Tales from Mandratha: Freefalls & Farewells

DISCLAIMER: As the Maturity Level implies, this story is intended for mature audiences only. Sex, violence, dirty words… ya know, all the stuff you've been browsing for.

This tale is an homage to GVargr. His country joined the ranks of the UK and Canada in an asinine attempt to legislate the internet. Civitai abruptly geo-blocked Australia with only a day of notice. No apologies, no leniency, no refunds on memberships or buzz.

GVargr was active and well-loved here on Civitai. Besides posting models, fab imagery, and prolific, imaginative writing, he hosted low bar bounties with big rewards and helped promote fun challenges. This champ handed out 3K buzz every single week, folks.

GVargr lifted people up and brought the community together. I admire that most. Many of his friends came together for this tale to show their love and appreciation. Safe to say – he, and many other Australians, will be missed.

I will be posting this tale directly to GVargr off-site along with a stack of lovely farewell images the community created especially for him.

Leave your comments below and let me know if you liked the story!

Note there are links to explain lore or reference other events. Don't be shy. Click the links! ;D

Tales from Mandratha: Freefalls & Farewells

Friends In Low Places

Once, not so long ago, Vargr was in a bad way. Those in the waking-world feared he would not survive his wounding. If he did survive, would he ever wake from the coma?

Three long waking-world days were spent in that coma but, in the Dreaming, three days can be lifetimes.

Memories of other worlds flittered to the hazy parts of his mind as he woke, but he shrugged it off. They were chem-induced fever-dreams, nothing more. He went about a waking-world life, never much considering those odd fantastical visions.

Contrary to such logical thinking, time in the Dreaming had meaning. Three is a sacred number to the Fae, a thing of magic. During three long waking-world days, lives were affected, wars were fought, bonds were made.

Bonds between soldiers are the stuff of legend. Have no doubt, gentle reader, that legends are the stuff of the Dreamways.

Indeed, those bonds of battle were magic that sparked to life as Vargr's waking-world abruptly fell away. That place would no longer hold him and Vargr slipped between the cracks of all that he knew was real, freefalling into a starry void.

It was in the Dreamways that Vargr woke, face down in a muddy, rain-soaked battlefield that was long ago abandoned. Over him stood a leather-clad woman with long pointed ears. A vague recognition flashed to his mind, dreamy memories of battling side by side with this strange woman.

"I... know you?" he coughed.

"Something like that. About time ya woke up." she muttered, nudging him with her boot. "C'mon, soldier. We need to gather your things. You have friends waiting."

Traffic Jam

Vargr paused at a junction of winding cobblestone roads. Oddly bent gas lampposts cast a hazy orange glow over everything. All manner of bizarre things strolled, crawled, or flapped around. A rabbit-man cautiously stepped backwards, gently waving his cane to coax along a flock of flaming carrot-bats. From between Vargr's legs scuttled a large hairy spider. On its back was a doormouse screeching shrill obscenities at them. The place was a madhouse of activity, a flurry of nightmarish oddities.

Maeve trudged beside Vargr, tugging along a rickety child's wagon overladen with crates and bundles. The wheels screeched and squealed under the weight, bowing out and wobbling precariously.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Vargr asked. The gray wolf-man's fur bristled with discomfort at the unnatural things around him. Too many of them seemed like prey to the feral parts of his mind.

"Not really. There are no maps of the Dreamways, that's not how it works." she explained. "We go by feeling, not direction. A little further and we'll find your friends. Stay focused, dog-boy."

Vargr gently took the little wagon's yoke from Maeve and smiled at her. His fangs were sharp and deadly looking but anyone could see there was a gentle way about him... at least for the moment.

"You've been kind to help me."

"Meh, friends help each other move all the time." Maeve shrugged, "Gotta say, though, this isn't the first place I would've chosen to end up."

"Would you recommend your waking-world for an old wolf like me?" he asked with a smirk.

"Nah. Mandratha is a shithole, probably has leash laws." she laughed.

They both chuckled and pressed on their journey through the amorphous city of dreams.

"So how did you break the curse?" she asked.

Vargr cocked his head at her, "Curse? Broken? I am a werewolf, even here in the Dreaming."

"Yeah, yeah! I know!" Maeve exclaimed, "A wolf that was cursed to be a human."

Vargr pinched his muzzle and groaned, "Maeve, I am a HUMAN cursed to be a WOLF. Not the other way around."

"You sure?" she asked, "Being a hume would be... ugh... fuck-all-worse than anything. I'd take fur, claws, and teeth over that fate."

Vargr stepped along beside her quietly for a moment. "Sometimes it was worse, I suppose... being human... being powerless."

"It's all about perspective, dog-boy!" Maeve quipped and slapped his shoulder fondly. "Hang a left ahead, we'll skip the Felke Bazaar and head straight to your wrong-day-voot point."

"Rendezvous."

"Whatever."

The wagon was knocked by a lumbering blob of yellow dough. Boxes wobbled and threatened to tumble over, both Maeve and Vargr lept to catch them from falling.

"Watch it, you flabby fuck!" Maeve snarled. The blob flatulated a sincere apology as the two fumbled over Vargr's possessions.

A crate slipped from Maeve's grasp and crashed open to the ground, spilling a stack of glossy magazines to the cobblestone. The sparkling title, Modele, glittered in the gaslight.

"Those are Pacifica's works!" Vargr snarled, shoving aside those who might trample the collection. One particular issue splayed open, revealing a tawdry scene of Maeve and a red-haired lady wrestling in the nude.

"What… the… fuck?" Maeve breathed, holding it up for Vargr to see.

"I told you, these are PACIFICA's!" he growled, snatching it up.

"Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight." Maeve grinned wickedly, "Well, I beat that posh girl. Should've seen what we did after."

She winked playfully at him and put the last crate back in place.

A Wake In The Dream

The road curled like a drunk serpent through the Dreamway, the scene changed wildly at every turn. Despite having plummeted between the cracks of reality, there was a bit of child-like excitement stirring in Vargr's breast wondering what lie around the next bend. Of course, none of this showed through his grizzled exterior.

At length, they came upon a large tavern. A sign hung just anove the door proclaiming the place to be The Black Dog.

"This is the place." Maeve proclaimed. Together, they delved within.

Somber music played within, the sort that Vargr used to relax with between missions. Crowds of people stood before a stage where flowers were placed. A podium stood at the center and, beside it, was an easel bearing a portrait of Vargr himself.

He balked at the sight, shaking his head in disbelief.

"A... a wake?" he uttered, looking to Maeve with confusion, "Maeve, I'm not dead! If this is some kind of joke, I'm not laughing."

She gave Vargr a reassuring pat on the back.

"Relax. We are in their dreams. People that knew you, maybe even loved you. People that know me, too, I guess." she said, "At least, that's what I was told. Since when did dreams have to make sense? One minute you're talking to an aunt that died thirty years ago about a recipe and the next you're naked, wrestling a prissy ginger in a jello pit. People's minds work in weird ways."

Vargr stared at the scene in silence. There were faces in the crowd that seemed familiar to him in the same way Maeve was. A quiet mumur of conversation rippled amongst them.

The music dimmed as a person stepped upon the stage from the crowd. Their hair was long and lustery black, and they wore thick-rimmed glasses.

"Who is that?" Maeve whispered.

"Nemo, a friend... but, if this is a dream-self, I don't–"

Maeve held a hand up to silence the wolf as a strange eulogy began.

"Others may have known Vargr as a monster, a giant slavering wolf." Némo paused to take a shuddering breath, "Yes, the drooling was a problem, but Vargr was...."

Némo blew loudly into a handkerchief before continuing, "Alexander Vargr was my friend. He was no beast, I tell you! He was a MAN-BEAST – honorable, BPA-free, and microwave safe. Th-thank you."

Maeve raised a brow silently at Vargr, who shrugged.

"Némo is... chaotic."

"I like chaos."

Another from the crowd climbed on stage and Maeve gasped. The elven woman was short enough to have a bit of difficulty hoisting herself onto the stage.

Vargr pointed, "She seems familiar."

"Maisie!" Maeve whispered.

Trembling, Maisie ascended to the podium and grasped the edges to pull herself high enough to be seen. Tears tumbled down her frecked cheeks.

"I'm... I'm not good at this. There's just so much I..." she began. Her breath hitched as she continued, "H-he was so nice when he wasn't... ya know..."

Maisie paused to make a feral expression.

"He taught me about s-staying with your pack and being b-b-brave. But he n-never got–"

The crowds cooed sympathetically as Maisie bawled. "He never got to t-tell me what knotting meant! And we all w-wanted to see him w-with the zoomies! And boop his n-nose! He was a good boy!"

Vargr glanced to Maeve with a wry smirk, "Let me guess, she is... chaotic?"

"Nah, that was TOTALLY predictable. Classic Maisie."

Another emerged from the crowd but, this time, Vargr couldn't remain quiet.

"Curette!" he called out. The woman had only just reached the podium. She turned to meet his eyes with a dazzling smile.

"Ah, our guest of honor has arrived!"

Like a dream, not so ironically, it was as though a spell was lifted from the crowd. Vargr waded through them carefully to reach the stage. Everyone was greeting him warmly, patting an arm or shaking his hand.

"Curette, I'm... I'm not dead, this is a dream."

"Two facts I am well aware of, yes." she replied with a sultry smile. She leaned over to poke his nose. "Everyone is here for you, lovey."

"Are you the one I was supposed to rendezvous with?" he asked, hugging Curette, "What is all this? What happens next?"

Maeve leaned against the stage edge and pulled over a silvery-haired elf girl holding a particularly kind-looking koala.

"Here's the local expert, Maeren, and her grunting little buddy." Maeve explained, "Go on, tell dogboy what comes next."

"Golly, you survived the collapse of a Jürgen's fractal and endured the subsequent harmonic dissonance." Maren began. She shifted her cuddly marsupial companion against her hip to properly gesture as she continued explaining at an increasingly rapid pace, "The chances of that are quite infinitesmal, really, especially when you account for the non-linear himural arc of radiant liminal tangents. Most organisms would be liquified into cosmic jelly or explode in a spectacular burst of—"

Maeve suddenly clapped a hand over Maeren's mouth, "Sweetie, you're putting Némo into a seizure. Skip the liminal whatevers and explain what we need to do next."

Maeren nodded and Maeve released her. The mage blushed and adjusted her glasses.

"Crumbs, sorry. I get carried away about these things." she muttered, embarrassed, "Mr. Vargr needs to build up approximately one point twenty-one jiga-wans of fluxating harmonic energy in a downward trajectory. The subsequent release of that energy will shoot Mr. Vargr out of the Dreamways like a melon seed."

"Downward trajectory? Like a freefall?" another from the crowd emerged, a tall and muscular woman. Vargr brightened up even more.

"Valerie!" he exclaimed, welcoming her into a hug with Curette.

"Well, yes, one could achieve that with a fall in about forty meters."

"A freefall? Are you certain about this, Maeren?" Vargr asked.

"Oh, most definitely." Maeren replied with a bright smile, "I have a ley daemon in my mind that whispers to me, he is imminently knowledgeable on pan-dimensional harmonics!"

Vargr gave the girl a dubious look but Curette gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, "You can trust her, Vargr."

Valerie nodded, draping her arm over his shoulder, "I think I know just the place."

The Black Rock Jump

At this point, Vargr had seen enough of the Dreamways that nothing should come as a surprise, but here they were standing on the cliffside edge of Black Rock just on the outskirts of Melbourne, Australia.

Waves slapped and crashed against stone far below. Vargr leaned over briefly to peer into the inky darkness.

"I've jumped from worse."

Maeve could hardly work up the nerve to step near the edge, much less look down. Maisie clung to her for tightly, unwilling to budge.

"Looks like this is it."

Vargr turned to look at the throng of acquaintances and friends, a small but wonderful gathering of support.

"This is it, yes." he said resolutely. "Thank you, all of you. Thank you for seeing me off."

Before he could turn away, Valerie clutched him tightly. "Don't forget about us, now."

Curette hugged his arm tightly and then pulled him down to kiss his muzzle, "We're unforgetable... but we'll miss you."

Maisie scampered over and tossed her arms around his waist. Vargr lowered a bit and she tapped his nose.

"Boop!" she chimed, then kissed his snout. Vargr chuckled and patted her head, then looked to Maeve.

There was an unspoken connection between them, something that never needed explaining. Maeve reached out and they tapped knuckles.

"Keep your pack safe."

Maeve nodded, "You as well."

They all stepped back and Vargr boldly stepped to the ledge. Though he couldn't see the waters below, the crashing tide made a clear announcement of the danger ahead. He did not look back.

"I'll see you again, in the next life."

With that, Vargr boldly leapt into the void. Wind rushed past and whipped him about as he tumbled down but his body remembered a soldier's training. He spread his arms wide and powered into the fall, nose first.

There was a tingling that rapidly built into a fire through his nerves. The further he plummeted, the stronger it raged. There were no doubts anymore, no fears. His feral self was awake alongside his mortal mind and, for that brief moment, there was peace.

From above, Vargr's friends saw a brilliant flash of blue-white light. It was a falling star, a soul reborn and reforged.

"D-do you think he made it?" Maisie sniffled.

"Of course he did." Maeve murmured, "It may not be long before we're all making a leap. We should all be as brave."

Valerie nodded, "We should make the best of the time we're given. Come now, it's time to wake."