Soulless Forest and the surrounding lands of Stylianos Crypt, Buffalo Knolls, The Orchard, The Rio Grande, and Traveller’s Pitfall are all affected by a magical autumn, additionally, each land seems to have manifested rotting corpses, pools of dried blood, partial sets of various skeletons as well as the occasional ethereal whisper heard through the fog. Where the fog is thickest, you find a statue:

A massive three-headed wolf is seated upon a thick marble slab. The middle face is entirely skeletal, while the left and right most heads seem only partially flayed. On each skeletal side of the outermost wolves, the eyes are mere sockets. A firefly is nested inside that rather than glowing, seems to absorb all light. Their expressions are harsh and judgemental, and the fireflies in place of the eyes seem to move to follow you. At the statue’s base on the slab before it are two stone candles, both unlit, and between them a single, small crow.

The altar here is silent as the grave, despite the very obviously living familiars, they all manage to move around in absolute silence, not a single creak of a bat's wings, not a single ruffling of feathers from the ravens, and not even a mew from the cats. Instead, they look at you with intense expectation. The chill in the air isn't the pleasant cool of autumn anymore, instead, it's a cold that cuts to the bone and fills you with a feeling of foreboding. You understand implicitly that you need to consider your offering carefully, something here is watching and waiting...

---

Make an IC post in this thread of your character making an offering on the altar before the statue found in the Soulless Forest. Each character may only make a single offering. Each player may only participate in 8 total events this week. Note: For the purpose of not making people read and memorize every single post, you can assume the familiars are actively shuffling things around to make more room, and it’s totally fine to say that you put down flowers on the same area where someone else just put a pelt. Collaboration and discussion between site members is not required, though it is allowed!

Deadline for offering: October 30th 9PM PST

All submissions must be posted by the deadline with no exceptions

Riva had a great deal of respect for the nights leading up to Samhain. For, a year ago almost to the day she had lost her daughter and bore witness to the might of a god. Her own companion, the silent and mysterious lynx that had been with her since was a constant reminder to respect the night. Choosing a gift for the altar had been a tremendously difficult thing. In the end, she had gently cleaned the skull of a coyote from her Lynxes hunt. A part of her couldn’t help but think that death begot death. She thought of her little Dante with a heavy heart, and placed two small obols, one in the socket of each eye. A gift she had received for healing a stranger, along with a tale of its history. She passed it on now to the gods, and wondered if she was doing the right thing. It was hard to know what would please a god, and what would encourage them to turn their gaze upon you and send your life to ruin. “May your year be as you wish it” she said softly as she placed her gift at the base of the altar. ""

NPC:

The familiars watch in deadly silence as you bring your offering forward. As you place it down upon the altar, the multitude of cats, bats and ravens begin to move. They form a circle around you, your offering, and the statue before you. In unison their heads suddenly drop, dipping low a moment as one word is uttered by each. Mors.

Their heads raise and your offering has vanished, nowhere to be found upon the altar nor around it. In its place a new item has mysteriously appeared. Something undeniably combat based, dirtied with dried coyote blood and decorated with opal.

Before you go, something draws you to glance up and meet the stoney gaze upon each of the three-headed statue’s faces. A keen observer might notice a distinct change in the expression of each as they look upon the intricate carving, where each of the cerberus’ maws have appeared to curve up into the barest of smiles.

You have received:

Battle Accessory

Staff: note when claimed

It was no lie that he and his brother enjoyed dealing with the ways of death. Whether it was to feed the caimans he often toted along with him or to satisfy Mac's taxidermist hobby, they were accustomed to seeing the life leave the eyes of their prey. One might call them ruthless, but Ghoul would say they're realists. This was the circle of life and one day, their lives would also come to an end. That was what he pondered as they passed by the pools of dried blood, the carnage of decaying bodies, and skeletal remains. In this pocket of magical autumn, he had found excitement prior to the feast. If his brother would pay close enough attention, he might notice something off about the way his brother chattered during their journey.

With the feast upon the Stone Steppe far behind them now, the pale pelted boy had a reason to revisit the same statue as they had done before. Except, this time, he didn't plan on being so nice. Without revealing what exactly he was planning to his brother, Ghoul mulled over the sour feelings he felt. The familiars had not been so joyous about his first offering, and he had taken that personally. It wasn't every day that Ghoul offered gifts to the ones he cared little about. Not that the teeth had been particularly special to him, they had merely belonged to random animals he and his brother had killed. Why had that not been good enough? What was the point of worshipping an unknown god and statue if they weren't going to appreciate all the gifts offered to them?

Finally, they would approach the statue. Through the dead silence that surrounded it, Ghoul would make sure to stomp as loudly as he could with his large paws. The crackle of bones and squelch of congealed blood was sure to wake even the dead. He had spent his time contemplating what exactly he wanted to do to really show the statue how he felt. Would he push it over? Set fire to it? Try to break a piece of? Those were all tempting choices, but as he stopped in front of the statue, his teeth gritting together as his lips pulled up in a snarl, his own ruby eyes landed on the twinkling light of the fireflies. He knew exactly what he would do.

Ignoring the familiars, Ghoul tensed his muscles before leaping up onto the statue. Grasping around the neck of the middle one's head, he reached out in an attempt to steal one of the fireflies...

G H O U L

NPC:

The fireflies socketed inside the stone cerberus’ eyes pulse as you near and then begin to vibrate intensely. The sound is like nothing you’ve heard before, their rapidly beating wings sending a reverberating echo through the stone statue’s form and into your own. They shoot down from the eye sockets in a frenzied rage, not just two of them but hundreds upon hundreds. They surround you before you have a chance to react. A ball of them form a heavy huddle upon each of your paws to force you to remain in place, while another cluster enclose tight around your throat to force your head high. Any wolf watching the encounter loses sight as you as the inky fireflies absorb each and every shred of ambient light, enveloping you in a cold darkness.

For the first several moments you are simply locked in place in the dark, and then the pain begins. One by one fireflies begin to pelt themselves at your limbs, bashing into your flesh with a rapidly growing intensity and strength. After the first minute each touch has evolved into something searing and cold and you swear you can feel them crawling across your bones.

The pain deepens from flesh level to bone - the very bones you can feel movement slithering across - beginning below your shoulders and hips. You feel the first crack and hear the deafening echo of it in your ears, followed by another, and then another, and another. They work down your limbs to your ankles, cracking the weight-bearing bones unrelentingly. You remain standing only for as long as the firefly clusters remain tight around your neck and paws, and as the last blow is delivered and they scatter in unison, you fall unassisted to the ground.

Their punishment inflicted, the fireflies angry buzzing begins to quiet and fade. They form a line as they float leisurely back into the cerberus’ eyes to await the next offering.

You have received:

All four of Ghoul’s limbs are now broken and will not be healed until the start of Winter (January 1st)

The scenery before her a second time changed since white gloved paws last brought her here. Last time was an offering of an Ashen Empress, this one would be a personal sacrifice. Anko, her akita, was something of a gift from her ex-husband but the dog had proven herself absolutely loyal and a capable warrior. She would be an appropriate gift for a god who could so easily put change to the weather and landscape.

Wolf and dog navigated the silence and carefully stepped around the blood and gore that now littered the forest floors. She approaches the statue with apprehension, her heart clenching as she lowered her head in reverence and nods towards her companion. The white and silver furred akita steps forward confidently as her master’s gift, knowing her life is being given. A warrior for the gods or a blood sacrifice. Venom offered her loyal subject.

"Venom"

NPC:

The familiar’s reverent silence remains as your beloved companion steps forward obediently to be offered. From within the statue’s eyes the inky black fireflies begin to emerge, followed by dozens and dozens more. The light around you and the companion is consumed as they begin to swarm, enclosing the canine offering in living darkness. While you abruptly lose sight of your precious friend, you cannot ignore the distinct feeling of comfort and happiness suddenly heavy in the air. It brings forth the crisp and clear mental image of an Akita puppy, her tail wagging so hard that it brings her rear to swing along with it.

The ball of fireflies and darkness begins to shrink and the light starts to return to the altar, the bugs returning single file to the deep skeletal eye sockets upon the statue. Your companion is gone, but in her place something else remains, something you can feel rather than touch or see. It is the promise of new companionship, perhaps a little beyond what normal wolves are typically allowed to experience.

Before you go, something draws you to glance up and meet the stoney gaze upon each of the three-headed statue’s faces. A keen observer might notice a distinct change in the expression of each as they look upon the intricate carving, where each of the cerberus’ maws have appeared to curve up into a toothy grin. A clump of thick fog dances behind the statue’s rear, converging onto its stone tail and wagging three times before dispersing back into mist.

You have received:

Third Companion Slot

Staff: note when claimed

After all of this time... she had found him. His bones, at least. Bowen's sweet little opossum, Boogie... he had wandered off after her when she'd been stolen by slavers and had never made it home. She had found his bones near the castle beach, curled up beneath some driftwood and debris. How long had he waited for her? The copper woman's heart was broken. She cried for quite some time, wrapped around his tiny bones. And then the time came to do something about it.

It wasn't as though she could bring him back to life. That was beyond her. Beyond anyone that she knew. That wouldn't stop her from trying to make his afterlife as good as possible. He deserved that. The small woman lovingly washed each and every bone, scrubbing them until they gleamed brightest white and her paws were rubbed raw. She then wrapped his bones in the softest sable fur that she found in the stores, his remains appearing to glow against the dark pelt. Interspersed with the bones Bowen placed sweet smelling flowers and herbs. She didn't stop there. The woman placed gold, rubies, emeralds within the pelt and wrapped it tightly. Bowen placed the bundle reverently within a polished wooden box which she then strapped to her back. Giving word that she would return, the small woman left her home once again.

Across the land she went, observing the varying shift in seasons. She didn't know exactly where she was going, only that she felt a pull. In time, she ended up in the Soulless Forest, standing before a very cold, austere statue. With a deep inhale, Bowen slid the case off of her back. Gently and with the utmost care, the copper and cream woman moved to the alter. Viridian eyes lifted, meeting those of the statue hanging over her. Lifting the lid of the case, she peeled back the fur, exposing the treasure within.

"I don't want anything," she began softly, still meeting the eyes of the statue. "Please, just take care of him. He deserved better and was a fine companion." Tears began to streak their way down the fae's snowy cheeks, spattering on the stone of the altar. "I offer you treasures, tears and the warmth of the love that I will always feel for him." Leaning down, Bowen placed a soft kiss upon the gleaming skull before stepping back. "Goodbye, Boogie."

"Bowen"

NPC:
The familiars line each side of the walkway to the altar as you approach the statue, their heads giving a deep bow as you pass by carrying the opossum you once loved. The offering is laid and your tearful plea is heard by all.

As you utter your last goodbye to the companion, a heavy fog begins to roll in. The familiars remain quiet and still as it rolls atop them and over, converging from both sides of the walkway until it reaches the base of your paws. Wisps of fog and mist move in thin tendrils up the altar’s base and begin to deliberately wrap about the skeleton, enclosing what remains of Boogie in their mystical embrace.

Though your vision is partially obscured, you swear you see movement between the writhing tendrils. The fog is beginning to take shape into something familiar and alive, recognizable and beloved. From within the fog the ghostly opossum breaks forth and begins to bound happily up through the air and around the three-headed statue. He pauses at the cerberus’ center skull and gives one last look to you - a look that fills you with warmth, love, and hopefully a little bit of closure. His form then begins to converge back into fog as starting at the tail, he is vacuumed up and consumed by the cerberus’ maw. As the last wisps of your beloved friend fade out of sight, a heavy cluster of fog falls from the open air where he last was. It hits the altar silently, but the impact seems to echo out into the forest and brings a thickness to the air. Somehow you can still feel Boogie here, watching you from within the cerberus’ deep skeletal sockets. In fact, you get the distinctive feeling that Boogie will not be the last companion to earn your love. Perhaps your offering has earned not just the favor of this God, but of the creatures on this earth as a whole. You seem to understand somehow that you will be granted companion assistance beyond what the average wolf is awarded.

Before you go, something draws you to glance up and meet the stoney gaze upon each of the three-headed statue’s faces. A keen observer might notice a distinct change in the expression of each as they look upon the intricate carving, where each of the cerberus’ maws have appeared to curve up into a toothy grin. A clump of thick fog dances behind the statue’s rear, converging onto its stone tail and wagging three times before dispersing back into mist.

You have received:

Third Companion Slot

Staff: note when claimed

Hatsume had made her way back around to these lands again, and strangeness had ensued since the moment her paws lighted upon the northern beach. Hatsume had misplaced her sister, her corgi and her cousins, but she was sure that she could find them again, with just a bit of time. Her goose waddled along at her back, eyeing the crow at the foot of the alter suspiciously, but with a flick of her tail she tried to convince the bird to be at ease. She didn’t know much about the yokai of this place, but she knew a shrine when she saw one. Ruffling around through her belongings, she fished out her prize from the last time she she was here, a stick of dango and some sakura petals from her mother’s garden. She took a moment to place her offering just so, and dipped her head respectfully, waiting a few moments before stepping back, not daring to turn her back on the shrine until those beady crow eyes seemed to indicate she was a respectful distance away.

“Speech”

let's just stick to the one night standards

NPC:


Your offering is placed upon the altar and a reverent hush falls over the fog-laden woods. The familiars are still and silent for many moments after your offering is laid, all eyes drawn toward the cerberus’ judgemental gaze.

Time ticks on slowly and then as if to some invisible, silent cue, the familiars let out a soft breath of relief all at once. A sharp caw overhead breaks the heavy sense of foreboding for just a moment, and as your turn your head to the sound and back you see your offering has changed. The flower petals have all wilted and cracked, their colors fading into a stone-like marbling of grey and black. The dango has vanished, leaving behind mere crumbs of flour behind. The bag of water remains but has grown so large that its edges hang down around the altar's marble surface. The goldfish within is gone and in its place, a new animal desperately flails for oxygen. Better get him out quick!

Before you go, something draws you to glance up and meet the stoney gaze upon each of the three-headed statue’s faces. A keen observer might notice a distinct change in the expression of each as they look upon the intricate carving, where each of the cerberus’ maws have appeared to curve up into the barest of smiles.

You have received:

Large Companion Pass

Staff: note when claimed

Kichi had enjoyed the food at the feast though he was never one much for crowds to enjoy all the many wolves at the party.  He hadn’t been rude but mostly stayed quiet and listened.  That let him hear some speak of different items given to different statues, and many of those were now here.  It seemed the familiars had preferences on what was given.  Kichi didn’t give a damn about anyone other than himself and a few others that could be counted on a paw.

A statue of some god of death though was entertaining.  So here he was, facing this statue of death.  The scenery was perfect.  Dried blood, and bones scattered around? Excellent.  Ethereal voices?  Hey, maybe Lurid would be one and it was words of suffering.  That’d be like a lullaby.  The silver wolf with his white markings had brought a simple bag he’d borrowed from another, placing it nearby, part of his gift sticking out, unable to fit well into the bag.  Kichi pulls out a skeleton of an alligator skull.  After that, the silver wolf pulls out the alligator's scaley hide, cleaned up if one had wanted to make armor or something else out of it.  For the end of it, Kichi pulled out a string of leather with a few alligator claws strung out on it.  The simple necklace was the best Kichi could manage.  Kichi killed for pleasure and not generally to make pretty trinkets.  Hey, he tried and at least in his mind, it looked cool.

Alligators were creature that Kichi would label even more dangerous than a bear.  Certainly, this one he’d found along the beach had been a hell of a fight.  He toyed with the idea of asking for a favor but if it wasn’t actually sentient or a god it wouldn’t matter and if it was he didn’t know its thoughts well enough.  He’d see if the statue or animals gave him any idea.  All he wanted was Lurid back from the dead so he could kill her, slowly.  Probably wouldn’t get that anyway but hey, it was one thing Kichi wanted a hell of a lot more than things in life could give him.  "Hope ya like it."

"Kichi"

NPC:

As the offering is first placed, it appears that nothing happens. The familiars remain solemn and silent and the only sound to touch your ears is the howl of a wind picking up and beginning to grow strong. With the new breeze comes a playful dancing of fog, it's thick and heavy weight being contorted into vague shapes as it is carried upon the wind. Soon the vague shape becomes something clearer, something long and slender with teeth like knives and a thick, scaled tail. The fog rolls in toward you, bringing toward you the shape of three crawling alligators, growing closer and closer and closer.

One suddenly leaps, cutting through the wind and crashing into and through your form painlessly. Where the fog touches your flesh it brings with it a chilling cold and also somehow.. a strange taste? Distinctively metallic in nature and familiar beyond the mere label of 'blood'... it's the blood itself that is known to you. It sings to your core and you recognize it instinctively as someone you once knew and were close to.

As you contemplate this and the alligators begin to disperse back into mist, you notice your offerings have vanished. In place of once was... is something else. It's use in combat is clear, not just from it's shape but from the fresh blood dripping off of it. Not only is it meant to follow you into battle, but it seems to have already cut someone for you ... and recently. Stranger yet, the dripping blood is followed by a strange ethereal gas that hisses softly and disappears as it hits the marble altar.

Before you go, something draws you to glance up and meet the stoney gaze upon each of the three-headed statue’s faces. A keen observer might notice a distinct change in the expression of each as they look upon the intricate carving, where each of the cerberus’ maws have appeared to curve up into the barest of smiles.

You have received:

Battle Accessory.

Staff: note when claimed

The only reason he'd come back to this altar was because he knew how to get here, something that was becoming increasingly difficult for him with his deteriorating sight. Lately it had gotten considerably worse, but he was still managing to get around as best as he could. He was well-aware that the familiars hadn't been overly pleased with his decoration last time so this time he'd decided to go a safer route. His choice was boring but he figured it was better than nothing, and he simply didn't have it in him to think up anything more creative. Surely the other wolves that were filtering away from the statue had left something much more interesting, but all he had was a very plain but sturdy-looking rock.

He meant to simply approach the altar and set it down there, but just as he approached he found his paw snagging on something, a mess of tangled moss and vines that sprouted out of seemingly nowhere - and he tripped hard. Just as was his luck, the rock flung from between his jaws and went flying forward, straight for the statue's base. Judging by the loud noise it made when it hit it, he could only guess it may have damaged it but he wasn't sure. Well, fuck. So much for the safe route. Wincing, he paused for a long moment before deciding to back away, counting this one as a loss he doubted he could recover from.

NPC:

The silence is broken suddenly by the hard echo of stone on stone and a chorus of gaps ring out from a few of the less disciplined familiars. They all turn to watch the faintly glowing wolf as he winces and begins to turn back.

You are not given the opportunity to go far, your blurred vision suddenly overtaken by an infinite blackness. The fireflies have returned to their swarm, clustering together in a thick and loudly buzzing bubble around your head and neck. Tighter and tighter they begin to constrict and as the space for them to fly grows smaller, some seek out alternative pockets of air.  

Into your nose, your ears, your mouth, and beneath your damaged eyes the bugs begin to slide, their bodies dry and wriggling as they work their way past each other and into you, all converging in a single location deep in your skull.

The seizure that is induced is both punitive and relieving, as the uncontrollable tremor is just chaotic enough to drive the swarm away from your precious head. They disperse with a buzz that sounds almost like a chuckle, circling your seizing form thrice before retreating to return to their homes within the stone statue’s skeletal eye sockets.

As your convulsing subsides, one firefly works his way out from your nose - wet and looking a little droopy - and begins a dizzy spiral back toward his statue. However unpleasant the experience, you get the feeling that this will not be the last... As somewhere still inside your skull, you still can swear you feel the pitter patter of tiny feet and the flap of two small wings.

You have received:

Seizures.
Veigar will experience the occasional seizure (ending with another firefly departure) for the next two weeks.

Staff: note when claimed

The trek back to the statue is an unhurried one for Seere. She moves with slow, deliberate steps, taking her time to watch the way the fog wraps around the trees and allow her senses to fully open. It is eerie, the way sound falls away the closer she gets to the statue and how the pleasant autumnal cool turns to a frigid cold that seems to penetrate right down to her bones. Dread builds as she approaches the silent sentinel, the stone God gazing down upon her with its eyes that seem to absorb all light.

During her walk, Seere had reflected on the fragility of life and how the living seem to walk upon a knife’s edge. At any moment, they could slip off and enter the realm of death with all their hopes and dreams left unfulfilled. Stopping in front of the statue, the girl allows her gaze to drift upward, alighting on each head for a moment. A small bag is slung over her shoulder and she shrugs it off while saying, “I have been thinking, about life and death. How tenuous all of this is. But, there is also a certain beauty to it.”

Fishing out a small white piece of marble that had been carved to resemble the wolf god’s head if it had been whole, she places it on the ground and explains, “Life. We give and take. Love and hate. Dream and despair. But most of all, we live.” Pulling out a small bundle of herbs that help to strengthen the immune system, Seere places the elder berries, ginseng root, and watercress in front of the small marble wolf, bowing in respect. Taking a deep breath, she turns slightly as she digs around the bag once again.

Pulling out a piece of black obsidian that had been carved to resemble the skeletal wolf part of the God, Seere places it on the ground while explaining, “Death. The end of everything. All encompassing. The end of suffering and pain. A blessing to some, feared by others.” She pulls a smaller bundle of herbs out, the purple pressed petals of nightshade unmistakable. Laying them in front of small obsidian wolf, she again, bows in respect before turning to the space between the small, carved stones.

Her gaze moves up to the statue and lingers on the skeletal head a moment before bowing deeply. Straightening up, Seere carefully reaches into her bag and gently removes a small bundle of soft furs. Peeling them back slowly, she reveals a small nest with a single egg in the middle. Mismatched eyes look to the egg, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she says, “There are many doves on the islands that I call home. In the spring I found a mother dove that had been slain but a creature intent on eating her eggs. I was only able to save this one.”

Laying the nest on the fur between the two statues Seere says, “I tried to help it hatch. I kept it warm and talked to the baby inside. Every day I woke up, hoping to see that it had hatched. Unfortunately, it did not.” Taking a deep breath, she places a paw on the egg and says, “Hope. For a better world. To have health and happiness and joy all the days of our lives. To make a difference that the world will see.”

A small smile pulls at her lips as she removes her paw from the egg and steps back, bowing deeply before the statue. With her nose gently pressed into the ground, Seere whispers, “My only wish is that I get to share the journey with someone. I give my offerings with joy and a thankful heart.” Standing, Seere shuffles back a few steps before waiting to be dismissed.


"Seere  Abraxas-Destruction"

NPC:

A chilling silence sweeps over the woods as you begin to lay out pieces of your offering, the familiars nodding in unison as your intention behind each is thoroughly explained. Together they join in your devotion, whispering beneath their breaths as you speak on life, death, and the beauty that can be found in each. As you finish and take a step back, an unnatural fog begins to roll in... overtop your head. It is as if the clouds themselves have come down from the sky, falling slowly and eventually forming a bubble around you, the statue, and the altar.

For this brief moment in time it is like the world has separated from you. No outside light, nor sound, nor smell is capable of piercing through the arched layer of fog. The air surrounding you is warm and comforting, sweet-smelling and heavy in a way reminiscent of a mother's hug. You cannot help but feel treasured and loved, protected and desired.

From the two carvings you have given, tendrils of smoke are slowly exuded and begin to rise up. They grow independently larger, converging into two separate but similar shapes. Wolves. Before your eyes a scene of smoke begins to dance as the two wolves - one small and light, the other larger and thicker - begin to approach one another. With that approach comes a shy and hesitant nuzzle, fading into an embrace, fading into a slumbering couple intertwined. The scene flickers once more and five new balls of smoke are brought into the forefront. Rambunctious and playful, the shapely blobs bounce around your head and fall over each other as the two wolves look on, ever watchful. An ethereal chorus of young laughter rings out around you, the voices of each individual laugher somehow familiar... and yet not.

The fog breaks and seeps back into the sky, the world around you revealed once more. The familiars are finishing their murmured and intelligible prayers. When you look back to the altar you find your offering vanished, only the egg remaining. The shell is cracked open, small puffs of baby bird down scattered around it and in the middle of the remaining egg shell base, a vial of milky and shimmering liquid sits.

Before you go, something draws you to glance up and meet the stoney gaze upon each of the three-headed statue’s faces. A keen observer might notice a distinct change in the expression of each as they look upon the intricate carving, where each of the cerberus’ maws have appeared to curve up into a toothy grin. A clump of thick fog dances behind the statue’s rear, converging onto its stone tail and wagging three times before dispersing back into mist.

You have received:

Xtra Grow Potion

Staff: note when claimed

Things were ever-changing, it seemed. He had visited the altar in the veteran's plateau, but now he traveled elsewhere to see what else was to be found. Wolves seemed to be traveling now more this season, with those strange autumn bubbles still cropping up in the lands. He ended up following others to the Southern Forests...and there, he found a statue that was significantly different from the last one he had visited. The crimson male approached, looking it over before his gaze drifted to the familiars at its base. They were quiet. Seemingly making no sound. Not even so much as the sound of a breath could be heard. Strange. As his gaze returned to the statue, he could feel a sense of foreboding washing over the area...perhaps this was the deity that he needed to trust. The one that he felt connected to him more than the last one had. After all, the three heads could signify what he often felt inside. He knew he wasn't just of one mind...not when his Demon always lurked in the back of it. Watching. Waiting. Controlling. Keeping him from living a normal life. Destroying everything he cared for. When was enough going to be enough? Until he was dead? Like Elias...? The skull on his head, he felt, probably wasn't going to be a good enough offering. Instead, he approached the statue and leaned his head down, tilting it just enough so that his antler lined up with his foreleg and at the same time, gently dropping the deer skull upside down at the base of the statue. With one swift movement of his head, he sliced his foreleg with his antler, holding it over the skull and using it as a sort of bowl as he let the blood flow into it. "For retribution." He whispered. No more. No less. He backed away, leaving his offering before turning away. "Ignis""Blödhgarm"

Art by Naiterion

NPC:

Not a soul does flinch as your foreleg is sliced and your blood offering is completed. No sound is made, and for a moment you wonder if it had any effect at all. At least until the blood pooled within the skull began to audibly boil.

Crimson bubbles begin to form and pop, the hot liquid slowly running out from the skull containing it in unnaturally pathing thick, wet lines. It runs across and down the marble altar in all directions, pouring into the grass blow. The more it boils, the more blood is seemingly created, and before long the amount that decorates the slab and the ground is well beyond what one wolf's own body could ever contain.

From either side of the altar the blood's mysterious pathing suddenly redirects, the many lines converging back together into one at the foot of the statue - directly before you, the vessel. Before your eyes the pooling liquid rises and begins to take shape, though inexplicably cannot seem to decide upon one form or another. Through a multitude of large creatures the crimson configuration shuffles and then suddenly, explodes.

Your eyes squeeze shut instinctively as the hot blood splatters your face, though when they dare to reopen all trace of red is gone. The grasses remain dry though fog-laden, the altar a pristine marbling of white and grey. The skull you offered still remains, though with only small flecks of faded brown are left upon the bone. Before you where the blood had converged now stands something new, a creature formed blood and given life... by you?

Before you go, something draws you to glance up and meet the stoney gaze upon each of the three-headed statue’s faces. A keen observer might notice a distinct change in the expression of each as they look upon the intricate carving, where each of the cerberus’ maws have appeared to curve up into a toothy grin. A clump of thick fog dances behind the statue’s rear, converging onto its stone tail and wagging three times before dispersing back into mist.

You have received:

Oversized Companion Pass

Staff: Used on Medusa

Her world had changed. She wasn't feeling good. She didn't know if it was something she ate or what, but her belly had grown round and she was constantly feeling gross. Still, she made her way back to the statue she had seen before, only this time when she visited, the aura around it had seemingly changed. The familiars were quiet. Silent. Not a word was spoken. Not a breath was heard. Other wolves had gathered once again, but she ignored them as she approached the altar. Initially, she had thought about asking it for advice on how to stop feeling sick. But then decided, no. That was a dumb question. She probably just needed to stop eating things that were bad for her, but there were so many good things to find and munch on! Especially now that she felt hungrier often, but also sometimes throwing it back up. She huffed as she approached, dual-toned gaze looking up at the statue's face as she stood there in (mostly) silence. Barring the occasional, low giggle that slipped past her teeth. She wondered if this statue had the capacity to help her...or at least, guide her in what to do. She still wanted revenge on Habari, and truth be told, this statue looked like the vengeful type. But she couldn't be sure. It definitely looked like something she would be afraid to come across if it were alive, that was for sure! "Medusa wants the wolves of Habari to feel how she felt when they stole her freedom and hurt her. They deserve to burn..." She sat back and just looked at the statue for a long moment, and decided to reach forward and touch its stone paw. More for curiosity than anything, but also maybe to see what about it was different this time. Hm...nothing she could tell, honestly. Glancing at her companions, one of them brought forth some bones and the other the pelt of another wolf. A stranger she had found, dying of starvation out near the tar pits. She had decided to put her out of her misery. All the while imagining it was Recluse, of course. Or one of the bitches brats that had tormented her. Considering the stranger's state when she had found her, there really was no saving her. The loner (or was she a pack wolf? Medusa didn't know, tar smell was too strong), was too weak and too far gone to even be able to come back from death's doorstep even if Medusa had tried. So in the end, Medusa had shown her mercy. She placed the bones and pelt at the feet of the statue, then backed away and sauntered off. "Medusa"

NPC:

The disposition of the familiars shifts subtly as your offering is given. The most disciplined of them remain stoic, though a few cannot help but tsk softly beneath their breath or pierce daggers at you with their gaze. Others seem unsurprised, as if the choice of your gift might be a mistake that is easy to make. Easy, though not entirely forgivable. As with others the sentiment is clear - intention matters, but actions matter more.

An unseen force disturbs the fireflies idling within the skeletal sockets and from them, the swarm returns. The loud buzzing grows louder and louder as they near, flying loose circles around you in a darkened cluster, consuming the light wherever they go. They seem to consider you deeply, inspecting you from each and every angle... or buying time for the fog, which is rolling in thicker than ever before.

Where the fog crashes against you, flesh and muscle is abruptly paralyzed. It sinks deep into your limbs, your spine, and even up to your maw. There will be no running and no begging for mercy, and when the fireflies are satisfied that you cannot strike back against them, they move as one to begin.

Their movements are methodical and precise as several land at the base of your elbow, encircling the portion of limb in a thick black ring. All together their wings begin to beat, the speed of the movement unmatched by any creature alive or dead. Before you have time to really think about what could be happening, your flesh is being sliced. Pain radiates from the wound, building into a cold agony as the wings slice deeper and deeper, through fur, skin, flesh.. and bone.

You hear your lower limb hit the ground before you can truly comprehend what has happened and with your maw still frozen you are prevented from even the catharsis of a scream. The fireflies converge upon the dismembered limb in an inky black ball, lifting it up before you and somehow, slowly, begin to shrink. The flying sphere of bugs and the leg within them seem to be squeezed, the ball becoming smaller and smaller until finally the fireflies break apart with a loud and resounding crack.

Where the bugs had once swarmed, something new begins to fall. It carries the same light-absorbing properties as the fireflies, though no longer is the paw anything resembling your own. In fact, this one seems particularly feline in appearance. Where it hits the ground a pool of ink seems to spread from it, staining the grasses and bubbling softly. It is at this moment that you realize... your pain is gone.

The numbing fog has dissipated and with it your freedom of movement has been returned. All four of your limbs are once again attached to your body, though a particularly odd deep ache radiates from the elbow of your left forelimb, a distant memory of the agony inflicted upon you. You get the feeling that today the God has been gracious, but perhaps you might want to think twice the next time you decide to take a life in the name of Death.

You have received:

Black Cat's Foot

Staff: note when claimed

Death was a cold thing. Sudden and still, crept along her spine like a shiver as she approached the statue. She had a sinking feeling she shouldn't be here, that a place like this was not right for her, that she was too soft and delicate. More prone to crying than killing. And yet she couldn't get a thought out of head, it haunted her like the grim reaper and had her remaining here, despite the growing voice in her head telling her to toddle away, to leave before it was too late.

"Is death lonely?" She found herself asking the statue, tears pricking at her eyes for reasons she couldn't quite understand why. "I don't think anyone deserves that. Even… if it is a harsh thing, necessary, I think there is good in it too. It allows plants to take the place of rot. Fills bellies and...reunites those who were separated too soon." She faltered a moment, felt the weight of grief that wasn't her own and swallowed thickly. "You do what is right and yet you're seen as a villain. That isn't fair. I'm sorry."

She leaned in as best she could, had to perch up on the altar a little as she pressed her shoulder against the cold stone in a warm, tubby embrace.

Ophie offers a hug!!

NPC:

The silence of the familiars grows somehow deeper as you approach past the altar and you can feel the gaze of each and every one of them as your shoulder meets stone in an embrace. The touch is more welcoming than you might expect, the atmosphere abruptly shifting into something inviting, soft, and warm.

When you inevitably begin to pull away, you find yourself woefully lacking in the strength necessary to part from the stone. Did your joints always feel so very stiff? The longer you remain at the statue’s cold side the more you seem to fuse as one. Your shoulder is no longer flesh and fur but a marbling of obsidian and lazurite. It is becoming clear that your offering may have been taken more literally than you had anticipated, and as hours pass and your body begins to slowly harden, you are forced to come to terms with the fact that you are locked in Death’s embrace.

Days pass and your body begins to consume itself, your excess weight converted into energy that can now only be expended by the movement of your head, which is tipped up more often than not to await the rare summer shower - your only source of hydration. The familiars go about their business around you as the event draws to a close, carrying on with jobs like dusting the statue’s stone and even extending the cleaning to your own mineralizing form. The rain turns to snow and then to rain once more, seasons passing in the blink of an eye. Your stone-touched body is beginning to resemble the cerberus itself, partially preserved where your flesh and fur has solidified, skeletonized in others.

A firefly trails downward from the cerberus’ deep socketed eye, intent on burrowing in and finding a new home within your own. You close them tight as it nears.

When your eyes reopen, the world is as it was. Your shoulder pulls from the statue with incredible ease and you can distinctly feel that your unique and heavy-set frame has returned to you. The inviting warmth that had shrouded you in his embrace has evaporated abruptly, replaced by the foreboding chill that had settled on the land years, hours… or maybe just minutes? ago. The familiars have returned to their posts, and it is as if you had never hugged the statue at all... except...

A new weight is felt hanging upon your side, something that was definitely not here when you arrived nor present for the embrace of your lifetime. It's use is clearly combat-based and on the outside the accessory seems relatively normal. It isn't until you wield it in battle will you be brought back to this time and have the inviting warmth of Death's embrace thrust upon you once more, the feeling so forceful and intentional that it may as well be traumatic.

Before you go, something draws you to glance up and meet the stoney gaze upon each of the three-headed statue’s faces. A keen observer might notice a distinct change in the expression of each as they look upon the intricate carving, where each of the cerberus’ maws have appeared to curve up into the barest of smiles.

You have received:

Battle Accessory

Staff: note when claimed

Pyralis moved from decorating the statue to head to the feast and as soon as she got there she immediately headed to the mulled wine to pour herself a generous bowl. Settling down on some hides she simply enjoyed the weather and drank her fill. She'd always had a soft spot for autumn. In some ways it was a relief to be able to see it again with certainty instead of wondering if she'd make it long enough to watch the trees turn into their gorgeous, fiery colors. As she partook in the feast a dainty black cat settled in at the table, talking about offerings to their gods and even inviting the visitors to do the same. At first she dismissed the idea, wondering why she should bother offering valuables to something she didn't believe in, however as the festival continued she wondered about doing so anyway. Maybe doing so would get her some answers and if not well… she'd find out soon enough. Pyralis dug inside her satchel, pulling out the remainder of the fire opals. She hadn't been able to craft them all into her decoration and perhaps that was for the best. Digging out some rabbit skin glue of which she had very little left she debated what to do with the remaining opals. Tossing them all in an unceremonious pile didn't seem appropriate. She did have a coyote skull she could perhaps decorate with them. Pyralis hummed to herself softly as she considered the best approach before deciding to just go with it. She set it down and started to apply the fire opals with the glue. She adhered the largest into each eye socket. With the smaller remaining ones she arranged them in a pattern on the skulls forehead. Satisfied with her work she beckoned her potoo companion down from the trees before pouncing on it and binding it with leather cordage. She glanced at Alkali but the hawk simply stared down at her with indifference. With her offerings secured she headed back to the forest to the statue she'd first come across. She set both items down at its feet. The potoo made a muffled noise but she ignored it instead turning her attention back to the statue. She stared at the middle face for a moment before glancing at the one on the right. "I should know what to say, but I don't. I wonder what waits on the other side, I wonder if I'm truly a descendent of the gods or just a madman, I wonder what I'm leaving behind. I have questions and no answers." "Talk" "You" Think

NPC:
Your offering is placed and at first, nothing seems to happen. The fog begins to roll in to conceal prying eyes in every direction, enveloping you, the altar, and the statue in a thick impenetrable bubble. It is then that the coyote skull begins to rise, it's fire opal eyes fading into a rich gold as they stretch and contract to take new shape, the bones of the coyote shifting and growing larger and thicker. Even the bound potoo joins the scene, it's leather wrapping dissolving before your eyes. It unravels it's wings and finds a familiar perch upon... your shoulder, but the shoulder of the version of yourself that is somehow now standing before you.

The wolf silently watching you is as familiar as any individual could be, making the differences between you stand out even clearer. This Pyralis holds the posture of a wolf half her age and has seemingly lost her scars as well as regrown her various maims. The expression she wears is especially strange, the life in her golden eyes has long faded but yet she still wears a wicked grin of joy upon her maw. Where the potoo sits perched something else catches your eye - his claws, which should be hooked into flesh for purchase, wrap past where your shoulder should be and into it, like it sits on air alone. It is clear there is more in store for you on this earth, even if your role here will very soon change.

The fog recedes suddenly and the vision along with it, the coyote skull dropping back down upon the altar hard enough to split one of the fire opal eyes straight in half. The bound potoo falls too with a pitiful 'oof', the momentum bringing it to roll straight off of the marble and toward the grass below.. where it vanishes, leaving behind nothing but a dirty cloud of feathers. From the intact fire opal light begins to shine, a light that grows consistently stronger until finally flames have burst forth deep from within. The pyre consumes the skull in seconds, charring the marble as the offering is seared away.

Before you go, something draws you to glance up and meet the stoney gaze upon each of the three-headed statue’s faces. A keen observer might notice a distinct change in the expression of each as they look upon the intricate carving, where each of the cerberus’ maws have appeared to curve up into the barest of smiles.

You have received:

1 Inch of Post-Acceptance Height

Staff: note when claimed

TABLE & CODE © SKELLE 2021
"Speech!"

Macabre and Ghoul were well and truly two peas in a pod. Their appearances, in height and pelt color, couldn’t be any mkre different yet their bond rivalled that of their twin brothers - forged in blood and forever binding them. They were inseperable at this point, and Mac wouldn’t have it any other way. Like Ghoul, Mac had a certain detachment from the fears many wolves faced about life, and subsequently, death itself. It was just a part of life, no? If it was his time, it was his time. He didn’t see a need to fight his fate, but he’d certainly crack a toothy smile and give off a chuckle. He was wild, foolish, and ever sly - tinkering with his taxidermy only further fueled what he believed about the circle of life. Like the prey that fell under his or his brother’s teeth, breaking their necks, their time had come. One day, Macabre wouldn’t be all too surprised if his own impulsivity led him back full circle in this mortal realm, and he’d be the one to have his neck broken in the jaws of something bigger and stronger than he.

But he didn’t pay much mind to that because, well, he didn’t ponder too deeply. He just did.

His unseeing eye flashed like a lighthouse’s beacon through the fogs and mists of the forest, shining like the fireflies that twinkled in the sharp gaze of the three-headed statue they had visited before. Something - perhaps fate, or perhaps an urge to tempt it - had seemingly brought the duo back here again. He felt his larger brother slip from his blind side, luminescent seeing eye flickering up with amusement and a clear apathy for the statue’s glare as Ghoul climbed on the stone behemoth, trying to catch a firefly. A toothy grin peeled his lips, as if on instinct. "Yeah, get ‘em, Ghoul!" He called out, his voice gravelly yet tinged with his sickening, and rather macabre tone. Suffice it to say, after receiving his injury he clearly didn’t learn a thing about acting any better. If anything, his mannerisms were even worse. And he practically followed his sibling everywhere - so without expecting much, he did just that. The spotted boy was a bit wobbly upon jumping up on the statue’s base, ignoring the strangely still familiars that were surely casting him and his brother dangerous looks. Danger was his middle name! Actually, it was Sepulchre - but no matter. Gaining his balance, the scarred yearling, cheshire grin practically curling his maw into the most twisted, wicked of grins, took his forepaws and began..

..tickling the statue’s feet.

Or at least, the part of the statue where there would’ve been feet, but he let out a mischevious giggle as his foredigits gleefully tickled the statue’s “feet”, saying, "Yeah, tickle fight!" All the while.

Ooc: Mac is..tickling the statue.oh boy.

NPC:

TW: Body horror focused upon the sex organs.

Even the most well disciplined of familiars can hardly contain their gasps as you reach forward to tickle the representation of their beloved deity. The air feels suddenly heavy, constrictive in a way that is almost suffocating. The forest lapses into a deadly silence and a chill sets in as deep as the coldest days of winter. If you look closely it seems the statue is almost vibrating in his rage and indignation.

When the fireflies explode from the skeletal sockets of the statue, they bring with them a sudden cacophonous darkness that steals from you your senses and plunges you into an inescapable void.  Their movements are chaotic and quick, too fast for your eyes alone to track if it was not for the rapid disappearance of light as it’s sucked away by the swarm. They are upon you before you can hope to retaliate, throwing their wet, sticky bodies against your pelt and seizing you in place. Once you are rendered sufficiently immobile, the bugs begin their assault.

You watch as the frenzied ink-enveloped bugs move down past your view, swarming lower, and lower, and lower yet. It is when they begin to land and fold their wings that you can begin to discern exactly where their target lies. You can feel the discomforting movement as the fireflies bump against each other upon your underside, each impatiently waiting to begin the touring of your insides.

One by one they begin to crawl, moving single file up flesh and finally forcing their way into the slender tube-like opening. Your urethra is forced to stretch to accommodate their circumference and the searing agony begins to set in soon after. Internally, you’re a mess. The bugs with their writhing movements seem to be seeking something specific, but getting lost along the way. A sudden urge to void your bladder strikes and you cannot help but relieve yourself where you stand, sending somewhat chunky urine onto your paws and drilling wingless fireflies into the grass.

Finally it seems they have found their mark, and as if guided by pheromone the lost fireflies within you begin to renavigate. Another tube is located and forced open, their tiny bodies wriggling and sliding until they reach their desired organs - the testes.

Over many minutes the pain within your body begins to lessen as their movement slowly begins to subside. While you can still feel the squirming in your scrotum, it seems their awkward pathing has come to an end. The urine crusted flies upon the grass struggle to their feet and begin to crawl like ants back toward the statue, while the ones holding you in place dislodge from your fur with a wet squelch and buzz back to their skeletal home. You can not deny that your punishment has ended, but what then of the fireflies that have made a nest there inside you? Perhaps time will tell.

You have received:

Partial Infertility
(You must purchase a season breeding pass to become temporarily fertile for each successful litter you intend to have for the remainder of your life.)

Also, you probably have a UTI now.

Relm hadn't visited the statue that Alastor and his family had seen prior to now, she had just heard about it as well as a few other statue sightings and strange autumnal changes surrounding them. Elysium was spared, yes spared from whatever was going on outside. Relm was extremely skeptical of what she heard. She had a hard time during The Long Night and since then any bit of unordinary occurrences had her on edge. This was not normal, no matter how kind these little creatures seemed to be. Kind, or tolerable.

She followed some of the pack members including Alastor and Kichi, and stayed silent amongst the crowd as she was. Her eyes were keen to look around at everyone, everything. The bloodbath of the lands, the familiar creatures, the daunting statue. She wondered if offering something as others had and maybe as they were told would do well in her favor. Keep her out of the hauntings that were past. They still haunted her from time to time, that was just life. Before the statue, she looked straight up into the fiery haze of their eyes. She felt like she stopped breathing for a moment. Her eyes dropped and scoured the alter below her, and without looking at any of the creatures here to accept the offering she untied her black cloak and slid it off her back to hand it to them. Revealing her scars but she was certainly not ashamed of them. There was only one in the vicinity that would know the meaning of giving it up, but she wouldn't even look to him as she did. She'd be quick to move out from the alter and the land when the event was over.

"Relm"

NPC:

Your offering is laid, quickly and without preamble. While you do not meet the gaze of any of the surrounding familiars, you can feel their eyes boring down upon you with each step you take. They watch you solemnly as you expose yourself and your scars to the world around you and the longer you linger beneath their gaze, the more the pressure surrounding you begins to build. Are they testing your resolve intentionally, maybe judging whether or not you are truly done with hiding? You cannot tell for sure, and before you are given the opportunity to even consider shrinking beneath their stares something begins to happen.

The fog - ever present in these woods - begins to recede, slowly first but rolling consistently faster as seconds tick by. Light pours forth unfiltered upon you and the offering on the altar, forcing you and your cloak to the center of all's focus as the accessory begins to rise and fold.. into something new.

It is clear as soon as you see it that the material from your cloak has found it's way aesthetically into the leather chestpiece, it's purpose clearly for physical protection rather than the emotional safety the clothing had once provided. It's edges have formed deliberately to fit you, embracing your chest and coming up over your shoulders, wrapping around the pink-colored fur and leaving your scarring deliberately exposed for all to see. No longer can you hide behind camouflage, nor have you ever needed to.

Before you go, something draws you to glance up and meet the stoney gaze upon each of the three-headed statue’s faces. A keen observer might notice a distinct change in the expression of each as they look upon the intricate carving, where each of the cerberus’ maws have appeared to curve up into the barest of smiles.

You have received:

Battle Accessory

Staff: note when claimed

Beau had met up with Zakuma just in time to bring an offering to another statue. They were within the Soulless Forest, approaching the three-headed statue. Beau had taken more care with the next offering he brought for the statue. He had seen it with a passing merchant and bartered for it, offering his skills as a hunter for small game for the remainder of the season if the wolf would part with it now. Now that item was in the fat cat’s jaws. It was kind was a cloak of sorts, decorated simply with a hood, and a clasp with cardinal feathers. The cloak itself was raven black, meant for blending into the night, and when it was Beau’s turn he approached the statue and carefully laid the cloak down for the familiars to inspect. “May this cloak warm your god and keep him hidden in the dark of the night.” Beau said before baking off. He’d wait for Zakuma and, hopefully, be able to leave shortly after his partner made his offering. "Talk," 'Think.'

NPC:

The offering is laid and immediately the air grows warmer and more inviting. The ever present fog begins to move in only moments later.

At first you are not sure what you are seeing as the mass of fog breaks into hundreds of long, thin and smokey tendrils. Some begin to rise up from the ground, their tips splitting further and forming dozens upon dozens of tiny trees before your paws. Those strands of fog that remain in the grass move horizontally through it instead, weaving chaotic paths where at the end of each, a misty figure is frozen in movement. You realize with a start that these are scent trails and that even a few dens are shown marked within the thick fog diorama.

You recognize the woods in question to be these woods, and with the ethereal map before you, find yourself armed with something powerful - information. A final, more opaque tendril bursts forth, circling one area several times over to draw your attention to it. There you will find a vial, it’s contents rare and hopefully beneficial to your career as a huntress.

It is as if the fog knows when you have memorized what you need and the map lingers not a moment longer than necessary. The tendrils evaporate like mist, receding back into the treeline and bringing back to your view the statue and revealing the empty altar that sits before it.

Before you go, something draws you to glance up and meet the stoney gaze upon each of the three-headed statue’s faces. A keen observer might notice a distinct change in the expression of each as they look upon the intricate carving, where each of the cerberus’ maws have appeared to curve up into a toothy grin. A clump of thick fog dances behind the statue’s rear, converging onto its stone tail and wagging three times before dispersing back into mist.

You have received:

Xtra Shrink Potion

Staff: Transferred to Sea

Zakuma found himself in the depths of the fog as he looked around. His ears lowered as he smelled of the old pelt he had started to drag along. Whatever it was, it was huge, and disturbingly so. In fact he seemed to be using almost all of his strength to pull it along. He had pulled it from an old carcass that seemed to have come from the magical spawnings. He continued to drag the pelt soon reaching the base of the statue. He finally revealed the pelt. Having an alignment of 10 small rodents.

Among them there were three lemmings each which had been attacked to the point their skulls had caved in and one of them was missing an eye. Following were two rabbits one black who's tail had been ripped off. The white one, well it was white, there were multiple bite injuries inflicted and several attempts to maim as this rabbits head faced the wrong way the strain upon its neck obvious as its left ear was missing. 4 rats each one missing a limb. Alternating between the four it was obvious he made extra effort in the kill. Using unnecesary means as a tribute to the apparent desire. The final rodent was a mole whose head was completely missing. Well not missing entirely it was placed a few inches from the body. He laid the pelt with the carcasses at the foot of the statue and waited his ears lowered as he was currently painted partially by the blood from the kills. Showing they were quite fresh.

NPC:

The familiars keep composure as the pelt is unrolled, revealing the macabre tableau of 10 mutilated rodents. A pressure can be felt in the air, one of disappointment more than rage and the fireflies rooted deep within the statue’s sockets grow impossibly still as they look upon it.

Clearly careful thought has been given to how they might feel about your offering and in the end, the pelt and the prizes atop it vanish unceremoniously in the blink of an eye. Nothing remains in it’s place, though a black cat steps forward from the crowd with something held delicately in it’s maw.

It places the mushroom before you, levelling its judgemental stare upon you but saying nothing. You get the impression that the gods have returned your middling offering with a middling result of their own - in fact, one that has the opportunity to be as punishing as it can be rewarding. That is, should you choose to consume it.

Before you go, something draws you to glance up and meet the stoney gaze upon each of the three-headed statue’s faces. Strangely you can discern no difference between the statue now and from before you made your offering. Their faces wear the same expression of neutrality as before, their cold stares firm and unwavering.

You have received:
Fun Shroom

Used: here

Alastor had led the expedition of the Elysian wolves out to the Soulless Forest once again, compelled by unseen forces to continue to offer tribute to the entity that took up residence in the corpse-filled forest. Plodding carelessly through a puddle of blood and drinking in the scent of iron and copper on the air, the dire brute led Relm and Kichi through the dark trees until they came upon the altar once more. The shrine had been cleaned and cleared of all previous offerings, though it seemed many wolves had left newer tributes in their place. Alastor watched while Kichi and Relm both made their offering to the deity, then it was his turn. The ebony dire wolf stepped forth, deafened by the silence of the familiars that had been so dutifully taking care of their master's shrine. The mood felt... off. Sober and dour. It wasn't the same sort of energy that had been here previously. Dark eyes looked down to the black cat that he had interacted with previously. She made not a sound, and that somehow worried Alastor more than anything else.

Slung around his neck was a large bag, bulging slightly with its contents. Alastor slipped the bag off and reached a large black paw within, producing the perfectly stripped and preserved skull of a wolf. This was no ordinary skull, however. Despite having been involved in this particular wolf's demise, this had been the woman that he and Manea had slaughtered under a blood moon during their honeymoon the night they had conceived their first litter. After their coupling, Alastor had decapitated the woman's remains, stripped the skull of all tissue and sinew, then allowed the bones to bleach to a pristine and perfect white by leaving them out in the sun on the beach, allowing sun and salt to do their work. The results were a beautiful if not macabre sculpture of the interior of every lupine's head. He'd kept the skull like a trophy mounted in his family's den, a reminder of the night he and Manea had created their family and brought life to what would one day become Elysium.

Alastor stepped up to the altar, noticing the small crow resting between the two stone candles. He made sure to be careful of the small bird while he set the skull down next to the statue's paws. He patted the top of the cranium with a little grim smile. "You be good now," he jokingly told the skull, then lowered his head to the statue and the crow in a respectful bow. As he stepped back from the altar, he looked down to the black cat once more. "Your patron," he began, glancing to the three-headed stone cerberus, "does it have a name?"

"Alastor Mendacium"

NPC:

With your offering complete, the atmosphere begins to subtly shift. There is a palpable discomfort in the air and an energy of carefully contained anger beginning to radiate from the statue's skeletal eye sockets where the light-absorbing fireflies nest. The two you can see begin to vibrate in annoyance, though something seems to withhold their ire enough, at least, that they do not outright begin to swarm you. Regardless, you cannot ignore the feeling that you have wronged this God deeply.

The fog begins to roll in from behind the statue, crashing into the stone and through it. Where it converges once more at the statue's front, it's shape is unmistakable. Before you stands the cerberus in his fog made flesh, six inky black fireflies hovering where the three sets of eyes should be. His maw opens and closes in conversation, but no sound is made. From off to the side the black cat steps forward to speak on behalf of his patron, eyes fixed firm upon you, ear twitching periodically toward the fog.

"You have stolen something that belongs to me." She begins in a cold deadpan. "You have taken a wolf's life years before it's time and have shown a gross disrespect for Death itself." The cat gives a deliberate and signalling nod and fireflies begin to fill the air. They do not seek to restrain you, instead beginning to form a thick sphere around you and the surrounding area, separating you, the statue, the cat and the fog from any curious eyes. Surrounding you is now a thick and rippling expanse of darkness, a void like no other.

"You have been declared a monster once before, and in your years since you have not sought to rectify this." Anger infuses the words, though the cat's expression has not shifted. The cerberus-shaped cloud of fog slams down one forepaw to punctuate his words, sending forth a violent explosion of mist. An ethereal whisper pierces the void, an echo from long ago spoken by a voice you never expected to hear again. Your crimes must be punished!

"And yet you refuse to acknowledge the punishment thrust upon you! The blemish upon the faces of your children, a curse that you masquerade as blessing." A chorus of cacophonous buzzing peels forth from the veil of fireflies. You get the distinct feeling that they are laughing along with their God. "I will give you one last chance, Wolf. This life you have stolen will be someday born anew and the energy necessary to bring about that rebirth will be gifted by you. This is the offering I take. You fought so hard to hold onto your fertility all those years ago, let us see if we can make you regret that decision... if you are capable of regret at all."

In one swift movement the cerberus of fog suddenly lunges, crashing a wave of cold deep into your core before disappearing into the ground at your paws.

You have received:

Cursed Litter Pass

Staff: note when claimed

Cyanide had seen the statues on her explorations, her runs.  They drew her in, though she wasn't quite sure why.  Strangely, especially for someone who didn't typically subscribe to the ideas of the gods.  Cy really hadn't given it much thought in all of her time, all of her travels.  She never really had to, with all the other things knocking around in her head.  It was just... something else to think about.  Still, for some reason, she couldn't get the statues out of her head.  Hell, she was even starting to see them in her dreams.  That was... that was enough.   In her travels, she'd collected many different spare feathers.  If it was on the ground, it was fair game, in her eyes.  The pretty ones drew her in, especially the raven feathers that seemed to shine like oil slicks.  Cyanide took a small bundle, nine feathers, and wrapped them tightly with a piece of rawhide.  Securing them in the center, a small piece of obsidian that she'd found in her travels too.  Satisfied with her work, she looped the pendent onto a long length of rawhide cord.  The statue that drew her in the most, however, had three heads.  With the same precision, Cy pulled together two more, identical to the first.  That seemed like a good offering, at least in her eyes.   The feathers had all been found, not produced by a kill, so she didn't feel weird leaving the pendent.  It was the wraith's hope that the ravens would understand, from where they sat.  As she approached, Cy dipped her head to each of the three heads of the statue in turn.  An offering, respect given to each one.  Gently, she set a pendant down before each of the three heads.  The wraith's eyes settled on each for a moment, lingering before retreating into the shadows.    cyanide  he said to be cool  but i'm already coolest

NPC:

So close. The first impression you get is one of disappointment, like your offering might have been appreciated much more had it not had one fatal flaw. How sad for you. You also get the distinct feeling that should that hated item not been cushioned by symbolism the God greatly admires, that your punishment would have been far, far greater. Greater, perhaps, then any disrespectful wolf who had come before you.

Thousands of fireflies pour like tarry black liquid from the statue’s watchful gaze, dropping near to the grass and spreading out like pitch to cover the plane at your paws. No longer can you see the ground at all, the earth becoming a writhing, jumbled mess of the blackest of bugs. They wrap around the wrists at each of your limbs as they extend the living blanket outwards further and further and you freeze in place, waiting.

When the pain does come, it’s relatively mild and over quite quick. A slice is delivered to each of your forelimbs, one that will heal without even a scar. Upon the limbs protected by bracer the cut is applied deeper, slicing through the leather of your bracers and chipping the obsidian of the sheathed knife within.

Their punishment applied, the bugs begin to melt away. The dark, writhing blanket falls to the ground and begins to slowly recede back to their nest, crawling up the statue and flooding back into its eye sockets. You feel... very, very lucky, regardless of the mild but lingering pain poking at your limbs.

You have received:

Damaged Accessory
Your bracers with knife has been damaged and you must pay half the purchase price to have them made useable in combat again.

Staff: note when claimed

Aoife was surprised to return to the lands here to find patches of autumn everywhere. She'd been travelling for a bit, learning new songs and building instruments and had picked up a few things for her family members in trade. One thing she had kept for herself, a couple sets of silver bangles that she wore now on her forelegs that chimed with a soft tone as she walked, like even while she traveled she was making music. She loved them. She was keeping her eyes open for some bells to add to her gear to add to the effect, but she wanted something that would compliment the quiet bangles rather than overwhelm them, so she hadn't found anything just yet.

What she had found was a forbidding looking three headed statue, with many wolves making offerings to it. Aoife, who wasn't particularly religious, had nonetheless been raised with both her parents' beliefs, and the statue gave her pause. It raised some faint resonance within her father's belief system, his belief in the interconnectedness of all things. How they were all one, despite being separate, like the three wolves in one represented by the statue. How death also gave life, how everything was a cycle like the one shown on the statue's faces. She found herself not able to simply walk past. Instead, while her companions waited for her, she rummaged in her packs to find something suitable for offering. She brought out the lap harp she'd made, and nodded. Music allowed one to live past death, in a way, and brought everyone together. She thought it would be a good offering. But... it didn't seem quite personal enough. Not enough of a sacrifice. She made these all the time, after all.

After a moment of agonized consideration, she sighed and took a string of rawhide from the pack, and removed a bangle from each foreleg. She strung them onto the rawhide strap, then with her agile paws she tied it to the harp so that they swung and sang together as they rattled. She hated to give up something so important to her, but it was, she felt, important. The sets she had left chimed together with the ones she was giving up as she carried the instrument and bangles up to the altar and set them down. She gave the familiars a faintly uncertain grin, before she backed away and set out again.

NPC:

Where for others the ever-present soft buzz of fireflies might be discomforting, the sounds from their wings to your ear are distinctly.. Musical. One by one they step out and take flight from the statue’s deep set skeletal sockets, dotting the air around you like inky black stars upon the sky.

The sound they produce is rhythmic and beautiful, reminiscent of life, death, and bittersweet farewells. With each note their ability to absorb light intensifies and strangely, you can distinguish by sight which bug is singing each sweet sound. The serenade continues for many moments, dwindling into a sound soft and slow by the song’s end, fireflies blinking mystically out of existence as their final note is played and the experience comes to a close.

The silence creeps back to the forest and with it the memory of Death’s song begins to slowly fade. When you turn your gaze back to the altar, nothing remains there to decorate its smooth marble surface. From the crowd of familiars, one raven separates from its conspiracy to land upon the stone. Its obsidian beak is chipped, its feathers torn in places. The bird, it seems, has had a rough life here - perhaps as a result of its unique mutation? Whatever the reason, he seems to want to follow you and opens his beak to sing you a short and haunting song, seeking to prove his worth.

Before you go, something draws you to glance up and meet the stoney gaze upon each of the three-headed statue’s faces. A keen observer might notice a distinct change in the expression of each as they look upon the intricate carving, where each of the cerberus’ maws have appeared to curve up into a toothy grin. A clump of thick fog dances behind the statue’s rear, converging onto its stone tail and wagging three times before dispersing back into mist.

You have received:

Boosted Companion Pass
If applied to a raven, this pass will give it a unique obsidian beak.

Staff: note when claimed