It was out of sheer annoyance that the Sea Nymph left her patron, and stepped through the second door. She did not like to be summoned by others, especially by Gods so new and foreign. It felt as though they were putting her in her place, aligning her with the mortals, assigning them the same task, and providing the same options. Ampoule didn’t appreciate it.

What the Gods of Mythris did not understand is that Ampoule would always find a path most original – one that was rarely taken, but others, as they might not have known it was an option. Thus was the blessing and curse of most of Nymphkind. They were crafty, to say the least.

Monsters were on just the other side of Godlihood. There was good magic, benign magic, and dark magic – but they were all connected by the common denominator, magic. As Ampoule saw it, the wraiths were like her brothers. Her disgusting, creepy brothers. Sent to do the bidding of those more powerful than they.

Then, there were the masses who gathered to combat them. Teeth and snarls were brandished like weapons, launched at the massacring wraiths. The two nymphs, both born of the sea, sat next to each other and watched on. This was a great teaching moment.

Look at how they flock to warfare, the elder of the two said quietly, not wishing to attract attention – but she believed, given the circumstances, those fighting the battle would not have attention to spare. Heeding the call of anyone who asks them nicely enough.

If a monstrous, bloodthirsty being snapped at her, Ampoule paid it almost no heed. Mortals are driven by vanity, ego, and pride—especially the men. There were many males here fighting, alongside the bravest of women. They were all so valiant! So foolish with their single, solitary life! So willing to sacrifice themselves, which she normally found enthralling. Here, it felt foolish.

and still…

The grecian swan looked at her young sister. Well, she said with a wry grin, knowing the girl was so young to fight; but what was immortality worth, if not utilized? Might be fun? She shrugged and leaned her body forward, suggesting that maybe – just maybe – they join the fray.

But only if Dyname felt she was ready for it.

Dyname had been watching, and she had not moved since Ampoule spoke, had not so much as shifted her weight but her eyes had been working. They tracked the way tide charts the shape of a coastline before it commits to breaking against it. She watched the wraiths move, they coiled and seethed and concentrated their energy at the hollow, she watched the way the trees color bled outward from each strike like ink in water. She watched the mortals throw themselves forward with bright courage of creatures who understood they were finite and chose to burn anyway.

Dual toned eyes would blink, flickering upward as her elder sister leaned forward, and asked the question with a grin behind it.

Dyname looked up at her for a long time, pressing closer to Ampoule's side without quite meaning to. Her small shoulder warm against the elder nymphs leg, ears low and uncertain, her gaze drifted back to the tree before she answered, ...Let's go she said finally, the words barely leaving her lips when Poseidon's battle cry split the air apart. He was all teeth and wild eyes, enormous and loud hurling himself into the chaos.

Her gaze stared after him in recognition and a desire to prove that even though she was brought into this world as something small; she was the Nymph of the seas power.

—
auto for minor injury

When would these horrible dreams end? When would the wreckage of this world cease? For the longest time, Daiyu had thought it was her mind playing tricks on her. That perhaps these reoccurring nightmares held some deeper meaning. Perhaps pertaining to the loss of her homeland, her family, her pack… But as time progressed, it simply didn't stop. She had been teleported, guided to a moving island, the land went dark and cold and not it cracked and glowed with streaks of blue.

She wanted to go home. She didn't want to be in this dreadful place any longer! She missed her people, she missed the Lagoon! She cries out at the feet of the dream visitor, her face streaming with tears. Why wouldn't this end?? Would it ever end?

That is when she was given choice. A choice of three and as she looks into the second Portal, she notices the tree which was being attacked. She remembered the great, magical tree, as it was one of the first memorable things she had seen in this new world in arrival.

Oh-! A gasp and before she knows it she is running into the portal and towards the chaos of war. Pale, disfigured wolves from her dreams had come to life, now in their waking world. The wolves of Mythris now fight back, seeking to protect the magic of the sacred tree. Daiyu is by far any warrior, but the battle cry of the little pheonix Fen grasped her attention and the siren ran after her, taking to her side in aiding to tear one of these creatures apart.

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Skill: 

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The culmination of their collective nightmares was upon them.
And with it, a choice.

A choice that was easy for the temperamental teen, hell-bent on a vengeance that was not his own. It was selfish, to an extent, to have collected the rune ... and to engage in battle ... all to fell a mythical enemy that had wronged him.

Draugur would choose door two because he wanted to fight. He wanted to fight that fucked-up sludge monster that had tried to bury him. He wanted to fight against the ghost of his past. He wanted to fight against the pain of his own losses. He wanted to fight against his own humanity, which twisted and snapped like a twig within him.

He didn't want to feel anymore.

He wanted to take. To fight. To feel the pain of battle and the pleasure of inflicting pain on others.

And so he did. He would barge through that door, shedding every ounce of what little humanity remained within him. And hiding behind the guise of 'saving the world,' Draugur would throw himself into battle, ripping and tearing at every bad memory ... shredding every ounce of himself to become nothing short of the very monsters he was fighting.

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How could she exist in this clean, warm, dry den, brooding on the complete fiasco that was her personal life, while he was gone?

When addled energies had flagged at last, the hollowness began. Being attached to anyone is a poison, much less this boy not of her blood, whose recoiling steps had drawn her down into murky depths.

She was in a shock, and could not take it all in. The whole thing seemed like a nightmare, yet here she was in flesh, chasing after a halved shadow, tonguing fear from her spying roost. Any time she found herself thinking it an illusion or a dream of some kind, the cold took form and ravaged her heels. Yakone obliterated all with sea-hunter jaws— fighting so on, and so forth, spinning the emotional torrents to Trygve.

Meanwhile, the end of their species was taking place before their very eyes.

skill: warlord

The norse woman was within her den when it had happened. Wardruna's limbs stretched in every direction, a pile of puppy bodies tangled all around her. They were growing fast. Already eating meat, already traveling further and further from the immediate area of the den site each day. It would be heartbreaking when they decided to have a den of their own. Even more so should they choose to walk a path beyond the borders of Northfall. She would be proud, but her heart would ache. For now, was peace. Peace here in this den with her pups, with Sreda. For in here all was safe, warm, happy, even as the world ripped itself apart beyond those cavern walls.

Wardruna heavily considered going back to the cavern in the northeast along with her pups in tow. To bring them back to Yggdrasil and place them back inside for which they came in order to protect them from this destruction. In one of the dreams she had seen a pair there, safe, even as the world ripped apart much so as it was doing now. Yet with such darkness and cold bringing about many horrid storms, Wardruna feared in her effort to protect them that the venture may very well kill them.

Then the dreams come, breaking her from the dark, warm silence of deep sleep. She is standing before the dream visitor, no longer a whisper in her mind, but a form. A being just like herself and as the story comes to its inevitable end, it is to find that this wolf is one of the very two tangled within that tree. Its lifetime partner was able to find peace in death, but here the other half remained.

I'm so sorry… Her ears flattened to her skull. It pained her to think how this one had been made to stay here all this time, while the other had found peace. A burden made to bear for what had happened to the third, she guessed, but even Wardruna would not understand the full truth to the story. I understand. If you had not kept running, you all would have died. And then what? Where would they be now? What would Mythris be now? Better, or worse?

Now a decision was to be had and she looked to each portal for quick consideration. Surely she didn't have time to sit here dumb-struck. The first portal she could hear singing, could see the sun beginning to break through the black sky. The third was the island, bound with the soul of the third wolf who had not escaped. Who had been left to misery all this time- how long had that possible been??? The second door, the middle door, needed but a glance before she went running into it, after it.

The life tree! What would happen if it were to be destroyed? The cure would be lost. Many would die - Sreda's sister, her cousin, Vitus and surely countless others. And what would happen to those who were given life by this magical tree? Would they seize to exist? Would her children just up and disappear, as had do many others in her life?

Sorrow gripped Wardruna's heart while rage boiled her blood and her breath hitched, for as she looked over the countless bodies who were here now, in the waking world, there was Rhaegal, her son. No! Pushing and shoving her way through the battlefield, she reaches him, standing before him as though to shield him with her very being should any come their way. My son - Rhaegal. She steadies him, drawing his attention with her closeness. Remember the magic tree I told you and your sisters about? That is it and it needs our help now. He nods, quiet, listening. He had not choose but to do so. You sit back and watch from me okay? This is how you will protect your sisters.

A smile she fights to her face for her son, shaken only as she turns away to join the battle. There were many of these vile creatures here. The creatures from her dreams, but there was just as many, if not more, of those who fought to save Mythris now.

skill: warrior

Sleep came and so did the dreams. He remembered the first, made out like a horror movie to recap all the fucked up shit that had been going on in this world before Rheagal was born. Giving him a full slide show of the world's past, as he, the future, was made to face it. To put an end to it. But what on earth could a child entirely do?

He was given choice and so he chose, walking towards the door with a great and magical tree. A battlefield. Was it Valhalla?? Rhaegal stood in watch, frozen in spot. It was instinct alone which caused his legs to tremble, caused his fur to stand on end. War, war and the boy was in the middle of it. Fear was a natural instinct, but what came unnaturally for a child was the excitement which also fueled him, aiding to his quivering.

He watched as wolves fought to protect the tree. Ripping and tearing at these grotesque, mutilated creations which once called themselves wolves too. Corrupt magic of Mythris had done this to them… but what had made the magic corrupt to begin with? Maybe they just didn't know how to use the power correctly, precisely. Fools! Surely his momma Sreda would have known.

And then, at the very thought of his mother, another one showed up. Móður. He is attentive to her words, nodding sharply as his mother turned this into a life lesson. Watch, learn. His conviction is unshakable. These vile creatures were done. This world belonged to them now. I will protect, Móður.

Rivers was a lover, not a fighter. But he belonged to the natural world, to the ancient roots of trees and summer grasses blowing in breeze. He would protect the Tree and heed the call in defense of all green, growing things.

It would make a great story to tell, someday! As long as he didn't make a mess of himself. But if he did, he hoped Elaine would be around to mend him in the aftermath... Truth be told he rather liked the idea of having scrapes and bruises tenderly salved by those soft white paws.

So, untroubled by the future, enthusiastic in the moment, fae leapt into the fray.