[hr][hr][center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/230605/b188b8e9cb2b405065c58f91ded076a7.png[/img][hr][img]https://64.media.tumblr.com/2961daa05c0e5ded90983456bd41293f/tumblr_mob5uyQvL81rlfsw2o1_500.gif[/img][hr][@BlueSky44][@Nallore][@Trainerblue192][@PatientBean][@Blizz][@Kirah][@KazAlkemi][hr][h3][color=FF0000][b]Earth-666[/b][/color][/h3][/center][hr]	[@Blizz]: You must think yourself very clever, as you summon on the forces of your unnatural realm, of that place of shadows. The energy pulsing off of the pentagram is immense, your skin buzzing from proximity, your cells beginning to decay. It is no easy feat - the creation of the portal is trivial, the veil disintegrating more and more rapidly by the second. One more hole in it is easily made. The portal appears. The energy begins to drain, to travel into the Everdark, into the land. 

	The land to which you are intimately connected. 

	Your body spasms, suddenly beyond your control, as the demonic energies pulse into your soul. You begin to burn up, your teeth loosening, your canines falling out in your mouth, as your hair rapidly grays and then withers away, your body prematurely aged to a man of 80 years - your knees brittle, your legs weak. Each breath is agony, each breath is pain. 

	Your vision is dim, your hearing almost gone - but not so much that you cannot hear her. 

	That you cannot hear Ananym whisper, appearing next to you in a blaze - [i]"Jackass, your meat looks... bad."[/i]

	If this is what has happened to you, what has become of the Everdark?

	You have seconds to live - seconds before you fade away. 

[hr][hr][center][h3][b][color=#a81a75]Runa the Grey[/color][/b][/h3][img]https://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/db4f97a911c55834e8956c78fb0d486b.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=#a81a75]Location:[/color][/b] New York City
[b][color=#a81a75]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A
[b][color=#a81a75]Spells:[/color][/b] Elder Futhark Runes (ōþila)
[hr][hr][/center]	Runa considered them, considered their pleas - considered Prudence's request that she make this choice for herself, that she not choose on behalf of the god she had created, of Those Who Sit Above in Shadows. They tilted their head towards the sky, even though their eyes were long since gone - they reflected on what [i]would[/i] they want, if they were able to choose. For so long, Runa had existed, had existed for their god - had existed to prevent Ragnarok, to break all the cycles, all the chains. And in doing so, they had bound themself - had restrained themself, had accepted the curse as a curse and not as an opportunity, a chance. It was not a curse that they could shed, not one that could be transferred to another - they shook their head at Carolina's suggestion.

	[color=#a81a75]"Very well,"[/color] Runa said, before drawing a rune and casting it. This question, they had decided, would be settled in the manners of their culture - of their people. Their companions may have forgotten it, but they were first and foremost an Asgardian [i]goddess. [/i]Their aid could not be won lightly. There had been a time when the gods meddled in the affairs of Midgard openly, when her uncle fought to protect it - and the price had been high, the tragedy brought upon the Odinson heavy. 

	The rune shimmered, before a horn appeared in Runa's hand - a drinking horn. It was a familiar weight. Perhaps Klara would recognize it, if her father had told her this tale. [color=#a81a75]"I will give you my portion of Stephen's mantle, of his soul - if you can drink dry this horn."[/color] The challenge was open for any.