Wolf RPG

Ragnar had intended to be the one to greet the newest batch of new members at the borders, but had found himself caught up with Julooke and Verrine when the other: Surra, he remembered Pump telling him the second new male’s name was, had sent up his call and it seemed that Pump had taken care of it. Of course it wasn’t entirely unexpected there wasn’t a chance that she would let all the potential joiners to him alone. She was still the ultimate leader in the Ridge, he was just her Second in Command, her enforcer. It was a role that Ragnar fit well, admittedly, just so long as he could keep his ambition in check. It was measurably easier to keep himself from doing something …what no doubt his wife would call stupid with the birth of his sons so nearly upon them. Thistle had a day or two now, not long at all. Hours, even. Ragnar had no intentions of shirking his duties as both Head Warden and Beta but the birth of his sons would be placed first on his priority list and he waited for Thistle’s summoning howl with a sharp bubble of anticipation that seemed to frequently lodge itself into the Viking’s throat.

Ragnar’s limp adopted as his flesh and muscle sewed itself back together — as Thistle had warned it would need to do — slowed him down. Not enough to make him anywhere near accepting of ‘denrest’. The simple truth was that even if he was on his death bed he would probably be doing something not just sitting around waiting to cough and hack his last breath of life. He wasn’t designed to be idle, and had not been raised to let things as insignificant as wounds (despite how severe they sometimes were) keep him down. It was like lying on your stomach, exposing your entrails and throat and accepting defeat by saying ‘Go ahead, Kill me’. His wife worried and fussed over him and the incorrigibly stubborn Viking brushed it off and continued on his way. He had grown up in a much harsher environment where a healer was not always in the pack lands to attend to wounds. Many of his wounds (namely from spars) had been left to heal on their own without medicinal help.

The Viking paused when he became aware of the sound of approaching footfalls against the earth, ears thrusting forth atop his skull to pick up the direction of the sound and the Viking peeked over his scarred shoulder to see the form of the earthen toned male — one that he decidedly did not recognize — seem to melt from the copse and shadows of the trees. Ragnar turned so they were facing one another, scenting lone wolf but over that the scent of Pump. “You must be Surra,” The Viking greeted the other man, voice soft despite his size and heavily, thickly accented. Unless, of course, Pump had accepted another new male and that information had yet to circulate through a howl as the others had.

Eyes of Caribbean ice observed the man before him in assessment, as Ragnar assessed any new wolf, looking for signs that they were healthy, strong, capable. This male seemed to be all of the three, though Ragnar knew that Pump would not have accepted him if that was not the case. In that respect, the platinum silver Viking knew his hybrid leader too well, if only because she was eerily similar to him in those sort of regards. Ragnar watched with satisfaction when the male, who confirmed that he was, indeed, Surra dipped his head in respect. It was acknowledged with a stiff nod of Ragnar’s own head. It was followed by an explanation that he had recently been accepted into Horizon Ridge by Pump, redundant but useful in that it was the second thing he said in the case that Ragnar was wondering. Which he had not been but it was nice to be told, regardless. “I know,” The Viking said with his trademark smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. Ragnar liked to be on top of the going-ons in the pack including the acceptance of any and all new members. Especially so given that he was the Head Warden. “I am Ragnar, the Ridge’s Beta and Head Warden.” He hoped to add a few more titles to that as time went on but for now he was dually contented with just being ‘Head Warden’. It was enough on his plate, being the lead Warden, Beta, and a soon-to-be newly father once more.

For a moment a silence stole over Ragnar, something he was comforted in not usually being extremely talkative — he had his moments but they were mostly when informing new recruits about the important things upon their joining into the pack. Otherwise, he tended to favor quiet. It created an enigma, and allowed those that would become his enemy to make assumptions and underestimate him. Ragnar had found that sometimes not talking much often led to the assumption that he wasn’t clever which was a grave mistake to make, as a few of the packs around Odinn’s Cove had learned the hard way. He didn’t bargain, he didn’t negotiate. He took things, used situations to his advantage and when he exacted punishment when he was “screwed over” showing that he was truly no fool. He was a dangerous man and Ragnar knew that sometimes it took extreme measures to make that understood. “I know that Pump has already spoken to you of skills but I am curious about yours,” Ragnar invited after a few minutes, reclining — carefully — upon his haunches.

Surprise rose the Viking’s eyebrows when the other male admitted that he had been hoping to cross paths with him — it was not often wolves made it a point to find him; usually for good reason. He tended to …intimidate even if, most of the time, it really wasn’t intentional on the platinum silver Viking’s part. It tended to just happen, though Ragnar was far from finding it insulting. “That is unusual,” Ragnar observed. Of course he was the pack’s Beta but Pump would be the one they would wish to go too if they needed some sort of ultimate decision made. It had been understood by Ragnar for accepting her Second in Command position after vying for it for so long that while he had an opinion he did not have the weight to pull when it came to decision making (except for accepting new members). Aside from that all he was allowed to do was to council and hope that Pump agreed with him, or at least considered his point of view on whatever matter the situation brought to them. It was a gentle kick in the teeth as a reminder that they were not equal partners and though Ragnar did not like submissiveness he conceded because he had a family to think of; because it was a way to keep what he wanted — which at the moment he was satisfied with.

The only other reason Ragnar could potentially fathom anyone seeking him out was if they wished to, too, be a warden. He was the Head Warden of the Ridge and with that fell into the task of coordinating and generally keeping his eye on them, occasionally training if necessary. One day, his children would join him on patrols and he would teach them the things they would need to know in order to protect their home, family, and pack mates. This, it would seem, from Surra’s words, was not the case, either. It occurred to Ragnar then that perhaps this man had just sought him out to familiarize himself with the ‘muscle’ of the leadership, because while he was not an equal partner Ragnar was still a leader and was as equally as important as Pump. It might be Ragnar’s influence, one day, that saved someone or whatever. It was hypothetical but it was the only thing Ragnar could conclude too since Surra spoke about not having any skill that he pursued actively. He spoke of hunting and fighting — both of which were useful — but then spoke that he did not know much of healing. Of course, he left a wide variety of Trades they had available out, though Ragnar played with the consideration that Surra might not have been aware of them.

“If you seek to learn the art of healing I can direct you to my wife but it will be a while before she is available to teach,” Ragnar warned, eyes holding his severity on the manner. He would not have her running ragged when her first priority should be their newborn children. “She is to give birth at any time, now. Until they can begin to eat meat and are not so dependant on her alone she is out of commission.” He would fight the entire pack on it, if need be. “Once she is available to begin teaching I am sure she will be happy to teach anyone who is willing to learn.’ Ragnar was confident enough on that to speak for his wife. He could not see her turning away any wolf eager to learn her Trade; she was not that kind of woman. “There are many trades, skills, than just hunting, fighting and healing,” Ragnar had finally learned them all and supposed that all of them were supposed to be useful (though his mind was made up on if he found ’Naturalist’ to be useful or insulting given his beliefs).

It was a good thing, Ragnar decided, that he was being sought out because he was of some importance but even so it remained a strange thing to Ragnar. From the Viking’s general experience of wolves who were not apart of the Cove he had came to learn that wolves either hated him and avoided him or were intimidated him and avoided him because of that. Of course, this male Surra Ragnar had to remind himself again, had never met him before this moment. It had been one of the few joinings he had not been present for and it made sense to want to seek out the leaders and so Ragnar concluded that was it and let it go. There was no sense in lingering on how strange it was to him any longer. Merely, it was something he would need to be used too.

The congratulations did not go unacknowledged by the silver Viking, however, he offered no words of ‘thanks’ (Tokio is pretty sure it was not even in his vocabulary) but instead dipped his head to silently communicate that he appreciated it. Ragnar knew they were not yet clear of the perils of childbirth and would not be until the children were out of Thistle’s womb and alive and well. Even then, it was a gamble of life. They could be weak and die, or they could die during the process of being born. Perhaps Ragnar was a pessimist but the risks were not near to being over yet and after watching his previous wife’s body abort the babes she had carried he was not all that eager to follow blind hope. “There are the Gamekeepers: the hunters. They organize hunts and keep the caches filled; there are the Warriors: they are the offensive and on their flip side is the Wardens: the defense we are in charge of guarding the borders; there is the Chronicler: they are in charge of keeping the pack’s history; the Counselor: is in charge of keeping inner pack and personal relations between pack-mates smooth; Caretaker is essentially your pup sitter; the Healers, of course, and the Outriders are the scouts, the ambassadors and explorers.” It was quite a list and probably a lot of information at one time though Ragnar had attempted to keep his explanations of each trade as simple as he could.

He did not mention ‘Naturalist’ for the simple fact that he didn’t really believe in what they did, but if Surra decided to pursue it after hearing about it from someone else, Ragnar would not stop him. Merely, Ragnar wouldn’t listen to any Naturalist in the pack because in a way it worked against his beliefs and besides there was no real proof that what they did actually worked.

Giving the rundown about the Trades was not Ragnar’s most favorite thing to do, mostly because it constituted a lot of talking — though Ragnar had tried to keep it as simple and straight forward as he could. Ragnar had his moments where he was exceptionally verbose but they did not come often. Leadership, the Viking knew, demanded that words be spoken. It was his job to inform, to cajole and encourage; thankfully this was not his first time as being a leader and he already knew what was expected of him from his time as Jarl in Odinn’s Cove. He pulled much of his applied experience from that and from when he led the Berserkers (before he was Jarl). Still, he did not enjoy speaking of the Trades despite that he understood that not many would know what all they were. The lack of desire to speak a lot often stemmed from the hindering of his accent in the common tongue, as well, because despite that he knew it fluently, despite that he had known it for years he still struggled. It wasn’t, always, a seamless transaction.

Spontaneously, it made Ragnar miss Dagrun, miss being able to communicate freely in their native tongue with a longing that was reminiscent of a caged bird yearning to be able to take to the sky once more.

Thanks were given, calling Ragnar back to the present from the brief wandering of his thoughts, and Ragnar gave a stiff nod of acceptance of it. “I am the only one in the pack so far that holds the official trade title but yes, I consider any that are aspiring wardens as wardens. Gavriil patrols the borders with Pump and myself. My wife, Thistle, is the pack’s only Healer though she, also, does not hold the official title yet.” Sadly, that was it. There were a few who showed particular interest in certain Trades but so far Ragnar was the only one to hold any sort of official title. The titles did not matter, truly. It was that they continued to contribute that really mattered. "One of the other new members expressed an interest in patrolling so I assume he, too, will work under me." Ragnar added as the thought occurred to him but then fell silent once more.

The meeting between Ragnar and Surra had went how most of them tended to go with Ragnar; simple. He saw no need to be redundant by telling Surre things that he was sure Pump had already spoken to him of. Speaking of Trades was a tedious task to the Warden who had obliged only because it was apart of his duties as a leader but wondered why Pump couldn’t have covered it upon the man’s acceptance. Probably, Ragnar mused though he did not know for sure, because Pump felt the same way speaking about Trades as he did; though it made sense for Ragnar to speak of them to those who did not know because he, currently, was the only one to hold the official title of one in the pack this far. The warden offered Surra a nod and then spoke, “And if you need me let me know.” It was not often that the wolves of the Ridge needed a leader but Ragnar liked to put it out there that he would be there, no matter what time of day or night, if his presence was needed. The Viking stretched then and parted from his newest subordinate heading to the birthing den to check upon his wife.