Cursevitten

At the very edge of the vast Frostvitten, a seemingly lone explorer stumbled upon a curse, unlike any they've ever encountered before. What else could describe the linear marks that now stain the skin directly below their collar bone. The empathic researcher had heard all of the stories about the frozen, unmarked lands, or so they thought. They had felt adequately prepared even, until the Wolven appeared. Battle was expected, as it always is, must be. The pack of Wolven never stood a chance against the empathed ClawVeast they recently allied with. Some among the Wolven's ranks understood this, intuitively, instinctively, and ran away while the offer of mercy was still on the battlefield. The Alpha and it's close followers were not so easily scared away. The ensuing battle hurt, ClawVeast and Empath alike. The pain spread beyond harm to the body, forcing the Empath into violent action as well. The Alpha's followers had to be dispatched. Perhaps then the remaining Alpha would retreat. To no avail. It was not like the rest, not only in determination, but in form as well. It's eyes glowed red the longer the battle continued, like the bluut it's attacks shed. It's fur stood on end like slick blades of glowing blue ice and it's claws vibrated subtly every time it's attacks were deflected, like blades after impact. The Empath threw any alchemy and paffos it could at it, despite their instincts screaming futility. The Alpha and the ClawVeast continued to clash savagely, bluut letting self destructively. The Empath did everything they could to minimize the suicides, to no avail. There was no helping their blind fury and domination predation. Long after they released the ClawVeast from the influence of their paffos, it continued it's vicious battle with the Alpha. No potion or salve would save their big, white, furry ally in the aftermath of this mortal combat. The Empath wailed and mourned the companion that had gotten them this far into the Frostvitten, and would not allow their sacrifice to be in vain. If it could not be saved, perhaps the Alpha wolven could, and the research could continue. They approached it's still body, slowly, cautiously. It wasn't breathing. Had there been any indication it was breathing before? They removed layers from their face and knelt down to inspect it's wounds. The putrid smell overwhelms. The steaming organs slipping out from between it's wounds show no signs of having been functional before the fight for it's life. How can they be warm and rotten simultaneously? They needed to understand, they needed to get closer. That, of course, was when it happened. A terrifying, invasive surge of energy. Their body froze in place, paralyzed. Their vision turned red, purple, black, as if the end was nigh. Then, as quickly as the first wave of horror came, the second wave began. Their body burned, warm one moment, searing the next. The packed snow fell away, the body melting into the air, then nothing.

They awaken to the mice cuddling on their chest, chirping, squealing, crying. Return to the warmth of our satchel. A sweep of the area startles. The corpse of the Alpha wolven was replaced by a pile of ash and snow. They scramble to their feet, collect samples, and look up for any trace of their airborne ally. It swoops down at them, claws aimed for their chest. They fall, dodge, collapse into the bloody snow. Their chest glows upon contact with the muddy, bluut soaked ice. They scramble to find and pull out a mirror, hands shaking, gaze unsteady. A scarred 'V' lines and mars their flesh, glowing a spectrum of red violet blue green, soaking up the bluut. Clearly, the Frostvitten research will have to wait...