Where is breeze valley forsaken world

With her eyes closed, she could feel it, almost dip her fingers into it, and it pulsed at her acknowledgement of it. Death was here. Balance and Imbalance. Her fingers curled around the dark staff of her scythe, wisps of smoke tickling at her ghastly skin. Argia opened her eyes, lifting her other hand to the grey-white hair draped down her shoulders in straight strands. Nothing about her seemed to have changed, not outwardly. But she could feel something different.

The black, tattered dress wasn't different, nor were the fraying bandages that wrapped around her arms and torso, exposed where dress failed to conceal. Tension shifted across her back and the sound of feathers graced her ears.

That was different. She glanced back, over her shoulder, and saw the movement of wings. Tattered, damaged. Black feathers were crinkled or falling. Those that still remained bled into white at the tips. She stretched the wings out, carefully pulling one forward with her hand to inspect. Argia wasn't created with wings. And yet, in this place, they were as much a part of her body as her arms.

She frowned. The decrepit state made her wonder about any perceived ability to fly. She let the wing go and gave them a hesitant flex. They obeyed, rising and falling in slow sweeps. She could feel strength in them. Air stirred. Flight was possible, she determined. A faint hum floated from her lips as she studied her surroundings. A city drowned in darkness. Not wholly unfamiliar, but no less different.

Argia began walking, the ends of her wings trailing softly against the ground. Her scythe dissipated, the smoke reshaping as a broadsword that glistened with polished iron. Atropos, the Inevitable. She wasn't here to claim souls for destruction. Not yet. She couldn't place a name to it, but something called within her bones, within her power. A dark entity sprinted past her, slipping to a stop a moment after. It turned its beastly head towards her, red eyes sparking.

It wasn't a creature Argia had seen before, but demons were demons. The beast regarded her as she regarded it. Then it grinned and lowered its head briefly before continuing its original path, darting into the shadowed reaches of the city. Before her, a gaunt man in loose clothing fell to his hands and knees before her, muttering a chant or prayer beneath his breath.

She stared at him, not certain how to respond. A few moments after, he lifted his head and crawled forward. You've come at last. I am not vengeance.

I am what is laid out before everything. I am determined before one has the chance to breathe their first breath. Where am I? What has been done to me? You are our Vengeance and our Judgement. You are Death and Life. But I am not its lord, only its deliverer. What is this vengeance and judgment you claim? Were the two somehow related? As she studied her blade, a glint of black raced through the metal, as if someone tried to repair a crack that had developed. That was never there before.

The man rose on his knees, reaching his hands up to her. This world is tarnished and must be held accountable for its sins. You are the bearing of that judgement! There are creatures and humans here. Some have followed your rule with utmost loyalty.

But others have not. We, your devoted, have opened the path for your arrival and you have come! I hope we meet your expectations. Argia followed his attention, witnessing as two other humans and a beast, not wholly unlike the one from before, came out of hiding. Like the man, the newcomers lowered themselves to the ground, bowing at her feet and uttering prayers. There was something wrong here. All of this was new, too different, to her and she took another step away.

You are newly arrived, so it is fair that you might not realize. You need power here and power is what we are willing to give. It was all wrong. She did not take sacrifice. Her sovereign did not take sacrifice. She stepped back even further and Atropos vanished from her grasp. Her newfound wings unfurled. Argia hesitated as she watched their faces twist into disbelief. Wetting her lips, trying to dispel the dryness in her throat, she said, "You do not meet my expectations.

I will not take something so inferior. In case it wasn't quite clear enough: when Argia thinks of souls and "claiming" them, she is referring to "the old way" from where she originates. Not this "new" method that occurs in this new world. Posted April 29, edited. There was an unsettling darkness here. She did not feel the presence of her father or aunt.

For the first time in thousands of years she was alone. The obsidian-colored wolf turned her mighty head skyward towards the odd darkness that blanketed the sky. This couldn't be Ragnarok, could it? The wolf turned back from the sky and took in her surroundings. From what she could tell it was a place much like her own Midgard.

However, here the people had seemed to have strayed from the old Norse practices. Bending down she finally noticed a circle painted around her with her name in runes. So, not everyone had forgotten about the Norse ways. And now she knew how she had ended up here.

She had been summoned. The forest was quiet aside from the occasional chirp of a bird. The she-wolf pinned her ears back and huffed, annoyed that she had not been at least greeted by whoever had summoned her.

What now? Left with little other direction she set off to try and find whoever had summoned her. After that, she would have to find a way home. She wanted nothing to do with these mortals, or this realm, especially if they did not respect her enough to at least greet her after summoning her.

Hrafn or "Raven" as she'll also be known as is the daughter of Skoll and niece of Hati. If you aren't familiar with them, they are the wolves who chase the sun and moon in Norse mythology. I think I might have another character or two, one for sure an angel but if all the angels are gone I'll have to maybe change her up a bit. Got some ideas though. Lurking on the outskirts of the downtown area, an unassuming and quaint little coffee shop was beginning its metamorphosis into the catalyst for hundreds, if not thousands of souls to be claimed by the malevolent forces that eagerly hungered for them.

Vaz forced another smile across their face for the man across the table from them, making sure to coat their next few words in an extra layer of honey.

Purred the demon, resisting the urge to redirect him to someone or something far more vengeful for wasting their time. Without breaking eye contact, Vaz reached for the pile of business cards beside their drink and slid one across the table. They waited patiently as their companion contemplated the symbol of a quill resting in an inkwell and the matching gold lettering beneath it, and chuckled when he finally decided to pocket it.

The visitor stood abruptly, signalling that their discussion had come to an end. A sigh emitted from Vaz as they lounged back, whisked the business cards back out of sight, and switched their attention to their own reflection in the window beside them. The angular, tired face of a sharply-dressed gentleman with amber eyes and a few too-many pointed teeth sneered back at them, and Vaz wondered whether they could scrape together enough remaining energy or owed favours to craft a friendlier look for themselves.

The dull, ancient ache across their shoulders seemed to intensify in protest to that, and for a brief moment Vaz was tempted to unfurl their wings right here and drop this ridiculous guise all together-.

Vaz had always taken pride in the subtlety of their manipulations. Sure, much of their demonic brethren had the audacity to storm through the towns right now in all their agonising glory, but Vaz refused to work on the principle of fear. A single, willing soul artfully coaxed into the clutches of their peers was worth multitudes more of those beaten down and torn from their mortal shells.

Vaz loathed this place. It was chaotic, miserably-cold for a demon used to the warmth of their domain, and if they ever tracked down the being responsible for their untimely summoning then perhaps they would consider breaking some of their own rules for once.

Still, there was work to be done. It might have gotten unnecessarily complicated in this realm, but it was to be done all the same. Vaz pulled the strings of their mortal vessel once more and slid out of the booth to go and pay for both meals. Vaz responded by leaving a few of the papery-ones in the jar beside her and took their leave, shivering slightly as the cold of the outside world hit them once more. After buttoning up their perfectly-tailored trench-coat and adjusting the much shabbier, greying scarf around their neck, Vaz began a brisk stroll through the streets.

They had no particular destination in mind at this stage, but sometimes all it took to sign off on a new Soul Contract was to wander around a forsaken place looking like you knew how to get someone out of it. Posted April 30, One of the vessels that was Askee-ah chased a man through the deserted streets at breakneck speed. The man was fast, but not fast enough. He'd threated one of Askee-ah's pack, demanded Much of the complexities of human life escaped her comprehension, though she was slowly learning.

She screeched and pounced, claws grappling at the man's collar and clothes as he tried to scale a chain link fence. She hooked a killing claw through a hole in the fence for momentary balance, then leapt back as the man fell. She could have easily and precisely ended his life with her claws, but she was careful not to deliver a fatal injury.

One thing she learned early on was that humans considered all other humans part of pack, a very large pack with very loose loyalty, prone to infighting as if deeply bereft of an alpha pair to provide order. But humans were still loyal to the pack, even to packmates who hurt them and tried to rob thier share of food. They became upset if those packmates were seriously injured or killed, even if a packmate had done something unforgivable that made it not a packmate any more.

Askee-ah was powerful, and could divide herself into almost numberless raptor-vessels, but she was one, and the humans of her pack were many.

So Askee-ah abided by the strange agreed upon rules of her pack, as complex as they were. She hissed and growled and tore at the man's clothes and nipped at his flesh, making an excellent show of attempting to capture and kill him and just barely missing her marks.

The man tired quickly, and she allowed him a chance to escape. One of her was still at that human's side, standing guard and providing comfort. The human wasn't a skilled fighter, and was frightened and demoralized.

The Askee-ah that had let the man go gave a satisfied trill, and bobbed her head a few times, cleaned her claws against her hide, and trotted back the way she had come.

She had noted a scent-trail during the chase, finding it again with some difficulty in the damp weather, though it was reasonably fresh. Humans were not to be hunted for sport. But demons had no such protection, and consuming them often provided her fragments of knowledge and power. After the initial adrenaline from her abrupt departure began to wane, Argia could feel the strain in her back. Her wings began to flounder and she dipped closer to the rooftops. The small group she'd left behind was long out of sight but more humans had become visible.

They occupied the dark streets, some making startled sounds and gestures as she passed above. Others seemed undisturbed by her brief presence. This world was strange, so different from where she should have been.

At least the humans hadn't changed too much, from what she could determine. They looked and sounded as always, despite the alienness of their lifelines. Wind pushed against her, swinging her down to the edge of a building. Argia sucked in a breath and tried to twist her body to avoid hitting the structure. Mostly, she succeeded. Her foot still kicked the layered bricks and her wing rubbed against the corner.

Struggling, she rose higher to avoid the next building. She needed somewhere to land, a safe and quiet place. Too many humans were scattered about for her comfort.

A running figure captured her attention and, looking down, she only caught a glimpse as a human sprinted out of view. But the reptilian creatures left behind were unfamiliar and strange. Everything was strange. Argia flew towards some of the less populated side streets, her exhausted wings flailing in fruitless attempts to keep her aloft any longer. She needed only a moment more, only a few feet further, and she could clear another building.

Straining, Argia felt her wings give up and she gasped as she plummeted to the rooftop. Her body smacked against the asphalt and gravel that made up the flat roof, momentum bouncing her into and over the shallow ledge. A single shout escaped her lips as her hands searched for something to grasp. Feathers filtered past her vision. Her shoulder clipped something metallic; a fire escape. Desperate, Argia snatched at the bars that rushed upward. Her fingers curled around cold metal, her body jolting.

Groaning, Argia looked upward as she swayed, then down. She'd only fallen partway down but there was still too much space between her and the ground of the alleyway. She studied the platform of the fire escape one level below. She studied the platform she hung from. Climbing up the foot or two of bars would be easier than trying to swing herself into the lower platform. But her body hurt. Her wings drooped, as if lifeless. She lifted her free arm, grasping at the bars.

Grunting, she started to pull herself up. Pain spasmed through her chest and back as her right arm seemed to collapse. Had her shoulder been dislocated? Dangling again, she hissed at her misfortune.

Either she would have to drop onto the next platform down or convince her wings to work for a moment more. She'd rather try the platform. If only she had a few more inches, she could brace her feet against the top railing. But, she wasn't about to try shuffling her hand down two more rungs on the railing she currently held.

Argia glanced at her wings, hoping they would start working again. They only gave her a bare twitch, a tired shift. She released the bars and dropped. Her wings, sluggish as they were, lifted and fluttered with no sense of rhythm. One slapped against another railing, twisting her body mid-fall.

Argia hit the ground with an audible crash on the edges of a trash heap. Water splashed against her left shoulder but the sensation of it came second to the pain that flooded her flesh. Argia's vision ebbed out and back in, and she blinked several times to clear it. She didn't dare to move, no matter how undignified she feared she might look. Healing wasn't a primary necessity but it had its uses. Not everyone was so willing to die and have their soul ripped apart in the name of oblivion.

And Argia didn't always fend off ordinary humans, not when Paragons existed to balance out the nature of beings like her. But her healing, as superior as it was compared to humans, still required time.

So, time she gave it. Closing her eyes against the heat that seared through her back, she drew in a sharp breath. On the exhale, smoke flittered past her lips, sparks of green flickering in and out of existence. After a few moments, she sat up slowly and picked herself up, stumbling as her legs worked to support her weight. Posted May 1, The coppery scent of blood was one that was all too familiar to the she-wolf. Years of war flashed through her mind as the smell made her mouth water.

What was injured? The forest around her blurred as her pace quickened and her sight narrowed. So hungry , when had the last time she'd eaten been? Even though eating regularly was not necessary for her her influence could satiate hunger, the more there was the less she would have to eat as it made her closer to 'immortal' , in this realm it would seem as though she would have to adopt such practices once again.

The smell of blood overpowered any of the other scents in the area as she came upon a small mountain stream. Blood was everywhere, as if someone had tried to paint with it. She lowered her head and stepped forward cautiously. This was no animal blood. And a stray body part confirmed it. Backpedaling, Hrafn scanned the trees and bushes for a possibly still lurking threat.

Whatever did this had done it for the simple joy of killing and dismembering this poor mortal. Her hunger subsided, unable to bring herself to eat the human. While her farther and aunt had no qualms with it, she drew the line at eating the very beings that gave them their power and strength.

Keeping her senses sharp the wolf searched the area for any hints that might point to whatever had done this and where it might've went. While searching she found a knapsack stuffed with various maps, Nordic books, and paint.

The wolf gingerly pulled the maps out and did her best to unfold them. There was just enough light to make out some of the details of the map. A city meant people. People meant she could find someone to explain what's going on and then she could begin to figure out a way to go home. Without a compass, the sun, or even a moon to giver her a sense of direction she decided that following the stream was her best bet since water flows downhill and it was probably her best bet to get down and out of the forest.

She turned back to study the grisly scene one last time. Outside of typical Norse traditions, burials are usually customary. Yet Hrafn preferred to let nature take its course more naturally as her father had taught her.

Of course everything here was dark anyways so it shouldn't have really mattered. Gabriel twirled her sword into the wood carving an indent as she did so. A show played quietly on the TV but she payed no mind to it.

The defected archangel was far too deep in her own thoughts to give a damn about anything else at the moment. It had only been a few months since her brothers and sisters abandoned this world. She could never bring herself to do it though, she loved the humans far too much to simply let them fall to the demons or any other beings that would now come and try and stake their claim.

They ridiculed her for it, calling her a fool and telling her how she was going to die and they needed to learn. If she died on her sword so be it. It was more than her kin could say they'd do, claiming how much they loved to protect humans and yet choosing to forsake them. Sure, they make mistakes. That's why they're humans. It one of the things that set them apart from the "high and mighty" angels. Gabriel knew better though. Angels could be just as flawed as any human. She embedded the tip of the sword into the wood floor with a yell.

They're the foolish ones. Even if humans had turned their backs on the angels, Gabriel still had faith in them as humans. The only issue was was that she was going to need help, and a lot of it, if she wanted to take back the realm from the demons.

Given her massive wane in power she was no longer in shape to do much of anything though, archangel or not. There was just enough faith left in the world to keep her from becoming mortal but with each passing day it was fading. A loud banging from underneath her snapped her from her thoughts. The angel buried her face in her hands. What had she come to?

With a heavy sigh she pulled the sword from the wood and got up and placed it on her kitchen table. As far as she knew none of her neighbors suspected her of being a supernatural, much less one of the archangels.

It was certainly beneficial that without a heightened sense or seeing her with wings she could pass for human easily enough though it was getting more difficult to hide her true form though as her powers faded. If she was going to make anything happen, she would need to do it soon. Posted May 1, edited. There were people around, plenty of them, but for once they seemed disinterested in the gaunt, overly-dressed man that weaved past them. Normally Vaz would revel in the silence, but the absence of new soul contracts was starting to take its toll on the tired old demon.

Catching the attention of the greedy and the power-hungry would be a welcome change, for once. Soon giving up on any sort of luck for the night, Vaz found themselves nose-deep in a recently borrowed magazine when they heard a set of sharp gasps sound beside them. Instinctively Vaz brought a hand up to their temple and ran their spindly fingers though golden strands of hair, checking for a set of horns that might have been protruding from it. Blasted things, never staying put.

When they safely concluded though that, no, nothing was out of place, Vaz glanced up and followed the gaze of a startled couple pointing skyward. A winged being drifted above them, the demon following its movement with mild curiosity in the hopes it was a familiar face. Vaz waved their hand in a half-hearted motion that suggested they should just ignore the strange, overly-dressed man that had been eavesdropping on their conversation and switched their attention back to the magazine.

The thought of any angel daring to stick around now that the floodgates had opened was Downright hilarious, even. Still, Vaz had to admit the figure did kind of look like one. And a very drunken one at that, judging from the shaky flight-path it had taken through the air. It seemed to dip far too close to the buildings below, and Vaz could have sworn they saw it clip the edge of the rooftop before plunging out of sight.

Vaz snorted at the thought, turning the page even though they were no longer absorbing its contents. They asked themselves, as they squinted at one of the pictures trying to remember what a microwave was and why it was so expensive. By the time Vaz had spotted them they were shakily staggering back onto their feet, and Vaz took a moment to quietly soak in the situation near the alleyway entrance.

And a recent one at that, judging from how disorientated they looked. Called the demon, doing their best to look casual and unthreatening as they took another few steps into the alleyway.

Staggering sideways, it took Argia a few moments to regain her balance. Once steady, she felt along her right shoulder, fingers dancing tentatively across her skin. She grasped her arm, inhaling the discomfort. Could she pop her shoulder back into place on her own? She'd never tried before. But then again, she'd never fallen some couple hundred feet to the ground before, either.

Now that she could add the event to her list of experiences she hadn't wanted, Argia She didn't jump, but that didn't mean she wasn't startled. Spinning to face the newcomer, Argia's precarious balance protested and she stumbled a step before she caught herself.

How had she not heard the individual arrive? Humans always made too much noise. She scrutinized them, dark eyes sweeping down and up to take note of their groomed features. Not the same knotted lines as other humans in this foreign realm. Argia lowered her hand from her limp arm, wondering how much vulnerability was safe to show. I am not trash, either, she thought. She knew she looked undignified with water soaked into part of her clothing and hair, and dirt clinging to her flesh.

The individual didn't need to rub it in. Glancing at her wings, crumpled feathers and all, she frowned. These are not my wings. They changed me, those who summoned me here. Those who think my sovereign demands sacrifice? I am not your Vengeance! You will send me back home so I can continue my task as was laid out. She tried to stand taller, to present herself in the manner she ought. Her back flared with pain though and she grunted, her wings spasming as if trying to flee from a threat.

It threw her off balance and she used her scythe as a steadying crutch. Argia sucked in another deep breath, exhaling more green-flecked smoke from her lips. In the next heartbeat, the pain ebbed away and she sighed. Panic would serve her no good here. Her gaze shifted to the stranger again.

She studied them more. They weren't human, that much she could sort out with an attentive mind. She looked away, frown pulling at her features. You don't appear like the others, but I've only had an encounter with them in this place. It is difficult to know what to expect. Making amends was something Argia only ever witnessed, not something she was meant to do. There was nothing to apologize for bringing death or preserving life.

And yet, so many often lashed out at her as if she had committed a wrong against them. This time, however, she had been the one to lash out unjustly. She could pass it off as a response to their insult of calling her "garbage", but it wasn't in alignment.

Oh-- "I am sorry. They were unfamiliar to her lips and she was certain she pronounced "sorry" incorrectly. It seemed like a simple two-syllabic word to form. What are the rules I must follow? What is this place? Panic wanted to surge back up and she tightened her grip on her scythe, trying to will it back down.

It almost felt like she was cut off, lost and trapped within a domain without clear guidance. Posted May 2, The three raptors had climbed fire escapes and window ledges up to the rooftops, and from there tracked thier quarry silent and unseen. They'd almost had a good chance to pounce, once or twice, but the demon was walking close to crowds of humans.

So she hung back, scenting the air and watching with eagle-sharp eyes as the demon came briefly into view between gaps in buildings. She'd loosed a bit of her power and given two of her raptor-vessels a flicker of free will and independant thought. It made them more cunning hunters, though somewhat less than immortal, and they would complain if bidden to return to non-existance. She enjoyed the sense of kinship they gave her most of all.

Few of her human pack could join her hunts in anything more than a rudimentary fashion. Askee-ah leapt quickly and quietly from one roof to the next, eyeing the demon a few blocks away. She could sense that none of the humans on the ground were her believers, there was one in the building beneath her, but he was asleep in a nest. Trying to fully consider it gave her a uneasy kind of existential headache, but it meant she didn't want to fight a demon where there was risk of injuring humans that might become packmates.

Even if she didn't want to think too hard about why she took that action. After a while the demon rested, examining a colorful leafy thing. Askee-ah liked to play with those, and sometimes they hid tasty treats. Perhaps the demon was looking for bugs to eat.

A flicker of shadow fear washed over one of the raptors. She felt it flinch and give a small call of alarm that rippled through her own mind. Askee-ah shook herself. She was bigger and more powerful here, big enough that even the biggest fliers would hesitate to attack. And she had never seen one of those fliers here, besides.

She stood tall and sniffed the air after it had passed. Getting a scent from a flying being was uncertain, but it didn't smell like a demon. Uncharacteristically, the thought of following it to take advantage of that, to attack and eat it, didn't cross her mind like it would have just a few months ago.

But the raptors were curious all the same. And they were quick to note the demon was too, they had given up thier bug hunt and headed toward where the flier had come to ground. The raptor on Askee-ah's left darted and leapt from one rooftop to the next to quickly circle around. She saw through it's eyes that the flying being had landed, that the demon was approaching it.

Askee-ah crept to the edge of a rooftop, hidden in the shadow of some kind of shiny metal contraption. She listened intently. It pained her to try to understand human complexities, but she felt drawn to do so at the same time, like a strange sort of hunger. Vaz paused as the winged woman whipped around to face them, caution beginning to override the initial thrill of curiosity.

It occurred to the demon that the attempt to lighten the mood with the garbage comment might not have gone down as well as they hoped. No accounting for taste, clearly. Thin lips pulled into a tight grimace and the budding lecture on modern hilarities died however when she stumbled forward again, Vaz torn between offering a helping hand or shuffling back a little more to give her some more breathing room.

They settled for the latter, at least until they got a better read on who they were dealing with. Vaz just made the deals that lead to sealed fates, actually contemplating who or what decided which ones succeeded and which ones failed was liable to bring on a migraine.

It was a shame that this one had Fallen, though. Vaz opened their mouth to enquire what exactly happened to her, but was cut off by further rambling and the sudden, wrath-filled glare that cut through the haze of confusion.

The demon bristled and took another step back, brandishing the rolled-up magazine as though it would actually stand a chance against the wickedly-sharp scythe that was now materialising between them. Despite the poor timing, another huff of empty laughter had to muffled through gritted teeth as she implied they had anything in common with a zealot.

Vaz would have to make it quite clear that no, they had no interest in encouraging such blind devotion to any entity, demon or otherwise. Last thing Vaz needed was another power struggle between their superiors. The woman shuddered again, and a growing sense of alarm developed in Vaz as they watched the wisps of smoke and green embers spark from her.

Vaz had no idea what it was, but based on personal experience coughing up plumes of smoke was never a good sign. It made them lower their guard, empathy driving them to dismiss the garbled apologies with a wave of the wrist and instead edge closer to properly offer an arm to grip onto this time.

First time I stumbled into town it was…overwhelming. Lots of awe. Lots of hatred. The worst was the ones with a disinterest in…everything. Vaz realised they were starting to ramble, and took a deep breath. But Vaz was drained, and distracted, so after a moment of contemplating the view above them they switched attention back to their new acquaintance. Keep your head low and make some powerful friends from the sidelines, while you wait for some semblance of order to be restored.

That would be my advice. Posted May 2, edited. She nearly didn't recognize what the stranger was intending to do. They came closer and slightly raised an arm out to Argia. It took her a moment and then she realized what was odd about the scene--it wasn't the arm she could comfortably grab. Still, she didn't want to seem rude, no matter how awkward she felt or might appear.

Especially after she'd made the individual--demon, now that they stood closer to her--react defensively to her outburst. Scythe dissolving from her grasp, Argia reached her left hand across to grasp the proffered arm. Again, she looked at her wings upon the individual's words. Could she hide them as they suggested? Or, more like, ordered. She gave them a testing shift, noting the lessened stiffness in the appendages and the faint rustle of feathers. Her brow furrowed, concentration and confusion blending together.

Was she supposed to think at them? How had she gotten them to work right enough for flight, before? Panic, mostly. She'd been overwhelmed and it felt like the wings had simply resp The feathers melted together as the arms--was that the right word?

She stared, wide-eyed, as wings wrapped around her shoulders and feathers fused into soft cloth. Black faded into white as the color traveled downward to the hem of a two-toned shawl.

She almost missed their budding answer to her questions. Shifting her gaze, she watched for changes in the demon's features as they spoke.

The idea was a curious one for her. But the concept of creatures who would hunt or seek to harm her was not a new reality. Argia nodded in acknowledgement of their advice. I am Argia. You are? She was curious about the 'my own realm' comment, but she refrained from asking for more insight about it. Head low and powerful allies. A recommendation to hide and pick a side.

The concepts seemed almost outrageous to Argia. She picked no sides, had no allies, because she would work with one entity on one day, and then against them on the next day.

And Death didn't hide. But, if her sovereign could not reach her in this isolating place If those who summoned her had changed her into something she yet could not determine Was she still bound by the same laws that governed her actions? Normally, Argia could feel the faint touch of Balance. But, as she focused in search of that presence, she only brushed against a smoldering rage. It startled her and she immediately pulled her awareness back from it. It wasn't hers, and yet, it seemed to yearn for her.

Or some part of her yearned for it. She couldn't decide. A lifeline darted across the edges of her attention. She wouldn't have paid it any attention--lifelines were always moving as the beings possessing them were never stationary for long--but it felt connected to other lifelines. Argia turned her head, sweeping and lifting her gaze to scan the buildings that stood on either side of her and the demon.

It was gone in a moment. Perhaps she imagined it. Likely, it was an ordinary aspect of the realm; she was surely going to encounter one strange thing after another.

Argia glanced down at her worn boots, water gradually soaking into the material as she continued standing in the shallow puddle. As much as I enjoy the alleyway, perhaps we can move on from here to another place? Darkness everywhere she turned.

Everywhere she looked, her sight remained clouded in this strange darkness. If this were any kind of darkness, magical or not, she should be able to see through it normally. In front of her emerged a bear, illuminating this strange veil of darkness that enveloped this humanoid's senses.

This bear was larger than any she had ever seen, coming up to ten feet at the shoulder. As this bear's bright silhouette came closer, the humanoid was able to see the intricate designs shimmering over the bear's fur.

Its eyes glowed with intensity, yet there was a softness to them. It was then that she knew who this was. This was Luthic, her goddess, communicating to this half-orc through her animal.

Luthic is her orc goddess, the goddess of life and nature, the goddess of fertility and medicine, the goddess of females and servitude. The orc deity of the new moon and bears. The female half-orc grew her own claws to be recognized as the Claw of Luthic, a shaman who was given the power to sling spells after forming a pact with her from a ritual that included bathing in the blood of a large mother cave bear.

She gave the leftover cubs to her tribe so they could be used as guard animals or mounts. The bear began to speak without ever moving its maw, and as it spoke, images flashed through the half-human's mind quickly.

A place unlike these realms. This realm is a place no one has set foot in. However, someone has recognized me and is actively trying to summon me. Seeing as you are one of my best shamans, who follow the traditions and goals I set forth, you shall go and investigate. I will stay connected to you, but you may feel a weakness in your spells and your ability to use them.

This is also why I chose you. You fight like a warrior, the best after your father-in-law. The images that took form and flashed by the humanoid's vision showed briefly a city she had never seen before.

Technology she had never experienced or even thought about seeing graced her vision for about a second before vanishing completely. All she saw was a place graced in darkness all day, with technological advances she had never witnessed nor experienced, and humans with other strange humanoids that make her think of angels, demons and devils in her own world.

But it held different people, not the humans she is so used to. What was this alien world? Please, think about my offer. This world is alien, yet familiar to me. Someone called for my presence, so I shall invite one of my followers to investigate. It was a cold, starry night. The cold breeze drifted by, biting the flesh of those who were asleep. Some stayed asleep, hidden under their furred blankets and bedrolls.

When the wind came by, all it did was cause those to flinch, while others jolted awake, as they were already in a cold sweat. With Kansif, she was already awake, undeterred by the wind that seemed ever so diligent in scoping out the cracks and nooks in their shoddily made houses, which were made in the vain attempt of trying to make a village quickly with little resources they had.

Mud caked over straw were the roofs, while the edges of the circular houses were made with logs cut in half. The floors of each hut were made with grass tightly bound together. A fire hazard? Yes, but it was the best they had. Yes, they had a forest they were nearby, but the denizens of the Kryptmalwun Village were hesitant in grabbing more wood than they already did.

They had come across a Green Dragon, said to be at least 1, years old or older. They weren't going to be dumb enough to encroach on the dragon's territory. As Kansif scratched at the deep green skin on her arm and situated her clothes accordingly, she mulled over the visions she was given. There was an unspoken rule between her and her patron: Never talk about the vision beyond gaining directions to find the location or person.

Her glowing yellow eyes scoured over her equipment. She knew her equipment was going to be outdated at the very least, but she thought this was going to be a breeze. Go there, stay for a couple days to scope it out, and come back. Easy enough. She pulled up her long black hair into a ponytail, bounding it with leather and piercing the hair with a bear's canine she took from the first cave bear she killed with her bare hands.

She situated the fur laden wraps that enveloped her chest and the skirt she wore that held the bones of the bear she killed, along with a rat's skull in the middle. She fitted her leather boots on tighter and put on her armor.

She put on her one shoulder pauldron, which had two long and three short horns protruding from the metal. The belt strapped around her chest and then she put on her breastplate. She tightened the straps that hugged her back and then put on leather bracers over her forearms. She then delicately put on her necklace, which held several bear teeth and a dark shard.

The dark shard had magical properties. Treated like an amulet, it allowed Kansif to use a spell she had never used before or learned how to use, but its powers may only be used once a day. If she used it more than a couple times in one day, it may shatter. She then strapped on her weapon sheathes and her belt around her waist.

She slipped her greataxe and her warhammer on her back, her two handaxes at her side, and she set a light crossbow on a mount on her left bracer. She then set her quiver of crossbow bolts on her left, and then began packing the items in her bag of holding. No matter what was put in here, it would always be 15 pounds.

She repurposed the small strap that tightened it into a longer strap so she could carry it slung across her shoulder. It held 20 packs of rations, three cases of 20 bolts each, ten simple medical kits, a mess kit, a steel mirror, a signal whistle, a climbing kit, a whetstone, and a waterskin filled with water currently. She also had a pouch of coins, as she thought they would have some significance in this new realm, and she had more common clothes in this bag of holding.

After slinging it over her shoulder, she was set and walked out of her hut, which was a tad nicer than the other ones due to her status of being her village's shaman. As she walked to the shrine that held a crude statue of a bear and a spear made of rock jutting from the ground, she felt something strange come about her.

Her scowl was very evident, as she was not having these surprises. Not now. The bear seemed to speak, as its eyes glowed. Ah, that was what that feeling was. The voice of Luthic echoed in her mind and a portal was created. The portal formed quickly in front of her, and as Kansif looked at the swirling vortex that connected two dimensions together, she looked back at her small village. The shrine overlooked the village, as it was on a hill set into a cave.

She felt a little upset. She was more comfortable traveling the lands of Faerun, as the Material Plane was more familiar than this strange land. Still, she sighed and looked over at the portal, beckoning her to fall in. Elsewhere, the newly added PvP survival mode is called Fog of War and players who have reached Level can participate. It is effectively an RPG version of a battle royale, meaning that, at first, players can only use normal attacks However, they will be able to obtain additional skills by picking up Skill Books.

To gain even more strength, players will need to kill monsters, loot chests and of course, beat other players to gain experience. However, they will need to be mindful of the continuously shirking fog that will kill anyone unfortunate enough to be caught within it. It's a mode that can be tackled with friends, with players having the option to join the mode with a team of three.

Finally, there is a new map called Breeze Valley that will be found in the continent of Calindor. It will feature a host of new bosses and a storyline that follows the Elven refugees of Sindora.