Modvitnir's Rig Lore Novels & Stories

All I felt was the rage of a mother whose child had been replaced by a monster. I locked onto the violet signal. It was hovering five miles above the "Spire-Ruins," a sleek, silver craft that looked like a drop of mercury against the bruised sky. "You cannot stop the inevitable, #3," my father’s voice echoed in my mind, the Violet God using his vocal cords as a bridge. "The 'Grit' was an error. The 'Violet' is the correction. Join us. Become the Mother of the Hive, and I will give you back your Alpha."

He prayed to Ruth. He thought they would learn respect the hard way. He wondered how many more of them would die before the training was over. As far as Ragnar knew, only the other two knew. A candidate known as Logie blew himself up with a Cragrenade during live ammunition training. Another candidate, Hrald, fell one day and died while eating, and his body was carried by servants and amputated by the Iron Priest. There were rumors that his body rejected the genetic seed or the newly transplanted organ, but no one understood what happened. Ragnar didn't know how this would happen, but he said that the new knowledge implanted in his brain would sometimes cause the body to not accept the trans

Just nodded my head. This confrontation sure took a turn for the worse, but it's a load off my chest knowing that the man I've been following isn't some murder-addicted, racist scumbag. Sir Rigor looked down at the ground, and in an apologetic tone, he requested, "Before I answer your question about that forsaken night, I'd like to explain what you just saw now." Again, I didn't reply. Just nodded my head. "My enhancement is... Immortality-"

The magnetite vault began to Incorporate the Wild. Vines of violet-gold sap erupted from the stone floor, weaving themselves around the ancient magnetite runes. The "Audit-Frequency" of the West was being "Bio-Remediated" by the North. The hunger was still there, but it was no longer a void; it was a Drive. I stood in the center of the vault, my violet-silver fur shimmering with a stability I had never known. Eryx was standing beside me, his carnal crimson eyes clear and focused. Leo and Hope were safe, their light settling into a vibrant, healthy glow.

I planned on going Rogue and living a normal life. But then the attack happened. It was unexpected, we were completely unprepared, and it resulted in most of the pack being wiped out, including my parents, Tony, and our sister Lilah, who was only a baby. By the time the fight had ended, there were only 40 members of the pack left. We had lost almost 500 members of the pack and were completely lost. We also lost the packlands as they were destroyed beyond repair, and with me being the oldest Alpha family member left, the remaining pack members turned to me for guidance, and I took on the role even if it went against every fiber of my being.

Despite the bloodstains on his clothes, he forced himself to sit up and humbly begged Irene for forgiveness. “Ms. Casareo, I don’t know who you are. Please—please forgive me!” Rigor’s desperation was plain as he apologized repeatedly, wounds and all. Irene looked at the pitiful man and understood more clearly the terrifying influence Kristoff held. Rigor, once a fierce ruler of the underworld known as “Viper,” looked now like a frightened rabbit trembling before Kristoff. Kristoff was more dangerous than Irene had imagined. As she replayed his sudden act earlier in her mind, a cold sweat prickled down her spine.

I mutter, hatred still flowing through my veins instead of blood. I wrap the garrotte wire tighter across my hands, getting into stance as my eyes follow a subtle movement from the bushes. The signal is a howl from Ryker. Ragnar has us all briefed. My hands are covered in a pair of knuckle dusters. I had my leather jacket over my gear, which was actually a crop top and slick black pants that allowed me to move around, a utility belt with a series of knives strapped to it, and military boots. A howl sounds some distance in the front, just at the same time a group of rogues leap out of the bushes.

took pity on Hoder and appreciated his efforts. Mimir gave the new Baldur the name Ragnar, but also a little knowledge and cunning. Vidar gave him the love of blood, battles and rage. Several Aesir protested, saying that Vidar's gift would be useless. A diminished or crippled Viking cannot fight. Bragi touched the tongue of the human with his finger so that he would console himself with the rune chants and poems he would be inspired by. If the outside is so sad, then the inside could at least be cheerful, he said.

My heart is pounding in my ears and I can't even hear my own thoughts clearly. This was a bad idea. A bad idea. "Hunt," I said softly, rubbing my thumb against his hand. "I don't know what to say," he said. "So now you're with the rogues and you believe everything they say." "Hunt, I think they can help me. I'm not saying I believe them. They said they aren't the only rogues in the area. They just stuck together because they are hybrid and they've been kicked out from their old packs."

“You made me a general. I can't sit back and do nothing when I can.” I could see him contemplating for a minute before he nodded. “Fine,” he said. We left for the woods, but even after our search deep into the day, we found nothing. “What’s it about this rogue?” I asked Riven beside me. “Do you think there's something different about it?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied. “You wouldn't ask for backup if it were a common rogue.” Riven nodded. “You’re right. This is not a normal one. He is modified. From the reports, it drinks blood and eats the flesh, leaving only the bones as evidence of the crime,” he sighed.