Magnus had gone on longer than many without being infected. So many members of the Armada had been leaking ooze from every orifice imaginable, not to mention the ones that had crystals or mushrooms growing from all of the places that ooze! How he had managed to avoid everything was beyond him, but he certainly wasn't going to complain, either. Unfortunately, being one of the few healthy wolves, it meant Magnus had to put in a little more work than he had been used to lately. The cool weather was wreaking havoc on his poor, sore joints at the coldest points, but often kept him pretty comfortable now that spring was rolling around. With three legs, he had only really been doing his part patrolling. Hunting was difficult since he didn't have the speed, stamina, or balance that he once had and he wasn't even about to get into fishing skill, or lack thereof.

Unfortunately for him, that meant he had to put some hours in hunting today. Even with help, hunting anything larger was out of the question. He could probably manage a deer or other smaller hoofed animal, but boar or anything predator was likely too strong for him, being out of shape and seven years old now. He sighed, wishing he had his old self back. The Magnus he remembered... with four legs. He didn't want to leave the borders if he didn't have to today, knowing there was usually plenty to go around on the smaller end of things within the borders. Rabbits, coyotes, and of course the crabs on the beach were plentiful everywhere and with the events as of late, most of these strange animals were covered in blue markings and other similar infections to what the wolves of the armada were plagued with.

He could hear chattering and yipping near the borders of the pack, catching the attention of his pale ears and he set his hobbled course in it's direction. He could tell immediately that it was a group of coyotes, although any more than just a few was too much for him. If he were lucky, the group would run off at the sight of a wolf, but if they saw his missing leg then they would probably take a different approach. Magnus would rather have three legs than two, after all, and he wasn't looking into being quartered separated into thirds, even if the sweet relief of death at this point was more welcoming than walking around in a world full of not just his own mystery, but a plague that might just wipe out half, if not more, of the wolves in Boreas and Auster.

Crouching in the tall grasses of the plains, Magnus was relatively obscured and was able to watch the coyotes mingle about at the edge of the pack. He noticed that they, like the wolves, were infected with ooze. Some only a little, some definitely more than others. Some looked like they were struggling and some looked like they were just fine, as if their symptoms hadn't started to weigh them down yet. Every single coyote had some form of oozing, but most weren't so bad. There were only a few that hung their heads low as if they were heavy and moved strangely, more robotic and slower than usual. He already knew, or assumed at least, that these coyotes would be easier to catch versus the healthier ones. Perhaps the healthier ones would even leave their sick brethren behind in an attempt to save their own lives, knowing that these few were far too gone to even try to protect and save. Magnus couldn't turn down the oppertunity to bring down one of these infected canids, even if it wouldn't provide food to the pack. Maybe just providing another sample of the infection would help in creating some kind of cure, or even something to help just a little would be nice.

Despite being three legged, he was still fast. Although age and a missing leg had taken it's toll on him, it didn't take him but a few seconds to latch his teeth around the flank of one of the sickest coyotes. Being much larger than the smaller canid, he could easily shake the canid and it wasn't but a moment or so later that the animal succumbed to it's illness and snapped neck. The other coyotes, as expected, had run off and away from the borders. Though he suspected that they would be back, he did little to worry about it now. However, as much as he wanted to bring the carcass of the coyote back to the Armada in one piece, he did wonder if leaving it's body behind would be a good trick in keeping them out. It worked for regular coyotes, so why not an infected one? Worth a shot, at least.

Magnus went to work quickly, choosing to at least empty the animal of its insides to take back for research but leaving the skin behind. There were plenty of animal skins, included infected ones and this one didn't look any different from the rest. He didn't know the first thing about healing or science or anything, but he did know when something looked different. Blood wasn't supposed to glow, was it? He hadn't noticed it before, through the open wound he had left on it's flank from shaking it around, but now that he had cut into the being's belly the glowing blood came forth like a wave. His purple eyes widened, wondering if this had been noted yet. He hadn't heard anything of it, but again wasn't in that circle to know either. He did know that he couldn't leave this carcass here anymore. It had to make the trip back with him so that it could be studied, but he still wanted to get the rest of the coyotes to stay off of the borders. If he had another wolf to help, then perhaps herding the coyotes into the jaws of a more able-bodied wolf would yield a higher success rate in taking out these infected things.

With a sigh, Magnus returned to dressing the coyote he had killed initially. After having chased the coyotes off hunting this one, he doubted that they would be back any time soon to catch another even if someone did come and help. Magnus certainly didn't have much energy left for running or catching, so he settled for returning this project back to the healers. Once the coyote was dressed and stored properly, he set it aside. A rest for a little while would be nice, so he settled in the cool grass and stretched his sore limbs. If he got lucky, maybe he'd feel rested in time for the coyotes, or something else glowy, to come around again.

"Speech."

Basilisk scurried through the grass, chasing the light of a firefly as it led him through the Armada. The soft glow was spellbinding, and he found his blue gaze drawn to it. It got ahead every now and then, mostly when he was too busy tripping over his own paws. Eventually however, it led him on a merry chase, and then zipped upwards, vanishing somewhere into the dark sky.

Bas sighed softly, looking after the departing creature, before shaking his head, as if to clear it. He looked about himself, and realised he had no idea where he was. He was pretty big for a pup, but he still couldn’t look over the tops of the grass. Guess he just had to bumble about some more and hope he found something familiar…

He continued forward, the scent of blood catching his nose moments before he tripped over an unfamiliar form. With a yip of surprise, his head crashed into plush fur.

"Speech"

A little rest is exactly what the aging man needed. It felt good to get off his legs and allow himself to stretch out in the ominous darkness of the early afternoon. The days were always cool without the warmth of the sun, but it felt good to him now. It was easy for him to relax, laying out flat on his side and closing his eyes to give them a good rest, too.

Magnus jumped suddenly when something landed on him. His eyes were closed as he enjoyed a little nap, hardly expecting someone else to be out here and tripping over him. He woke quickly, his eyes wide as he stared down at the large mass of black, blue, and white fur pressed into him. He began to adjust himself, hoping whoever it was would get off. He didn't even recognize this wolf, but he had heard there was a new litter around. Was this one? They were awfully large to be new...

"Speech."

Crashing was already a familiar concept to the young wolf. His giant paws seemed almost made for tripping over. At least this time he had a soft landing. He shook his head, and sneezed as fur tickled the inner recess of his nostrils. As he took stock of where he had landed, the mountain beneath him began to move. The movements gently nudged him back to his own paws.

He obligingly took his weight of the mountain of fur, and looked up at the stranger's unfamiliar purple gaze. “Oh hi Mister, I’m sorry!” he said, settling back on his hunches. Only then did he take in the shape the other wolf was in. “Oh wow, gee whiz, mister, how did you get those scars?”

"Speech"