Noctura's father, Crunch, was a tank. Huge, brutal, aggressive, and so feral that he was practically mute. Asterr was to Crunch what an ocean was to a desert. They couldn't possibly be more different. She was petite, dainty, peaceful and intelligent, with spirit and kindness in eyes that shone with promise. And Noctura respected her more than he had ever respected Crunch.
But his father had been the one to raise him, and no wolf could simply shake off their upbringing. For this reason, the dark male had avoided interaction with his packmates (save Asterr herself, of course), concerned that he might lash out on instinct. Noctura was polite and well-meaning and had no interest in power or dominance, but his father had made him a brute, and Noctura knew Thunder Dome deserved more than just a brute.
For this reason, as dusk came about and settled on the mountain in the form of a deep gray blanket, Noctura decided to venture into the more populated areas of the territory — pleasant spots where he had sensed various individuals he had not yet met. Around him rolled evergreens glistening with snowflakes. For the first time in his life, he was actively seeking company. He wasn't happy about it, but he was doing it anyway. For Asterr, for himself, and for the very concept of home.
Strolling at their borders had become one of Jolon's top priorities. If a stranger would not notice the scent marks of the bright spirit, then they would notice him. He would not let anyone through without permission of his alphess, and would keep interested wolves busy till Asterr would greet them herself. He felt like it was an important job and was elated he could do something for his to-be tribe. Being part of all this had made him feel important, a feeling he had only felt when he was a pup.
Abruptly, he stopped in his tracks. There was a new scent in their territory, one he did not recognize. His muzzle almost touched the ground while he was trying to track the wolf that had left the scent, fearing that he had failed the simple task he had given him himself. The snow tingled his nose, making it hard not to sneeze which would probably give away his position to the stranger. Who was the one that had sneaked in without Jolon even noticing? Was Asterr okay with this stranger being here? Had he missed some sort of recruitment?
All the questions going through his head had almost made him lose track of what he was doing clearly, for a black male was now visible a few feet away from him. Jolon lifted up his big head, trying not to make a sound as he observed this new wolf. He was around the same size, perhaps a bit taller, as Jolon and similar in shade of black too. However he looked older as Jolon, maybe around 36 moons. He seemed like the kind of wolf you did not want to mess around with, but so was Jolon. So, with his tail high, wagging like a flag, and ears perked up he approached the black male. He made sure he wasn't too close to the brute before speaking up.
Good morning.
As confused by the situation as Jolon was, he didn't break his habit of starting a conversation with a polite 'hello'. His voice however, was as cold as the winter breeze on the highest top of the mountain, not showing any emotion to this big stranger. Do you perhaps know a raven female going by the name Asterr?
Jolon continued, keeping his tone the same. Asterr had said that there would be others on the mountain, and if they knew her they would probably be followers of her as well.
Knowing now that the dragoness had found a place for her prospect tribe to settle Frostrar had clung to the territory, making his presence known and strong along it's would be borders, urinating in markers and rubbing his scent on landmarks. This was not an official claim yet, the dragoness had her work cut out for her still but while it remained her desire the stoic Scandinavian would keep to his word and defend it as if it were already theirs. He did not know the dragoness well enough to say his loyalty was paramount to her but the truth was this was nothing if not beneficial to the both of them and this alone gave the viking no reason to betray her trust in him. Despite almost getting herself strewn into pieces by not just one but two cougars he felt some sort of loyalty to her ...and it would be enough until things became more official. For now, he operated under the impression that she was his only leader and thus fancied himself as her second of sorts. Whether this was true or not he didn't know ...or much care. As far as he was concerned he'd been pledged before she even had a place in mind and to the northman this meant he had dominance over any of the others she accepted into their fold.
The scent of the known to Frostrar only as “boisterous” the ebony male whom had stood with Asterr and him against the cats laced with that of a stranger and without consciously making the decision to follow it the Viking made his way towards the two males regardless. It did not take long to find them — stark against the snow as they were. Like Boisterous and himself this other male was built like a brute and the Berserker let out a soft snort as Boisterous grilled the other male. It seemed that the dainty little dragoness enjoyed her men to be hulks, for all of three of them were of the same stature. Scarred lips parted in a coy (albeit handsome) smirk as he contemplated this for a moment before he shrugged from his place among the shadows, holding both of them in his fiery gaze, his tail lifted over his back in his own display of dominance.
For a brief moment he was reminded of when he was a pup and he would display his dominance by refusing to let his siblings eat what Nerian brought back to them and that no matter how many times he was punished he kept doing it. This was the same thing, the same utter lack of care for what they would think of him for it. As far as he was concerned he was the highest in their unofficial ranking because he'd been with Asterr for the longest (or rather this was what he assumed but either way couldn't begin to care if his assumption was true or not). He answered to Asterr only. It was that plain and simple. “She does not have to introduce us to every new face she recruits,” she didn't introduce you and I Frostrar's gaze spoke to Boisterous (Jolon), before he turned to the new ebony male (Nocturna). “Well? Do you know the dragoness or not?” The Scandinavian demanded in his soft spoken, accented voice.
It was thoroughly ironic that so sharp a mind could be abandoned so easily for fierce, stupid violence. Noctura had a mind full of musings and magic, logic and philosophy, and whatever clouds of thought drifted his way. Yet in body he was a fool, always moving on instinct, primal and bestial. In all honesty he had tried to train himself to be less of a fool in this way, but his instinct always overcame him to the point at which he had simply given up.
Until Asterr.
She had imbued him with a new wave of motivation — a tidal wave, in fact, because he took Asterr's faith in him very seriously indeed. She believed in the dark male, and though a part of him still (guiltily) thought this naive, he had taken it to heart and mind. And yes, even to body. For he was trying now more than ever to control his instict and rise above it.
This would be one hell of a challenge. For along came two handsome brutes, inquisitive and assertive. None of the three submitted to the other, and although this felt normal to Noctura, who was used to lone wolves, he also knew that packs held hierarchy below the Alpha and above the Omega. He hoped he didn't have to deal with any fights for rank — he wouldn't be able to pass the test of controlling himself, and this meeting would end in the death of at least one of them. So he swiftly forced his mind from such dread, and instead tried to focus on... you know, talking.
I know Asterr, yes. She accepted me into the tribe a few days back. My name's Noctura
, he added as a peace offering.
Before the new male could even respond to Jolon, a familiar smell touched the inside of Jolon's nose. It was the younger brute who had fought besides him and the bright spirit, but Jolon still didn't know his name or story. He had seen how the younger male handled the cats and had grown a sort of respect for the silvery male. Not to the point where he would answer to the scarred male, for in his eyes everyone in the tribe was equal as long as they did their jobs right. Jolon saw dominance in the way the silver brute had approached them but payed it little mind. When he spoke, his eyes said that, indeed, the dragoness had not introduced them to one another. Jolon agreed with a nod.Certainly.
It had crossed his mind before that Asterr could not introduce every to-be tribe member to each other. Besides, if they were to become an official tribe soon, everyone had to meet at some point whether they would like it or not. They were a team now, there was no denying that.
The focus shifted back to the ebony stranger when he spoke up. So he did know the bright spirit and had already been accepted into their tribe. Jolon didn't know how he had missed the recruitment, but was happy to finally see new faces around. They were growing in members and soon they would be official. It was funny to see how the males all had the same build, big and muscular. If they were to have war in the future this would definitely be a plus, but for now it was a downside. Did their tribe have an hierarchy yet? If they didn't, Jolon had to fight his way to the top, something he didn't look forward to with all these brutes.
Jolon repeated the name of the stranger a few times in his head. It sounded foreign, from a place far from Teekon Wilds. My name is Jolon.
He announced politely to both the silver- and ebony male, hoping for the younger male to reveal his name as well.I'm glad to see a new face around.
He extended, keeping his cold tone. He stepped closer to the two brutes, but kept a comforting space between them. His tail did not move, keeping it's dominant stance, just like the silver brute. He would not bow to any of these males without them having proven themselves to be worthy enough for his respect and loyalty.
The Scandinavian enjoyed a good social gathering as the next guy ...but he'd never been much of a speaker. He favored being the observer of these sort of things if only because he was always ready for a fight. He was a Berserker born of blood and war. This was how his people survived ...and despite the Priestess' best efforts it was how he'd always seen things. He was a barbarian, notably a dangerous friend as he was an enemy and he did nothing to hide this. He saw no sense in pretending to be something he wasn't, though he had the potential to be charismatic ...when he thought it would benefit him to be such. Currently, he didn't think it would benefit him. In truth, he could not help but see them as his competition. For rank and ...if he was being entirely honest with himself ...for the dragoness. He had yet to explore the libertine side of him but it would be a lie to claim that he wasn't looking forward to it; and of course only the strongest female among them would catch his eye. Thus far, he saw her desire to lead as strength and naturally, the Scandinavian gravitated towards it as he had been and always would be.
Names were given and tucked away inside the Viking's mind. His accent made some names hard to speak, accenting the wrong syllables or vows. Nevertheless he supposed it was his turn to give his own name. “Frostrar Loðbrok,” Because of his name his sire name held the most weight to it. Technically, he was a Ragnarsson but he wasn't currently looking to be technical today. Besides, Loðbrok would sooner be recognized before Ragnarsson. Now that that was out of the way the Berserker fell back into his comfortable silence though his posture remained taunt with dominance.
Still on the subject of instinct, in some ways Noctura found it a relief that this pair were in such good shape, great and imposing creatures like himself. This put them on a fairly even footing physically, and (despite both other males being preoccupied with rank) had the ironic effect of putting Noctura slightly at ease. Because if something happened, something to trigger his instinctive violence, he could have some confidence that both males would be able to hold their own.
For his main concern had been that something might go wrong in the presence of one built more like Asterr. For instance, if some littler wolf challenged Noctura for a scrap of meat, he'd probably snap their neck outright, and chow down madly on some of the corpse's own bloody flesh. If that happened, and the littler wolf was a packmate, what then? Further fighting? Exile? More death?
But there was no little wolf here. And what was more, their conversation was currently not a physical one. This was a good sign.
He gave a brief, firm nod. Good to meet you both.
Jolon and Frostrar. Rich, masculine names that suited each. Noctura got the impression that the youngest of the trio was perhaps the least talkative but still wanted to be involved in the conversation, so Noctura looked the more friendly Jolon as their designated chatter. Still, he addressed them both. Ryūjin already looks to be growing strong. Do you know our competition? I've sensed a fair few packs in this region, as I'm certain you have too.
Perhaps they knew the names of said packs. Or perhaps they even hailed from them.
It seemed the silver brute was named Frostrar, a fitting name in Jolon's eyes. He tried out the name in his head and found out he couldn't pronounce Frostrar's last name without it sounding silly. It was a colossal name for a colossal wolf, just like the name Noctura was. The silver male kept quiet after his name was revealed, making Jolon believe he wasn't fond of having conversations. Jolon himself however liked talking more than body language which had caused him trouble in the past. He wasn't good at reading bodies, not saying he couldn't at all, but his body language skills were lacking due to the fact he had been alone for such a long time. But the dragoness had looked past his lack of social skills and Jolon felt like the petite girl actually believed in him. He liked her, not in a romantic way but as a close friend. But he didn't know if the feeling of love for her had yet to come.
Yes, we have competition fairly close to us, on Porcupine Ridge. I've met their leaders when I stumbled upon their borders before I met Asterr.
Jolon informed them both, not knowing if Frostrar already knew this.I believe they're not fond of us being so close to them, so watch your back.
Jolon didn't want any of his fellow members to get injured, for he had sworn to protect them. But it seemed the two brutes before him could both stand their ground in a fight, which made him feel relieved. His thoughts went to the small girl, Winter. She didn't seem like a fighter and Jolon felt protective of her the most. She was, in his eyes, weak. Maybe even weaker now than ever before due to the fact she was not well fed.
I do not know of any more packs in this region, but who knows what's out there. I haven't explored enough yet to find more threats, have you?
The question was directed at both males. Jolon glanced at Frostrar for a brief moment before returning his icy gaze to Noctura.
Frostrar offered a cant of his head in an almost bird like manner, fixing Jolon in a stare. “Thunder Dome is right on their doorstep,” In truth, the Viking would have been pissed if another pack settled on his doorstep. “Of course they are territorial. Would you not be if it were the other way around, hm?” It was not a smart choice for the dragoness to make, unless she wished to find her empire chased away. There was little doubt in the Scandiavian's mind that the wolves of the Ridge would turn hostile once their claim was official. “Why would the dragoness choose so close to another pack? A larger, established pack at that?” The Berserker could only see all the ways in which it would cause their downfall. They stood no chance. Yes, the three of them were brutes but they could not realistically stand against an entire pack. It would be suicide. The odds were not in their favor.
“If it were me I would have chased us away by now,” The northman wouldn't have even allowed them to get this far. He would have nipped any pack prospects settling too close to his territory in the bud before they could become a thing. Perhaps the dragoness can be persuaded to settle on a range that puts distance between them and large packs. Or else they would never be established...or established for very long. Frostrar was a warrior by blood, he knew fighting ...he knew fighting against the odds but he also knew how territorial wolves worked. Perhaps the dragoness was as peaceful as the nuns that the Moor and Cove often raided from ...peaceful as Nerian was but the Scandinavian came from another cut of beast all together. Blood and battle was his life, but he did not believe in pointless war, either.
He would talk to the dragoness, he decided.
Porcupine Ridge? The name evoked a rather cosy image — perhaps the territory was beautiful and epic (in fact it probably was, knowing the look of this mountain range), but Noctura had always thought of porcupines as somewhat comical-looking creatures. But at the same time, they were dangerous. He had never underestimated anyone before, and he wasn't about to start now that his estimations were part of the pack's.
Frostrar, it seemed, was curiously confrontational. Jolon was not contradicting anything the white male said, and yet the younger male seemed to talk down to him somewhat. But it didn't seem to bother Jolon, and nor did it bother Noctura — it seemed Frostrar's singular ways were already fairly accepted by the other two males. Nobody here seemed to be especially sensitive.
Again, this contributed to the healing of Noctura's unease.
He shook his head at Jolon's question, and had no comment on Frostrar's remark — Noctura knew Asterr's reasons for settling here, but didn't know if the others were privy to it. It wasn't his story to tell. But a follow-up question had settled in his mind as a result of Frostrar's scepticism and Jolon's presumed rejection of Porcupine Ridge. How did you both come to settle here?
It was a question that was informal enough to be shrugged off by either male if they wanted to keep their origins secret. But Noctura was curious about why they had chosen Thunder Dome, and the best way of sating this curiosity was to ask.
Frostrar had a point, even though it came over pretty rough. Jolon didn't mind his rough attitude, it was part of who this silver brute was. If he were to have met him a few days prior to Jolon's acceptance into the tribe he would've probably made a fuss about it, but the relaxing atmosphere of the mountains and other wolves to talk to had made him more open minded. With the words Frostrar was speaking came more thoughts and possible solutions, but they all sounded impossible in his head. Of course they could try to convince the dragoness of settling somewhere else, but she had seemed so proud of this piece of land that it would bring pain for Jolon to do it.I'm sure she has a reason for settling here, although I don't know what has caused her to pick this exact spot for the tribe.
Even he himself had grown fond of the now familiar ridges of Thunder Dome, not to mention the breathtaking woods. He did agree that it would be best for them to move with a nod to Frostrar, but he would not be the one to convince Asterr.
Noctura shook his head to the question if he knew of more packs in the area and it looked like the silver brute also had no clue if there were. Jolon himself only knew of the big cats as a possible threat, but it seemed useless to point it out.
Noctura didn't respond to what Frostrar had said, he seemed to be more curious of them rather than the pack on Porcupine Ridge. The question was not shrugged off but was thought provoking to Jolon. What had made him chose to settle here so far from his prior home? Jolon had almost forgotten about the day he had killed his only companion by accident, but now the painful memories seemed to hit him in the face. It was guilt and despair that had led him to seek more company, the thought that he could start over had kept him going. And then there was the charming dragoness. She was like a saving angel, giving him this chance to start anew. It was her spirit that had kept him bound to this place. Wherever she went, Jolon would follow her.
The thought of a home sounded nice.
Jolon replied short, some despair mixed with his normal emotionless tone. There was no way he could tell them what he had done. It caused him pain just by thinking about it, imagine what it would be like talking about it. No, he was not ready yet to tell these males his whole story. Perhaps the courage that was needed for him to openly talk about it with others would come with time, but for now he would rather keep his mouth shut.
As Frostrar has now gone inactive, shall we end this thread
@Jolon? :)
Noctura nodded his agreement to Jolon, though was not inclined to elaborate. He did feel slightly obliged to continue the conversation, keen as he was to prove himself at least somewhat sociable in a pack scenario. But he had knowledge of Asterr's inspirations and reasoning and did not feel he had the right to share this with the other two. So, instead, he concluded that this meeting of men had been short but... somewhat successful, at the least.
Home indeed
, he confirmed the sentiment. Then,
I'd best be on. It was nice to meet you both.
Yeah, I think that would be best. We could always make another thread with only Noctura and Jolon once at the new pack location. Short post because I'm fairly busy today.
No-one seemed to question him any further on the matter, which made his mind sigh in relief. He was glad no-one suspected such a dark past from him, seeing his social nature and such. His talkative personality was merely a mask though, to hide behind.
It was getting late, and the boy began to feel a little droopy as minutes passed. So it was with an elated heart that he replied to Noctura as he showed signs of leaving as well as words about the matter.
Me too.
He said, trying to smile before continuing. Until next time.
He ended and if no-one else would prevent him from doing so, he would turn around to search for a place to rest his thoughts as well as his body.