08/05/2025 - 09/05/2025 | 11:59:59PM IST

Niflheim’s Nether

Aurora’s hut was a warm welcome, a fire burned within that caused you to release a soft sigh as you entered. Stood beside a table a lantern’s glow pooled over the stack of leather-bound books at her paws. Four of the nine tomes lay before the two of you, their aged covers etched with leacarunic runes. Aurora’s teal eyes fixated on one volume in particular; the twisting script mirrored the carvings she first beheld in the cave at Lake Drakkvan when she arrived on Helvalla for the first time. A soft gasp left her muzzle.

“This shape of the runes,” she murmured, tracing a paw along a line of runes, “it speaks of Helvalla’s children.” She flagged to a few pages within the tome each one appearing to intrigue her more. “I know where to find the one who can read these runes.” Aurora seemed lost in thought, “When I first came to Helvalla I entered Nidhogg’s Spine. On the walls of the cavern runes much like these were carved. A curious creature was there, and he explained the words to me.” Creature? How peculiar Aurora chose that of all words to use. Without hesitation Aurora tucked the tome into her satchel and insisted you follow her.

You followed without question as she led you into the moonlit woods. The stars were cold pinpricks overhead as the two of you weaved through the forest for hours. The great oaks casted mysterious figures overhead, their shadows reaching for you as hours devoured the night. At last you glimpsed the glassy surface of Lake Frostfall, it steamed as the heat of the day settled upon its shallows. A single raft, its wood bleached pale, drifted at the shoreline, almost as if Aurora had arranged it to be here waiting for the two of you. She leapt upon the raft and nodded you over as she used her shoulder to draw the ore and send you both out onto the lake in total darkness.

When the boat bumped the island’s lip, Aurora paused on the frosted stone shoreside. You clambered out onto ground consumed by lichen and silvery moss. Above you, the moon sat low, it lit up the path Aurora led you onto and once more the two of you traversed for hours. Just when you were about to ask Aurora how much further you heard her call out into the darkness.

“Creature,” she called, her tone was urgent and laced with worry. “Friend of the Weave, I bring four of the nine.” Aurora paused and waited for the beast to call back to her but nothing followed. You pinned your ears nervously, the forest felt wrong.

Silence stretched like the ice settling on the island. Your heart hammered against your ribs threateningly to escape. Then a voice.. familiar, impossible.. rippled from the ring of frost-rimed trees nearby. At first you couldn’t place it, but you knew for sure it was a voice you’d heard previously.

“We meet again.” The gruff voice broke through the silence.

A chill ran through you. You spun toward the sound, searching the darkness for its source. A glimmer of silvery fur caught the moonlight at the tree line. Aurora knelt, offering the open tome back into the shadows, bowing her head as a show of respect.

“Can you read these runes?” she asked politely as she backed up to give the creature space to approach. He didn’t, instead he observed from a distance.

A low rumble finally surfaced, “That I can,” came the answer. “Not because I can read it however, but because I wrote it.”

Neebo stepped forward, emerging pale and tall beneath the snow frosted trees. He was not the lean Felvarg you expected but a great direfox, his shoulders broad, his coat streaked with frost. His eyes held sorrow like a wound that would never heal and he was covered in scars.

“These words speak of my kin,” Neebo said, voice hushed as if the forest itself might hear him. He padded to the island’s frozen center and gestured toward a yawning hole where the ice refused to form and the water whirled softly. “Here lies our legacy, a void born of shame.”

You hesitated, every instinct urging you closer. But before you could step forward, a figure hurtled from the shadows. A larger Felvarg and one you’ve never seen before, coat gleaming like the northern lights and thick with brindle; it charged the void’s edge. Neebo’s roar split the air.

“Stop!”

You watched the newcomer leap toward that black maw. There was no splash, no echo; only the ripple of darkness swallowing light itself and nothingness from that point onward.

Neebo raced forward, paws pounding the ice as he skid to a stop. “No!” he snarled, voice cracking with grief and rage. He reached the void’s lip, but the ice held firm only at its edges. You and Aurora stood frozen, the lantern light flickering between the three of you. Neebo turned now in anger as he stomped towards both you and Aurora, “You and your favors, all of you!” Neebo roared out now in upset, “My people lived on Helvalla in peace, thriving beneath the many moons that charged our existence.” You looked to Aurora confused, “That was until that wretched crystal bearing beast arrived and forced my people to flee to Niflheim. Subject to living with the Bjorns, god-willing they’ve accepted us.” Neebo growls now, as his anger grows, just as he turns to snap at you he pauses and calms himself, “Please forgive me, I know this is not any fault of your own. It’s just.. your species? They’ve done nothing but bring harm to our precious Eostrilaris. I only mean to bring them peace.”

Aurora approached Neebo carefully as she placed one paw on his shoulder before finally speaking, “Let us show you not every pelt of our own is the same, old friend. Let us help you."

Objective:

Depict or write your Felvarg stood upon the island nestled on Lake Frostfall in Hevlalla, staring into the icy lake’s void, mere pawsteps from Niflheim’s swirling portal. The lantern beside you is cascading an array of beautiful lights across the ice’s surface.

Reward:

1,500 Felcredits, 1x Chest of War, Peace, Power, Knowledge, 1x Long Lost Treasure, 3x Mushrooms, 3x Berries, 2x Missing Page: Restoring Niflheim (BoA), 1x Fox Totem

07/16/2025 - 08/15/2025 | 11:59:59PM IST

Feast of the First Flame

For many years Felvargs have gathered to honor a cherished tradition known as the Feast of the First Flame. It began in the quiet after the first war Ulfrheim had ever seen, when Freyja herself sought to breathe life back into Ulfrheim after grief had struck the Felvargs who once resided peacefully here. In those early days, she called upon Ylva, Bjorn, and Ulfr to seek out their favorite foods and return to the bittersweet Shrine of Ragnarok, where she prepared a great feast beneath the open sky, stars and clouds roaring overhead.

There, beneath the canopy of the trees and among crumbling shrines heavy with sorrow, a great fire is lit and a feast is prepared. Its heart burns over a wide, flat stone, blackened by the offerings of generations past. Each contribution, whether simple or elaborate, is placed upon this slate. As it cooks, the juices slide free and feed the flame below, sinking into Ulfrheim itself. It is said this act blesses Ulfrheim with prosperity for the year that is soon to follow. A Felvarg may bring whatever speaks to them most. A freshly caught fish, rare herbs, richly flavored meat, or even a meal tied to personal memory. Each offering holds meaning, and each one strengthens the ritual that takes place in the place it all ended.

Felvargs arrive from all across the realm, from Helvalla, to the winding reaches of Jormungandr, and the farthest corners of Ulfrheim. They come not as rivals regardless of their past, but as Felvargs. Ylva, the daughter of the first bloodline, stands watch over the event, offering a blessing to every participant who steps forward with their gift, thanking them for their contribution and bestowing upon them an act of kindness in return. The day leading into the feast is the quietest day Ulfrheim knows. Silence falls not only in respect for those lost to the war, but to grant peace and rest before a long night spent together beneath the stars while they feast. Laughter and love fills the once tainted Shrine of Ragnarok, offering peace to all who enter.

Objective:

Depict or Write your Felvarg partaking in the Feast of the First Flame beneath the moonlist starry sky above The Shrine of Ragnarok.

Reward:

1,000 Felcredits, 3x Flora, 3x Mushrooms, 1x Shrine, 1x Lightly Toasted Felbun, 1x Slightly Charred Felbun, 1x Cloak of Shadows (BoA), 5x Emblems: Roasted Felbun & Toasted Felbun

Optional:

Collaboration Bonus: Collaborate your entry in any way to be granted an additional +15EXP.

Collaboration Perk: Remove the usual quest restriction allowance (number of Felvargs), per entry by supplying an image created by means of collaboration, or art/literature being present at the same time (created by two or more members)

08/03/2025 - 09/02/2025 | 11:59:59PM IST

Hermodr

A thick, suffocating fog blankets the landscape, casting everything in a heavy, oppressive silence. The world beyond a few paces is hidden, swallowed whole by the swirling mist. The once-crisp air now carries the scent of damp earth, and the muffled sound of your footsteps feels strangely hollow, as if even the ground beneath you resents the intrusion. The great hawk Hermodr, known across Ulfrheim for his swiftness and loyalty to the Alphas, lies before you. His imposing form, with sharp metal feathers glinting in the dark night and piercing amber eyes, is now grounded. His left wing is twisted awkwardly beneath him, bent at an unnatural angle after his fall from the sky. His breaths come in short, labored gasps, each one a testament to the pain he's enduring. The message clutched in his talons is clearly of great importance, the wax seal bearing Fenrir's unmistakable mark still intact.

The fog, thick and unmoving, has grounded more than just Hermodr. It's unnatural, likely the work of dark magic, as even the winds seem hesitant to disturb it. Time feels twisted here, and each moment wasted could mean disaster. Hermodr's injuries leave him unable to fly, and yet the letter must be delivered swiftly. Your task is clear: you must navigate the perilous terrain, overcome whatever dangers lie hidden within the fog, and deliver the letter in Hermodr's stead. But it won't be easy. The fog itself feels alive, shifting and swirling as if watching your every move. The path is treacherous, full of unseen dangers, jagged rocks, hidden pitfalls, and the distant growl of creatures who thrive in the shadows. The weight of the responsibility presses upon you like the fog itself; failure is not an option, for whatever lies in that letter holds the fate of Ulfrheim in its grasp.

With Hermodr's guidance, you may be able to navigate the land and avoid the dangers that lurk within the mist, but time is your greatest enemy. As the fog thickens, you must rely on your instincts and perhaps even those you encounter along the way, though not all may be trustworthy in times like these. The question remains: will you be able to deliver the letter in time, or will the thick fog and the enemies hidden within it prove too much to overcome? Hermodr watches you intently, his strength waning but his will unbroken. The path ahead is shrouded in uncertainty, but your goal is clear. The letter must reach its destination whatever the cost.

Objective:

Depict or Write your Felvarg attempting to deliver the letter to Fenrir with Hermodr carefully bundled up with you.

Reward:

1x Badge, 1x Scroll of Mastery, 1x Healing Salve, 1x Cluster of Eagle Feathers, and a 50% chance of 1x Hawk Egg