, and without it, she felt on the melancholic side of… the middle. Nothing.

Euphemia just existed; a woman with a man and station, but no clue what to do with it. The only constant throughout it all, was Adonis . He was lovely even when the world was blasé, and when the pale gray woman looked at him, she swore she could still see remnants of his gold-pink halo.

The world was dark and ever-cold, and in her nearly hungover state, she slept for long spans of time. The dreams returned, and with it, the emotional ups and downs that she craved. The story spun was of the saddest subjects, of love lost and hope long gone.

Euphemia whined to hear it, and pure curiosity inspired her feet through the door, hurling her at the feet of the very lost creature, grotesque and forlorn. Chained, it howled and fought at its liberators. The horror upon the young woman’s refined face denoted the thoughts that passed beneath.

Her love had already died once, at the hands of a creature of blood and rot. and this was he! The thing of nightmares, the thing that had stolen Adonis from his previous life only to spit him out at her feet in this one. If allowed to take him again, there was no guarantee he would even be reborn in this universe, this world, in her embrace. The odds did not seem favorable.

The chains were the only thing keeping this monster at bay. To witness so many others attempt to break them, steeled Euphemia into quick action. Her heart raced as she leapt up, adding her voice to the raucous din You will not have the chance to harm him again, she uttered, eyes flashing dark. How many times would Adonis's wonderful heart have him slain, almost or otherwise?

Euphemia couldn’t stomach the risk. She lowered her head, the growl searing within her throat, feeling conviction she had never once felt before.

In the name of Duskbreaker, you must die.

and when she leapt for the creature, it was jaws wide open, ready to rend the ghostly flesh.

---