10/16/2023 - 11/18/2023 | 11:59:59PM IST

The Beast Within

The days following Ylva and Hels return to Ulfrheim would be filled with enough questioning from Fenrir himself to leave both Alphas exhausted. Each night they laid in silence within Ylvas cove where the silvery coated Felvarg did her best to make her lover feel welcome. The months to come would be a learning curve for them both. Neither familiar with sharing onefels space with anotherfel, and equally Hel adjusting to a life she had never lived before. A few short months ago Fenrir was the enemy, Ylva was the enemy. Days often felt like an illusion when Hel would wake within the warm lit hollow safe from harm's way. The two were inseparable, so much so Felvargs would argue they were tied together by more than the red string of fate. Hel would argue Ylva was a drug, addicted to her more now than ever. Her love for Ylva did not stop the glares she received when exploring The Great Maw. Given all the bad she had done it would take more than falling in love with the daughter of Fenrir to save her from her demons. As for where they had planned to be in a few months time? Well that was still undecided, existing was challenging enough without the added worry for even more change.

The Crescent Throne still sits barren, nofel dared to discuss its fate. Helvalla and Ulfrheim as a whole delicate from the fires reigned upon them from Sindrivda. Storms roared across the Islands in tow leaving them battered and bruised begging for relief. Given these recent events it was sure to be a challenging winter they each would face, rumors saying it will be the coldest winter the Islands have seen since the twoleggers became extinct. Despite autumn just settling in, Felvargs could be seen preparing for the chilling winter nights as they quickly approached. Unease followed any conversation regarding the topic and after everything that had happened in the previous months who could blame anyfel?

Sanctuary had been declared, and with Aurora at Odins side the two began an army of their own. Rumors speak of a Village southwest of Eptara’s Way, Sanctuary had claimed this territory and they can frequently be seen building upon the ruins that once lay in the Villages place. Edgewater is the word murmured when it was being discussed and should you ask the locals here they would say that is what the Village was once called when Eptara’s pack inhabited it. Sanctuary would no doubt be feeling pressure to build something substantial to shield them from the monstrous winter storms that would soon be unleashed upon Helvalla. Being against the waters edge would mean Hongerige would not be merciful to those who inhabited Edgewater now.

Helvalla surfacing upon Hongerige now a boat trip from both Jormungandr and Ulfrheim would take some adjusting. Up until now boats that traversed in west waters were met with nothing but the sea, never ending it seemed. Questions surfaced in brothels and pubs alike, as to if the magical properties of Helvalla would mean a change to life as they know it. It was far too early to know for sure. Rumors spread of a mysterious figure caught lurking within Ulfrheim’s shadows. These were tense times, but even you had experienced the figure peering from within the darkness, so you know there was some truth to it.

As night draws on as you find yourself within a pub tucked deep within Skalaness, as you prepare to leave a Felvarg bursts in panicked and tripping over his own paws as he scrambles behind you in fear. The entire pub falls silent as everyfel's attention turns to both you and the distressed Felvarg. He is mumbling on about somefel following him, and quickly the pub returns to normal and shrugs off the encounter. Curiously you exit and look left and right cautiously. While you do not immediately see anyfel you catch a scent of something in the air, burnt fur of some sort. What a peculiar scent as it lays thick in the air now. A voice a few passages over causes your ears to swivel backwards to observe, It’s Fenrir and he seems disgruntled. “You, show yourself!” He demands. You turn to approach and explore the altercation but as you turn the corner a mysterious figure crashes into you. The two of you topple over as you grunt in pain disorientated. It is at this moment you lock eyes with the beast. The Hellhound seems familiar to you but you can not place from where. It is cloaked but slicing through the darkness blue orbs glow, an orange ring around its pupil. The beast stands and snarls at you readying itself to lunge, however Fenrir turning the corner catches you both off guard as it startles the beast, causing it to bolt off behind you. You look at Fenrir now confused as he helps you to all fours, “Well don’t just stand there, flank right, and I’ll meet you left!” Fenrir leaves you no choice as he bolts off through the huts to the left in pursuit of the figure.

Objective:

Depict or write your Felvarg sprinting through the Village of Skalaness in pursuit of the mysterious figure. The moon and street lamps are all the light you have so you will have to rely on what you smell and hear to guide you.

Reward:

1,500 Felcredits, 1x Chest of War, Peace, Power, Knowledge, 1x Long Lost Treasure, 1x Flashlight, 1x Stolen Blackmarket Goods, 50% Chance for 1x Magical Dragon Egg

11/16/2023 - 12/15/2023 | 11:59:59PM IST

Prying Eyes

Entering the snowy forest of Melrakki in winter feels like stepping into a serene realm where time slows, and nature unveils its quiet magnificence. The snow-laden branches of ancient pines bow under the weight of glistening crystals, creating a breathtaking canopy that filters the soft winter sunlight. The ground, once a mosaic of autumn hues, now lies beneath a seamless quilt of pure white, every contour and detail smoothed by the hand of winter. The air is a crisp elixir, carrying hints of pine, cedar, and the earthy musk of decaying leaves beneath the snow. Occasionally, a gust of wind rustles the branches, causing a gentle cascade of snow to fall, like nature's own silent applause. The stillness is almost tangible, interrupted only by the muffled sounds of your own paw steps on the snowy path. It's a symphony of crunching snow, a soothing rhythm that harmonizes with the tranquil surroundings. You can't help but marvel at the intricate web of icicles that dangle from branches like nature's own chandeliers. The forest had become a magical realm, where every tree, every snowflake, and every breath of wind contributes to a harmonious masterpiece. As you wander the snow laden woods in awe, the sight of smoke billowing towards the heaven's catch your attention. Hunkering your belly down into the snow, you creep towards a natural clearing, careful to conceal yourself as you move to discover the source of the smoke.

Gently maneuvering your body beneath a bush, you feel the soft caress of snow dislodging from the branches and settling on your fur. With a careful stillness, you resist the urge to shake it off, choosing instead to absorb the unfolding tableau with a quiet reverence. The speaker's hushed words send a mysterious murmur, reminiscent of an ancient tongue, tickling your ears. Sigrid sits amidst a circle of candles, an intimate communion with nature as she presides over a deer's lifeless form that lays in quiet stillness before her. A sacred ceremony unfolds, a poignant expression of gratitude for the sacrifice made to sustain her and her family. Wisps of fragrant smoke rise from the incense sticks at the deer's head, intertwining in an intricate dance before ascending skyward. Sigrid's bowed head and outstretched paw convey a deep connection with the spirit of the deer, her whispered words a tender acknowledgment of the life given. Behind them, a small fire crackles, casting an enchanting orange glow that adds warmth to the scene. The crackling flames harmonise with the words of thanks, creating an atmosphere of serene appreciation. The snow and ice around the pair catch the gleaming embers, the oranges ebbing and flowing like a tide around them. It was as if the very forest around them were breathing in time with Sigrid, lending their aid to the ceremony.

Moments pass, and you are left with a few options: You can reveal yourself, sitting in with Sigrid in the center of Melrakki in this sacred ceremony, or you can continue to observe from a distance as you are now. As the choices roll through your brain, you happen to catch a glimpse of Sigrid's satchel, laying unguarded between your hiding place and the ceremony. It is full to the brim with ceremonial goods, and is wildly unattended. The choice is yours, do you attend, observe, or take the opportunity to grab the bag and run for the hills?

Objective:

Depict or write your Felvarg making their choice. Whatever choice you make, you must depict part of the ritual taking place before you.

Reward:

1x Long Lost Treasure, 1x Sack of Festive Herbs, 1x Shrine, and 1,000 Felcredits.

11/03/2023 - 12/02/2023 | 11:59:59PM IST

Hhrutr

Winter's icy breath swiftly descended upon the land, cloaking the towering mountain peaks in a glistening mantle of snow. The resilient Felvargs, inhabitants of these rugged realms, stood prepared, their dwellings adorned with towering piles of furs, reaching skyward like regal thrones. Amidst this wintry tapestry, the quaint village of Hvaleyrr revealed itself, cradled between majestic peaks, tendrils of smoke weaving enchanting patterns into the overcast heavens. Having braved the ascent of Fenrir's Incisor, travelers eagerly sought refuge in Hvaleyrr, their weary forms yearning for the warmth promised by the renowned tannery that awaited them at the journey's end.

Your paws feel frozen as you at last step inside the tannery, piles of furs lining every possible area in the room. There are pelts in the most brilliant of colours that you haven't seen before, your eyes growing wide in awe. Seeing your cold, shivering form, a teller makes her way over to you, draping a fur cloak over your shoulders. You diffuse into the comforts, almost forgetting about your journey as you melt into the soft cloak around you. Without hesitation you follow her to view the best of their pelts. Your eyes land on one pelt in particular, a regal swatch of tan and white adoring the coat. You reach out to touch the fur, only to leap back in shock as it let's out a bleat. Both you and the shop keep eye each other in dismay, and not able to help yourself, you reach out and touch the coat again. This time the creature stands, unburdening himself from the plethora of coats that he had been so comfortably napping in. Turning to eye you in a rather grumpy demeanor is none other than Hhrutr. Furs still cling to his form as he stomps a cloven hoof on the floorboards below. Clearly unhappy with being woken up from his nap, he charges at you, sending pelts flying in every direction. Apparently he had made his way into the tannery and found himself quite the cozy bed, before he was so rudely awoken.

With the mountain goat now running wild in the tannery, you need to find some way to escort him out of the village. He isn't willing to cooperate, not wishing to leave his warm, comfortable hiding spot easily. Pelts now hang off of every surface, more getting kicked into the air as Hhrutr rampages about. Forget about a bull in a China shop, what about a goat in a tannery?

Objective:

Depict or write your Felvarg trying to capture and escort Hhrutr out of the tannery. In this setting you are both within the tannery, as the goat defies your command to leave in peace.

Reward:

1x Badge, 1x Strange Nordic Box, 1x Blue-Grey Goat Pelt, 1x Piebald Goat Pelt, 1x Sack of Festive Herbs, and 50% Chance for 1x Pouch of Punches.