Sleeping Dragon You won't make yourself a name if you follow the rules

Moral of the story - leadership sucked sometimes.  Didn't she know that firsthand.  Hearing the story, Roz nodded companiably.  Thuringwethil didn go into specifics, but Rosalyn got the gist fairly well from what was given. It wasn't an odd story, after all.  Followers were often fickle when it came to loyalties.

"You seem to be doing well here as is, in any event," she said.  Despite how she felt she fit in, the pack's size and command were impressive.  It was a well-oiled machine; hopefully a slightly off cog wouldn't cause too much fuss.

She gave a wry grin when Thuring again broached the subject of her semi-recent 'home'.  If you would call it that.  This time, at least, she opted for the simple truth.

"Spose the captain finally got tired of me.  She ordered a friend of mine to off me, but luckily I'd endeared myself with my winning personality."  She winked.  "Anyway, he refused, and we turned on her.  Unfortunately, the witch had the rest of the pack.  So we were forced out."  Mostly, they were the victims here.

"It wasn't so bad.  When the famine hit, Vlad disappeared and I went south, tried to find my old crew.  But they were long gone.  So instead I came here."  It was a simple story, and not one of her finer telling, but she judged Thuringwethil as a leader with little time for flowery tales and lies.