God Of War Ragnarok Mask Novels & Stories

In its center, nailed with rusted iron, was a mask. Not just any mask—one shaped like a wolf’s snarl, but cracked through the eye, painted in ash and gold. “Do you know what this is?” she whispered. Tarek approached and exhaled sharply. “That's an Ashen Fang war mask. From the War of Severance. They haven't existed for generations.” “Unless someone resurrected their order,” Lena muttered. Brin stepped forward, voice almost afraid. “The Ashen Fang were said to worship balance… through fire. They believed the world had to burn before it could bloom again.”

They made eye contact but Sasha only passed her a stoic look. ...... Entering the dark lightly dimed hallway, Ragnar made his way towards an unknown direction. His gait screamed dominance and his aura screamed power. His hands were tightly clenched in fists as he ripped his mask off and threw it away. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were as dark as the ocean of blood.

He sat perfectly still, but every line of his body screamed power. ​He wore a polished silver mask that covered the left half of his face, where the worst injuries were rumored to be. The mask was cracked in one place, giving it a brutal, shattered look. His visible features were sharp: a strong jawline, and one eye deep, icy black that was currently fixed on the patterns in the carpet. He looked like a fallen king, ruined but still terrifying. ​"Anya," my father mumbled, shoving me forward. "Meet Alpha Ronan."

Their movements were slow and beautiful like those of a woman, as the Alphas watched them with interest while the betas remained unaffected. Amidst all this performance. Ragnar's eyes noticed something. Perhaps someone, a woman more precisely. She was standing alone on the terrace, a mask on her face. Most of the guests have masks on their eyes. He didn't know why his mom chose that theme to begin with. It must be causing hinderance in the security. He was bored out of his mind, thinking that he could've completed a lot of paperwork, when he noticed someone approaching him. "Mother, I'm not-" He raised his head and paused when his eyes met the bright green eyes that looked at him with intere

The edges of the mask looked as though they were stitched or welded into the flesh of a ghostly white, glabrous head. The cloaked servants ceased chanting at once, and Nowk stared down at the silhouetted visitor and answered, “Ragnarok!” “Fear the Darkness, my children, as you would fear the siren’s tongue, for it will seek to poison your mind and blind you with false treasures, and not even my blessed Light can bear you hence.” -The Gospel of Glimmra

The mask man knew that Rudra's wrath, when unleashed, would be relentless and devastating. But there was a glimmer of opportunity in this knowledge. The mask man saw a way to exploit Rudra's secret, to turn it against him in the coming conflict. He smirked beneath his mask, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. Rudra's power, formidable as it was, could also be his downfall if wielded unwisely or with blind rage.

I did i- My jubilation was cut short as the doors come bursting open and men come swarming in. men that I recognize. Shit. Ragnar steps in last, his hands clamped behind his back as he walked in casually. An evil grin creeps up his lips once his eyes fall on me. but when they shift to the man standing next to me. I have never seen such rage in his eyes before. “What the fuck are you doing with my wife, you bastard?” Ragnar growled. There is a second of shock in the masked man’s features, but then my brows meet my hairline when it was replaced with a sly grin.

“Which is?” Ragnar’s gaze found hers, hard and grim. “They’ve learned your scent.” Her stomach turned. That howl—it hadn’t been to summon the others. It had been a signal. “They’ll hunt me anywhere now,” she realized. Ragnar nodded once. “And they won’t stop until you kill the one wearing that mask.” Her claws flexed. “Then I’ll tear it off his face.” The forest was silent again, but the stench of them lingered, soaked into the earth.

But my thoughts divulge as I finally notice his mask. I gasp. The mask is an eerie matt black sheet of armor like metal that covers half of his skull. It appears modeled to fit his perfectly symmetrical face and pressed artfully across the bridge of his nose. But what stands out the most are two golden ram horns that protrude from the top corners. They curve backwards to sit where I assume to be just below his ears. What a dreadful reminder of the fact I still stand in the company of the devil. A man that has a distorted face, who has killed his parents, his brother and four of his future wives!

"I'm not wearing a dress to a battle." "It's a festival not a battle." "It's both and you know it." I found black jeans and a dark red shirt that wouldn't show blood. "Joanna is going to be there, probably wearing my face, we need to be ready." Ryker walked in shirtless showing off the four black scars on his back, they looked like war paint. "Anna's right, we dress for war not for a party." "Fine but at least wear this," Ronald held up a silver necklace with the Silverfang pack symbol. "It's spelled to protect against glamour magic, if Joanna tries to disguise herself as you this will glow."