Northstar Vale a chest filled with diamonds and gold
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All Welcome 
for @Saena

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From the Qeya River he moved south once more, backtracking. The lack of a mental map of these foreign lands brought with it a slight disorientation that Rigr was not used to. He knew that he was backtracking, at least, and deigned to avoid the Witches Marsh if he could help it. The Teekon was so vastly different from Elindgar, a different climate much more tropical than the norseman was used to. For the briefest of moments, an ache resounded in his chest as he cut through the rocky slopes between The Sunspire and Lone Star Mountain though he knew not their names. Fjöll 1 & 2 sufficed; they looked largely the same to him as he strove for the less treacherous path through and truly didn't care if the locals had given them names or not. To go around would take more time then he was willing to afford, though in truth, he had no appointments to keep. His father's faded legacy was likely nothing even recognized. How his half siblings could let it fall so willingly...it was pathetic. They were not worthy. The Norns spoke as much.

Eventually, as morning yawned into mid afternoon Rigr had descended the outcropping of rocks, his paws seeking the solid ground of a vale. A few steps were taken away from the rocky face he'd descended from before his steps ceased. Black, leathery nostrils flared and ash grey hackles bristled as the scent of wolves assaulted his nostrils. It occurred to the viking, rather suddenly, that he'd found himself trapped betwixt a rock and a hard place (literally), that he was possible trespassing. For once, it had not been intentional. He had no interest in conducting a raid (none the wiser that there was nothing for him to raid, regardless) and had only been meaning to see the otherwise of the mountain range that rose through the middle of the wilds like an earthen scar protruding heavenward. Keeping to the fringes of the Vale as much as Rigr could he pushed forward, cautious and alert but seeking to avoid the draw attention to himself by lingering for too long in one place, praying silently to Odin that it was not too late for elusive maneuvers.
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Saena refused, when she spotted a dark figure skirting along the base of the mountains, to ignore it despite her barely healing injuries. She rose promptly to her feet with a wince and a snarl and closed the distance at a limp, unwittingly tailed by another member of the pack who was concerned. The remainder of Duskvale was close by, close enough that they had likely also spotted the male, but for the moment they did not pursue their first female, even if many of them thought her foolhardy for engaging an outsider in her condition.

As Saena drew close to the larger grey-black male, she noted his size and stature and markings. He was scarred and not dissimilar to Warbone, a fact that only made her warier. She stopped at a fair distance, but her own posture was solid and demanding: ears up, lips puckered disapprovingly, shoulders back, and chest forward. Maintaining the posture hurt, especially with the largest wound on her side pulling uncomfortably, but she couldn't afford to show it too readily. A grimace was the only outward indication.

Saena awaited a reaction, then, without bothering to speak before knowing his behaviour.
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Odin did not hear his prayers and if the Allfather did he chose to ignore them. A pin-prickle, the awareness of being watched began at the nape of his neck where his guard hairs bristled upon instinct. His steps ceased as the sound of uneven footfalls caused his ears to thrust forth, twitching to the sides before they slicked back to rest half mast atop his skull. Her scent soon followed, she was wounded, he could smell them on her and the unevenness of her gait, he assumed as he turned to face the one whose eyes he felt (though unknowingly the eyes of the whole rested upon him), was likely a limp. His bi-colored gaze swept over her, taking her in. Petite, creamy white with fascinating copper markings. He took in the disapproval in the set of her lips, her overall posture demanding and resolute. The strength and will she must have possessed to keep her posture, to engage him despite her condition! Rigr found it ...admirable.

The devourer's own posture lowered into submission. For what else was he to do? He was not here to aggravate her, he had no interest of raiding or starting a war. For once, he trespassed because the vale was nestled like a well protected fortress between the mountains and by the time the norseman had realized his mistake it was already too late. He could have attempted to climb back the way he came but he was loathe to backtrack, all of those hours wasted. “I mean no harm,” He broke his silence, the common tongue heavy upon his lips, accented as he spoke outside of his native tongue. Despite his words of assurance, Rigr did not expect her to take him at his word given the circumstances. He certainly would not believe such a thing told by another if he would have been in her place. Then again, if he'd be in her paws he'd have attacked by now. “I only meant to get to the other side of that fjöll ah-,” He struggled for a moment, having lost the common tongue word for mountain though he gestured to it subtly with his muzzle. “-mou ...monnin... mountin...” He grew frustrated with the word. He was out of practice and it showed. “mountain?” He settled, cursing his rusty common tongue. How was he supposed to claim Ragnar's legacy when he struggled to speak their language?

Of course that was to assume he made it out of this alive. One or two and he might stand a chance but his Berserker rage and training would only see him so far and he doubted the odds were in his favor. While he did not fear death he did value his life and it's worth. That was enough to try to appeal to this situation peacefully.
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Saena relaxed only marginally when Rigr submitted, for there were at least 3 factors working against him, and Saena was a far more demanding creature when she had any sort of advantage. The cream-haired bitch sought to close the distance between herself and the loner, hearing his words but not immediately acknowledging them. There was a sharp edge to her eyes as she drew close, and she sniffed the air gingerly, but the information she wanted came from more intimate sources. So she peeled her lips back over her teeth and wordlessly demanded that he submit further, but she was unable to mask a wince. It didn't matter. There would be time for talking later.

Among her wolves, there was not so much submission and dominance required. In general, the lead wolves stayed in the lead because they were most respected, and the others were free to establish themselves from there, but such displays in any sort of severity were hardly needed except where discipline was concerned. They were first and foremost a family, and Saena treated them as such by keeping her dominance mild unless called for. Toward an outsider, however, Saena was even harsher than she probably needed to be. Most wolves were raised with the same belief she'd once held—that a pack territory was completely off limits, which didn't hold for Duskvale's territory—and most wolves would sooner leave than cause trouble, so when they were brave enough to pass into claimed territory, she was very demanding of them.

Rigr wanted to get around the mountains. The fastest way was through the valley, but to get through the valley, he would first need to get through the pack in his way, and Saena was his first test. She had no qualms with him passing through if he passed it, and the fact she hadn't called the others down on him yet was a clear indication of that. She herself could not attack him without risking her life, a fact he was likely as aware of as she was.
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She drew nearer. His bi-colored eyes watched her closely, his ears pinning back to his skull. Showing such submission he was not used to. His name was not uttered from the lips, spilled from their tongues like poison here. His titles did not bear weight nor merit. There was an advantage to be found in it, and he played to it. His life was worth more to him than his pride. He heard her sniff at the air and the devourer sunk lower as she wordlessly commanded it. These were her lands, he knew now, and he respected power so long as it's wielder was worthy. It was rare for him to find one whom he felt the inklings of respect for but this woman ...she was worthy of his respect, he suspected. There was something within him that whispered it, that affirmed it though he could not explain why he felt that even if he had wanted to.

Rigr did not make another attempt to communicate verbally with her: he'd said all he needed to. Instead, he sunk lower, his tail curling around his hind leg, salmon pink tongue licking his jowl as his throat arched in an attempt to placate. Rigr did not fight her dominance, instead, favoring to accept it and the consequences that were to come. He could not remember the last time he'd willingly submitted to anyone and in this, while his muscles found the act foreign, there was a ...thrill to it, the Norseman found. To witness the command of power so beautifully.
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Rigr sunk lower to the ground, and Saena's lips curled approvingly. Yet there were still two factors playing against him, and next she sought to test those. The males of Duskvale thus far were perfect subordinates, well behaved and well aware of who was in charge of them. As such, elaborate displays of dominance were not required on the part of the leaders, which was exactly as Saena wanted it. Her subordinates were like her children, and all were subservient to the parents, and that was how she wished to see Duskvale unfold. Discipline would be the only time such measures were necessary, and the injured she-wolf needed to know that Rigr could fold when pushed.

Of course, all wolves had limits, so she would push him only once. Repeated pushing was bullying, and any wolf that couldn't stand up to the bullying of its fellows was destined to be an omega wolf. So far, Duskvale had no such wolf, nor a real need for one. There would be no tensions to dissolve.

She limped the last few feet to Rigr's side, where she rigidly stood for a moment before, with a swiftness that caused all of her wounds to scream, she rounded on him. She made an effort to hook her forelimbs around his thighs and hoist herself up on his rump, assuming he didn't move away—not sexually, but authoritatively. In the past, Saena would never have dreamed of attempting to mount a subordinate. The whole thing seemed so awkward and unnecessary. But with her heart opened to her instincts, she suddenly wanted to mount them, more to gauge their reactions than anything else. Rigr was a loner on her turf, and she felt she had every right—though he could be unpredictable and whirl about and bite her for the transgression, and she would deserve it, too—so she tried, not knowing whether it would go well at all.
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His head jerked back, glimpsing at her over his shoulder as she rounded on him. This type of dominance was rare, he thought and the feel of her hooking her forepaws on his hips so she could draw herself over his rump was strange. He did not move. It habitually felt wrong to be mounted by a female even though he understood there was no sexual assertion here. Only authority. His head moved to face front, staring intently at a jutting peak in the near distance, fighting off the humiliation that rose like fire in his chest. The norseman did not appreciate the excessive display but to attack her would invoke her ire and the ire of her pack that lingered near. It would destroy all he had been trying to work for when he first realized he was trespassing. Despite his desire to snap at her, he kept his composure, played into the role of subordinate well, allowing her the display. Perhaps this was the way of packs in the Wilds, admittedly he'd have been dead or dying if he'd have trespassed in a pack like Svartalfheim. Their customs and traditions were likely very different from his own and thus Rigr was patient, observant and because he had little choice he was willingly subservient to her for he got the feeling it was what was keeping this a ...peaceful (so to speak) exchange. Mostly, Rigr was curious as to what was meant to happen after all of these displays. Was he to meet an untimely death (for he was no match for an entire pack, realistically)? Or allowed passage through?
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Saena was as surprised as she was impressed that Rigr allowed her to mount him. She held his hips for only a moment before sliding back to the ground, having satisfactorily established herself as his superior. He'd made no threatening moves, which was a good sign. It meant he wasn't stupid or overly bold and brazen. She had to wonder if he would allow her the same luxury if he wasn't knee-deep in her territory, but it didn't really matter, she supposed. That's exactly where they were.

"Good," she assessed as she limped back to a more comfortable place, several feet from Rigr's head. "I'm glad you can behave." There were just so many wolves in the world incapable of it, whether because they were prideful or because they thought differently than they should. Saena was learning quickly that overt expressions of dominance were not required with those who truly knew what it was to be a wolf, and those from whom due respect must be demanded were not truly wolves. Rigr fell into the former category based on his actions here.

"If you want to get to the other side, I can escort you past the pack, and you'd be free to carry on alone after that," she offered, tilting her head to glance at him slyly, "or you can stop here, socialize for a bit. I'm sure they'd like to meet you themselves." Another test, of course. Rigr had received the leading female's attention well enough, but there was much more to becoming a pack wolf than simply heeding the leader. She didn't even know if Rigr wanted any such thing, and it was a leap of faith to even suggest it, but Saena wasn't one to pass up a wolf who seemed capable of accepting her brand of intimidation without retaliation, whether or not he was truly intimidated. Besides, she needed a bit of a breather before walking any distance in her completely torn up condition.
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#9
This is really just a cameo -- and he's about half a football field away :)

Though glad for Saena's independent nature, as well as her strength, and ability to maintain her rank in her present condition, Warbone was less than eager to let her out of his sight for long. He watched her from afar, his cold eye blazing as he tensely watched her interaction with a dark, rather malicious-looking loner. At his distance, it was impossible him to discern anything else of the situation than what he could see, and nothing transpired between them that made him think she was in any danger. The abstract concept of danger was nearly completely lost when she mounted him and there was no visible reaction from the stranger.

He didn't make a sound, didn't announce himself; he only watched, unnoticed, with a severely impressed expression set towards his partner, and an expectant eye that waited to see if she would turn to lead the solitary wolf towards their pack, or not. In the first case he would turn, and make it back to the members of Duskvale before they did, and in the second case, he would follow them, keeping out of sight, and intervene only if it became necessary.
if sins were etched into the surface of bones,
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Though she did not linger mounted for long, though he felt her weight slide off of him as she dismounted, the humiliation still seethed and writhed beneath his skin. If there was anything to be gained from it she seemed pleased at the very least, her words only confirming Rigr's assumption. Behave was a subjective word to the viking, really in terms of his behavior it ...depended. In this situation, driven by his desire to preserve his life and that bizarre aura of someone worthy of his respect: he behaved. Most of the time he would probably argue that to most wolves his behavior was ...atrocious. Barbaric. In this, he knew no different. He was a product of culture and faith, albeit the darker side of those. The devourer offered her no words, instead, his ears rising from his skull where they'd lain, attentive as they thrust forth atop his crown to show that she had his attention as she spoke to him once more.

First, she offered to escort him through her claim, until they reached a certain point and he would be on his own. Though it was originally all that he sought from her, most fascinatingly, she continued on, her second offer a sly suggestion that he could stay and socialize, adding that her pack would probably like to meet him. At first, Rigr was suspicious, unaware of the customs of these wolves. Did she truly mean socialize? Or was the offer hiding malicious intent? It struck the Northman as unlikely, if only because she could have called the wrath of her warriors down upon him. If she had wanted to attack him she'd been in the prime place to do it as he allowed her to mount him. One of her greatest opportunities to mount an attack on him had came and passed. “And what would we talk about?” He inquired the common tongue words heavy and thick as they spilled from betwixt his lips, hinting subtly at his interest. He wasn't ...opposed. It might even be wise to lay low, at least he could find out which of his half siblings he would have to kill to claim Ragnar's throne for his own. But he was in no current position to claim anything and Rigr knew that. What she offered beyond simply escorting him on his way might prove to be worth his while and he was intrigued.

Bi-colored gaze had taken note of the male that stood a good distance away, watching, but he paid him little mind, intent to focus upon Saena.
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Saena remained completely unaware of Warbone watching from a distance. The pack mate who originally accompanied her had long since slunk back to the pack, presumably satisfied that she could handle herself, even if she was hardly able to stand for long periods without grimacing fiercely. Her face was set stubbornly even now to prevent showing it too much, but Rigr was likely well aware of the pain Saena was in. It showed in her eyes, like every other emotion she ever felt.

The loner asked what they would talk about, and deciding that he could simply see for himself, she gestured for him to follow, then spun around to head back toward where Duskvale was bedding down. "Who said anything about talking?" Whether or not she pursued a more instinctual lifestyle, Saena would never let go of verbal socialization, but she meant for Rigr to meet Duskvale on more physical and personal terms. If speaking came into it, all the better. "Perhaps you can tell me what you're in my vale for," she suggested as she led the way. "Is it solely to pass through, or did you come so far down here because the pack here calls to you in your heart of hearts?"

Whatever his cultural differences were, they simply didn't apply here. She didn't even ask about his accent, his orderly scars, or anything else. The truth was, Saena just didn't really care. A wolf's background didn't affect their ability to be a good subordinate, nor a leader's ability to serve them in turn, so she didn't wonder.
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She was in pain but Rigr had assumed as much when he'd noted her wounds. Still, she held her ground, resolute against him despite her pain. Her will, the viking thought, must have been extraordinary. He was impressed by her, which was hardly an easy feat. Regardless of what happened, whether he stayed or he went he would surely remember Saena. He followed after her as she led the way to where her pack waited, raising a question to counter his own. Rigr was not adverse to physical communication. It was more natural but besides that — as she had witnessed — he struggled with the common tongue. Not as bad as some in Svartalfheim. Some could not even speak it at all. He slowed his steps to follow behind her, ears cupping forth towards her as she posed yet another question. “At first,” He began licking his chops. “I was going to pass through,” That had been his original intent before he realized the Vale was claimed and even at first when she made her presence known to him. “but now I am …,” He took a small pause between his words, searching for the right one and it's translation. “— ráðabrugg ...intrigued.” Whether it was the answer she sought or not Rigr was not sure but nevertheless it rung true. He did not admit that it was she that intrigued him the very most. It didn't really matter. She intrigued him and by extension so did her pack and that was the truth of it.
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#13
@Warbone They're heading back to the pack, so feel free to hop back in whenever! <3 I'll likely just loosely powerplay the pack to keep this going, since we ain't official just yet!

She swung one svelte ear around to listen to Rigr, but her face was ahead as she limped back to where the wolves were congregated. The man had permitted her to mount him, and while there were no direct laws governing such a thing, she fully expected him to remain submissive in her presence after that. She didn't fear that he would attack her from behind. That was a wolf's way, actually, but Rigr thus far had given her no reason to doubt his integrity. He'd submitted, she didn't expect him to change his mind.

"Oh?" she intoned as they crested a rise and spotted the dark masses of the pack below. There were a fair few of them, not so many as to call it a large pack but enough that it wasn't measly. "Well, I hope we can show you something worth being intrigued about. Maybe you'll even choose to cut your journey short, run with us for a time." Menacing though Rigr looked, the pack could always use strapping males, although she was positive she wouldn't be taking another male until some more females showed up. Saena believed in balance, and while more women meant more competition for Warbone's attention, it also meant the pack would be balanced, and that was all she could ask for.

A dark figure broke away from the pack to step forward, sniffing curiously, and soon that wolf was followed by another and a third. Saena beamed as she limped a few feet away to sit heavily, letting the pack meet Rigr. One wolf went directly to his neck to scent it out, another made an effort to tenderly grip the grizzled wolf's muzzle in their jaws in greeting, and the third went right for his croup in search of the most intimate information available.
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When she made to lead the dark wolf into the heart of the vale, Warbone vanished ahead of them so that he might alert their wolves of an inbound newcomer. They were all riled, writhing around him excitedly by the time their guest arrived, Saena leading him into the mix with an eager whine. He had forgotten his anger with her -- knowing that it had been born purely of an inability to react any other way -- making it easier for him to separate his emotions from the current situation. He had already watched the stranger submit to his partner, but would he submit to the alpha male?

Warbone made a low noise in his throat, dispersing the pack so that he may approach him directly. He held himself tall, and pressed forward, his pale eye coldly expectant, but without accusation; he waited for the tuck of his head, ears, and tail, so that he might explore his body freely and pass his claimant scent onto him. It was all he would need, for as long as the scarred, coal brute could concede to the breeding male of this pack, he would easily have a place among them.
if sins were etched into the surface of bones,
i’d need another skeleton to record all my wrongs
men are haunted by the vastness of eternity
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“Maybe I will,” He knew his father's throne sat empty — lest that had been the last word anyone had heard about the late Jarl but the distance between Eldingar and Teekon was vast and by the time news reached the Vikings that conquered the Valley it was old news to the wolves of Teekon Wilds — but he knew he needed more accurate information, needed to catch himself up and investigate the going-on's before determining his next step and that could take months. Winter would be upon them in a few weeks time, Rigr knew (if the chill in bitter air was of any indication) and he never had considered himself to be a impatient beast. There was much work to be done but it would be wise to hunker down for the winter months, run with a pack as he gathered the knowledge he sought and would need. “It would be wise to settle for the veturinn...ah... vinter?" No, that didn't sound right. "Winter. Perhaps I will run with you for a while, if you will have me.” The truth was Rigr did not truly know what the future held in store for him. Only the Norns and Gods did.

Rigr watched as the pack moved in around him, sniffing him, one clamping his jaws around Rigr's marred muzzle, while another went for his rump. The invasion and swarm left the hyper-vigilant devourer on edge but he was submissive and complacent for them to investigate as they desired. It was their way but Rigr could not deny that it left him feeling exposed (though that was the point, more or less). The male he had noticed earlier approached next, dominant in posture, and Rigr submitted for him as well, tucking his ears, head and tail to a subservient posture recognizing and acknowledging the one eyed (as to whom Rigr thought of Odin upon instinct) male as his superior as the other male explored and passed his scent to him.
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#16
Feel free to skip and vaguely powerplay Saena for the rest of this thread!

Saena stood back and watched on proudly as the pack gathered around Rigr to investigate the newcomer. It was becoming easier and easier to understand the purpose of these behaviours. Before, all she'd known was that her instincts, once rather dormant, bid her do them. Now, she knew that following those instincts could tell her more about a wolf than even hours of conversation, and she loved knowing about her followers.

When Warbone strode forward, Saena visibly shrank. She'd forgiven him for his completely justified anger at her, but she was still uneasy with him, and she still tried to stay well out of his way. The promise of a fight remained a hollow ring in her head that she wasn't willing to face, even if the thought of a challenge ordinarily spurred her to recklessness. So she went some distance away and placed her flank to the ground, to lay in the presence of her pack without risking Warbone's impatience in any way.
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#17
As the stranger easily submitted, Warbone's attention was solely for their newest potential, finding things about this male that he hadn't been able to tell at a distance earlier. For example, the stranger was not black, but soot-grey, like shadows or dark ash, and his scars were not natural. They appeared forged; applied rather than unwillingly given, as they lacked the jaggedness of true scars— an effect resultant of flinching away from the shock of unexpected pain. The intentional scars made him wary, but if Saena had seen fit to bring him into their midst, then he trusted her opinion on the matter.

"Come," he said, giving the submitted wolf a comradely nip on the top of his shoulder. "Get acquainted with the rest of us."

This'll be my last post :) Welcome to DV, Tori! I'll title you now.
if sins were etched into the surface of bones,
i’d need another skeleton to record all my wrongs