Skill: Howlentines/Ice Ice Baby

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The end of the world was fascinating.

All of the crazy fissures and crackling lightning-arcs shooting out of them certainly gave him the spooks, and more and more he was beginning to think Odin had a large hand in this - but was it truly Ragnarok? The dreams he'd been having since the start of all this insanity seemed to say otherwise, though it was all still a mystery. Runes, at least, made sense in his world. The glowing etched stones looked almost familiar to him, a language lost to a life lived long ago in some other place.

He would find them. If anyone could, it would be him.

Fenrir trekked with great determination through the snow, the bitter cold biting at his ear-tips and frosting his muzzle uncomfortably. The wolf had known cold, but this was not... right. It felt like the end of something, he thought, shifting his gaze up toward the black sky. The clouds had descended so low they almost seemed close enough to touch.

He suppressed a shiver.

No matter. Fenrir would save the day.

Fenrir, he who was ordained by prophecy, called again by the gods themselves to -

To -

'Hello,' he thought with great interest. It was almost immediate how swiftly he altered his course, drawn to a fetching scent on the frigid wind. Like a balm to his noble, gloriously-purposed soul, Fenrir felt a little frozen smile crack at the edges of his lips as he swerved southward, and his eyes were blessed with the glow of a lovely pink flame. The smell was wonderful.

He looked around, and suddenly felt a great and all-consuming desire for companionship of the fairer sex. Surely there was a woman around somewhere he could regale with his many accomplishments (he would need to think of some first though, and very quickly)...

Rune Discovery : 「 Failure — Parasite Present 」 

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The pink flame had proven troublesome to the Dream Visitor, for it had stolen many a cunning mind and willing body from the Hunt. It had left so many of the wolves of Mythris distracted, despite the end of the very world staring them right in the eyes!

The Visitor’s presence grows dim as the night cascades, the darkness growing more and more eternal except for the hue of the pink light.

But the peace does not last long.

The wind seems to stir, bustling the scent of the pink flame into the air. It encompasses you. Surrounds you. Distracts you.

So enraptured are you by the dancing pink fire that you don’t notice the way the wind slips … the way the air seems to suffocate you for just a simple … single … moment …

Darkness clouds your vision for only a second, a momentary flash of panic blazing through your mind before it is gone once more.

And you are left with the flame.

And maybe a headache.

Parasite Event for Fenrir and Alina

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You have several options as a player when confronted with infection.

You may either

1. Choose to automatically fail in repelling the spores, becoming infected

2. Roll for infection (1d100 - 50 and under fails, 51 and over succeeds in repelling the parasite)

3. Choose to repel them, but suffer a crippling migraine and muscle weakness for two in-game weeks

You may roll on the forum or in discord’s bot channel and play out the progression of the consequences without further Narrator intervention.

Note symptoms do not manifest immediately, may take up to three days to begin, and can progress at different rates for different characters. The Blue Turtlehead flowers cultivated by Dawnbreak, Camhanaich, and Satriya can be used to suppress symptoms.

If you are already infected, this will speed up the progression of your illness.

Rolling 1d100: 34

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Scratch that. The end of the world was hot.

Fenrir straightened, clearing his throat audibly. What pretty little creature was this, strolling up like a - shit, did he look scruffy? He licked the back of his forepaw and used it to try and smooth down some of the errant fur sticking up around his head, although it was hard to say whether or not he was successful.

But boy, he felt good.

A smarmy grin laced his expression as he sidled forward. She was a charming thing, he thought, draped in dreamy tones of vanilla and cream - a perfect little sweet treat - and the closer he drew, the greater the flame's affect on his ability to think.

And I've missed you, Fenrir purred, dropping his voice an octave for emphasis on the raw, muscular, throbbing masculinity he presented her with. She couldn't help but be overwhelmed by his presence; after all, he was the most attractive of all Týr's sons.

(Meanwhile, the parasite's spores were burrowing deeply into his brain.)

So... you local? he asked. Me, I'm from Storm's Reach. It's real tough up there. Maelstroms, lashing waves, bitter winds...

He rolled his shoulders.

Yeah. Nothing I can't handle though. I'm just passing through, seeing more of the world, embracing my sense of adventure... fulfilling my destiny. Fenrir swiped his tongue across his maw, trying to look rugged and positively bursting with divine prophetic potential. You know. Man stuff.