#Ulf Wolf

[pangeen]

“ in this world it belongs “ // © Sondre Eriksen

Music:  Taylor Swift - Carolina

[spell-fox]

❄️ evening snow ❄️

with Eli (fox), Kuro (cat), Ulf (wolf) and Licorice <3 a gangrel convention from session 35 with Ulf dropping by to teach the husbands Mist Form. May as well exercise Mr Licorice while they are out.

[chrisredfield73]

Hey hello ! Hope you're doing well !

Can I request a Payday fic (or headcanons if you prefer those) about Wolf feeling down (I haven't thought of a reason, maybe he's just stressed, idk) and being comforted by the reader/one of the guys ? So, something a little angsty, that turns into tons of fluff. Bonus points if there's some crying and hugs/cuddles. This guy deserves so much love.

If you do it, thanks so much ! And take care ! :D

A/N: I love the scrunkle, everyone keep sending Wolf requests, I beg!! (Also pls send like.. Sydney, Hoxton and Jacket requests too omgomgomgmgomgom)

I had to do WolfHox. Sorry not sorry. I can do one with reader if you want another version.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Wolf sighs. Of course their heist had to go wrong. He sits in his room, away from the others, and stares off into space. He’s completely stressed out. He doesn’t want to bother anyone with his feelings, especially since they’re stressed out too. He’s stressed out because they didn’t make it out with the money, Clover got injured, and he just misses his family that he left behind many years ago. He lets out a low, frustrated and incoherent grumble before curling up in his bed.

Everything is taking a toll on him now and he doesn’t know why. He’s fairly open about his feelings but it feels like he’s been bottling them up for a while. When was the last time he ranted to someone? He doesn’t even remember. He wraps his arms around himself and slowly drifts off to sleep, thinking about all the things that have kept him up and feeling stressed. 

He wakes up a few hours later to the sound of his door opening. It’s dark outside now and the lack of light in his room at the moment makes it seem even darker. He’s still groggy when someone shuts the door and walks over to his bed before laying down next to him. Wolf lets out a groggy, “Hm?” and turns to look at the person. He can faintly make out who it is.. It’s Hoxton. Hoxton smiles a little and wraps his arms around Wolf. “Hey.. It’s just me, you’re okay.” Wolf relaxes almost immediately and leans into Hoxton’s touch. 

Hoxton and Wolf are both silent for a long while before Hoxton speaks up. “You doing okay, Ulf?” He knew Wolf was stressed. He always knew when Wolf was, since he wasn’t distant unless he was stressed and overthinking. Wolf shakes his head, tears welling up in his eyes. He can’t form any words, his mouth feels dry. He opts to turning towards Hoxton and buries his face in the British man’s chest, letting out a quiet sob. Hoxton is.. Surprised, to say the least. He quickly recovers and rubs Wolf’s back softly, “It’s okay.. Let it all out.”

Wolf finally finds the strength to speak. He rambles in between sobs, nearly incoherent and he hiccups and speaks quickly about all the things that have been stressing him out in the past month. Hoxton listens, still just rubbing Wolf’s back to comfort the Swede. When Wolf finishes his heartbreaking rambles, Hoxton presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. He speaks so quietly and softly, trying his hardest to comfort Wolf, “There you go.. It’s all going to be okay, Ulf. You’re doing so well and I’m glad you’re still here.” Wolf soon calms down as Hoxton whispers sweet nothings in his ear.

Hoxton feels the Swedish man relax in his arms and pulls him closer. They soon drift off to sleep together, Wolf being the first to fall asleep. Hoxton sighs contentedly, whispering against Wolf’s temple. “Goodnight, Ulf.. I love you.” He soon falls asleep as well, still holding Wolf tightly yet gently, as the stars begin to burn brighter in the dark, night sky.

Maybe telling someone about the things that are stressing you isn’t so bad after all.. Especially when they love you more than you could ever know.

[el-conejo-loco]

Not a fan of the new Wolf from Payday 3...

[mani-mooncrow]

GRÅ

Før din flokk til mine dalar Lat oss laga ringen heil

Wardruna's album Kvitravn was very inspirational to draw some things when it came out. Made in 2021

[sarenth]

Patreon Poem/Prayer/Song 69: For Angrboða

If you want to submit a request for a prayer, poem, or song to be written to you privately or to be posted on this blog or my Patreon for a God, Ancestor, or spirit, sign up for the Ansuz and above level here on my Patreon. This request was made by Maleck for Angrboða. Great Wolf, I hail You Ferocious and mauling-mouthed Mother Who leads the Ironwood with care Taufr-strong, I hail…

[clancarruthers]

HAROLD FAIR HAIR - CLAN CARRUTHERS CCIS

HAROLD FAIR HAIRED FOUNDS THE KINGDOM OF NORWAY CARRUTHERS ANCESTOR   To the far-off island of Iceland we must go for the story of the early days of Norway. In that frosty isle, not torn by war or rent by tumult, the people, sitting before their winter fires, had much time to think and write, and it is to Iceland we owe the story of the gods of the north and of the Scandinavian kings of heathen…

[kiralamouse]

*grins* Yeah, there's a reason Maugrim won out as the name-publishers-still-use. It was the first (and I believe the last) choice Lewis went with. But I have a soft spot for Fenris Ulf, as that was the name in the edition I read as a child, and also paved the way to meet Fenrir later.

OH MY GOSH JUST CHECKING WIKIPEDIA TO MAKE SURE I'M REMEMBERING FENRIR'S NORSE NAME CORRECTLY AND

FENRIS-WOLF IS

FENRISÚLFR

JACK LEWIS YOU COME DOWN HERE AND APOLOGIZE

Okay fully if I were hearing this story (LOTR) for the first time (rather than reading it for the first time haha) and a guy invited strangers into a blatantly Germanic-Old English hall and said to leave the weapons at the door (this at least is normal enough! Occasionally results in duels to the death w/e) and that these were “dark days” I would be fucking panicking. I’d be like “the lads are going to DIE they are going to be LOCKED IN and BURNED ALIVE. “Thatched with gold” ok man I know an IRON HOUSE MOTIF WHEN I SEE ONE. I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS. IS THERE A LADY IN THIS HALL, HUH JRR? IS SHE GONNA BURN THEM AND HERSELF ALIVE IN IT CANT FOOL ME, JRR. Can’t believe this is a red herring I am suffering. He did this to panic his medievalist friends I swear. This was a trap designed for CS Lewis’s personal anxiety.

[badasserywomen]

have you drawn ulfs wolf form yet?

yep

[inkedcerulean]

an alliance in waiting | chapter two

jacaerys velaryon x fem!frey reader

summary: after the war is finally over, you meet the prince.

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of war & death

general notes: semi-non-canon-compliant. rhaenyra permanently succeeds in taking her throne. jace and baela are not betrothed. ulf and hugh do not betray rhaenyra. helaena lives. following canon, daemon, aegon, and aemond are dead.

reader does have a backstory, but she has no name or descriptors. i have added some minor ocs (her siblings) and some of them do have silly names, but so are some of the names in asoiaf.

jace taglist: @hotdhoe @chimmysoftpaws chocotorta2027 @drvcosstuff @emilly-adopted-mcmann @charlottelaffin @suniika @princessofthereach @twilightzone24 @ghizlana @yohanseyebrowmole @fairyjuhak22 @francislovergirl @viserraslawyer @ackerman0-0

TWO YEARS LATER

Morning light seeped in from the high windows of your chambers. You shivered; there was a chill in the air, even though it was mid-spring. Muffled footsteps told you that the handmaidens scurrying about. You paced around the room, taking in the quiet of the early hour.

The door opened then.

Fara, your handmaiden, widened her eyes. “My lady…” she began.

“Good morrow, Fara,” you said, smiling, though however forced.

Fara was carrying a tray with a snood. “Might the lady want to have her hair out of the way when she goes sailing?”

“Yes.” You think of the dozen times that you had forgotten something for a journey or for the day in the towers, and Fara had always been there to remind you. “It always escapes me, doesn’t it?”

Your dress, which Fara helped you put on, was gray and muted, but you much preferred simplicity. The shawl over your dress was wolf fur from the North, protective for the bracing breezes. The Prince was soon to arrive, as Fara told you, and you could not help but feel an anticipatory fear of him.

You stepped out into the hall to break your fast in the Great Hall, your footsteps quick and loud. You kissed the five of your siblings on the cheek, who were already seated, albeit groggy. Your mother most likely forced them to get up, to save herself from any embarrassment of not having the host family up first before the guests.

Thimbus and Dannis, your youngest brothers, were looking at you expectantly.

“Sister,” Gunther started. “Are you nervous at all about the day’s schedule?”

“Yes, I am,” you said, not wanting denial to stir up any teasing.

“That is wise,” he responded, splitting his roast ham in half. “I will miss you when the day finally comes when you will be so very far away from us.” Despite his kind words, the familiar mischievous look graced his face, as if he found your lack of agency amusing.

Marsella and you exchanged a look of quiet camaraderie; you smiled to thank her.

It was hard to believe that the wedding would take place in about a month. Weeks ago, when the guest list had been presented to you, you had looked over it with a transformative pain in your gut. This was all too real. The arrangement was made two years ago, but that time had moved quickly in your own waiting.

As you looked out your window to the Green Fork, you remembered how you dreaded this day at first. It was a cautious thing, facing a dragon and its rider. The Dance of the Dragons, as the maesters were keen on calling it, was infamous for its violence in dragonfire. But the war was no longer, and your betrothed unharmed, or so the maesters said. You heard whisperings of a scar on his neck. The specifics were unknown to you, but you were curious as to find out if the Prince was willing. 

Though curious as you were, you could not help but wonder what violence you were marrying into. Calm as you tried to be, you were still anxious. Your mother would not have secured this if she thought it was a danger, so you had no choice but to trust her.

“The Prince Jacaerys Velaryon of Dragonstone has arrived.”

You hesitated for a moment, looking down at the crumbs on your plate. The food in your stomach was turning. After taking a deep breath, you got up to treat with your parents and the Prince on the bridge outside. As the guards led the way, your heartbeat quickened. Although they were there to protect you, you felt as if they were leading you into a dark pit of which there was no escape.

The first thing you saw when you took your first steps outside was the dragon. It was not as monstrous as you imagined, his frills the color of the orange pastries you loved, and scales as green as the hills around you. You held your gaze eye-level.

Queen Rhaenyra had sent twenty of her men, two dragonkeepers, and two of her Queensguard to oversee his stay. Many at the Twins thought it aplenty, but you could not blame her; times of war bred caution. That was not something so easily shed.

You stood at the West Tower, your lady mother and lord father beside you, looking out as the Prince now stood before you, his men behind him. There were several things you noticed about him: his short stature, his striking red cape perched atop his shoulder, and the furrow of his brow that was because of the sunlight, mayhaps.

“Good morrow, my Prince,” you said, curtsying.

“And you, my lady,” the Prince said. “The Riverlands have not much changed since I last set foot here,” he continued, looking at both of your parents. His gaze drifted from you three to the Green Fork ahead. A flicker of amusement visibly phased over him. Perhaps, you thought, that he was thinking of how he won the Crossing for his mother. 

Your mother spoke. “This time, I hope, is a much less distressing reason.”

“I will see to it that it is.”

“We are glad that you are here, my Prince,” you said. “And that the rightful queen took her place on the throne, as she should have long ago.”

“My thanks to you.”

You nodded.

“How fares King’s Landing?”

“Well. My mother sends her greetings in good faith.”

“To her as well.”

You and your parents began with a tour of the Twins. You approached Jacaerys, giving him a curt nod. “We would like to begin with a tour of the castle, if it pleases Your Grace.”

“Yes, of course,” came his reply.

You followed both the guards and your parents to the Water Tower, walking next to the Prince with a few feet’s distance between. It was not difficult to keep pace with him. 

The Water Tower was the lone turret that stood at the center of the bridge, equidistant from both towers. It was where all your guests stayed. Your friends and their families would frequent this accommodation. Until two years ago, when you had a falling out and the war started soon after. You had written letters to them in this peace time, and had gotten only some responses. And from this, a great despondency grew within you.

Would this be the same with the Prince? You had held your friends near to your heart, but time and abandonment had turned your heart to stone. If, gods be cruel, there was another war, would it take your to-be husband from you too? And to be partners in marriage was no cure to your loneliness. You wanted romance but needed friendship, and you feared that your wishes for the latter would go unanswered. A betrothal would only distract you.

You ascended up the curved steps in silence. It had been so long since you’d been here that it felt intimate yet foreign. How could it be, that this was part of your own home, and yet you felt uneasy in this space? His experience in this new place for him was a microcosm of your own future; you were soon to be sent somewhere new for eternity.

The guest chambers of the water towers were generously furnished. When there weren’t any guests, Thimbus would sneak out here at night, for he often swore that these featherbeds were more comfortable than your own.

“Here are your chambers, my Prince,” your mother says.

“This looks very comfortable indeed,” he smiled.

The Prince stood there, several feet away from you and your family. He looked somewhat out of place there. It was then that you realized that it was silly and foolish to think of proceeding with the courtship in your home rather than at the Red Keep. Choosing to show your heart to a stranger and how lonesome it really was, compared to a bustling setting where people and distraction were common, was a shameful, impractical choice.

The boat departed when the air was still chilly. Your parents had left, which you were grateful for. However, the only presence that remained were Prince Jacaerys, and the guards, who remained mute.

You took advantage of the ample room on the small boat as you sat next to the Prince. It was turning into a beautiful day and the wind was calming, but the same could not be said for your nerves. You knew that it was impolite to stay quiet for so long, but you could not think of anything to say.

“I have not taken a boat in some time,” Prince Jacaerys said, looking around you. “I had forgotten what it’s like to travel by air.”

You turn to look at him. “You sailed in King's Landing?”

“A little, the first time I lived there. Ser Laenor taught me all he knew.”

You looked out at Vermax flying in the distance over the hills. Many times you had seen birds fly in the same area, but now there were none; it was a simple, banal sight then, but now you ached for the mundane. Would everything in your life be replaced by the Prince’s company?

He noticed that you were looking at his dragon, and he told you about how Vermax’s egg was put in his cradle, and how when he was a boy, he would train him in the Dragonpit with the supervision of the dragonriders.

“The day I taught him to breathe fire, he burnt a goat. I was happier before than after the fact. Proud of the fact that he burnt a goat alive, but saddened to see what remained of it.”

You nodded.

“Would you like to meet him?”

“Now, you mean?”

“After the boat ride. I can inform one of my guardsmen to go to the dragonkeeper to feed Vermax. He is more temperate if he has just had a meal.”

You chuckled, though it was a small distraction from such a prospect. It was inevitable for you to cross paths with his dragon one of these days, and you felt it was more convenient to make your introduction sooner rather than late. Imagination could sometimes be more monstrous than reality.

“I would like that,” you said.

Prince Jacaerys smiled, close-lipped but apparent.

It was dusk by the time that you both made your way to the western hills. There were stone steps leading through and a few trees littered through the landscape. You looked up at the clouds, then down at the steps. At quiet times like this, it was easy to see everything as gray and sullen. This, you thought, was the reason why it was one of your house colors, the blue towers on an expansive gray field. The dragonkeepers made their camp here to keep watch on the dragon.

At once, your ears perked up to the sound of the dragon’s call. You startled imperceptibly, and Jacaerys eyed you. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said.

You both carried on in silence, though it was uncomfortable for you because of your reaction. You then spotted a flash of orange amongst the green, and then you saw golden eyes peering at you.

One of the dragonkeepers, to the left of Vermax, bowed before the Prince and yourself. He greeted Jacaerys in High Valyrian and then turned to you. “My lady.”

You curtsied at him.

Jacaerys approached before you, walking slowly but with confidence. If it weren’t for his eyes, Vermax looked asleep, his head pointed low on the ground so that some blades of grass brushed his chin. The dragonkeeper was near, seated on a log now.

The Prince came to a stop. “Dohaeris, Vermax.” Without hesitation, he reached out, placing his hand on his snout. Vermax’s mouth curved upwards, closing his eyes as he breathed like a cat purred. You saw the gentleness of Jacaerys’s manner. He stood straight, proud, but not overbearing with it.

He turned towards you, the movement swaying his shoulder-clasped cape. Keeping his other hand placed on the dragon, he held his other hand out towards you and raised his eyebrows. You stepped forward and took it, letting him lead you all the way to his scales. They were coarse against your skin, but you kept them there.

“Iksis ziry jāre naejot kipagon?” asked the dragonkeeper, frowning.

You frowned too, though for the reason of not understanding what he was saying.

“Lo jaelza naejot,” he responded. “Would you like to ride with me?” Jacaerys asked.

You imagined it, taking to the skies on a marvelous creature. You knew the power that you were being offered, even though you were only borrowing it.

“He is beautiful,” you said. “But if it does not offend you, I will forgo.”

“Offend me? Why?”

“Rejecting an offer from the Prince is generally ill-advised,” you said.

He smiled, pleasant and comely indeed. “You needn’t worry about that.”

[heister-shmeister]

to be honest. i am happy that his name isnt derek. i dont think its a good idea to actually name him off of his voice actor because that happened with wolf.

everybody and their mom agrees wolfs real name is ulf because of his voice actor. wolfs real name likely being ulf makes it difficult as hell to separate wolf the character from ulf the developer, and i think it had a part in making everyone freak out about what they would do with wolf in payday 3

if derek ray was to stop working with payday and they literally named him derek, thatd make it a lot more confusing when the character he played permanently has his name

nonetheless i am very happy that houston is coming back

spoiler under cut

franklin goofy as hell though

but i do like it. better than derek actually

god forbid someone say “let me be frank” in hoxtons presence. better yet, someone draw he and chains as lamar roasting franklin. also yk, ben franklin… mo n ey

Payday fandom: Derek Steele

Everyone: Derek Steele

Payday 3:

[likeabhosz]

JACEGAN BRAINROT HAS TAKEN OVER, I HAVE TO WRITE THIS DOWN SOMEWHERE SJDJSJDJ

I believe we can rework the pact of ice and fire to fit the show canon, just with a different context. In fact, I think it's necessary to have it to push Cregan and the greater northern army back in action towards the end of the war! Walk with me here -

Conditions

- The Battle of the Gullet should, at earliest, occur mid-season and be replaced with minor battles where the Winter Wolves participate in. Jace and the dragonseeds can fight in these battles before getting called to the Gullet. Despite this, Jace should still be skeptical of the dragonseeds - I imagine he'd learn to like Addam, maybe even Hugh, but I don't see him respecting Ulf anytime soon lol.

- Cregan is among the Winter Wolves at first but has to return to Winterfell at some point so that he can march back with a bigger army for the hour of the wolf (can be before or after Jace dies)

Scenario

- Jace and Cregan can take a bit of time to re-establish their friendship during and in between the smaller battles. Jace finally gets someone to talk to about his fears re: possibly facing his own succession war once his mother passes the crown. Cregan swears allegiance to Jace. He tells Jace that his claim is solid and deserved, but if it came to a war, Cregan would back him. Jace may or may not mention the conqueror's dream - it will definitely be a more convincing reason for the Starks to back Rhaenyra's line, but I personally prefer it if their pact hinged less on prophecy and more on their actual relationship.

- boom, PACT. The conditions for this may or not be the same as in the book tbh. Honestly, it wouldn't matter, it went unfulfilled on Jace's part because he died T__T still, Cregan has so far only promised 2000 men to fight for Rhaenyra - as far as his father's oath is concerned, it has been fulfilled and if he wanted to, he can excuse himself to prepare for winter. A renewed pact with Jace will push him to bring a larger army, both to secure Rhaenyra's reign and the claim of her named heir.

On how Cregan goes back to Winterfell, I imagine two scenarios:

- There are problems up north due to winter. Cregan is compelled by whoever he left in charge to come back and fix things. If he leaves before the Battle of the Gullet, he promises to make good on the pact (Jace and Cregan part and promise to meet on the battlefield, then hunt and feast after the war, optimistic vibes huhu). If it's after, the scenario below can also apply.

- Grief-stricken at what happens to Jace, Cregan himself retreats back to Winterfell to build his bigger army to avenge Jace and end the war. The remaining Winter Wolves stay and support Rhaenyra's army.

I kind of want to work all of this into a fic haha, I wish I had the time, lol.

[pixeldolly]

The Sacrifice - Part 11 - The End

"How are they, Tess?"

"I've treated Roman's injuries and he's resting now. I've also given him antibiotics and painkillers, so he should be comfortable...as much as he can be, given the circumstances."

"As for Evelyn, I've done all I could for the moment, but we'll have to wait for the morning change before I can perform a full examination. Her wounds seem to be healing remarkably fast though."

"Is it because she's a werewolf?"

"Yes, although I do want to take a closer look at that bite, in case it's at risk of becoming infected. I admit I don't have any experience treating demon-inflicted wounds."

"They are prone to infection."

"I still can't wrap my head around the idea that anyone would do something like this! To their own child, no less!"

"It shocked me as well."

"You took such a risk in confronting her, Fiona! The inhabitants of the Hellplanes are not to be trifled with!"

"I'm aware of that, Dad. Would you rather I'd let Jacob and Evelyn go in there alone?"

"Of course not - what you did was very brave - but we can't help worrying. The whole thing could've gone so much worse."

"Well, it worked out fine, so you can let it go now."

It was Abby who brought the conversation back on track.

"Is Roman going to be all right?"

"Physically? Probably. He had a number of deep gashes that needed stitches, several broken bones including two ribs, a bruised lung, plus the...runes carved into his back, which will be uncomfortable for a while. Assuming there are no complications, these should heal in time."

"Mentally, it's a different matter. I'm not an expert, but I don't think the kind of trauma he's been through is something he'll be able to just shrug off. Speaking to therapist might help him."

"May we go in and see them?"

"You may, but just for a little while. Jacob is with Roman already; he hasn't left his bedside since I brought him back to the ward."

"Mr Stigfinnare is with his wife as well. He's been worried sick about her, prowling around the waiting room like a caged wolf."

"I'm surprised he didn't kick the door down."

"He might've done, if I hadn't let him in."

The trio - together with Ulf, who refused to be parted from Evelyn - gathered around Roman's bed.

Roman was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep and forget, but he forced a smile on his face as he looked at each of the people who had risked their lives to save him.

In truth, he could hardly believe it.

"I don't know what to say. I owe you my life - no, more than my life. My soul. 'Thank you' doesn't seem like enough..."

"This is the second time I had to help save your ass, Turner! You'd better not make a habit out of it!"

Evelyn's cheerful tone helped defuse some of the tension, although Ulf kept his arm wrapped protectively around his wife. She was putting up a brave front, but he could tell she was hurting more than she was letting on. He hated it!

"It's over now."

"Maybe...maybe not."

"Fiona...? What do you mean?"

"The ritual circle carved into his back. The Nameless One may be have been banished, but those runes are magic. He's tied to the Hellplanes now."

"WHAT?!"

Roman sat up so fast that white stars burst before his eyes and his injuries flared painfully despite the medication keeping the worst of it at bay. He felt the cold panic rising like a tide.

"Are you saying it can come back?"

"Fuck. You're not, are you?"

"There are many doors between the planes, and things have a way of slipping through the cracks. That sigil is one such door; closed for the moment, but not locked."

"But you can remove it, right?! Or...render it inert, or something?"

"I...I'll do some research. Ask around."

Roman looked so crestfallen, Jacob's heart twinged in sympathy.

"Guys? Can you give us a moment, please?"

"Please try not to think about it, all right? If anything happens, my whole family are witches; they'll help. You need to focus on getting better."

Roman smiled humorlessly; it was hard not to think about the interdimensional door to Hell itself he carried around on his back, but he was so very tired. Sleep beckoned, demons or no demons.

But first, there was something he needed to say to Jacob.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect you to come to my rescue. Considering how things are between us..."

"Look, just because we broke up doesn't mean I don't still lo- care about you. Besides, I didn't actually do much, it was mostly Evelyn and Fiona."

"Still. Facing down demons and witches when you're just a regular person with no special powers took guts."

"I did have an axe."

Something happened then that Roman did not expect: he burst into laughter. Which hurt, but it was worth it, and his heart felt lighter for it.

"I think I'd like to sleep now..."

"Yes, you should. I'll be back to see you in the morning."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

As Roman sank into the cottonwool depths of drug-induced sleep, a smile fluttered on his lips.

The End!

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the story!

[reikiajakoiranruohoja]

Why the Apocalypse in the title matters and how W5 fails to address it

Even if it is by this point a joke, all WoD games have a title what creature it lets you play and then one of the core elements of it.

Yet, it is odd that a werewolf game puts the end of the world as one of its most central concepts. After all, werewolves aren't really associated with the apocalypse in myths. The closest is Fenris-Ulf in Norse myths, but Fenris was a monstrous wolf, not a werewolf. Shouldn't Changing or Fury be a better descriptor?

Well, WtA's werewolves draw from older material than the movies and the focus is not on being a werewolf. The focus is on the state of the world, the way nature is being destroyed and such. In the game, being a werewolf is more akin to a spiritual guardian than a cursed being.

The Apocalypse in the title not only refers to the literal end of existence but to the little apocalypses happening every year. Species dying, people losing touch with their ancestral cultures, etc. WtA is about looking at the state of the world and feeling the horror of just how hard it is to fix it if not impossible. Never mind the sadly now very real horror of greed over care and ennui towards your fellow humans and nature.

This genuine approach and call to action has, of course, created an opposite reaction that calls WtA's tone childish. More recently, as we actually start seeing the effects of climate change, the reactions have also become ones of denial, apathy and fear of doing the wrong thing.

It is the latter that W5 shows the clearest in its depiction of the apocalypse.

The apocalypse in W5 is invisible to normal people and other supernaturals. At most, it is the fall of the garou nation as the climate change happening in the real world. Despite this, W5 is very clear about discouraging its PCs from taking action further than locally.

In effect, W5's apocalypse and what it wants the players to do about it is toothless. The game spends page space detailing what not to do, but very little on what to do and what the apocalypse looks like. Because it is afraid to take a stand, instead focusing on passive-aggressive remarks here and there.

W5, despite its blurb stating it is about striking back at pollution, isn't willing to have its PCs be eco-terrorists (though some do slip through) and actively calls direct action the wrong method.

It isn't just what W5 tells the PCs shouldn't do, it is also how much the PCs don't have to do. It's the end of the world as we know it and you can still go to McDonald's in peace. The world is lost and you still have to go to work. If we weren't told the apocalypse was raging, we'd assume it was still in the future. The game is, intentionally or unintentionally, saying that there is no need to do anything. Even if the world is ending, it won't inconvenience you.

To put things plainly, W5's apocalypse is the way it is so there won't be paid sick days for the employees. It is an end that preserves and protects the status quo.

Of course, an apocalypse that changes nothing is not really an apocalypse. Indeed, W5 wears the apocalypse label more out of legacy than any real intention of addressing it. It wants to focus on werewolf packs and caern tending, not something as serious as the fate of the world.

In fact, I'd say W5 doesn't want to be about the garou at all but instead about werewolves. It wants to be Werewolf the Fury.

[maverick-werewolf]

Folklore Fact - Wargs (or vargs or worgs)

Wargs (aka worgs, if you play D&D) handily won the poll for August's folklore fact. What are these giant wolves like, anyway, and are they really all evil in legend?

The jötunn Hyrrokin riding a wolf, on an image stone from the Hunnestad Monument, constructed in 985–1035 AD

As usual, let's start with etymology. The word “warg” comes from Old Norse “vargr” (plural “vargar”), meaning - essentially - "destroyer." Originally, the term is thought to have meant "wolf," but over time, it shifted to refer to criminals (with an inherent negative meaning) instead. Thanks particularly to Tolkien, it is now widely used in scholarship to refer to the various giant wolves of Norse mythology, such as perhaps the mightiest and most terrifying monster in Norse myth, Fenrir (destined to swallow Odin during Ragnarok), along with Skoll (destined to swallow the sun) and Hati (destined to swallow the moon).

Note that this was not the common Old Norse word for wolf. "Varg" came to have a specifically negative connotation, whereas "ulf" (meaning simply "wolf") did not.

There were also plenty of other wargs/giant wolves in Norse myth, often being used as mounts to various gods and giants and other extremely powerful individuals; they were particularly favored of the jötnar, who, despite the simplification in a lot of modern media, were not always universally malevolent and hostile toward the gods. The runestone seen above depicts the giantess Hyrrokin who arrived to assist the gods with shoving off Baldr's funerary ship during Baldr's funeral, as no one else could move the vessel. She arrived riding on the back of a huge wolf so mighty that, after the giantess dismounted, even Odin's berserkers could not restrain it until it was knocked unconscious.

Does this also make Odin’s wolves, Geri and Freki, "wargs" in the modern scholarly concept? That was never really specified. But they are giant, godly wolves, perhaps meant to be the fathers of all wolves everywhere, so… Maybe? In some tales, during Odin's wanderings, Geri and Freki spread their wolf offspring across the world. Thus, it is possible they are simply giant godly wolves rather than specifically "wargs," but it's also possible that mythology wasn't ever planning to be that nitpicky and specific. Odin was, of course, also the creator of the berserkers, which gives him yet another wolf connection.

Going back to etymology for a moment, "ulf" was frequently incorporated into personal names. Wolves were not seen as wholly undesirable in Norse culture; to claim wolves were always seen as "evil" or somehow "negative" is to simplify the concept beyond belief. Wolves were admired for their fabled ferocity, endurance, will to live, voracity, and prowess in battle. Thus, wolves became a symbol of strength and a desirable image for great warriors. Though often feared, this fear is precisely what led many warriors to desire to be like a wolf, for they too desired ferocity feared by those around them. Wolves were a force of nature, an uncontrollable power to be respected (such as the power of the berserkers, again, who themselves were associated with wolves and, despite their connections with the god Odin, were also at once frequently seen as undesirable but worthy of respect), not simply a force of black and white "pure evil." How terrifying they were led to wolves becoming arguably the most powerful and feared monsters in Norse myth, but likewise, it was an image their warriors often wanted to take up and present.

While the majority of named giant wolves from Norse myth are certainly evil, such as Fenrir, what truly popularized the modern concept of the evil wargs in popular culture was - of course - the father of all fantasy and unmatched scholar JRR Tolkien. Likewise, Tolkien popularized the idea of goblins and/or orcs riding giant wolves into battle, no doubt inspired by the jötnar of Norse myth. Obviously, Norse and other myths greatly inspired many elements of The Lord of the Rings. Wargs are no different, but he did of course put his own interpretation upon them - an interpretation that has, like so many of his creations, become staples of many fantasy settings and even the popular mindset.

Whereas wargs in myth are at least semi-divine mounts of gods and giants, the wargs by the Third Age of The Lord of the Rings are mounts for goblins and their ilk. However, the wargs are intelligent and even have a sort of language, one some beings (such as Gandalf, notably inspired to no small degree by elements of Odin, himself) can understand, even if it is an evil tongue and they use it to speak only of evil things, as seen in The Hobbit. In the books, the wargs are often associated with Tolkien's very unfortunate portrayal of werewolves. I won't get into all the details of that. I adore Tolkien and all his works beyond my love for virtually anything else, but I cannot say I love his portrayal of "werewolves," though I do understand them.

So where then do we get this spelling of "worg?" That's entirely Dungeons and Dragons. Oldschool D&D wholesale ripped off Tolkien - which is one reason why oldschool D&D is so great - and had to change some of the terms they used. Balrog became balor, hobbit became halfling, mithril became mithral, etc. The same applies to "warg," Tolkien's term, which became "worg" in Dungeons & Dragons.

So where does this leave A Song of Ice and Fire aka Game of Thrones, with the "wargs" that are "skinwalkers" who can "warg" (verb) into animals, etc, and see through their eyes? There were plenty of legends out there - from Norse myth and otherwise - wherein people could project their consciousness into the bodies of animals when they slept or otherwise entered a kind of trance (some legends that could be considered werewolves also worked this way), but the term "warg" was never used to refer to such acts.

Ultimately, the modern concept of wargs is yet another major fantasy element that Tolkien alone conceptualized into what it is now in broader popular culture. Yes, it is certainly based on Norse myth, but Tolkien is the one who gave us our popular concepts of them today.

That's it for a general overview! This is a vast topic into which I could delve far deeper, but now you should have some general idea.

If you like my blog, be sure to follow me here and elsewhere for much more folklore and fiction, including books, especially on werewolves! You can also sign up for my free newsletter for monthly werewolf/vampire/folklore facts, a free story, book previews, and my other sundry upcoming projects and works, such as plushes (including all your werewolf and wolf and mythology plush desires). Please also consider supporting me over on Patreon (link at bottom of post); I promise you'll get awesome rewards in return, and every little bit really does help me continue my work.

And stay tuned for news and updates on a major [character-driven werewolf/fantasy/adventure/horror/semi-epic] book release coming THIS NOVEMBER!

Free Newsletter - maverickwerewolf.com (personal site + shop + free fiction)  — Patreon — Wulfgard — Werewolf Fact Masterlist — X — Vampire Fact Masterlist — Amazon Author page

[el-conejo-loco]

A compilation of Wolf's lines when being tased. Inspiring stuff, truly.