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"

Exposed “Artio” Lebraid It was true she could not deny the profane intoxication of other wolves, a convolution she’d wittingly avoid at all costs -- what need did she have to congress, or even partake? What could they possibly offer such a volatile cacodemon? Still, the monolithic palisades rose above, deciphering feasible options; there wasn’t many, howbeit, aside from peregrination, harrowing the earth or simply leaving. The latter tasted sweeter, really. Lebraid was not affixed, but rather cynical, restive, much like a ticking time bomb that had no end to its countdown. The pain on her underbelly stung, natty clods of hair collecting rolls of mire and soot. Soon, however, there was a sound, ever so subdued as it seemingly entered the labyrinth’s nexus -- monochromatic orbs pulled taut, spying -- what came evinced a blizzard. Well, only in the robe they wore. The woman did not move, almost unblinking as their tinctures bled a tempest of navy, ateneo and sunless grey-blue’s, sanctified by the break of pallid, ivory-washed oceans. A raw, chasmic rumble bellowed from the graveyard’s gullet, undaunted by the man’s girth in collation to her own – drool vined, hackles infernal as expression’s were frozen like eldritch verglas. And who, pray tell, were they? Admittance to descending would not be explicit, barring afflictions as she stared, eerily. Perchance they were here for the same reasons, yet it still may not be; on the contrary, who’s to say otherwise? It was an impaling disaffirmation, of course. Action. | “Speech.” | Skill. “Wrong me once, I’ll kill you twice.” Template by Raine <3

He realised quite quickly that he was not alone. He could sense the eyes of another on him, catch the growing strength of their scent ahead of him. He scanned the dimly lit tunnels until his eyes landed on the swirling patterns of another. Her silver green tones seemed oddly perfect for merging in the shadows of the earthy walls around them.

She said nothing, but her gaze on him held an undertone that felt almost accusing. He bared his teeth in a small smile, putting on a little charm as he took a few more steps forward. Moving to where he could see her a little more clearly. From what he could tell, her scent carried no affiliations.

“An unexpected place and an unexpected meeting. I’m Kestrel” He said, trailing off to give her room to introduce herself.


"Speech"

Exposed “Artio” Lebraid Skin itching, quivering, wresting and jolting, frets of mutability tore against blood and guts, abhorring their bids to allure, but more so their daring steps forward. She, of all hellions, was madly unpredictable, and they had yet to understand this. Would they avail in coercing such treacheries to arise and, well, devour? Midwinter orbs watched them intimately, digesting the name -- Kestrel, fitting to the attire -- she wasn’t one to converse in palaver’s too often, albeit at all if she so had the choice. A low, guttural exhale befell agape jowls, uncertain as to whether they could be trusted; jacket jostling like holocausts in the mountains, expressions bore a sunless, sombre tone, lacquered in adamantine ice. “Lebraid,” It grated out, crown somewhat curving to appear, well, otherworldly as she gaped into their eyes with harrowing malevolence, “What is this place?” Perhaps a question, though more of a necessity –– either way, suppression would not be taken with a grain of salt. Action. | “Speech.” | Skill. “Wrong me once, I’ll kill you twice.” Template by Raine <3