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BWP thread. She is searching for magical runes though anyone still welcome.

skill: ranger

Runes. The dream visitor spoke of them in her well, dreams. Wardruna had returned home, speaking of seeing one, it's glow. That in some out of body state she was sat among many others, visions given to her, to them.

Journey didn't know if this dream visitor was a god... and if it was, was it like the trickster god, Loki? It spoke of these runes acting like a protector, seperated and unable to be seen by their eye for protective purposes. What if this was to protect the magic from being returned to the very same nefarious being which spoke to them now?

Journey was uncertain, reluctant, yet she couldn't help all the same be curious of how this little game of life and death might play out. She herself had played this game many times before and this one carried a new twist, a new little thrill that skipped in her heart.

So she searched.

She ran along the frosted fields as fast as her legs would carry her. She felt the pounding in her chest as she imagined her hooves pounding the ground. Every so often she would give a jump off a rolling mound of snow or knoll, just so she could imagine the first beat of her wings as she gave flight. Yet it was not so. Not in this life. Though she may dream. Dream with the same mind where the visitor had come to her. For which her senses sought - smells, sound, sight - of a distant thrum and magical glow.

Rune Discovery : 「 Failure 」 

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As the cresting sun took its place among the widening horizon, it is you who push forward with the fervor of a warrior. Determined, decided, unwavering. You have steered yourself toward the fields of frost and snow, where the landscape remains untouched, unmarked, and undamaged.

Flawless.

Unlike its counterpart to the east.

Far off on the horizon at your side, you can spot the discolored snow as it sparkles beneath the growing sunlight. It is growing, you may think, the noxious fumes a whispered promise against the quiet breeze.

The beams of sun that spark between the mountainous landscape throw shadows at your feet while the sky above you holds the promising sight of daybreak ahead. Idyllic, but quiet, despite your longing. Not a sound is uttered across the wind, the plains, or at your feet.

You feel no hum.

You hear no voice.

You find no rune.

skill: ranger

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Others are still free to join!

Though her legs tread miles and her heart beat loudly in her chest, it was only the thumping of her own organ did she hear. Skidding to a stop finally, she lifts her head to the bright new morning skies, taking in a deep breath. The crisp air in a chill in her throat, her lungs. She smells nothing.

As her red-headed freckles cheeks feel the warmth of the sun, emerald eyes open once more. These fields were still and undisturbed, savor her own self, it seemed. In the distance are the Summit mountains. They tower, cutting the skies, casting shadow where the sun fought to pierce through. It is the place where her mortal father had his last battle. There his body became entombed in ice down a great crevice. The place which Ragnar Stormborn was lifted into Valhalla.

Journey thinks to journey there, but knows better to not. There, swirling within the spires and wrapping the mountains in haze, was the purple snow and smog which her elder sister spoke of. Quite unnatural indeed, she knew the work of magic when it presented itself to her. Weary of the safety of her new mortal body, Journey turns and moves southwest and away.