The Things I do for my Magic

Niflheim was the land of inbetween. It was a border and a buffer between the lands of the living and the dead. The problem with killing anyone in Niflheim, such as the turned Winter wolf Naurfast, was that the realm was so infused with its purpose that nothing slain from mortal wounds proved capable of staying dead. It was an otherworldly security measure to prevent the living from entering the realms of Hel, but it also kept the dead from spilling back into the world of the living. Thus the need for a potion of magically induced passing. These adventurers Cali was now taken up with probably weren’t aware of that and in an attempt to put off to the last minute telling them anything, lest they lose their nerve or grow resistant, there hadn’t been time enough to explain it. And now they were spending precious time and energy killing Naurfast over and over again. This was a once noble beast that served as companion and conscript at Amdir's side. Cali could intervene, but she could not stop the great wolf from returning. She could not directly counter Araghol’s spell in inverse, but perhaps she could bind Naurfast to herself and help the animal circumvent those commands.

“Here, take this,” Cali handed off to Kespin the duties of dragging Jorrik’s leg. The poor Champion was not receiving the dignity he deserved. Why hadn’t she thought to hold onto her cloak? Then they could at least use it as a sled of sorts. Fortunately the frozen ground provided minimal resistance, but Jorrik was still a heavy man and they said dead weight was twice as heavy. “Go, quickly as you can with the others. Get them to the Sepulcher.”

Caligari moved quickly to skirt around Naurfast and nearly took a beating from Erik for her troubles. “I need the wolf!” she bellowed up to the giant. She began chanting the foul language of her necrotic witchcraft and knelt down behind the animal who was still laid out on its side. The sacrificial blade was in her hand again and her arms disappeared beneath the fur and rear leg of Naurfast. Along with the ugly words which none present understood, the rhythmic motion back and forth of her hands was vulgar and unsettling. The others would probably not want to see what she was doing to the animal, but it’s hindquarters began to twitch and buck as they joined the suggestive movements of Cali’s hands. All the while the beast’s body was swelling up to it’s once stature. It’s smashed skull made cracking, popping sounds as it resumed its shape and Cali’s horrid speech swelled with each sawing motion of her hand. Naurfast’s red markings disappeared and the grey fur shifted to a smoky black and at the last moment of what was obviously the manual pleasuring of the wolf’s phallus, Cali worked her blade expertly against the hairy scrotum that held its testicles and they spilled out into her hands. She clambered over the beast’s body and straddled it’s neck, her own hips making much the same motion as had the wolf’s moments before. She sliced pieces from the testicles and leaned forward to the great maw, uttering quiet words. Each time Naurfast snapped at her she rocked back, tossed a portion of his own genitalia into his mouth and ate a piece herself. Her hands and mouth were covered in blood and something far more disturbing, but bit by bit the gonads were consumed between them. Cali carefully crawled off the animal and its eyes followed her, but it made no aggressive move.

She wiped a sticky hand across her forehead and spit the worst of the taste from her mouth. She tucked the blade back into her headdress and took a few steamy steps from the wolf as she finished the ritual in words that roughly translated were:

“Cast aside the Necromancer’s mastery,
Leave the name Naurfast behind.

Arise as Garm, my sworn guard and mount,
And on each moon to your virility I’ll be kind.”

Garm heaved himself to his feet, his fur black as night, his eyes glowing a soft blue. Cali held out a hand and slowly Garm approached. His lip quivered and he was noticeably widestepping with his back legs.

“Give yourself to me, Garm.” Cali splayed out her fingers, red from the wolf’s blood. The wolf moved closer and lowered its muzzle to sniff at the witch’s lap, nearly knocking her from her feet as he pushed against her crotch. She wrapped her fingers tightly through his mane with a look of inappropriate rapture on her face.

Balar cleared his throat and when their eyes met he rocked his head towards the Sepulcher. Cali nodded and pushed herself away from the great winter wolf. “Not now, Garm.” She scratched him behind the ear and the pair of them walked over to Balar. “Castration changes many tunes, Reluctant Leader.” She looked behind them, but it was impossible to see much in this place. The cold seemed to close in on them from the inside and Cali was grateful for the fur of Garm at her side. They headed off to meet up with the rest of their party, hopefully already arrived at the mirrored hall.

“I had to promise him what every mighty beasts craves. The savage has no master, but we wish to ravage our mate. Once each month his maleness will be restored to him whence he may use it to satisfy himself upon... I’m sworn to participate in that process. And then his balls will recoil and I will mount him until the next full moon. I once worked similar magic on a bear; surely a winter wolf will be less unruly? It might even be fun.”