10/31/2024 - 12/13/2024 | 11:59:59PM IST

The Element Within

The sound of shattering glass jolts you back to the present, awake now. The door has been wrenched open by the relentless storm, slamming into the wall with a force that sends a picture frame tumbling to the floor. You stand in the dim light of the smouldering embers, heart pounding from the sudden noise. The storm outside is a cacophony of wind and rain, its fury matching the tempest that had swirled in your dream. You shake off the lingering disorientation from the vivid vision, trying to ground yourself in reality. You step toward the open doorway, the cold wind biting at your fur. The rain lashes against the hut, a constant reminder of the chaotic world outside. As you stand there, a deep sense of purpose wells up within you. The images from your dream—the nine elements, each representing a fundamental force of nature—linger in your mind. You know that these elements are not just symbols; they are integral to the journey ahead, connected to the Great Maw and Fenrir himself.

The storm rages on, but you feel a strange calmness amid the chaos. You turn back to the shattered frame on the floor, noticing the painting within—a snapshot of a moment long past, now fractured like the glass that once protected it. The picture feels significant, a reminder of the life you've lived and the choices you've made. As you look at it, the elements from your dream seem to whisper to you, each one calling out with a unique resonance. You stand at the threshold of the hut, the storm outside mirroring the storm within. You know you must choose one of the elements, each representing a different path and a different aspect of your own nature. The choice feels monumental, a decision that will shape the course of your journey and the challenges you will face.

Do you feel the pull of the fierce and consuming fire, offering strength and passion but also danger and destruction? Or perhaps the calming and endless water, promising adaptability and life but also unpredictability? The wild and unpredictable storm calls to those who crave freedom and adventure, but it also brings chaos and uncertainty. The solid and grounding earth offers stability and resilience but can also be unyielding and slow to change. The essence of life calls with the promise of growth and renewal, yet it bears the weight of endless cycles. Death, ever-present, offers release and transformation but carries the finality of endings. The shadow beckons with mystery and the unknown, a realm of hidden truths and concealed dangers. Light offers clarity and hope, illuminating the path ahead but revealing both the beautiful and the harsh truths. Time, ever-flowing, offers wisdom and perspective but also the inevitability of change and the passage of moments that can never be reclaimed.

Each element offers something unique, a different way to approach the trials ahead. As you stand there, the storm swirling around you and the memories of your dream fresh in your mind, you know that the time has come to make your choice. The journey to the Great Maw and the encounter with Fenrir will not be straightforward, and the element you choose will guide you through the challenges to come.

Which element calls to you? The fierce fire, the fluid water, the wild storm, the steadfast earth, the essence of life, the finality of death, the enigmatic shadow, the illuminating light, or the ever-flowing time? Your choice will determine the path you walk, the challenges you face, and the power you wield. Choose wisely, for this decision may be the key to unlocking the mysteries of your quest and the power that lies within you.

As you traverse down a cavern within The Great Maw, in search of Fenrir, a loud ringing in your ears drops you to the ground. It grows ever loud as your head pounds, panicked in an attempt to make it stop. Light slices through the sleeves of cracked rock overhead as you blackout everything falling to silence. As you wake you grunt in discomfort, shaking your head to rid yourself of the noise one and for all. The darkness is still ever present, but you're surrounded by orbs and they all appear to be glowing. Reach out and touch the orb with the element you have chosen.

Objective:

Depict or write your Felvarg inside The Great Maw, choosing the element that calls to them, and how touching the elemental orb effects them. (Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Death, Life, Shadow, Light, and Time)

Reward:

1,500 Felcredits, 1x Chest of War, Peace, Power, Knowledge, 1x Long Lost Treasure, 1x Essence of Trickery, 1x Potion of Defiance, 50% Chance for 1x Cloak of Shadows

10/22/2024 - 11/18/2024 | 11:59:59PM IST

Sorrow's Burden

The air around the Shrine of Ragnarok was thick with the weight of ancient power. The towering stone structures, etched with runes older than most could comprehend, loomed above in quiet reverence. You tread carefully, your paws pressing lightly into the cold ground as you approached the heart of the sacred site. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the distant echoes of a time when the island of Ulfrheim had been ravaged by war and chaos. It was in this solemn place that you saw her—Hel. Her presence was unmistakable, cloaked in shadows and power. She stood tall before one of the larger shrines, the runes on the stone glowing faintly as if in response to her very being. Her fur, dark as the deepest night, shimmered in the pale light of the sun filtering through the trees, and her eyes glowed with a depth of sorrow that few could bear to see.

For a moment, you hesitated. You had heard stories of Hel, her name was whispered in both reverence and fear, and yet, here she was, alone, paying her respects to the fallen. The weight of history hung in the air, and you felt it tug at your heart as you took a slow step forward, drawn to her in spite of yourself. Hel's gaze flickered to you, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she had sensed your presence long before you had arrived. There was no malice in her stare, only a deep, quiet sadness that made your chest tighten. “Do you know why I come here?” she asked, her voice a soft, velvety echo of ages past. “To remember,” she murmured, turning her gaze back to the shrine before her. “To honour those who were lost in the war, the ones who fell in battle and the ones who were left behind. So many were lost...” Her voice trailed off, and for a brief moment, you saw the flicker of pain cross her features—fleeting but sharp, like a knife slicing through the air. “Even those who were close to me.”

Hel's presence seemed to radiate sorrow as she spoke, and though she kept her distance, you could feel the weight of her memories pressing in on you. You had always known that the war had taken a toll on all who lived through it, but hearing her speak of it—someone so ancient and powerful—brought a new level of gravity to the loss. “I have lived countless years,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper now. “But there are still some regrets that haunt me. Things I did that I cannot take back. Choices made... lives lost. Some of those lives were dear to me, and yet... I wronged them.”

You blinked, caught off guard by her admission. Hel, the unflinching, very powerful witch, admitting regret? It seemed unfathomable, yet here she was, standing in the shadow of the shrines, baring a piece of her soul. She didn’t elaborate on who she had wronged or how. That secret, it seemed, was hers to bear alone. But the pain in her voice was unmistakable.

“I have learned,” she continued, her eyes locking onto yours, “that time is far more fleeting than you might think. Even for someone like me, who has watched the ages come and go. We think we have all the time in the world, that we can mend what’s broken when it suits us. But in the end, we find that the moments slip through our claws like grains of sand.” She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as if the weight of her words was difficult even for her to bear. “If there is one thing I have come to understand, it is this: seek out those you have wronged. Make amends before it is too late. Not for them... but for you. Once they are gone, no amount of power or remorse will bring them back. And the guilt... it will stay with you. Always.”

Her words struck deep, a sobering reminder of the impermanence of life, even in a world where magic and ancient forces ruled. You could feel her gaze boring into you, as if she was silently urging you to reflect on your own past, on the Fel you might have wronged, on the chances you had let slip by.

“Go,” she said at last, her voice soft yet commanding. “Do not wait until the weight of regret crushes you. Make amends while you still can. The dead... they have already paid the price. Do not let the living bear that burden.” With that, she turned her gaze back to the shrine, her eyes distant once more as she lost herself in the memories of those she had wronged and the lives that had been lost. The air around her seemed to grow heavier, colder, as if the souls of the fallen were gathering at her side, their silent presence a testament to the weight she carried.

You stood there for a moment longer, the gravity of her words settling into your bones. Then, with a quiet nod, you turned away, leaving Hel to her silent vigil, the wind carrying her sorrowful whispers as you made your way back through the Shrine of Ragnarok. The weight of unfinished business pressed against your heart, and for the first time, you truly understood the importance of making things right... before it was too late.

Objective:

Depict or write your Felvarg seeking out somefel they have wronged and making amends, before time itself steals that option from you.

Reward:

1,000 Felcredits, 1x Long Lost Treasure, 1x Shrine, 50% chance for 1x Blessing of the High Queen.

11/04/2024 - 12/02/2024 | 11:59:59PM IST

Hlyde

The Vale of Whispers feels oddly still as you weave your way through the autumn-kissed trees, their branches ablaze in tones of amber, russet, and gold. But here and there, red stains interrupt the autumn palette—dark, dried patches speckling the forest floor like gruesome reminders of something more sinister than fallen leaves. The scent of iron hangs thickly in the crisp air, and you can’t ignore the gnawing sensation that something is terribly, horribly wrong. Eventually, you reach Lake Willow o' Wisp, its waters darker than you remember, almost obsidian under the muted sky. A chill runs down your spine as you notice strange ripples spreading across the lake's surface. The usual deep blue has shifted; here and there, streaks of crimson weave into the dark water, like blood mingling with ink. In the meadow surrounding the lake, small fires flicker at the bases of long-dead willows—remnants of abandoned campfires, perhaps—but their glow seems unnatural, casting long shadows that twist and shift like figures watching from the edge of sight.

The stories from last night's fireside gathering resurface in your mind, tales of dark magic practitioners who were driven from their refuge in Haldor’s Pass, forced out by Fenrir’s demands for vigilance in those treacherous heights. Some had fled to this secluded valley, it was said, bringing with them twisted practices better left unspoken. It’s whispered they performed terrible acts here, leaving a residue of sorrow and despair that has seeped into the very bones of the vale. Goosebumps prickle your skin as you realize that you may be standing upon the very ground where such unspeakable things have unfolded.

Drawn by a strange compulsion, you step closer to the water, gazing into its shadowed depths. For a moment, it’s as if the lake has hypnotized you, pulling you in, stirring the air with faint whispers, chilling and mournful. You blink, catching a flicker of movement beside your own reflection. Another figure stands at the water’s edge—a massive, ethereal stag, his eyes empty sockets in his exposed skull. It's Hlyde, the spirit of sorrow, a creature whose heart aches for every tragedy, every heartbreak felt across these lands. His sorrowful gaze meets yours, holding you in a moment of mutual understanding, as if he can sense your own unease at the darkness that has taken root in this place.

Hlyde's unseen gaze is somehow heavy, weighted by the burden of countless souls who suffered here. His spectral form quivers with something more profound than grief—a deep, piercing agony that words cannot reach. His presence fills the air with a solemn reverence, as though the spirits of the fallen cling to him, drawn to his empathy like moths to flame. With every breath that fogged in front of him, the weight of their suffering seems to press deeper into his own soul, a weight far too much for even a creature like him to bear alone. As you turn to leave, Hlyde moves with you, his silent steps echoing beside yours in the stillness. There’s something in his gait, a quiet plea, a wordless beckoning that tugs at the edge of your mind. He doesn’t speak, but his body says what his voice cannot: he is asking you to carry part of this burden with him, to help release the souls trapped by the horrors that have transpired here. The Vale of Whispers needs healing, and Hlyde, for all his sorrow and empathy, cannot do it alone.

With each step you take, a deeper, darker awareness settles within you, an understanding that this task will not be easy—or safe. The spirits here are restless, embittered by their fate, and they will not leave peacefully. Hlyde’s gentle heartache urges you forward, to help him build a shrine to honor those who have been sacrificed and take a moment to pray with the great beast. Hlyde’s gentle heartache urges you forward, to help him build a shrine to honor those who have been sacrificed and take a moment to pray with the great beast, in exchange for your empathy Hlyde will reward the following:

Objective:

Depict or Write your Felvarg building a shrine with Hlyde and praying with the great beast.

Reward:

1x Badge, 1x Stag Totem, 5x Flora, 1x Elixir of Time, 75% chance for 1x Chosen Common Trait.