Mistfell Vale's year was not the bounteous one the Mistwalker's had hoped for.
Still reeling from an attack on one of their members in late 2019, the pack found themselves facing more danger in spring. Throughout January, the Vale was plagued by a gang of trespassers who picked at the natural resources on the edge of the territory before making a final assault towards the end of the month. The Mistwalkers banded together and saw off the attackers with fierce might.
Sadly, that wasn't the end of the Vale's strife. An unholy blizzard blankets 'Souls in snow around the same time, the weight of which collapses several old and dilapidated buildings and in the month following, severe flooding is caused by the large amounts of melting snow. Situated on the banks of the St. John, the Vale's riverside areas become part of the river itself for most of the month, leaving noticeable damage.
The rest of spring passes by with little in the way of further disruptions, thankfully, but the weather eventually comes back with a vengeance in the form of a huge earthquake. Further dilapidated buildings are toppled and even some of the Vale's most cared for buildings seemed a little worse for wear...
There is some positive news among all this strife, as the Ursarchon brings two new souls into the world, fathered by the Lord-Regent of New Caledonia. This, in turn, forms the basis of a rather short-lived alliance.
Alas, summer seemed to be the final nail in the coffin for the Vale, as dead fish and seals are found beached on nearby shores and, more distressingly, everyone's honorary Grandmother, Posey Prior, succumbs to dementia. Ursarchon Saga D'Angelo calls a pack meeting on the 20th of June and announces that by the end of the month, Mistfell Vale will cease to exists.
Over the next ten days, the Mistwalkers filter out into the neutral and upon the Ursarchon's departure to New Caledonia, the sun sets on the Vale for a final time.
As a boy he had been told stories about spirits, but they were simply stories. Just like his dead mother, Bennett could not touch or feel or fully understand the powers beyond. Though Symre had waxed on about her spirituality and witchcraft endlessly, faith had never been a part of Bennett's life.
Art by Songbird
The Elkenfrey clutched the injury for a moment, a sharp whine crawling up her throat. It stung every time she moved her mouth—when her bleeding, split lip curled into a growl—but it wouldn’t kill her. Falcon rolled onto her stomach and dragged herself to her feet, before charging after the dog man again. He couldn’t get to Skadi; she wouldn’t let him.
Art by Despi
I'm just a simple guy
I live from day to day
A ray of sunshine melts my frown
And blows my blues away
Art by Despi
"I've definitely made my mark around the Vale. I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself when I finally joined Mistfell, so I threw myself into making the pack a home for not only myself but for others as well. I am pretty proud of my efforts."
Art by Despi
The sight of the shivering coyote-mix made some dark part in Skadi’s heart almost turn away. Her brother had been viciously murdered by one when she’d been just a pup. It was old though. Shivering, cold, weathered with age. For whatever reason, it made her think of Posey.
Art by Songbird
