"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
08-22-2020, 06:08 PM (This post was last modified: 08-22-2020, 06:09 PM by Wolfbane.)
Would you help me to carry the stone?
Open your heart, I'm coming home.
“And then what?” A little gray pony asked her companions, two much larger but less-refined pegasus mares. “Well nothing, that’s what!” One of the pegasi replied, fluttering her wings ever-so-gently with excitement. The conspiratorial air surrounding their conversation was tangible, even to Wolfbane who listened rapturously nearby. He’d shape-shifted into a slender snake when the gaggle of talkative females had first arrived - intent on making an invisible escape - but their conversation had taken a suddenly interesting turn, so he’d coiled up and stayed instead. Now the venomous predator lay in wait, patiently flicking his tongue like one taps their toes or bounces their knee to pass time.
“The monster vanished, apparently. If you ask me, I doubt there was one to begin with.” The other winged mare spoke up dully, and gave her flying friend a sarcastic look. “You know how word-of-mouth goes around here.” She rolled her eyes and took a breath. “The imagination some horses have, I swear. You’re spreading a children’s bedtime story, Lala.” She chided the first pegasus, who offensively turned her ears down at the accusation.
“Well I thought it was a terribly exciting children’s story anyways, even if there wasn’t an ending.” Bane heard the pewter-gray pony consoling her friend as he unfurled and began to slither away through the grass, “Who’s to say what’s real? I heard there are creatures from hell roaming the Waste - Pangea. Horses born from dark rituals…” Her voice teetered off into silence; Wolfbane had gotten far enough away that he couldn’t hear them anymore.
Now that he was out of earshot, the beast rose up from the ground. He stretched himself out of the snakeskin, shifting and molting the old body for a new one that suited him better, then took a breath with his newly-formed lungs. It felt good to sigh and breath through a muzzle after so much time hiding as another animal. The trickery of disappearing into thin air was a hard one to maintain, especially when all Wolfbane really wanted to do was kill. “To spill blood and have thine own blood spilt.” He thought to himself poetically, then unfurled his overly large white wings and launched himself into the sky.
Less than a few hours later he was descending to land in Loess, reaching out with his blue-striped legs to touchdown and perch at the peak of a red-orange butte. The story shared between the three mares still echoed in his mind as he teetered cautiously above the Loessian flatlands, and their words were like the wind picking apart his tail: “monster”, “story”, and “doubt” all brushed over his skin as gentle as lover’s kisses, harmless.
What bothered him was the lack of an ending.
The shapeshifter growled under his breath and flexed his shoulders, causing both his wings to flare. Irritation and resolution alike nettled him, and the voices which had long ago drowned out his own consciousness began their chattering whispers back-and-forth through his mind. They goaded him on with vicious lies until Bane could feel his blood boiling under his ever-changing skin. He snarled with a mouthful of newly-sharpened teeth and roared deep from his chest until the sound echoed far beyond where he was, into the furthest corners of a kingdom he’d once had the pleasure of ruling.
Come, he threatened the quiet valleys and the sleeping saguaro. Come, he threatened @[Lepis] and any horse who would separate them, let’s give them something to talk about.
She has looked for him in every stranger (and even in a few friends), yet when Wolfbane finally arrives, it is while wearing a familiar face.
Lepis has no way of knowing how long he has been here, yet there is something in the way he stands that suggest he is not in the mood to have waited long. She wastes no time, and with a physical roll of her shoulders releases the blanket of emotion with which she has covered Loess these last two years. The peace is gone faster than she can blink her navy-lashed eyes, and Lepis is left with a dull buzzing inside her chest and an ache just behind her eyes. It is not a painful sensation, but nor is it a comfortable one, and she allows the genuine irritation of it to show as she comes to a halt in the long shadow of his narrow perch.
The dun mare had promised a dragon that he could use Loess as tinder so long as she was allowed this moment. To ensure she was allowed it, she has used her gift from the pied magician, and kept sparks from her home. But now she muffles them no longer, and even does her best to pull all the peace out of the land as well, leaving malcontent to fester in its place. Perhaps it will serve as a lure to the firestarters, as a sign that she has kept her end of the bargain.
“I thought I’d made it rather clear that your presence is unwanted here.” She says. Her voice is measured, and her face has smoothed itself back to cool serenity by the time she speaks. She has made it this far. It will do no good to rush the rest of the plan by acting too hastily. “What must I do to ensure the lesson sticks?”
Lepis’ magic was stronger. Somehow, some way, she’d used their time apart to become a force none would easily reckon with. Before their falling out she’d been powerful enough, but now? Now Wolfbane could tangibly feel her presence ebb and crash over his body and the entirety of Loess like some massive, invisible wave of emotion. The quietude and peace he’d interrupted was sucked out of Bane’s body all at once, a sensation not unlike the feeling of having his skin turned inside out, and then malcontent was shoved roughly back into the gaping hole. The exchange of energies was as painful as all serious emotions could be, and for a moment Wolfbane felt crippled by her magic.
He sunk down a bit from the weight of her unseen bearings, then straightened his legs and shoulders, snarling down at her, “Give up our foal.”
There was always a foal when it came to them coupling. Experience gave him confidence in his assumption; he had scores of foals from many separate mothers, now. The seed was strong, the curse’s desire to outlive its host: stronger. Time was running out for him - Wolfbane had a desperate edge to his voice that usually wasn’t there.
He teetered recklessly on the edge of the butte, knocking loose a few crumbling rocks that clattered down the side of the sandstone cliff below where his once-queen patiently waited. His gaze found the comforting gray storms hidden in Lepis’ eyes and Bane trembled, hesitant, seemingly caught in the throes of an internal struggle, then broke free and leapt off the side of the butte. His wings unfurled noisily, straightening his plummeting descent until they shifted and he jerked up, away from the ground where another second later he might’ve been splattered all over it.
Bane was headed for Lepis, barreling toward her at an alarming speed and frothing through a mouthful of teeth. His chest had widened and his forelegs turned to a lion’s, complete with a set of wickedly bared claws that were ready to rip apart the flesh he used to worship. His eyes had turned to flat, black ice. There was nothing but the sound of wind in his ears and the focus of the hunt; she could run, but for how long? He could hide, but not forever. The pain, lies, and destruction had reached their pitch and for the both of them, it seemed as if time could not turn back.
Now there was only the distance growing shorter between them and the end seemed in reach. Wolfbane opened his mouth and sped toward @[Lepis], welcoming it.
Mood: Dangerous
OOC: Anyone is welcome to pop out of the woodwork and take him by surprise! Powers/damage welcome.
He had felt it. Even with the distance between them, Lepis is certain she had seen Wolfbane flinch.
A smile begins to grow, pushing away the shadow of the frown. That had been desperation in his voice, she knows. He’s not been able to find a child, Lepis realizes. She’d known that he would not find Kestrell, but she’d been more dubious of the capabilities of the northern women. (Some dark part of her had even hoped that the Curse had been passed on to one of them. It would be far easier to kill a child just learning its powers than an adult in his prime, she’d reasoned, and if perhaps it would also serve as vengeance toward the catalyst of this all, well, all the better.)
“She’s with your grandmother,” The lie is flawless. It matches her smile: simultaneously joyful and unkind. There is just enough satisfaction in her demeanor at outwitting him, just enough smug certainty even against the surety of her own defeat. “And you’ll never find them.” The last thing Wolfbane would have expected is for Lepis to ask Heartfire’s aid, and of course she will have done what he least expected.
But it no longer matters that the secret is out, her demeanor seems to say. She does not care that he knows, because he will never be able to use that knowledge. She does not know the thing behind those matte black eyes, not anymore. He is the source of it all. The Curse, yes, but it was easier to mourn Wolfbane if she included him as well. He’d given her Gale, after all, and he was the reason that Gale had been taken away. Even before the darkness in him made her watch their son die a second time, it was still his fault. (Perhaps a saner Lepis might have seen the flaw in this logic, but Sabra had been unwittingly on the nose when she’d thought of the dun mare’s use of her powers as a drug.)
Lepis now means to kill the Curse herself, even if it means squaring her shoulders and facing the terrifying creature that comes charging for her.
Her smile grows serrated, chiseled thin and sharp. The strength of her now-concentrated power fizzes beneath her skin like the bubbles in a Loessian hotspring, thick and heady. It wants out, and Lepis is all to happy to loose the reins (though she is watchful lest the effects reach her own mind. She has felt it before though, the blanket of peace. It feels like a spring morning, when the air is cool and the sun is warm. It feels like the warmth of a lover’s side on a crisp night, and the embrace of a friend thought lost forever.
She pours this onto Wolfbane, so thick she can hardly believe it is not tangible, and prays to her ancestors and the fae that it will be enough.
If it is, then at last she can kill him.
If it is not, at least she will have died trying.
a light came on when you sang that song and i want you to sing it again
I hear the prayer.
I do like being prayed to, after all. It keeps a genie young.
The price I’d asked of the boy with the red wings had been for my own amusement far more than for the value of the secret I’d given him on how to bind a shifter. The method might even work (I’d never tried it myself) but there is no need to find out if it would have been enough on it’s own. I simply wish the father of my great-grandson to remain in a single shape. The universe does tend to twist in unpredictable ways, so perhaps he will be unable to change from his current toothsome shape, or perhaps he will be entirely equine, or even some unpredictable amalgamation of whatever magics he’s made of. I’d only promise to help trap him in a single shape, after all.
I’d never specified what shape that might be.
There is a puff of golden sand (as if the peace that my winged granddaughter lays so thickly has momentarily become visible) and then it is gone.
D J I N N I could i be the one you sing about in all your stories
He had thought an army might come. Maybe some horse would be here to aid their Leader, or at the final moment something might spring out and try their best to get a hold of him. All those empty threats, Bane smiled to himself as he flew through the air toward Lepis, recalling the hollow words of so many horses who’d threatened him before and come up short. How many had tried, in vain, to tell him they’d put him down like a rabid dog if he went against their wishes.
Well, where were they now?
Nowhere to be found apparently. Not here in Loess, stopping him from attacking Lepis. Not disintegrating him as-promised, not even caring for Loess and what his being here would mean for anyone that crossed their path! No one had given a damn, and in about thirty seconds flat Wolfbane would have Lepis by the throat and he’d end her - end this - once and for all.
But to his surprise the Queen smiled, unafraid. She raised her head to the sun and let her hair fly in rampant blue-white strands around her eyes like a banner at war, and Lepis unleashed a solid wall of emotion that slammed into Bane full-force, wrenching him backwards out of sheer power. He hadn’t been expecting this - hadn’t been expecting to feel what Lepis had been using to blanket an entire Nation for months now focused solely on himself - and it sent him careening into a downward spiral that ended with his body thumping hard into the dusty earth. In a puff of sand, Wolfbane tumbled and came to a stop, but just as quickly lifted his head and shook out his wings.
“You…” He turned to face Lepis, trying to spit out the word bitch, but he let the insult fade away. Bane was too content and the way he was talking was too mild for such a slur. He paused, blinking while the myriad of scrapes and bloody cuts from the fall healed themselves. “You did this?” Wolfbane lifted his eyes to where Lepis was waiting yards away, and wondered aloud in a dreamlike question. He hadn’t moved to stand yet, but he’d already figured out that attacking her further wouldn’t matter.
He couldn’t shift. He was stuck like this: like the first Wolfbane she’d ever known, with big white wings and a pair of stubby but handsome fangs. Just a stout pegasus stallion, covered in glimmering stripes and peering out at her motionlessly from underneath a dark, mysterious mask.
Having thrown all of her magic at him, Lepis is still catching her breath when the sand shimmers around the fallen Wolfbane. The dun mare’s pale eyes were already wide and wary as she monitored his reaction; she knows better than to think him weak enough to be felled by a single stroke.
She knows that golden glint to the air and the scent of an oasis that accompanied it. Wolfbane might smell it, she knows, since he was the one wished over, but the wind is against her even at these few paces that separate them. It’s been years since she’d seen the sand. The ancestors do not often meddle in the lives of their descendants, and Lepis has even more rarely wished for such meddling. Elio had said he was going to ask a magician for help binding the Curse, but Lepis had never imagined that he might find a genie instead. And in Nerine of all places, when surely it should be in a desert. It doesn’t matter, she knows, all that matters is that Elio had been successful and Wolfbane is trapped.
The wings that he shakes out are as white as the winter clouds overhead, when moments before she is sure they’d been dark. Perhaps it had just been the shadows but…there are fewer teeth now too, just a single pair of canines jutting out over sapphire lips.
The shifting abilities of the Curse have been stilled, and without it Wolfbane wears a shape that Lepis has not seen for nearly fifteen years. Wolfbane had traded those fangs for healing before Lepis had forsaken Sylva for him. The emotions this memory elicits are unexpected, breaking over her like waves. By the time she stills the waters, she is scowling. (She has found the single hammer-like blow had taken more from her than she’d expected, and her magical limbs feel watery and unstable.)
“I had help.” Lepis responds, pleased to find that her voice at least is still strong.
And she had. Elio and the ancestor were the most responsible for this particular bit of trickery, but there were others as well, their aid – however small – taken. She’d asked for more, of course, even knowing that fear and selfishness made them hesitant, but had never allowed herself to hope for anything more. An army would have been wonderful, but she doesn’t think she needs it.
Now that he’s nothing more than a pegasus with a pair of pointed incisors, surely Lepis can finish him off with just her own teeth and hooves.
It won’t be hard at all. He’s even lying down, wings sprawled from his crash-landing, almost seeming dazed.
Now is the time to strike.
Now is the time to move forward, to take the Curse and all the havoc it has wrought into her own hands, so she might set it aflame in the inevitable dragonfire.
And if he’d worn another shape, she would have been able to. Or so she tells herself, as she stares down at the face of the man she’d let sidetrack her destiny.
In some alternate universe, she is Empress over a thriving and pacified Beqanna, and all her children have gone grey like their father. In that place she rules the world through Arthas, exactly as her mother had taught her. The way to that world had been laid out in front of her: their rule of Sylva expanding to swallow Loess, then the Pampas when the Plague came, and eventually total command over each of Beqanna’s lands, an edict of peace ushering in prosperity never before seen in this world. Everything had been hers for the taking, if only she’d continued down the path she was on. It was so close she had tasted it each morning when she woke beside Arthas in the dappled red sunlight of the Sylvan forest. She’d needed only to hold fast and keep her course, to choose the life she was so sure she had wanted.
In this universe though, she had chosen Wolfbane. This exact Wolfbane, with the golden coat and stripes bluer than the sky, and a charming smile that had easily won the heart of his merry band of misfits. And Lepis' heart as well.
Any other shape. The thought repeats almost mechanically as she stares down at him. Any other shape.
09-02-2020, 09:49 PM (This post was last modified: 09-03-2020, 12:35 PM by Neverwhere.)
She's unclear, exactly, on what Lilliana thinks she can do. The story woven together makes her suspect nothing at all, but loyalty drives her forward, drives her South without telling anyone where she is going, or why. Brennen's magic fizzles over her skin when she leaves Nerine, but he will not know where she is going, only that she has gone, and his job is to protect Nerine, not her.
Neverwhere travels south, a path she has not taken for nearly two years, south to Loess, where she is not wanted and has little desire to go on her own, but Lilli asked, and the tears in her eyes cracked her voice. Her family is breaking itself apart against the red sandstone, but why?
If the rest of the family is much like Lilli, they're probably all tearing their hearts out over Wolfbane, she thinks, a dark joke that makes her snort to herself into the dampening Taigan fog. There is nobody to hear her rough laugh - at least nobody that makes their presence known - and Neverwhere passes through the redwood kings untroubled. The redwoods give way to scrub pines, the scrub pines to saguaros and the odd-armed joshua trees - Loess.
Neverwhere pauses on the border, but not out of respect - she has never respected borders, not even when she became a queen and had her own to worry about - no, she pauses because something is wrong. The Loessian border radiates peace and contentment, it's Lepis' magic, making cow-eyed slaves of her people, but something has happened. Something is different. She can feel it in her chest, and it is obvious here at the very edge of the kingdom where between one step and the next an anger boils up in her belly and makes her lip curl into a snarl unbidden.
What is happening in Loess?
Lepis is furious, and Neverwhere likes to think she knows enough of the little dun mare that if she is letting that anger bleed into her people, it is because she is also in trouble. Undeterred, and with a promise weighing on her, the Nerinian crosses into that quagmire of discontent and rage, grinding her teeth against the tendrils that reach for her heart and seek to overwhelm. Her success is middling, at best. Her ears disappear beneath the cream-colored locks of her mane, and her cloudy eyes flicker like heat-lightning flashing in the sky. Neverhwere is not easily swayed, yet it seems reasonable that this turmoil is exactly the cause of the black stallion's death, of the way silver and copper and gold crash against one another in the sky and bleed down on those below like rain.
She closes her eyes and feels the way the bile rises in her throat when she turns.
Left.
Her eyes open and she cuts through a small grove of spined cactus, and as she weaves her way out of them again, voices catch her ears. Lepis. And...
Her ears are already pinned, they can go no flatter, but her face becomes a snarl. She knows that voice. She releases the iron grip of her senses that keep the last of Lepis' enchantment at bay - what need is there, her own hatred boils over without the magic aid. Teeth set hard together, she stamps her forelegs in the sandy earth, sidestepping infinitesimally closer to Lepis' place. It is not necessary, no one will think she would stand with Wolfbane.
His shape is disarming, fanged, winged, but simple, and she cannot help but thank the gods that Lilliana did not come, is not here to see this, and to hope. Her eyes skirt the canyon they have found themselves within, but no others have come - not yet - and they fall back onto Bane, and they seethe, and a thought finds root in that rich soil.
It could work. The bald-faced mare is not a match for Bane, she had always known that. It wasn't simply the grotesque shifting, it was the healing, it was the thing he rather accidentally passed on to their son, and the thing that had accidentally saved her when he left her for dead. Lepis will never kill him on her own if he heals himself as fast as she deals damage, she might as well beat herself against the walls, but there is something that the Nerinian can do about that. Her snarl become a sharp grin with edges like glass. She is not Lilliana. She has no place in her heart for forgiveness. Not today.
The air beside her shimmers like heat waves glimmering off the sunny rocks. His healing. Sweat darkens her neck, she is so unused to using this magic. Besides her, in the dirt, fanged and winged and striped, Wolfbane lies beside her. For a moment, the duplicate's expression is so like the one on the Cursed stallion's face, yet it fades so rapidly to match her own. It snarls and bares it's teeth while it lies in the sand, and she can only hope that she has captured his magic.
Only one way to tell. The strike of her hoof against its haunch is fierce and the blood wells red and bright - it almost looks real. Ah, but will it heal?
@[Wolfbane] I'm leaving this up to you, Cal. If Nev is successful, Wolfbane will not be able to use his healing for as long as the duplicate exists. Or if you want her to accidentally steal something else entirely, I'm game!
And ye shall overthrow their altars, and break their pillars, and burn their groves with fire
He spreads his wings and savors the way the sun coats them in the dry desert heat. The time has come. The dominos are lined up and ready for him to topple the first piece. Building up to this day has been so sweet that he is almost sad when he dives off the Pangean plateau and takes flight. The pawns have all squirmed uncomfortably and now they would be wiped out to make room for the strongest of their species.
Parting is such sweet sorrow, he's been told.
He rides the warm air currents and keeps his talons tucked close to his torso. The world rushes by in blurs of reds, yellows, and greens with snakes of blue rivers crawling over Beqanna. Soon, it would all be white with their fire. A smile slips over his face at the thought. Ghaul has watched this fate play out a hundred times over in his dreams and yet the prophecy had always felt so far away. Now it is only hours from him. His pulse quickens, delighted at the thought.
The monstrous king tucks his wings and begins his dive over the expanse of the Loessian hills. The ground comes rushing up to meet him and he spreads his wings once more to slow his descent. Ghaul announces his arrival with a guttural roar, both to gather his beloved Pangeans and to alert the southerners of their emanent demise. His talons eagerly claw at the dried grasses beneath him for a few more delicious seconds and then he takes off to track the scent of their queen.
The unholy beast draws in a deep breath and then he exhales, sweeping a plume of fire over the ground before him as he gallops. Again and again he lights their home ablaze, indescriminant of whatever - or whoever - lies in his path. Their survival depends entirely on their ability to escape the inferno, not his mercy.
His laughter comes bursting from his jaws as he finally comes to a stop. Cinders and ash have already begun to fill the air around him. Ghaul's tongue sweeps eagerly over his crocodilian smile as he observes the bodies around him. Some flee, some try to fight the coming swarm, and others simply fall to the ground while they succumb to the smoke. And still he laughs. Even in his wildest dreams, he never knew that cleansing would consume him with such joy. Their cries, a symphony.
But there is a debt to be paid.
He issues one last breath of scorching flame across the ground and then he moves on. Two figures remain despite the wildfires devouring the kingdom around them - Lepis and her enemy, her love. Ghaul snaps his teeth and gives a fiersome snarl as he draws closer.
"Wolfbane, Loess burns in exchange for your head. I've claimed my prize and now," he pauses, spreading his wings wide, "they will have their payment."
09-03-2020, 01:35 PM (This post was last modified: 09-03-2020, 01:36 PM by Wolfbane.)
Would you help me to carry the stone?
Open your heart, I'm coming home.
Wheels spun in Bane’s head. He panted in the dirt and let his wings settle gently by his sides, wondering what sort of ‘help’ Lepis had dredged up in her desperation to finally have him. Then he laughed.
“You were always so worried.” Wolfbane smiled through his teeth and relaxed in the sand. “I always came back to you, didn’t I?” He turned his head away. The sunlight overhead danced across his blue markings, flashing. He knew Lepis could hold him in her spell, but for how long? Instead of taking the bull by the horns she was stalling, and he didn’t like it. Bane flexed his shoulders and braced against the willpower of a Queen; nothing gave and he frowned.
His thoughts started to turn chaotic so he breathed deeply, reasoning the same way Never did: that just lying here and healing would win out over Lepis’ mental and physical strength, once he could stand of his own volition. Wolfbane breathed in the clay of the earth and waited, remembering in an instant everything that had passed here. Most vividly, the first sight of Lepis and the look in her eyes when her world had changed forever because of him.
In the next second his ears flicked and Wolfbane’s expression soured, hearing the approach of another horse that had turned and come whipping through the canyon base. Neverwhere’s hooves clattered in a deafening echo, and Bane watched with his legs tucked closely as her arrival sent a cloud of dust into the air. She appeared in a fury, healthier and more grisly than Wolfbane had ever seen, getting his full attention when the white mask of her face twisted itself into a misshapen sneer.
Someone had come after all.
“I guess Lilliana was right -” He went to taunt the Nerinian mare, stopping short when his duplicate suddenly appeared next to the dirty brown horse. What was this? He thought with a look of disbelief. What was she playing at? Wolfbane watched as the false imitation of himself shifted, opening his mouth to shout "No!" the instant Nev's hoof rose from the ground, but the blow came quicker than he could react and he watched the wind get knocked out of the dummy horse - clear from it’s lungs in a gust of air - as the real Wolfbane whipped his head around, sucking fresh wind back through his pointed teeth with a snarl.
Blood, bright and profuse, swelled from Never’s inflicted wound and ran down his duplicate’s hind leg. Together they all watched while the wound sautered itself and closed. Very neatly, nearly instantly. It was a magic the cursed stallion hadn’t expected, throwing him off-guard.
“You had better kill me this time.” Bane growled, done with the theatrics and games after Nev’s little show. He forced his forelegs out from underneath him and made as if to stand, but the ground trembled unexpectedly. His eyes rose, flashing, to see a wall of smoke rising from the south. The quaking was the sound of escape from thundering hooves: horses were fleeing Loess en masse.
Wolfbane looked back at the mares and thought again about what Lepis had said, shuddering. He’d underestimated her determination, it seemed. Perhaps he always had. As Ghaul strode out from the smoke and ash gathering around, Bane couldn’t even find it in himself to play amused. He lay quietly and looked intently at Lepis, breathing in the acrid smell of ruin.
"Wolfbane," Ghaul sentenced the shape-shifter, "Loess burns in exchange for your head." Prostrate on the ground, Bane’s hair began to turn gray from the soot gathering in it, yet the light from the blaze outside the canyon walls still managed to give him a menacing glint. His mask shifted from the dancing flames, though his eyes themselves were gleaming and steady.
"I’ve claimed my prize and now," Ghaul paused, spreading his wings as a gavel, "they will have their payment." The verdict fell, guilty.
Wolfbane’s black heart thudded once, and then he bared his teeth and lunged for Ghaul.
Mood: Dangerous
@[Lepis] & all else, full permission to god-mode this round
![[Image: Wolfbane2.png]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/601918740845559818/696502662816071770/Wolfbane2.png)
![[Image: 3bCHvj.png]](https://img.nickpic.host/3bCHvj.png)
