Entrance to the Unknown

A thick fog from the night before was clearing with an agonizing slowness. The heavy mists seemed almost hateful as the rising sun began to burn them away, and as gradual winds forced the moisture back. Even the strange, overgrown buildings which made up the region known as the Reclaimed Roots were not without fog; vine-covered passages and long-empty rooms had a gray haze about them which made everything feel sluggish. Time seemed to have ground down to a crawl…
 
Through those same fog-choked halls and rooms, Fomoir hunted. He had already snagged one ill-prepared chicken ten minutes before; the drowsy cluckers seemed to be all over the ruins. He had time to chase down a second, and make sure that he was stocked up with the energy he’d need for the task ahead. Soon, once the sun was fully risen above the edge of the horizon, was the time he had to meet his comrades.
 
In his travels immediately following the strange and terrifying weather event, Fomoir had met many creatures. From wolves, to horses, to foxes and even giant rodents with strange, flat tails, they all had an opinion about the boiling skies and, later, the three star-clad beings which appeared afterward. Now, strange pathways had opened in different parts of the world. They were like cave entrances, yet instead of leading down and deep into darkness, they seemed to lead… somewhere else. Some of the creatures that Fomoir had met had committed to learning more about these oddities, and had agreed to meet here, at the Reclaimed Roots, to try walking through one of these ‘cave entrances’.
 
With a pounce, and a swift bite and twist and shake, Fomoir ended the life of a rather paltry chicken-catch. It would have to do, he didn’t have time to lounge around. Soon, his impromptu comrades-in-research would be arriving, and they’d begin their work together…

 
@Goliath @Osamu
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They had met by chance further north; Fomoir had glimpsed the great grey wolf struggling mightily to cross the river that separated the mountain region from its southern partner, not quite understanding how Osamu could be so genuinely terrible at swimming. He did not know that the samurai had once held a different shape in his life prior, and figuring out the locomotion of a four-limbed beast through a body of water was proving harder than he had anticipated - so the stranger had found him, gurgling and drowning very quietly and nobly, and had assisted him in reaching the other side.

They had discussed the strange phenomena in the sky, and Fomoir had brought up the odd doorways to gods-knew-where. Osamu had never been a man to enjoy sorcery - his interest in that area only extended far enough to outright slay the witches and demons that plagued surrounding villages - but seeing as how this was a new world entirely, he thought it prudent to investigate its... quirks.
Besides, it was important to know one's enemy, and if those star-demons that glittered against the sky at night were anything to go off of, he had to find out how to stop whatever disaster was about to take place.

If he were to perish (again), it would be a worthy death. He would not choose to simply wither away in this cursed form; he was a man with eyes set forward.

Arriving at the designated ruins, which looked almost exactly as Fomoir had described, he noticed movement and could see the wolf making quick work of a chicken he had caught. “It is wise to eat lightly before we continue,” he said approvingly. If they were to face danger on the other side of this portal, a heavy meal would only slow them down in a fight; a small fowl would suffice to stave off hunger. “You said we were waiting for another?”

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^^There had been a haze like fog that clouded his memories. He had gone to places that felt familiar, but he had known that he’d never been there before; scents that made him think of faceless wolves that he had no connection with — or did he?

The harder he tried to remember, the more his head hurt; the more frustrated he had become. And with his frustration, too, the weather had changed. Growing dark and ominous, and looming overhead for days without movement. The only movement was in the air; currents shifting from hot to cold, without warning. And now, the things in the sky, and these.. whatever these were?

Nothing like he’d ever seen.

It felt like a sign; perhaps a sign that he was trying too hard to remember. This, too, frustrated him. Normally a patient man, Goliath had tried so hard to remember, and after hours - no, days of continuous failure, Goliath had screamed a most terrible scream.

… only, Goliath hadn’t been trying to actually scream. He.. he actually couldn’t remember what it was that he was trying to accomplish, and that’s when Fomoir stepped in with guidance and with a plan - they were to meet up at a spot, later on, and do some investigative work themselves.

Late to the party, and soaking wet from a failed attempt at fishing, and with nothing to show for it, Goliath approached the duo with a slow butt wiggle. Oh gosh, it was happening again - he didn’t know how to show them that he was happy to see them, and wiggling his butt seemed like a good place to start, but something told him that this wasn’t the right course of action. He didn’t know, so he awkwardly and very quickly parked his wiggling butt on the floor.

“Greetings, gentlemen.”

^^
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Fomoir caught the relatively familiar scent of Osamu before he ever saw the wolf, but the makeup of these ruins made it difficult to know where he would appear from. The structure was all root-covered paths and hallways and doors next to doors next to doors. When he did lock eyes with the warrior-wolf, Fomoir bowed in a respectful greeting.
 
Fomoir liked Osamu, and immediately felt more at ease in the Reclaimed Roots now that he was present. Though he had seen the gray-furred he-wolf in a rather difficult situation some time ago at the river, that moment hadn’t made Osamu any less impressive in Fomoir’s eyes. The silver-eyed wolf was larger and more powerful than Fomoir by a fair margin, yet the two had connected over the quirks of this strange world.
 
At Osamu’s comment about eating lightly, Fomoir nodded, shaking a feather from his mouth; this scrawny chicken had been light eating indeed. “Wise words.” he agreed. ”And we are waiting for one more, a capable comrade in our mission ahead.” Fomoir raised his head, trying to draw in a scent other than Osamu’s, if it was present. ”His name is Goliath, and he’s a wolf taller and broader than either of us. He, too, seeks to understand this world we’ve all awoken in. He’ll be a good addition to our team.”
 
Fomoir’s own bushy tail waved in greeting as the waterlogged Goliath entered. ”Greetings!” Fomoir called out in measured exuberance. If he thought the butt-wiggling of the far larger male was unusual, Fomoir made no mention of it. ”Goliath, this is Osamu, a capable wolf, and one whom I trust.” It could be said that Fomoir was too quick to trust others… and that would be a truth. Still, he felt what he felt. ”Osamu, Goliath. He is as tall as I warned you he would be.”
 
As the trio introduced themselves, they’d easily pad over toward the rooms where the ‘entrance’ was rumored to be. Apparently, one of the many open doorways in the place would lead not to another room, but to… somewhere new. It could be any of these places...

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Fomoir was easy enough to get along with. He had a no-frills, no-nonsense attitude that Osamu appreciated about him, being a man of few words himself - though the stranger had more social grace, admittedly.

He gave a quick summary of their impending guest, to which Osamu grunted by way of reply. That he was apparently capable and large of stature was helpful; whatever journey they were about to undertake would surely not be for the weak.

Nevertheless, the sight of Goliath awkwardly lumbering in caused the samurai's fur to bristle subconsciously, still unaccustomed to seeing so many wolves out and about and at such close range. His memories were fading by the day, but old instinct remained; he regarded the yearling warily, muscles tensed.

By contrast, Goliath made himself comfortable very quickly, and was so eager to express his enthusiasm that his hindquarters started to... wiggle. Like a dog.

A puppy, if you will.

Osamu felt himself relax as he observed the large pup making a scene of himself trying to hide the wiggling, eventually resorting to sitting on his rump hoping to mitigate it. If he had been a lesser man, he would have smiled at the visual, but considering he had the humor of a disgruntled moose, all he could muster was a slightly less furrowed brow.

“Indeed,” he said simply. Turning to follow Fomoir, they meticulously inspected each entryway with caution, gradually working their way down until they had reached the last door.

“It must be this one.”

Osamu stepped forward, gazing into the darkness.

He was already cursed.

Banished.

Trapped in a form he did not own.

Lost in a land he did not know.

He set his jaw.

“May we meet on the other side.”

Osamu walked in, and-
 

{Exit Osamu}

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^^Osamu was described as a canine that Fomoir trusted, very clearly and very obviously meaning that Goliath was not trusted - probably not the intention that trusting boyo had meant to make, but alas, that’s the first thought that crossed his mind aside from wondering: am I freakishly tall? Because, why, it had never occurred to him that he was always having to look down on other wolves until right this hot second.

“Good day, gentlemen.. ” Goliath spoke softly, now very self conscious that he was freakishly tall, and not trusted by these two for whatever reason.

His attention went from Osamu a moment, and then suddenly he was gone. He attention went to Fomoir next and he arched his brow with a shrug.

Goliath was a canine who did not remember a thing. What was there to lose?

“Well, here goes nothing, I gue-”

Goliath entered the portal and he was gone.

Goliath exits.

^^
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As Osamu gave his departing statement, ‘May we meet on the other side’, Fomoir could only grin in just a slightly mad way. It was the other side, perhaps in more ways than one… The unknown, the strange land, the virgin horizon! Or so he hoped. It could also be death, passage to some new and horrible realm of torment, a true ‘other side’. In either case, I could choose worse companions, to be sure... Fomoir thought to himself. As Goliath, too, bravely stepped forward, Fomoir was left as the last, and a painful memory resurfaced as he looked onward to the door that led beyond.
 
Why had he waited to be the last?
 
As his heart had been beating with excitement, fueled by the trust in these two comrades, the fuel was tainted… The trust brought with it a memory of a frozen northern waste, and a betrayal which still stung from a time before open skies and star-clad god-things. He had waited, because he hadn’t wanted to be first, his legs exposed to a traitor’s trip…
 
Fomoir tried to shake the thoughts away, but they hung on like hungry ticks. He resolved to try to deal with the thoughts later as he forged forward, striding into…

Note:This thread continued here!
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