The Flow of Arcane: New Legends Arises

The Scent of Ill Omens

Tyrik was deep within his research regarding a trail of data that allowed various things to link together the oddities of the investigation that his mother took a part in. Yet, to some degree, he felt that the chart Tyrik crafted was more akin to some crazy theories with a tin foil hat with too many articles as well as pictures all connected by an absurd amount of strings. Even though Tyrik has been able to use his ADHD to help create a strange sense of organized chaos to connect the dots… Half felt like nonsense while others seemed as if Tyrik was grasping at straws to make a connection. This indeed drove the young Lightning Draconian furious at what had occurred due to a little hunch. The Key detail that allowed this mad mess of theories to unravel in this way was the Russian origin of some of the elements at play. ‘The fact that all of this just seems like I am going insane, even with the new perspective on what’s going on around me, is making me question all of this… Sure, I did manage to uncover some details that link that MYBIAH creature to The Chernobyl Disaster… Yet the idea that there is a chance of some kind… You know what, fuck this for now!’ Tyrik concluded in his mind that what he had uncovered was indeed bizarre since it suggested that a cultist group may have been behind these events which had played out.

As Tyrik left the room where he was conducting his research, Ricky was coming back from his smoke break. The smell of tobacco was still potent around him and due to Tyrik’s enhanced senses the scent was nearly unbearable as the Draconian tried to paw it away like a cat would try to swipe at something that disgusted them. This display of feline behavior resulted in Ricky chuckling in amusement. “Guess the How to Train Your Dragon movies were wrong about using a cat to characterize Toothless, huh? I have heard rumors that Dragons are somewhat just giant reptilian cats.” The Kapre joked as Tyrik glared at him in small annoyance at the comment. Though Tyrik could not completely deny that there was some humor in this revelation regarding dragons. “Although… Considering your Mythic half has started to develop… You would need to learn how to control some of your more animalistic urges.” Ricky announced as he began to recognize this future problem while Tyrik was somewhat confused by the statement. “Well, you could get distracted by a laser pointer or a cat toy if you don’t learn how to control those impulses.” He explained simply as his best friend gave a silent ooh expression.

“Hold up. Is that a thing that could happen?” Washta questioned as she rushed over due to eavesdropping on the final statement from Ricky. Devious thoughts were already brewing within her mind regarding how to have fun with this information. “I am so gonna have fun with this while I can.” She declared giddily while rubbing her hands together like a gremlin ready to play various pranks.

Tyrik glared at the Shawnee Woman with a sense of being insulted which she replied only by an eye roll. “Really? I would say you are being somewhat insensitive regarding this development, Washta.” Yet before Tyrik could speak any further, Ricky stepped in with surprising agreement with Washta’s thoughts. 

“Well, it would definitely help you with taming your animal instincts. She will only get away with her stunts until you figure out how to control the urges after all.” He replied with a grin and crossed his arms, “Hells. I think that Esmeralda would absolutely love to get into this form of training too.” Ricky teased as the Draconian began to groan in dismay as it was quite clear that things were gonna become very embarrassing for him very soon. 

Among the perimeter walls of Nidavellir, a group of Mythics of various races were doing the usual border patrol rounds to ensure the safety of the citizens within the Dwarven City from potential threats. Yet, things were as dull as always as not many things have provided a threat to the city. Neither Midgards, besides the small group that accidentally breached the borders, nor Monsters managed to get inside. One of the patrolmen from Jötnar origin was walking through the city walls, though he was not fully committed to the job. With so few breaches or attacks on the city, security methods are only bound to grow more lax unintentionally. So, all he needed to do was occasionally make a trip to each wall tower that served both support beams to prevent a cave-in and destroy Nidavellir as well as observation towers to check for travelers, traders, or attackers. Yawning as he walked across the stone floors to the fourth tower, the Jötunn’s nose was soon assaulted by a horrid smell. As he ceased his movements, the Jötunn sniffed the air to identify the scent as rotting flesh and burnt wood.