Wolf RPG

I'm gonna spree a discovery thread because A. I'm impatient and B. Tuwa needs some time to really get to the heart of this new territory and do some self reflection. Anyone is welcome to join :0 This is backdated to before Tuwa returns to SCC

A morning shower had nearly thwarted the day, but the sun's simpering had restored the afternoon to a fair condition. A gentle breeze dried the boughts of trees as the thirsty moss soaked up droplets with voracity. The rain amplified the aromas of this new forest, a hearty alpine musk laced with cool air, and prey alike. A rumbling hungry nagged at her stomach, but Tuwawi barely had time to stop and sniff the flowers. There was much to see, and she would be damned to miss any of it.

Her travels took the auburn woman into the heart of the mountain's low crevasses. The taller hills were too much of an effort to traverse at the time, but it was of no consequence; this new world had much to offer. Quickly, she walked betwixt the thick undercover until the treeline broke, revealing a large icefield spanning between the sister spires. It was a glacier, the slowest of giants, and its pearly white cover caught the sun's rays to illuminate like fire.

Set when Syver hasn't found Stavanger Bay yet and is still a loner.

Hunger nagged at the white prince's stomach but he ignored it, food would have to wait for another time. His sapphire gaze was wary as he walked through the forest, he missed the sea. The continuous crashing of waves against the shore, the gentle calmness of the waters and the sudden storms. He missed everything and longed to be near the ocean again.

Finally the treeline broke and the white wolf looked around eagerly before his gaze dimmed, he knew the sea probably wasn't going to be near this place but he could dream right? Surely there had to be an ending to this land somewhere, where the solid grond turned into churning waters that extended until you could see no more. And he wasn't going to stop until he could find it.

Sharp gaze spotted another wolf nearby, a wolf with a pelt of fire and forgetting about the common language in this place, he called over to her “Heil?"

Thanks for joining! :D

The saffron woman was awed by such a majestic view. Perhaps the glaciel melt fed the wetland and creek to the south? Curiosity tingled at her spine demanding an adventure, but her body was tired and travel-worn. She had to be economical with her energy. Journeying alone left few options for game, and one set of jaws could only catch so much. It was a bitter reminder of the hard life a lone wolf led. Had it really been almost half a year since joining Swiftcurrent ranks? There, they had a team to rely on and full caches to expend - a cushy nest in a rich valley. Njal and herself would be starting from the ground up, and a litter of growing pups meant they had to work overtime.

A screeching hawk reeled overhead; just a dark stroke against a barely clouded sky. She watched him on the hunt for carrion and Tuwawi had half a mind to follow. However, she didn't realize company flirted nearby. 'Heil?' a young and rugged voice called. Quicksilver gaze locked onto the guest and evaluated his position with a cool demeanor. He was a pale creature adorned with cerulean eyes - an impressive youth by any measure; stark against the alpine greenery like a pressed orchid in the pages of a book. At first, Tuwawi thought of Nanuq and hear Shearwater wolves, for she too was a glistening alabaster creature with an impressive stature.

But what was the word he spoke? It sounded like hail... a greeting? The ember's ears orbited in question, posture slack and expression inviting. "Who're you?" was the first question that struck her lips, interested to know who walked these lands.

The auburn female turned and seemed to be analyzing him, his ears twitched but he didn't move as she called "Who're you?". Of course she spoke English, the common tongue in this area here and she probably didn't speak ancient Norse, he was ready to turn and leave but decided not to. What if this female knew where the sea was?

“Þú talar ekki Norrænir þú?" Just because she didn't speak it doesn't mean he couldn't. He didn't wait for an answer. “Auðvitað þú ert ekki, það virðist eins og enginn hér veit hvernig á að." his expression remained impassive and regal, sapphire gaze cold as he took a few steps towards her.

"I am a viking." he said in his soft accented voice.

Tuwawi's shrewd gaze watched the polar man with a discerning eye, for he lingered in the same position before approaching. He was statuesque, as if finely carved into pale marble, and appeared aloof with little change in his expression. Perhaps she had misinterpreted his words?

Just before she was about to speak, the vagabond loosed a series of cryptic sentences in a language Tuwawi was familiar with, but did not know. The drawling vowels and harsh consonants reminded her of Njal's northern language, but the words and their flourishes were distinctly unique. Her jaw tightened as her eyes shifted, brows cinched in as a clear sign that she did not understand; and for a moment the ember paused... but the man seemed to anticipated her confusion, and uttered a simple phrase in the native tongue. I am a viking.

His voice was genial, however stoic, but the sentence was curt and offered little embellishment... or even a name. "Ah," Tuwawi murmured as an uncomfortable pause settled between them, "so you are." Little did she know, Ragnar, a wolf of similar origins, now led the Stavanger to the West. "Does this Viking have a name?" she asked.

"Ah," the woman murmured, "so you are." the ivory prince looked at her, cerulean gaze cold as he tilted his head slightly. "Does this Viking have a name?" A faint smile crossed the Northman's lips as he gazed at her. “Já." he murmured softly in his native tongue.

"But I will ask for your name first," the faint smile still on his lips, sapphire gaze curious. "Syver, Syver Hákon Ironside." he said, his expression regal with the faint smile playing at his lips. He had meant to ask the female for her name too but said it in a different way. Hopefully she would still understand.

"You do not speak ancient Norse do you?" he asked in his soft accented tongue as he took another pawstep towards her.

Despite Tuwawi's initial conclusion that this youth's personality was cold as ice, his next introduction felt more tepid and genial. Syver Hákon Ironside was he name her offered with a unique lilt. The word Ironside stuck out against obviously more foreign titles. Was Ironside a family clan? A suffix to denote a certain skill? She could not be sure, but curiosity threatened to inquire further about the unusual naming convention. However, the young man didn't strike her as particularly gregarious and so she tempered her interest.

"I am Tuwawi Sveijarn," she told him with demure gaze, "the pleasure's mine." Though, the name had not been the one mother had bestowed her. Fauve Maike was a thing of the past. "Norse? Is that what you call your langugage? I do not speak it, no. Many others do not know that tongue, either." She paused in reflection, and thought of Týrr. "Though I have heard similar words uttered now and again. There might be a few around these parts who share it. Many travel through here." Teekon was a melting pot of faces and cultures. Some wolves derived from the north while others flocked from the south.

She stepped towards him to close the distance, and gingerly reached out her muzzle to smell at his pelt; it was proper etiquette, after all. "What bring you this way? Aren't you far from your origin?"

"I am Tuwawi Sveijarn," said the fiery female.

"Norse? Is that what you call your langugage? I do not speak it, no. Many others do not know that tongue, either." He tilted his head slightly in a curious manner, "I can see that, for the common language here is English, no?" he said. "Though I have heard similar words uttered now and again. There might be a few around these parts who share it. Many travel through here." He smiled, so there might be Scandinavians here but something had changed in his thoughts. He knew how to speak the common tongue so why did he need to find one that spoke Norse?

He watched, cerulean gaze calculating as she closed the distance between them and reached out to sniff his pelt. He dipped his head to her and touched his nose to her cheek before withdrawing. "What bring you this way? Aren't you far from your origin?" He watched the distant horizon for a moment before smiling. "I am far from my former home, am I not? I seek knowledge and I wish to learn about other cultures and lands. Also, my dishonorable father has kicked me out of the pack because he fears that I will take the title of Jarl." he said, scoffing slightly at the word Jarl.

He did not think it was rather weird for him to mention that when they barely knew each other. To him, it was the past and it no longer mattered to him so he didn't mind telling others.

"You do not smell like a loner, you are from a pack are you not?"

Her mention of other Nordic wolves appeared to bring some joy to the frost-faced youth, and Tuwawi nodded in affirmation that English was indeed the common tongue of this land. She empathized with him. For so long time as a child, Tuwawi had been lost in the wilderness. Once she had found Kindred — her home, her family — she felt connected. When the floods washed everything away, she had craved those past sentiments and a familiarity of a wolf who knew her home and culture. Thankfully, Njal and herself had found one another and new life bloomed.

Syver gently brushed his muzzle against her cheek in a gracious gesture, to return the hello, and told the story of his heritage. The Ironside's words were commonplace. Many lone wolves sought to carve a path for themselves and enrich their knowledge through travel, but a twist at the end caused the mother to abruptly blink. Syver's father had disowned him? Tuwawi couldn't fathom ever abandoning her children in such a manner. Jealously nor contempt would ever cause her love for them to wane. She frowned, approving of the Northern family's way of life, but kept harsher sentiments at bay. "I am sorry to hear that," she said, "you don't seem like you deserved such treatment." A young man coming into his own? How could he?

She was happy when Syver steered the conversation to a lighter course. "I was once the gamma of Swiftcurrent Creek," she informed him, "but soon I will be claiming the lands we stand on." She paused, realizing she had little fear when it came to informing others of the Sveijarn plans. Perhaps Syver would travel more, and word of their new pack would spread. "My family plans to travel here as soon as possible and we hope to be settled before the season cools. Perhaps you have some wisdom for me, Viking? Though my mate, Njal, comes from Northern roots similar to yours, I hail from the South. " She gave a small laugh, "I suppose this winter will be chilly, won't it?"

"My family plans to travel here as soon as possible and we hope to be settled before the season cools. Perhaps you have some wisdom for me, Viking? Though my mate, Njal, comes from Northern roots similar to yours, I hail from the South."

He gazed at her curiously, "You have followers do you? Wolves that have pledged themselves to you. They will come when you're pack has been established, am I right?" he asked, curious.

"Is Njal a viking too? Or just a Northerner?" he tilted his head as he waited for her answer. Being at a place that snows reminded him of home, when he had found a sense of comfort and safety, before his father kicked him out.

We can wrap this up soon if you'd like ^__^

"A few have given me their word," Tuwawi informed him, "but we both know some do not put much value in words alone. We shall see who comes when my husband and I howl the summons." Tyr seemed like a good bet, as did Skull. Ptarmigan had wavered and Tuwawi had not seen the dark woman since. She could not fault the wolves who decided the Sveijarn home was not for them in this early phase. Such unwavering loyalty was a lot to ask for in the very beginning.

"I don't believe he is," she told Syver. Njal had never been one to embellish on the heritage or traditions of his Northern clan. Though had had managed he had searched for them without success. Wherever his home was, it was far, far away. Their children had all been named in his culture's honor, and Tuwawi had half a mind to pick his brain, partially because her own history was so lacking. Tuwawi's mother had never shared much knowledge about the Maike family. After all, she had last been seen when her daughters were but six months old. Perhaps, with the freedom this new territory brought, Njal would feel more at liberty to share that piece of him, especially to the children. Of course, they would create their own life as Sveijarns.

Gonna wrap this up, friend! :)

Just as their conversation and formalities waned, a ray of sun caught the frozen glacier's crest. Intrigued, Tuwawi's ears orbited towards the unique natural formation. Her curiosity longed to explore the broad sheet of ice. How did it stay fixed between the two peaks? Was there water run off? She glanced backed towards the viking wanderer, now eager to leave him to his travels. "Perhaps we shall see each other again? For now, I will continue scouting this forest. The ice calls to me. I wish you well, and hope you find yourself in a new home." Certainly, the young man deserved a good and comfortable life after such a crass exit from his homeland. However, the wilds were often unforgiving.

As the sound of her last words faded, Tuwawi turned towards the mountains and continued on her quest. Soon, everything would fall into place.

Tuwawi RIP

Syver

Tuwawi RIP

Syver

Tuwawi RIP

Syver

Tuwawi RIP

Syver

Tuwawi RIP

Syver

Tuwawi RIP

Tuwawi RIP