Wolf RPG

A nomad at heart—Argent’s icy eyes would study the sunspire mountains every so often, tempted by the call of them. Was Mahler still there? It was possible—and yet the last time he had seen the man, he hadn’t been well.

The mountain would claim another, he supposed, and not wishing to visit the ghost of his father, at least not yet, the wintered wolf found himself at the borders of another pack—fresh, perhaps?—on yet another mountain.

A sucker for punishment, perhaps.

His eyes were unreadable as he studied the area around him now—large form towering against the snow drifts before tipping his muzzle up, releasing a beckoning howl to those who claimed this as home—it was time to settle for at least a bit.

Day by day Njord and his family rebuilt, not only their own lives but Moonspear’s greatness. If Sialuk was the architect with a strong vision, then Njord would be her carpenter, and together, with Meerkat and Stingray, they would raise the walls of this new village.

The seafarer traversed across the mountainside, sealegs still uneasy over this hard land, as he searched for an impressive site for an Ulaq. There were a few contenders… but Njord felt he needed to make sure there weren’t any spots he missed.

That’s when a howl beckoned. Sialuk had built it and others were coming.

Njord found the stranger waiting at their new borders. He was a hale with a silvery winter pelt… probably not much younger than himself. Njord’s good ear tilted forward as he took scent, a bit skeptical. He still felt their clan was vulnerable to danger and this large male appeared formidable.

Despite Njord’s stand-offishness, he did not chase the vagrant away. Instead, his red tail moved lazily from side to side, as if to beg the question why have you called for us?

Beckoned—a man came and with impressive swiftness. It pleased Argent—a mental tick box on his proverbial check list: well guarded and responsive. Pelage of blend of sand and wood, it was the brighter crimson that flagged his tail that caught the silver wolf’s eye momentarily—his own fur a stark contrast of pale gunmetal silver.

There was no comment made by the other, despite the opportunity presenting itself. It didn’t deter the Sandraudiga, who found his own large form lowering in turn, respectful upon the borders of the man’s home.

“Hello,” he offered, breaking the silence. “I see you have a claim here—I was wondering if I could know more of what kind of pack this is.” He gave pause, a wisp of a smile gracing his broad muzzle. “I’m Argent.”

A simple sign of respect was all Njord required to loosen up. The stranger seemed to inherently understand this and so, when he showed his deference, Moonspear’s gamma gave a light shake of the pelt to break any tension. His jowls slackened into a smiling pant, glad to see their guest had good instincts.

“Njord,” the red-tail supplied in response. “Our pack is named Moonspear, after the mountain we stand on.” The man couldn’t help but ruminate over the question Argent posed: what kind of pack were they? Njord had never pointedly asked Sialuk, and so he took some liberties and described the kind of pack he desired for his family.

“We are stoic brothers an’ sisters,” Njord words were firm. Confident. “This palisade is our home. We care for tha land an’ raise our families among its pines an creeks. There is equal opportunity for all. A village,” he surmised.

“Ye can find purpose here,” he ventured, wondering if this man searched for a new hearth or if he simply desired intel. "Why do ye ask?"

Moonspear.

A fitting name, given its stalwart position and the strength it exuded. Drawn to the mountains himself—his birthright, it would seem—Argent found himself tantalized by the possibilities here.

Their purpose was far more humble than that of his own kin. Silver eyes—frosted, set upon the lands as the red-tailed man described his home—offering his own name in return. Argent was silent in his musings, his own stoical mask placed carefully, as had been taught from such an early age. Stigmata cast a large shadow to follow under—perhaps here, there would be reprieve, if only for a season or so while he worked on finding himself.

“I seek a home.” He paused, eyes swiveling back to the other, studying the man and bowing his muzzle lower at the request. “I’m looking for a place and time to find myself,” he clarified, hoping the man would read between the lines—he could not swear undying loyalty until the day he died, for such a promise to a stranger was not within him.

“Finding purpose in another pack seems a good way to start. Scouting and sparring are two things I feel I excel at, should they be of use to you and yours.”

Find myself.

A breathy hum telegraphed the red-tail’s acknowledgment.

“Ah understand,” he replied, the edge of his rustic tone laced with empathy. It hadn’t been so long ago that Njord had left Meares Island to discover his spirit. He thought, sentimentally, of Sapphique's early days. Or that time he asked Kukutux if there was love in this world meant for him. Meerkat. His children. Kigipigak. Fighting, training, learning, teaching… The bear. Taken. Burying. Renewal. An argument. A lonely path. Family.

The thoughts flicked through his mind like a film reel on rewind.

“Ah man’s path is his own tae walk. It can be difficult. Complicated,” the seafarer reflected with a sage nod of the head.

Njord took a few steps towards Argent to better appraise him. The clear blue of his eyes was like icemelt. Reticent, but good-natured. The man was strong. Healthy. A breed built for a mountain’s harsh winter.

“Our leader’s name is @Sialuk, but she is away on an errand,” he explained. Njord knew, through Meerkat, that Sialuk sought a companion. Would this man turn her eyes? “She seeks a partner…” he dropped innocently, the last syllable is drawn out as if to imply…

Secretly, Njord was smitten by the idea of having a brotherhood. He thought of the good memory of hunting seal with Rodyn and Swordfish.

“Ye may stay with us, Argent, and take time tae find yerself,” Njord decided, though he hoped it is not an overstep. Yet some, small part deep inside glimmers in secret. Was this what it felt like to be the leader of a clan? The responsibility felt good in Njord’s heart. They were in control of their destiny. No longer did he placate those who invented, or held onto, his shortcomings.

Yet, the man would never dream of vying for any position. He was content to simply be trusted. That was all he needed. “An when Sialuk returns,” he continued, “I shall introduce ye, and ye will ask for her full blessing.”

Njord’s head tilts as if to ask, is this agreeable?

The man’s voice a brogue—crooning, and in a way, relaxing. An ear flicked in deference and attentiveness to the man—mentioning their leader, a woman by the name of Sialuk. A twitch of his lip in consideration of the dropped hint regarding a partner—an odd statement, and the silver and ice eyes of the Sandraudiga sharpened, studying the man with quiet contemplation.

No doubt, a myriad of other suitors lined up for the she-wolf. For now, he was content to determine Moonspear itself, knowing his mother would have had her interest in the topic piqued by Njord's words—having begged her children for grandchildren for over a year now.

He had just never met the right she-wolf to settle him. And he was hesitant now, to believe it would ever happen.

A wisp of amusement laced his muzzle at the words, though he did not comment on it—his eyes knowing toward his companion. They were building a legacy here—pups would be a welcome addition, no doubt. It also implied Njord himself had taken himself from the running… Interesting.

When he mentioned he could stay for now, relief flooded him—something he hid well, though, given his training. Instead, his muzzle reclined lightly in gratitude. “Thank you,” he offered, his tail sweeping the cold air behind him, wondering if the next question too bold: “Am I correct to assume you have a family, if the one called Sialuk is seeking a mate?”

Argent would become Moonspear’s first constituent.

The tempo of Njord’s red tail became an allegretto, pleased by this. The man was a strong addition to their pack’s foundation.

“My trust is with ye,” he assured the man in good faith. And even if that trust was broken, there would be ways to mend it – for Njord promised himself never do unto others what was done unto him.

He approached Argent to better learn his scent. When the man begged the question, Njord did his best to suppress a smirk. Yet, the corners of his mouth pinched like barbless fish hooks.  It was clear he was tickled by this topic.

“Come with me across this ridge,” he offered. “I will show ye this face of tha mountainside. Her trails an’ scent. You’ll be knowin’ her in no time. We can speak along the way.”

Njord turned and, with a sweep of his muzzle, invited Argent into Moonspear’s heart.

When they began to walk he continued their conversation. “Aye, you’re correct on both accounts. My wife, Meerkat, an’ our son, Stingray, joined Sialuk from tha coast.” Njord did his best to conceal any strain in his tone. Sapphique’s ordeal was a tale for another time. “My son ‘as a keen interest in scoutin’ …perhaps ye fancy yerself a mentee?” he suggested, but left the idea in the air as their topic changed.

“Sialuk told us she ‘ad travelled a long while before returnin’ to Moonspear. She hasnae taken a mate, though it sounded like many sought her hand,” Njord chuckled at the image of men throwing themselves at her feet – the first laugh shared between them.

Argent paused—form stiff, not from discomfort, but allowing Njord to scent him—familiarize himself. When the man was done, the silver man’s own tail gave a gentle flick in the air, content in the manner he had been accepted thus far—a healthy man in his prime, eager to prove himself to the world in some fashion.

He just had to figure out how.

Good-natured, the Moonspear guardian beckoned him further in the territory, and the mooncaller hesitated only a moment before falling into an easy lope alongside the other wolf.

There, Njord would pridefully boast of his family and the Sandraudiga found himself captured with a pang of fondness at the ideal presented before him—a happy family, who was expanding even more in the upcoming season. It was the kind of life his own mother had wished to paint for her children, but with the sudden death of his father, she had never moved past her grieving to find comfort in another.

It was impossible to think he could ever find a love like that—and so when Njord mentioned again Sialuk, he found his interest piquing, even if from the angle of learning more of the woman who had formed the budding pack. “Have none pleased her enough?” The question light, Argent stole a glance to his companion, amusement clear only from his own curiosity.

The two men traversed the ridge and meandered through the proud rows of green-needled conifers. From Njord’s perspective, Argent appeared sure-footed and strong – a true native of this wilderness. He felt the rest of their small pack would appreciate this addition, as well. Perhaps Argent would be to Stingray what Kaertok and Rosencrantz had been to Njord.

His mind turned back to Sialuk. “Ah dinnae ken,” and that was an honest answer. Meerkat had only shared a synopsis of her friend’s travels. His wife would never break a girl’s secret code.

“Meerkat is good mates with Sialuk. Sisters, even. Me… Ah’ve only just begun to learn her ways. Yet, she is verrae strong of spirit. I wouldnae expect ‘er tae settle fer anything less than what she pictures in her mind’s eye.” Njord’s gaze glanced over to his new cohort as if to suggest: will you be the one to share her heart?

But the look was fleeting. Njord continued. “Moonspear is ‘er legacy… she was born here… but these hills havnae hosted a pack for some time. There was a great calamity…” already, Njord had seen the scorched trees and piles of rubble from the craters. “Tha wounds of it can still be seen on the mountain’s side.”

He gave pause—eyes searching before them, as if they neared the torn lands that had evidently brought Sialuk’s home to ruin once before. “What happened?” Intrigue—not only for the history and insight to the raindrop woman but to the lands and home in which he had pledged himself to.

He did not know this woman, yet Njord painted quite the picture of her—but even more inviting to the man was the fondness in the man’s voice when he spoke of his wife—of his home—and Argent, for the first time in awhile, felt a wave of ease overwhelm him much like a blanket—as if indeed the mountain’s spirit was pulling him to a certain point in his life—the perfect place to find what it was he had sought so many lands for.

“I dinnae ken,” Njord admitted. It was a tale yet to be told to the seafarer. Perhaps Meerkat knew… Njord had a penchant for history and set a reminder in his mind to inquire about Moonspear’s history in more detail.

“Come, Ah will show ye,” he said. The rest of their time together would be spent exploring the Southeast ridge, before Njord would leave Argent to his own devices.