skill: warrior BWP

The dream itself was horrific, awful, and painful as her own heart shuddered and wept at the pain their dream visitor endured. A brother who had been left behind? A world that tried to end them all? Lovers who passed in the embrace of one another? Her heart ached at the information she quickly absorbed, processing it as the images of the dream visitor’s memory (and their reality) flickered before her gaze.

Perhaps, this was the Celestial Dragon’s will.

And this was why the Dragon had brought them all to this place, to this world.

Perhaps, the blood of the Dragon was meant to save the world.

At the option of three doors, opening wide through the formation of those pulsing, glowing runes the dream visitor had once spoken about, Fen paused, her decision paralyzed.

Three doors to choose from.

A safe option: one she knew her father would hope and wish for her to take. But it was similarly an option that did not resonate with the young Phoenix.

A second option: To save the tree from certain doom as ghostly apparitions attempted to rip it apart. She could finally put her sparring lessons to good use…

And a third option: One in which could take everything from her, as a chained wolf howled and cried into the wind. She could save him.
Or she could kill him.

Her paws briefly turned toward the third door, rising against her chest as she readied herself to feel the warping sensation of the third door.

But she stopped.

Hesitated.

And cast a cautious gaze toward Door Number 2.

What would happen if she died? She wondered. What would her father do? Her mother? Her sister? What would the Dynasty do if their phoenix lost everything, even if she wished to save the world, even if her reasoning was good?

What was success if she wouldn’t be around to enjoy it?

Fen pushed herself through door number 2 before her mind could tell her otherwise.

Immediately, she was before that glowing tree, watching as violence and death and despair erupted around her.

But where one might’ve felt fear, Fen felt a fire rage within her. Is this what her father felt when he rushed into battle?

She raced forward, jaws agape and a scream atop her lips as she surged toward one of the glowing wraiths attacking the tree; certain that if she moved fast enough, hit hard enough, she could do some powerful damage.

---

skill: warrior (bwp)

What were the odds that Elvie would come to another world on the cusp of devastation? On the brink of war, just as her own had been. Was it fate that brought her toward another plane of existence, one that called for saving, when she had not been able to save her own? Was it punishment?

Perhaps she would never know.

Maybe it would never have mattered in the end.

The dream visitor’s words were sobering in her ears, and she stared at the choice laid out in front of her. Door one, two, and three; each calling out to her with promises and hope that she wished to deliver. She would have to try to save one of them, did she not?

And though her heart ached at the thought of a wolf, a soul, trapped in the chains of a world that wished to tear him apart—she could not shake the feeling of pain and sorrow that engulfed her spirit at the thought of a tree—of nature—dying.

The choice, in the end, was easy.

She moved through door two with certainty, with grit, and with determination to rid the wraiths that wished to tear root from soil. Even at the cost of her own body and spirit. She could not stand by and watch a piece of nature—balanced and healing—be torn apart by the epitome of death and destruction.

Elvie wasted no time in surging forward, a snarl atop her lips as her teeth—glistening ivory in the pulsing magic that wept from this Tree of Life—as she aimed for one of the ghostly apparitions that clawed and bit at its roots.

She bulleted toward it.

A scream—a cry—on the cusp of her lips as she aimed to sink teeth into flesh (or whatever sludge these beings were created from).

Skill: Warrior

---

---

The dream. It happened again, but this time it was vicious and fast. So much happened in what felt like a lifetime, but in reality was only hours... Or was it? Cairo couldn't tell, but when she woke she watched what felt like another dream appear before her eyes, she watched it all fall apart and rip before her. A doorway to... A tree? Though it seemed to scream as wraiths attacked it and went tearing at it as bones lay shaking beneath roots below.

She had to save it. Racing forward without another thought or care, other than to save the bones and protect the tree, protect the flower, she attacked. Mouth outstretched and jowls wipe she snarled and chomped down on everything and nothing that were the wraiths. They wouldn't damage it, she wouldn't let it. Her eyes were determined and narrowed, sharp and precise were her movements, she didn't care what happened to her, she would protect it at all costs.

---

The time he had spent within this worth of Mythris was short, comparitively. Raiyuk remembered bits and pieces of his long life from before—not a lot, but enough to know this was a different place, and that he had left behind a lineage.

He could recall being in love, once, but not with who. He could think of his children's faces for a while, until the weeks wore on and they gradually were erased from his mind. Above all he remembered the peace he had felt, the warmth in the sleeping place that had been his father's lodge; he had hoped to live out his days in mimicry of his seal-hunter father, and to be looked upon by his ancestors with grace.

Then, he had woken here in this world. His body had been young again. His memories were confusing. He built what he could: camps in new places, as he explored all that he could see. Trying to become a trader. To establish himself in some way—which proved difficult, and lonely. But he was alive! He had to be thankful for that. He was alive and he was healthy, and he knew he could live for a long while yet, if he could only find his place.

---

The dreams came.

He hunted for runes, with the others.

Then this final dream, which seemed the most important—and the portals.

What kind of choice was there? He was his father's son. He was a seal hunter, and he knew the world needed to be defended. Raiyuk only hesitated a moment before he plunged through the portal to where many bodies waited, poised and ready for a battle. He saw the wraiths as they drew closer; he heard the shouting of orders from some, he saw the movement of people towards the inevitable clash.

And with a broad grin, and a hearty laugh, he ran to meet the dead.

Battle called to her blood, and so she plunged through the second door. Teeth flashing and a snarl tearing free, she lunged for the nearest wraith with hellish intent.

He did not want to fight, he was tired of violence, but he had sworn to protect those he cared for most. And so, he stepped through the second door into chaos.

The clash of battle rang out all around him. Steadying his breath, he forced himself forward, pressing into the heart of the fray, ready, at last, for violence.

The tender-hearted boy knew he could not waver, and so he stepped through the second door. He was not one for violence, yet even he was startled by the war cry that tore from his muzzle, and the sudden surge that carried him toward the enemy.

The second door revealed a new world to the little amphibian, one she had only ever heard of in stories. Feeling especially brave and bold, she rushed forward, nipping at any heels and ankles that came within reach.

A fight? Now that was something he could get into.

Stepping through the second door, the hellion loosed a snarl, letting the quiet rage he carried bubble to the surface. They would pay. And with that, he lunged for the nearest body.

Despite her age, she was bound by her name. Picturing the proud form of her Vater, she stepped into the hell that was the second door. Small eyes searched for something her little teeth could gain purchase on, then she bounded into the chaos.