Wolf RPG

Something kept drawing him back here. To this place of ancient ash trees, and wicked sea. Part of it had been damaged by the storm that had torn through the Wilds — not something that Tev was likely to forget anytime soon — but it was not inhabitable. Prey still roamed here, seeking sanctuary among the old ash trees. What was the significance with them again? Something about life and a massive ash tree called Yggdrasil. Tev's lessons in the Norse culture and language were slow going, yet, he found himself fascinated by the culture he would have been raised under. He supposed it was still relevant for the simple fact that he'd been born a Viking and that it was in his blood regardless of upbringing. He took to it well, circumstances, aside. Of course he did not spend all of his time soaking up what knowledge he could from whomever could tell him anything about the Nordic wolves. He also sent himself on outrider missions (unofficially of course), and kept a tight reign on the borders though his times were always opposite of what seemed to be everyone else.

He didn't tell them he couldn't see colors because he didn't think it really mattered. He wasn't blind and it didn't make him incapable. The only time it was hard was during the day which was why Tev had come almost exclusively a nocturnal creature. However, it meant the borders were covered when some of the others were sleeping and though the nights were significantly cooler than the already cold days Tev was not unequipped for it. His winter coat had grown in, coarser and heavier than his spring/summer coat. 

Tev's paws carry him through the once known territory easily enough, though he gave the shore a wide berth today. He'd heard that his biological father: once patriarch of the Loðbrok family's grave was located somewhere in the heart of Stavanger Bay. Tev deigned to find it, though for what purpose he couldn't really say. The small amount of time he'd known Ragnar wasn't remembered for he had died early in their lives ...if he hadn't what would life be like? Perhaps everything would have been different. Maybe they would still reside here strong, and the bear would have been chased out instead ...and maybe his little shit of an older brother wouldn't be sitting on his high horse as lord supreme of Moonspear. 

The thought was cruel, Tev knew, but he couldn't (currently) find it in him to care. He wasn't pleased with Charon or his leadership skills, for the matter. How he'd handled the whole situation hadn't been in any way a good leader (as far as Tev was concerned) would have handled it. What made it harder was that Floki seemed to really look up to Charon even though the thought left Tev with a bad taste in his mouth. In some part that was a clear and concise amount of jealousy. Tev shook his head, eager to dispel those thoughts as he slowed, nearing what appeared to be marked in a ritualistic way ...decorated with bones and branches of ash packed against a rock that appeared to have been worried like the bones pressed tightly against it where it rested before an ash tree. Ragnar's grave. It appeared as if someone maintained it, a task that he would assist in, he decided.

Steps ceased and he drew in a soft breath as he neared it, slowly, as if the deceased Viking would jump out of it, alive and well ready to take back his throne of bones and stones. That was ridiculous, of course, yet some part of Tev yearned for it with a ferocity that surprised him. Above him a raven soared, letting out a shrill caw that echoed through the quieted clearing. For a moment Kjalarr was silent as he stared down at the burial grounds where Ragnar rested, attempting to recall the word he'd been taught. "Hail faðir." Spoken in hushed tones reminiscent of the deceased patriarch's own.