Bob, the little tawny wolf, hadn’t been in Boreas long, but it liked it a whole lot more than home. Even though the sky looked a mean red, no one shouted at him here, no one said nasty things; like he was useless, that he ought to just die. It wasn’t easy to fend for himself so he’d just been scavenging here and there where he could, but weirdly enough there were loads of carcasses about. The pickings were slim as plenty of other animals had beaten him to it, but he’d always managed to grab at least a mouthful, sometimes enough to fill his belly if he was lucky.

Except now…he felt weird, unwell. Everything hurt, a pressure throbbed behind his eyes and belly ached, all swollen and distended. Poor Bob was so so tired. No amount of sleep was enough, the red sky was too bright, and it made him afraid, like something was coming. And so Bob stowed himself away somewhere deep and dark, found comfort in it, though he didn’t really know why. Just that this was where he was meant to be. He laid there, curled in a tight little ball deep in the darkness, trembling as he wondered if he ought to go home. Was it better than this?

He didn’t even raise his head as he heard sets of paws approach.

The Maw. His mountain. Víðarr had to get back to his mountain, had to be close to his gods, had to be where the only true members of his kin remained. The viking king and his triumphant return, face still covered in blood, everything about him worse. Delusional? Maybe. But everything is so real to him.

Returning home as if dragging himself over a finish line, the viking king is back-- with no sign of the betrayer to boot. Good. Gaze sweeping the foothills, Víðarr fixates on a small, tawny creature. Treating travelers with the upmost respect is in his blood, and especially with the gods so near under the red sky-- Víðarr calls out, tone more gentle than it has been, lately. "What brings you to my mountain?" His tone is curious, open, as he approaches.

"Víðarr"

Everything is weird. The sky was red. The night was pitch black. Beneath, the ground trembled. It felt as if the only safe place was high up on her mountain. Her mountain. Would it stay her mountain forever? She looked out over the cliff she stood upon, able to see all of Hemlock's territory minus what lay underground in the crypt. Sumer was coming to an end, but now that the sky was red, would it actually?

The shift of the wind, a slight rumble of the ground had Delphi moving down toward the base of the mountain, a safer valley than the snow covered cliffs. Through the tunnels and down the winding paths until she sees a small wolf that isn't alone. Bones of animals lay scattered over the ground, picked clean from scavengers. A stark scent of carrion masking the scent of both strangers. In the murky light, she can see their shadowed forms though. A small wolf that looked worse for wear. He didn't even look up as she walked closer. Who was this wolf and how had he gotten here unnoticed? And was that Vidarr?

Delphi's hackles raise, a deepening growl reverberating through her chest. "Trespassing is not taken lightly," she warns, chastising them both as her gaze sweeps from the ex-king to the malnourished boy. "And this is no longer your mountain," there is a threat there as her attention is distracted from the stranger and lingers on Vidarr. Why the fuck was he back?

"Delphi"

Oddness Seemed to be taking him all over the map, lately. Vut he was finally returning home. paws weary as he trotted back into home territory. He was already imagining a long soak, and a longer nap. 


However, two things alerted him shortly after crossing. The scent of a stranger, and the scent of someone familiar. He had mixed feelings about Vidarr, without that wolf he would never have fallen with Delphi… but the man had also stolen his knife and locked him in a cupboard. 


“Whats going on?” He asked softly as he approached, coming to a stop near Vidarr and the stranger… who didn't look well

Meandering as she was, when she caught Víðarr's scent she followed it. He might be able to point her in the direction of Morganna or Erik, since they hadn't joined her back at the Scowle. What she hadn't expected, was to stumble upon a scrawny tawny wolf, his belly bulging as he trembled in the shadow of the mountain, the man she had been trailing asking after the stranger, while two younger wolves stared him down.

Exhaling, approaching with a lowered head, her tail angled towards the ground, she would pose no threat in her body language, but would tolerate no foolishness from those gathered either. "Yer look like yer've seen better days..." It was directed at the tawny wolf on the ground, though nobody would miss the flick of her eyes towards the viking. She couldn't see any obvious wounds, not like on the bison, but strange things seemed to happen when the sky changed like this. "Yer didn' happen ter follow fireflies ter get 'ere did yer?" She was only half joking.

"speech"

His digging hadn't turned up much in the way of answers. With no homeland to be tied to Coran set his ways back to wandering, his feet eventually leading him back up north where he'd first encountered the spires. The sun still blazed red, the air humming with an energy he didn't understand. Coran scooted between the spires and a pack territory, working his way northward. As he neared another pack border at the base of a great mountain his buzzard flew back to him, noting a suspicious carcass as well as a wolf that seemed unwell. Uh oh… that didn't sound good.

Coran quickly followed the trail of the strange wolf with his buzzard guiding him until he came to a small gathering of wolves. A set of them seemed focused on each other but his eyes soon rested on a lovely woman who was addressing a tawny wolf who looked terrible. His belly was swollen and distended and he seemed to weak to pay them much heed.

Coran gently, and meekly, moved forward so as to not further agitate the pack wolves. He crouched down near the tawny wolf, speaking softly. "Was it something you ate? Or are you in need of food?" The buzzard had mentioned a carcass, if it was foul perhaps it had caused this wolf to be sick. That said he had seen starving wolves with pot bellies. If he recalled it was something about fluid retention and edema. But he wasn't a healer. He hadn't the faintest idea how to treat the poor wolf and looked to the colorful woman to see if she had an idea what to do.

It had been some time since she had visited Delphi and her pack. She missed the little alphess! So it was with that thought in mind that she made her way over to Hemlock's borders, though as she arrived, she noticed something was a little off. There was some tension in the air, mingled with the scent of carrion and decay. Her tail waved a bit behind her as the masked woman approached the small group, a number of them that weren't part of Hemlock, though the larger wolf looked familiar, she hadn't seen hide, hair, nor scent of him for some time. Delphi didn't seem happy to see Vidarr, but Medusa had no mind to get involved, and instead, her attention found a scrawny, sickly looking tawny wolf curled in on himself. Her head tilted to the side as she got closer, ears twitching as one of the loners asked the sickly wolf some questions. "If he is hungry, Medusa can get him food!" She chimed, waiting to hear what tawny wolf might need. "Speech"

Body Horror Trigger warning!

Voices. Bob didn't understand what they were saying, he felt their questions squirm in his head, eyes bulging with the strain of it. Trespassing. Fireflies. He'd been so alone, so quiet and still but now- company. More more more. It stirred beneath his skin, thick movement in his throat, made a gagging sound as he unfurled and wobbled to his paws. Thick, slimy drool dripped in phlegmy-strings from his lips; even if he could speak around the mass in his throat it would have only been pleas for help. Mercy.

He stumbled forward, the line of his neck distended and swollen, the mass squirmed and pressed up and up as Bob huddled over, ribs squeezing painfully tight as he wretched and slowly, slowly a writhing and tangled pile of worms sagged out from between his lips. It landed on the stone floor with a splat, drenched with spit, The cluster of young worms began to unfurl, reaching out towards the gathered group with dripping tips. More more more, so much more.

As Víðarr nears, gets a better look at the stranger, he certainly doesn't look well. His attention is split, though. More wolves have come to join, including Delphi-- Delphi. A fondness coloring his expression, though her words don't ring true in his head. "How you've grown, gumman," gaze shining, tone gentle. Taking a step towards her without hesitation, the gravity of the situation entire lost on him. He doesn't... he doesn't remember the situation surrounding his departure. Pieces of his memory missing, chunks of time lost to the void.

Astraios, and then Sedna, too, appear. The boy had turned into something larger, stronger, than he anticipated. A good kid, even if he had a hard time admitting it. But Sedna... Víðarr's fondness for the woman slipping across his face, though she has a healer's focus. Taking a long step toward her, despite her no-nonsense attitude in the whole thing. "You saw the fireflies?" A strange feeling welling up in his stomach, especially given the fact he'd never quite sorted out what they meant.

Strangers, too, had begun to gather. Not-quite strangers, he knows Medusa, though not well. Any thoughts about them were driven from his mind as the tawny creature begins to gag and retch, the shadow's icy gaze settling on the peculiarity once more. When it comes to the mass of worms, his eyes go wide. "Helvete," a step forward, toward the... well, it's not danger. But toward the mass of spit covered worms, still wriggling-- "The worms are still alive?" An observation, though Víðarr's gaze flickers back over the two healers he trusts most in the land of the living.

There are thoughts in the back of his mind as well, things Víðarr can't help but consider. Before he can stop himself, a single question slips past his lips. "Loki?" Was the trickster god responsible for this, for all of this? Though Víðarr's steps don't tremble, the confusion and age clouding his thoughts are fairly plain.

"Víðarr"

Coran turned his head as a strange skull-marked woman joined the group, adding that if the man was hungry she could get him food. Well, it looked like they were getting a good hunting pack together if one of the wolves with more healing knowledge thought it wise. Coran couldn't say how long the man had been without food so there might be some risk in giving him to much but perhaps a few morsels off tender flesh would ease his suffering.

Before much more could be done, the ill wolf stumbled up, tipping forward and vomiting a large mass of worms. Coran grimaced and swiftly retreated back away from them. Well… that could be one cause for the distended belly. The man was horrendously parasite ridden. The worms squirmed as if reaching for the other wolves and it was alarming to see how lively they seemed. Sure he'd seen worms come out of wovles before, either end and they'd twitch and writhe, but not like this.

"Anyone know what Wormwood looks like?"

Her gaze bounced between those that had gathered, curious about their reactions to this stranger. Just as curious as her, she was sure. Though she was concerned, she was more fascinated by the way this strange, tawny wolf acted. He appeared very sickly. Was he gonna die? An opportunity to maybe uh...snatch him up if he did? His coat didn't seem to be in very good condition, but his bones she was sure, were fine. As she considered it for a moment, the thought flickered away in the blink of an eye when he suddenly rose to his paws and lurched forward, his scrawny body heaving as he suddenly opened his mouth and dribbled out...worms!? Her gaze widened with fascination as he puked them out, a mass of wriggling, slimy, spit covered worms! She had partaken in her fair share of foul and gross things, but now this was at the top of her list! She was curious to know if he had more in him, and so badly wanted to just...cut him open and find out if he'd spill more, but she kept the thought to herself and instead, would maybe wait to see if he keeled over first. She glanced at Coran when he asked about Wormwood. "Medusa has plenty back home!" Course, it wouldn't help since she didn't have it on her, but home wasn't too far away...at least, not for someone that was a fast runner. And she definitely wasn't doing anything quickly until after she wasn't plagued with pups! "Speech"

Astraios let his eyes flick to Delphi, looking to see how she was taking these developments. Vidarr returning, the collapsed man. The strangers gathering around them… it was a lot to take in for anyone. He held his silence, watching as the man suddenly vomited worms, still alive and writhing as Vidarr pointed out.

Strai grimaced, remembering his last encounter with a worm. A dream, a strange, vivid dream he remembered about a tree top and a worm inside…

One of the wolves that had gathered asked after something called ‘wormwood’ and he turned and looked at her with a grimace. Was that a joke? He was no healer, so he couldn’t be sure…

"Speech"

Sedna's eyes briefly met Víðarr's as he questioned her about the fireflies, and she gave a short nod, but her body language said they could discuss it later. She rapidly retreated a few steps as the center of their attention began vomiting up... dirt and... whole, live worms. Her stomach turned and a lip pulled back from her teeth, her opossum scurrying down from his perch on her back and snatching one that lunged closer than the others, pausing to sniff at it before hissing and throwing it away. Otis wasn't one to turn down an easy meal, and it only cemented her feeling of certainty.

This one was too far gone for saving.

"It'd be far kinder ter knock 'im out with some valerian..." and end it. Though she didn't voice the latter, she hoped it would be conveyed in her tone. If they didn't have valerian... well, she had the blade strapped to her tail. She could make it quick. Her gaze turned towards the two pack wolves with a raised brow, silently questioning if they had any, "Unless yer have somethin' stronger?"

"speech"

The world began to swim around her. Strai then Sedna, she looked so much like Erik, a stranger, and Medusa. Why were they all convening around this wolf who was so, so sick? Feeling dizzy and nauseous herself, she could barely watch as the wolf stood and began to vomit. It took everything in her not to vomit in response. The worms writhed on the ground, glowing and gleaming with sticky stomach juices. Words coalesced in the chilled air around her, but she felt hot. Her breath before her curled in a thick plume, but her skin sweat and her tongue panted. What was this wolf? What was wrong with him?

Something stronger? Wide eyes turned slowly to Sedna. Right. She was the only one making sense. They surely couldn’t allow whatever was making this wolf and all those prey animals sick to continue spreading. Was it the blight that had struck Armada? Fear prickled down her spine as her hackles rose in response. Wait. What if… her blood could do something? The toxicity of it might combat the worms. A transfusion of sorts! It was possible, no?

Stepping forward, silent and trembling, Delphi stares at the tawny wolf with sunken eyes and drooling lips. Lifting a leg, she expertly slices along her foreleg with a sharpened saber tooth until red, sticky blood gleams in the dim light of her mountain.

“Drink,” is all she can rasp from her mouth as she offers out her bleeding leg to the stranger.

This is the last NPC post- feel free to PP Bob from here on out, within reason. Put him out of his misery, abandon him down in the tunnels to his fate. Etc etc. Feel free to ask any questions if unsure!

Bob was no longer himself; a puppet dangling on wormy strings. He was part of something greater now, a cause beyond their comprehension- something so much larger than even the worms drooling from his lips. He was not the start, merely progress and there was much to be made. Warm bodies, new and safe places to grow. They spoke to one another, moving lips with easy openings to slip inside. That was all he wanted, all he could think about, but he was weak and his movements sluggish, he still trembled as he stood there hunched over with wheezing breaths. Most kept a safe, wary distance, looked at him with disgust, maybe even fear.

And then one stepped forward with an offer Bob-or what used to be Bob, anyway- couldn't resist. He remained still for a moment, before snapping into an almost feral frenzy. Shoving his muzzle against her wound, he heaved and another violent slew of worms slithered out across his tongue, digging into the newly made wound on Delphi's leg.

body horror trigger warning

Delphi honestly wasn't sure what to expect. She had hoped that her blood would have been toxic to the worms, killed them off, and saved the poor wolf. Instead, it had the opposite effect. Poor Bob, once the worms had sloughed from his mouth onto her leg, began to spit and vomit from the nasty, acrid taste of her blood.

Her eyes widen slowly as the worms slide through the thick mucous from Bob's mouth into the open wound on her leg. Blood mixes with goop, sending a burning sensation tingling up her leg and through her body. She gasps at the pain, her stomach beginning to roil. The sight of the worms sliding in, wriggling under her skin, up her leg, farther and farther into her body.

Fear takes hold of her as she stumbles backward a step, gaze lifting to the sick wolf. "What did you do to me?" Her voice is hoarse, water brimming the edges of her eyes as saliva begins to pool in her mouth. Every inch of her trembles in horror as the worms continue to wiggle their way through her. The sensation is not painful, but it's not pleasant. It's unsettling. It's as if her veins and skin have come alive. No longer is her small body smooth and flat, well toned muscle peeking through. Instead, it is bumpy and moving of its own accord. The worms take over, attempting to find their way into her organs.

She can no longer hold it back. Whatever contents were in her stomach launch up her throat and onto the ground. Heaving forcefully until dry coughs sputter from her lips. Ears folded back, wounded leg shaking violently. Delphi wants to scream. Wants to tear her leg off. Peel her skin from her very body to rid herself of these things. But she can't. She can't stop them. Can't stop the vomiting. Every time she looks, every time she feels another one move beneath her skin, her stomach heaves.

"HErlp," Delphi tries to gurgle, spittle and chunks lining her lips as distraught eyes look around at the group. Lingering on Strai, on Vidarr, Coran, Sedna, Medusa. Why weren't they doing anything? Were they going to let her DIE? She sits back, slumping onto her butt, straightening up so that she can paw at the open wound with her other paw. Delphi attempts to start digging the worms out, out, out, but they don't come. They've gone under, inside, and in between. The slithering sensation of them moving between her insides doesn't stop. Constant, she can feel each and every one as they invade her body.

"Delphi"

As Delphi offers her leg, Víðarr's gaze goes wide. What the fuck was she up to, with this? Bait? His ears pressing back against his skill, taking one step forward, then another. Rigid. Stiff as he watches the horror unfold before him. Confusion for a beat, and then chaos.

Chaos eclipsed by rage as the infected beast attacks his granddaughter. Víðarr springs to life, vicious, brutal. Shades of his old self, the man he was before. Distilled brutality. The bastard has crossed a line, and Víðarr is quick to take the husk of a wolf by the back of the neck. Teeth sinking in deep, jaws wrapping the creature's neck.

It's not quick. Lifting the thing by the neck, slamming it into the snowy ground again. And again. And again. Rage in the worst way. Though he's old and unwell, strength still lurks in his bones. There's no mercy, and the corpse is barely recognizable as a wolf by the time Víðarr is done.

Stumbling back from the red mist, his world is spinning. Spitting in the snow beside him, the shadow returns to Delphi. He's... dizzy. Why is he dizzy? Vertigo setting in, the stiffness in his bones taking over, and confusion coloring his gaze.

"Víðarr"