Exposed “Artio” Lebraid There was a caliginous, funereal temptation that fed on the walking graveyard’s pinky flesh, nerves practically palpitating at the thought of, well, plenty. It seethed, broiled and scorched like tarns of cavernous, carmine lava; the very feeling of madness, or perhaps volatility, catapulted in the pits of Lebraid’s stomach, begging to be let out at a moment’s notice. No, that simply will not do. The acquisition in the orchid of bones proved to be insightful, edifying, a dupe’s errand if she were the one that wore the crown, a title, a podium of plenary power. In preceding worlds, there were few hare-brained enough to try, and failed wretchedly. She didn’t care for cretins, shilpits or decrepit’s alike, their very existence bathing no breath of importance nor aptitude –– there’d been circumstances where death, be it may, was the only suspension. There would be no mercy, no charity, no rapport. You had to make an example out of those who cannot conform, right? How else were these jesters meant to learn? A grisly, implacable snarl exhumed from the depths of the monochrome wolf’s gullet, ears taut and eyes completely bereft of all emotion. She breathed, rough-hewn, chasmic and omened like ghouls from the infernal. Soon, however, the sun began to sink, twilight tinctures swallowing the earth in a robe of denim, where phosphorescent microbes divulged itself beneath each step. Its iridescent lucency’s were not new, albeit it being a spectacle to most -- jots of sand squelched betwixt each toe, briny seaspray bludgeoning against her thick, tussled jacket -- knots, even, aroused at every expense. Of course, it wasn’t the aftermath of the challenge nor the impulse to globetrot that led the hellion here. She’d pause, pale rumbles resonant beneath the earth’s porous exterior. Was it a subtle reminder of the Helheim, perchance purgatory, that lay dormant in reality? Or, was it yet another coincidence? Ambiguity was a feeling most ill-flavoured, slaver maiming over ebony lips; and then, the earth gave way, falling mere feet below into a shoal gorge. What felt like an eternity was only seconds, umbra swallowing the illuminance of dusk as pain draped the woman’s underside with lacerations, bruising imminent. What the actual fuck? In here, there was no ocean, no sand, no sun, just a labyrinth in the gauge of a foreign land. Splintered, ghastly growls reverberated throughout the tunnels like an archfiend’s spawn, abhorring the alarum that falconed from its descent. A huff perforated, realising that this was a web of channels, captivated by skyless verges –– lacklustre galaxies narrowed sinisterly, watching, perusing. There was truly no telling what she might do in a situation where outcomes cannot be reigned, and that was a perilous game to play part in. So, what now? Action. | “Speech.” | Skill. “Wrong me once, I’ll kill you twice.” Template by Raine <3

Kestrel left the familiar lands of the Raiders and trotted down to the Bifrost that separated the two main lands. At least it wasn’t too far a walk from his pack's territory. He could almost believe he still felt the last remaining echoes of the earthquake beneath his paws as he crossed the sand bridge. Feeling far from secure across the thin walk. Even when solid land was beneath his paws again, he felt on edge.

Uncertainty ringed through his body as he arrived at the shimmering shore, and found the strange collapsed territory and exposed tunnels beneath. Well, no way through but forward. So he stepped into the closest tunnel, already catching the scent of other wolves as many others explored these strange anomalies.


"Speech"