The choice was easy.

Do the opposite of what her instincts tell her.

They said to tear the man's throat out, but....

That wasn't her thoughts, that was the mist's remnants.

Verbena chose to break the chains.

I'm bout to crash tf out
3-3-3 OC

---

Speech Emotional Actions Thoughts

Helia hadn't been sure what parent to follow, Mother had gone to the first door, but she'd seen Da go to the third..or was it the first? She didn't know, she'd ran to him too late to see really, so returning to hers, she leapt through one, which turned to be the most violent one there.

Quickly her ears pinned back, the little lady did not like this one bit. Sure, she knew now she couldn't technically die, but that ache of dying in this body scared her. So as her eyes landed on Amon, her sire, her Da, she bounded forwards to join in the effort. Teeth and claw hitting the chains, her thinner frame tugging and pulling.

She'd free the wolf if she could, or be damned to be reborn once more.

Helios wasn't scared of dying, but he did want to see more of this world before he did so, following quickly behind the other two Khaldun.

Man, you're a sad sack ain't ya? He spoke as the chained man snarled before biting at a free spot on the chains.

Skill: Warrior

Dimas stood before the three portals in silence. The Dream Visitor waited listlessly off to the side, eyes averted, solemn and resigned - whoever this spirit was, he was surely not sent of Houtu. He was unclean. Unfit.

It was not a difficult decision to make.

An eternity of peace redeemed - what other choice was there for this miserable creature trapped beneath the Isle? Even if they succeeded in freeing him, he may very well turn his madness on those who had fought so hard to break his chains. No; the wolf was too far gone, too tortured, too steeped in centuries of agony and suffocating loneliness. The strangled howls tearing out of his throat told Dimas as much.

It would be a mercy killing.

Отдых, (Rest.) the grizzled man uttered under his breath. A few others - a scant few, he observed with some disappointment - amid all these other fools trying to save a lost cause! - had the same idea, and he threw himself into the mix with fangs flashing.

He distantly noticed a pale she-wolf who looked familiar, but nothing more.

---

Oh fuck yeah.

This was it!

Fenrir practically vibrated in place as the ghostly wolf summoned his Runes overhead and spoke of the end. At last, the time had come! The world was in danger, Ragnarok upon them (or a version of it; he was fuzzy on the details but this one seemed a little bit different from the stories he'd grown up hearing), and he was finally summoned to fulfill his divine destiny.

He would save them all.

The slate wolf and his brain-worm leapt joyfully through the third door, paying absolutely no heed to the other two. This was where fate pulled him; he could hear the terrible snarls from within, see the press of bodies as they gnashed and fought against the imprisoned wolf's chains, the glint of fangs catching in the azure glow surrounding them as others strove to put him down where he stood.

I AM FENRISÚLFR TYRSON, he cried out to the masses, AND I AM BURDENED WITH GLORIOUS PURPOSE!

But - what was he going to do?

Shit. He hadn't gotten that far.

Chains, chains... some ancient memory stirred within his infected brain... Fenrir shivered, and he felt chains, coiling up every limb, tightening, choking around his neck. Was this something that had already happened? Or something yet to occur? Why did it feel so real?

He hated chains, he decided.

Fenrir flew toward the tortured wolf and grabbed hold of the nearest link, pulling with all his might, knowing that he alone could ensure their collective victory.

Skill: Warrior

---

Thoughts of who he was meant to be to Pharaoh and his sun-queen plagued the coywolf. Priesthood did not readily call to him, but perhaps it could be learned and embraced through practice; the path of the Mazoi gave him pause, a flicker of intrigue tingling at his hopes, but Mekh looked down at his spindly legs and sighed.

Whether or not he had the heart of a Mazoi, he surely had the body of a weak Hem.

It was during this interlude of self-doubt that Mekh had chosen to rest, hoping that perhaps a clearer mind would point him in the right direction - instead he experienced his most terrifying dream yet, and woke abruptly to a spirit uttering infinite regrets and using some strange magic to open up three doorways leading to Ra-knew-where.

Mekh's head swirled.

I - er - you, what - he sputtered, but was met with silence. It didn't seem there would be any further exposition.

Things sounded very much as if the world might be ending soon, and given the state of the weather alone, he felt like he believed it. Well - if this was to be it - what other way to go than in pursuit of his highest self? The tortured cries sounding from the third door filled him with dread, and he swallowed noisily. What terrors lurked inside? What grim fate awaited him should he choose to risk it all and conquer his fears?

He had been a slave for so long - it was not so terrible - but as he peered closer, he caught the glimmer of chains pulling painfully at a violently twisting figure inside, and another hoarse bellow thundered out from within that shook the ground.

Mekh had always embraced his position, yet this wolf was not in joyful servitude of Horus. This was... prison. This was pain.

He stepped through the third opening and with trembling limbs and chattering teeth, the coywolf reached out to grab hold of the nearest chain and began to pull with all his might.

If this world should survive through any measure of his small strength, so too would Satriya, and all of the wolves who had saved him.

---

Osamu thought he ought to feel more threatened by the various dreams of ominous foretelling, but instead he only woke each time with an ever-increasing apathy. It was a sorry state to see him in.

With this latest vision he regarded the Dream Visitor as one might an inconvenient relative. Rocks, ruin, and regret; the three r's seemed to define the spectral wolf's entire existence.

The portals opened.

From one, the sound of song; from the other, snarls and the tearing of flesh; from the last... it was indescribable.

It was the sound his heart had made every day after Izumi's disappearance. It was the sound of loneliness, of isolation, and after Fujiwara had crumbled Osamu's second chance at a life worth living had vanished along with them.

Wordlessly he stepped through the third door.

Wordlessly he grabbed hold of a glowing chain, barely registering the searing heat burning his tongue, and pulled.

What else was there, in the end?

Perhaps he could give someone else another chance.

Miltos could not exactly call themself up to date on what was happening here- only that the cold was surely unnatural, as was the fact that they were here at all. But they did not expect death to come with some spirit-creature claiming to wish to save the world.

And did not expect so many to come slavering to break the chains of the monster it had sealed away!

Truly, they were mad, to let such a creature free! And in what hopes? That it would simply leave them alone after being captured, and chained, and tortured?

No, it had made itself perfectly clear. Had they not heard? If these fools wished to bring death upon their own heads, they were hardly one to protest- but it was their neck on the line as well, and Miltos did not intend to give their God a second chance at claiming them.

There was no purpose in arguing- they'd always found it a singularly pointless endeavor. Miltos ran their tongue over the points of their teeth, and lunged to sink them into the chained creature's thigh. If they were to spill enough of the beast's blood, well, it wouldn't matter if its bindings broke at all, would it?

oh what wonder have you wrought?

Oh - oh of course! The Witchling's eyes snapped open, and she felt her very soul calling to the portals as they opened. The runes had been beautiful, and it seemed like her zips danced too. Oh - how they danced, it was in euphoria; it was ecstasy! She almost felt almost woozy herself as her own energy was affected by the swell of it all. She had to go. She had to help somehow; was it not her duty as a Druid? They were stewards of the Earth; they came from the ground, they danced beneath the Moon. She was a Witch. She was a Mayfair.

She gasped as her paws crossed the threshold, and suddenly she felt choked as she felt all of the despair, all of the pain that every horrid shriek let loose on the world. Lestan and Kirain had always taught her that balance was the key. And so if the pain the Wolf was feeling had come from being abandoned, from being caught, from being trapped - that had to be freedom. And then she looked down to the chains and saw the familiar white. Mama! Immediately her efforts were to join her mother, to add to the efforts made to release the chained wolf by so many.

She had never felt more proud of her mother, or herself.

skill: warrior BWP

Vidarr could only look upon the figure with a brutal, cold contempt.

There had been no attempt to fix things; there had been no turning back to rescue the brother who had been left behind. Vidarr was a warrior - he had tasted the blood of others, and he had taken life when it was required of him to eradicate the threat towards the safety of the ones he loved. He had never left anyone behind. He might have had to circle back once he was able to a time or two, but he never abandoned anyone.

There had been chances later, and now, the story that had been told to them was one that had been told from the perspective of someone who had so many things to hide.

Vidarr's golden eyes gleamed as he stared through the figure through the portal. Ek mun bjarga honum - sem þú hefðir átt að gjöra fyrir löngu! (I will rescue him - as you should have done so long ago!) He did not hesitate before he was through the portal and saw the pure chaos before him. There were wolves who he recognized - packmates he cared for, friends he knew, strangers he had crossed paths with, wolves he had never known all unified to the same cause. Vidarr was running towards the fray to join the wolves who battled to free the trapped wolf. He saw her - recognized her immediately, as she launched herself with the intent to kill the Wolf. It surprised him to see her choose that path.

There, though, he spotted the cluster of packmates. Tiberii had chosen to focus on the chains rather than attack the wolf, and it felt somehow like she was realizing the cosmic similarities between them both. The wolf had been left, had been hurt and abandoned, and that pain had festered into the very wounds that hurt Mythris so. He worked his way into position on one side of Tiberii, the other taken by her auburn beau. Golden eyes met theirs, and he gave a nod. Together. Was the single utterance before the bear put his weight into pulling at the ancient chains.

They would prove that together, unified, they could succeed. Or die trying.