if i had a heart

*Ragnar* · June 09, 2014, 07:53 AM

It was early when Ragnar stirred from his sleep, having for once, fallen into an irrevocably deep slumber, dreams of ravens, of blood and victory moving like a vivid force of nature through the Viking’s subconscious. The restful slumber left him feeling more refreshed than he had in many weeks of restless power naps, plagued with the constant worry of the Isle wolves and the fact that they were growing in numbers to rival the Ridge. With each wolf that joined their ranks they presented a bigger threat. More wolves meant more food and more food meant they would be imposing much more on the Ridge’s long established hunting grounds, of which maybe Ragnar would be more inclined to share if he actually cared about the welfare of other packs (obviously he never had since he had led more raids than he could count back in the Cove) and if Majesty had at least came to Pump and him about settling on their doorstep; he hadn’t and Ragnar felt no inclination to change the ways of his thinking or his culture.

For a moment longer Ragnar laid at the mouth of the birthing den, scarred ear cocked towards it to listen to the soothing sounds of the sleeping bodies within as he contemplated the message he knew had been hidden in the context of his dream. It had been a message from Odinn, of this Ragnar felt entirely confident, but he was groggy and in no real frame of mind to be deciphering the Allfather’s coy messages. As the God of wisdom it seemed only fitting to his devoted descendant that it took wisdom to figure out the hidden connotations of the dream.

Ragnar took his breakfast from one of the nearby caches if only because he was eager to begin his patrols, knowing that the sun was still a ways from rising yet and he had a while before he would have to pause in them to catch Thistle her breakfast …and possibly, recalling his conversation with her a few days ago, things for the children who would be beginning to eat regurgitated meat to their diet of their mothers’ milk. Already, they were developing rapidly, their eyes had opened and Ragnar was sure they had begun to hear though he really had no way to ascertain that just yet; and just as quick he was already strategizing about Thistle’s next heat cycle. The time approaching them in the next eight months there would be no mystery as to who the true father was, it would be him without a doubt. He knew that even though he was the Beta that he would still have to seek Pump’s permission for the children and contemplated going to her soon about it so he would not have to endure the intoxicating scent of Thistle’s heat cycle tempting him while he held back like some chained dog. His philosophy was if he got permission early on in the game there would be no ‘I accidentally got her pregnant because I couldn’t stand it anymore. You have no idea what the hormonal scent of her heat cycle does to men’.

Ragnar did not like seeking permission, much preferred taking what he wanted and being done with it but his respect fur Pump reminded him that he owed her that much.

With the bones of his meal left discarded for the ravens to pick at — Huginn and Muinnin needed to eat too, after all — he began his patrols starting, this time, at the far stretch of the shore, icy eyes focused coldly upon the Isle in the distance, hackles bristled at his renewed annoyance at their presence.

Verrine · June 09, 2014, 03:26 PM

Thanks for starting! :)

Ever since the afternoon that Ragnar, Julooke, and he had gone to meet with the wolves of the island pack, Verrine had made the river and shoreline the most frequent locations of his patrols. He saw little of Julooke, which he disliked, but he knew this was important. These wolves were a real threat of the most dangerous kind -- the kind that masqueraded under the guise of peace and harmony. They would smile and make nice with their neighbors, while picking prey off said neighbors' hunting grounds when they weren't looking and thus taking food out of the Ridge pack's (in particular, the Ridge puppies') mouths. That, in Verrine's mind, was unacceptable and he wouldn't tolerate it. He didn't have the power to run them off their island, but if he caught one of them on his side of the river, he would teach them a thorough and unforgettable lesson about infringing on other packs' back doorsteps.

Wet sand softly chafed his toes as he walked in the surf, foamy seawater rushing over his ankles every few moments. This patrol was mostly business, of course, but there was a bit of pleasure in it as well. He liked the ocean and found it a relaxing place to be, not to mention it was quite a bit cooler here than at the Ridge, a bit further inland. The wind coming off the water was cool and refreshing, tousling his fur with gentle fingers and leaving salty kisses on his lips. His eyes scanned the shoreline ahead and along the banks of the Totoka River as it emptied into the sea, and frequently moved out to linger on the island. He could smell foreign scents on the ocean wind, scents that he knew belonged to the rival wolves out there.

But a brief lull in the breeze brought him a different scent, one that was very familiar. Looking around, he spied a burly, rugged figure in white nearby. "Ragnar!" he called, a grin on his face. He knew the swarthy Viking was out here for the same reason he himself was, and it pleased him that he would not patrol alone today.

*Ragnar* · June 10, 2014, 08:04 AM

Not a problem! :D

The majority of the situation had Ragnar annoyed, territorial and even in some cases, though it was hardly the fault of any of the Ridge’s wolves, standoffish; the latter being more of a product that he felt that Pump wasn’t taking the threat of the Isle wolves as seriously as she should have been — just another one of the things they uselessly butted heads on. Ragnar might have been on Pump’s opposing side, vying their hybrid leader to contain the problem before it became a bigger problem but he was, inherently, powerless. Her decision was law as the Alpha and he, the mere Beta felt like he had no more pull than the Nu rank. If there was one thing Ragnar hated it was feeling utterly powerless. The Viking couldn’t help but feel that ‘innocent until proven guilty’ or ‘peaceful until proven hostile’ only worked with inter pack relations and stood no where with an enemy pack. Ragnar didn’t care if other packs starved or thrived, had never cared about the welfare of any wolves other than his own. The savage had already decided his children would never go hungry that the length of measures he would go to to make sure their bellies were full would be horrific (or at very least immoral). If he had to give his children the entrails of the Isle wolves so they had food then Ragnar would.

Ragnar had not been born to be a monarch’s lap dog; he would not sit idly by as their prey diminished because the Isle wolves needed to eat too. No, as far as Ragnar was concerned they didn’t. They could all starve to death on their little Isle and he would not mourn for a single one.

If they were in a more prime location he might have considered raiding them in secret but he doubted they had any sort of food to offer him and his and so for now, that option was off the underground table.

The sound of his name broke him abruptly out of his vicious thoughts, dispelling each savage notion to a tucked away corner of his mind as he refocused, pausing in his steps, the rush of the oncoming wave cool as it splashed up his legs and licked at the fur of his stomach. Verrine, Ragnar saw, approached with a smile. A coy smirk was Ragnar’s response to it though it was affable all the same. “Verrine,” The Viking spoke the other male’s name, glad to see that he, too, was dedicated to the safety of the pack. Ragnar took the liberty to encourage his wardens to include at least the shore in their patrols but even that did not feel like enough to the scarred Viking. Then again, his power was limited and was stuck sufficing by doing what he could with what little he had to work with. Ragnar was impressed with the pair (he basically considered Julooke and Verrine a package deal) for both had been proving themselves without fail to him — even though it wasn’t really Ragnar they needed to be making an impression on. “It seems quiet so far,” Ragnar spoke simply on the matter of the borders. Quiet was not something Ragnar trusted.

Verrine · June 12, 2014, 01:26 AM

He didn't particularly care for his Alpha's lack of initiative against the isle wolves either. Perhaps Pump was a more subtle sort, preferring to sit back and bide her time until the offending band of wolves stepped irreparably out of line. Or perhaps she wished to wait until she knew more about the rival pack. It was never unwise to know one's enemy, after all. He hoped this was the case. He didn't want to actively seek them out and destroy them -- much as he expected Ragnar wished to do -- but he knew that he personally would not tolerate an isle wolf near the Ridge or the grounds the Ridge wolves hunted, and if the consequences of that meeting sparked a war, he would have no regrets. He only hoped his Alpha saw it that way if push ever came to shove. It wasn't his place to question her, though, and he never would…openly, anyway.

Ragnar returned his greeting, a wry grin crossing his grizzled face as he approached Verrine. The waves splashed and frothed around them both; Verrine didn't think he'd ever get tired of the ticklish sensation of the foam fizzling in his wet fur, or the way the water pulled the sand out from under his feet as it moved back out between waves. He knew Ragnar's observation about the quiet pertained to the rival pack, and he nodded his agreement. "I hope it means they heard your warning and intend to listen," he commented, his eyes lingering out over the bird-strewn cliffs of the island. "I wasn't so sure, given the attitude of that moron who met us. But you never know."

*Ragnar* · June 12, 2014, 07:55 AM

Ragnar was apathetic when it came to wolves outside of Horizon Ridge of his own family. He had no reason to feel even the slightest concern for them and so he didn’t. It was also why he was not a overly huge advocate of alliances unless they proved to be purely beneficial — which they usually weren’t. Besides, if push came to shove on the front of “false alliances” he would put the welfare of his pack before the welfare of another’s which would potentially lead to said other pack’s demise. It was no chip off of the Viking’s shoulder because the less packs there were, the less compeition there was for food. The summer months when prey was bountiful was one thing, the winter was a whole other game. It was these months that Ragnar had led raids, stealing food and even wolves from pack lands, killing some but letting enough behind so they could reproduce and grow again for the next season when the Cove would resume pillaging. Ragnar didn’t make a habit of going to the same pack twice. Typically he would go to a pack and then the following winter hit a different one giving a false image of security before he would hit them again.

It was just the way of life.

Survival of the fittest; Ragnar had no qualms with doing what other men wouldn't do to ensure that he and his survived lacking that moral compass of 'right' and 'wrong' though Thistle liked to advocate differently.

“Perhaps,” Ragnar murmured to Verrine’s observation that maybe they had heard his warning and intended to heed it. Regardless, Ragnar wasn’t holding his breath and was prepared to do exactly what he had warned if they didn’t heed it. Ragnar was all bark and all bite and if they wanted to learn it the hard way, than so be it. An amused snort left the Viking’s nostrils when Verrine mentioned the woman who had met them on Sea Lion Shore that accused them of trespassing in free territory. She had been, if nothing else, a mix of annoying and amusing. “To be honest the one time I met Majesty he did not seem like he had the makings of a capable leader,” It was harsh but it was Ragnar’s personal thoughts on the matter. “My children have more maturity than I saw in him.” Of course his children were only infants and couldn’t get into any sort of real trouble, or do anything that could be remotely considered mature but Majesty had came off to Ragnar as childish and Ragnar had a hard time seeing him as a worthy advesary because of it.

Perhaps it was his own trick — of letting assumtions be made about his intelligence be made, only to move in for the kill in the most clever way that Ragnar could think of — working against him.

Verrine · June 29, 2014, 07:02 PM

Dammit. So sorry for holding this one up so long. <3

He chuffed with amusement at Ragnar's comment about his own children having more maturity than the Isle's Alpha. Verrine hadn't met the foolish young leader for himself yet, but he didn't need to in order to believe that there was some truth to Ragnar's observation. A truly mature, intelligent, seasoned leader that knew what he was doing would never establish a new pack so close to two stronger packs. "I guess time will tell what happens from here on," he replied after a moment, shrugging as he did.

"It's obvious we're going to need to keep our borders and hunting grounds under serious watch," he continued after a few minutes, feeling a sense of purpose and clarity come to him that he hadn't felt in a while. It was good to know how he personally could contribute to the Ridge and its leaders. He looked at Ragnar earnestly and a subtle timbre of strength and confidence resonated in his tone as he went on, "I want to earn my place in this pack, and my place will be out here, keeping an eye on things. I will do all I can to keep our lands clear of trespassers and protect our resources." He wanted Ragnar to understand that he was committed to Horizon Ridge, to Pump, and to him. Verrine wanted to be a wolf that his leaders could count on and trust, and he was willing to do whatever it took to prove this to them.

*Ragnar* · July 01, 2014, 07:26 AM

It's ok! <3

Verrine was right, Ragnar knew. They had done what was within their limited power to do, thus far, without further permission from Pump — despite that Ragnar had not gone to her prior to the outrider trip to the Isle wolves. Either they would sink or they would swim and whatever part Horizon Ridge played in that, Ragnar didn’t know. Time was their fickle mistress and for now the head warden was contented with including the shore in his patrols and just remaining as vigilant as he had been before, with perhaps a hint more of ferocity that he had exercised before. For a moment their was silence. Or at least a silence between the two men considering the ocean was never silent and if it was well Ragnar would only be able to describe such an event (unlikely as it was) as the untimely coming of Ragnarök. When the ocean would grow still, the skies would bleed and the Gods would come to odds on Midgard, many of then destined to die, the All-Father included. Ragnar shivered slightly with the thought before he pushed it out of his mind. He did not want to think of Odinn’s death until he was battling beside him on the battlefield of Ragnarök. Until that point in his (after?)life there were more pressing things to concern himself with.

“I have included the shore into my patrols, something I can say I did not think I would need to be doing,” Now, however, it needed to be done as far as Ragnar was concerned. “And I will routinely check Ravensblood Forest though I doubt they will go that far to hunt,” It made more sense for them to stick within Sea Lion Shore since the woman that had greeted the Outriders had seemed pretty confident it was apart of their lands and that the Ridge wolves had been trespassing, or Totoka River. Still, the compulsion to cover all of the bases, unlikely or not was present. The Viking’s gaze fell upon Verrine when he spoke, listening to his words feeling a swell of pride similar to what he had felt several times with Julooke. Ragnar did not, in any way, regret letting either of them into the pack. They had proved their worth and then some. “You have already proved your worth Verrine,” At least as far as Ragnar was concerned though he could not speak for Pump. “I am glad to hear it. A pack is a family no matter if we share the same blood or not. Loyalty and allegiance is valued highly to me.” It went without saying that dedication was wedged in there somewhere as well. “I cannot speak for Pump but as far as I can see you have done very well so far.” Ragnar wasn’t …extremely adept at giving out compliments and preferred to do it in subtle and sly ways, however, he did not want Verrine to worry because the Ostrega man had nothing to worry about.

Verrine · July 03, 2014, 10:28 PM

Ragnar is such an interesting character. I like reading his thoughts, particularly as they pertain to Nordic mythology and beliefs. :)

At Ragnar's praise, Verrine felt a thrill of pride and delight on the inside. It felt good to know that his efforts were noticed and appreciated, and it felt even better to know that the big, grizzled leader considered him and Julooke a part of his family. Within, he was leaping for joy and shouting with elation, but outwardly his response was much more controlled. He grinned at Ragnar, his thanks and appreciation clear in his face.

As each day passed, he regarded Ragnar more and more highly as a leader and as a man. Verrine had always felt that true leadership was not about scaring others into following you, but making them want to follow you. It was about igniting a passion in them for a common cause, and it was about sowing and nurturing loyalty and affection in them as well. From what he could tell so far, Ragnar had a lot of these more positive qualities. He knew without a doubt that the savage northman wouldn't hesitate to paint the beach red with the lifeblood of one who dared to cross him. At the very least, he knew Ragnar was not averse to using his teeth to make a point (harhar see what i did there). But these seemed more like last resorts to him. If the way he led Julooke and Verrine was anything like the way he led the rest of the pack, then Verrine knew they'd chosen a very good pack indeed.

Another thought occurred to him after a moment, and he thought it pertinent to bring it up. "You know, we've been so worried about this pack at the island…there's a pack at Silvertip Mountain too. What are your thoughts about them?" He knew very little of that pack at all, only that it was a younger pack than Horizon Ridge and it was said that they were fairly aggressive compared to some of the other packs in the area. If he was going to be a patrolling Warden of the Ridge, Verrine thought it might be a good idea to be aware of all surrounding rivals, not just one.

*Ragnar* · July 05, 2014, 06:42 AM

aw, thank you! :D

It wasn’t often that the scarred Northman bestowed praises and less often than that that he chose to be more open about praising. When he did praise Ragnar liked it to be subtle. He could not tell anyone what made the honest difference between wanting to outright praise Verrine instead of dropping the subtle hints that was much more customary of the savage. Ragnar speculated that it probably had something to do with the words he had spoken with strength and confidence but the usage of past tense made it sound like he had yet to do so to Ragnar and Ragnar did not want the Ostrega to think that he hadn’t noticed the effort Verrine put forth because he had. Ragnar couldn’t and wouldn’t speak for Pump but he sincerely doubted Verrine’s worth and loyalty (or Julooke’s for that matter) was ever in question; if on some bizarre chance it would have ever been Ragnar would have brazenly stood up for the pair no questions asked. He offered Verrine a rarer yet small, albeit genuine smile as they walked, the surf splashing up against his legs as it crashed a little more violently than the others against the shore. The rush of sand and cold salt water was almost an exhilarating feeling though Ragnar had a feeling Thistle would make him wash it off.

He was accustomed to dirt and blood and it had never bothered him being covered in one or the other, or at times both, to Ragnar is was apart of being a Viking, but he tried to bathe with some sort of regularity for his young wife’s benefit. She might have never said anything to him about it but he didn’t exactly what her recoiling from coming near him because he smelled to her.

There was something of a stretch of silence between them, though Ragnar was find from finding it uncomfortable. He didn’t really like having massively long monologues unless he needed too and to his dismay there was always the occasion that called for them. He often wondered if his quiet disposition tended to intensify his intimidation factor but he had seen wolves recoil from his loud ilk just as quickly and eagerly as they recoiled from him. For the most part Ragnar had always attested it to the scars that littered his body but particularly the deliberate carvings on his face/head. Scarred left ear twitched as if on some kind of hidden cue, as Ragnar shook off those thoughts, eyes of Caribbean ice moving from the Isle that he had subconsciously been eyeing to linger upon Verrine when his companion spoke again, this time bringing about the question of Silvertip Mountain. Until quite recently, specifically Ragnar’s meeting of Majesty in question, he had not even known of their existence. Given that, he knew very little of them but accordingly did not dare underestimate them. "I only recently found out about their existence when I spoke to Majesty," Ragnar admitted, inhaling the salty brine that kissed at his fur before he let it out. "We have no quarrel with them as far as I know. We stay to ourselves for the most part unless circumstance requires otherwise," Lips hardened into a terse line at the thought of Wheeling Gull Isle. "I know very little about them," Ragnar admitted with displeasure, "Have you heard anything about them?" The Viking inquired of Verrine unable to help his now burning curiosity on the matter of Silvertip.

Verrine · July 07, 2014, 11:46 PM

Your new table is HOT. :D Care to wrap up this thread? We should have a new one sometime soon. I WANT ALL THE TOKIO THREADS. XD

Verrine found Ragnar's silent nature far from off-putting. Rather, he enjoyed it. He himself was a somewhat quiet wolf, seldom opening up to any but Julooke or his closest friends (namely Beric). He wasn't averse to speaking or being heard, he just didn't like to run his mouth when there were plenty others willing to do it. He preferred to let his actions do the talking, which was something he figured the gruff Viking could understand. The silence that passed between them was companionable and easy, the kind of silence shared between two friends and brothers who didn't need words to communicate.

When the conversation turned to Silvertip Mountain, Verrine was surprised to learn that Ragnar knew almost nothing of the pack that resided there. His eyebrows shot up with surprise, but almost immediately, a thought occurred to him. Maybe the fact that nobody knew much about them was a good thing -- it meant that the pack at the mountain kept to themselves and stayed out of everyone else's business. "I don't know much either," Verrine admitted when Ragnar asked. "I've heard that they're not a pack to be messed with, and that their leader is…fierce." During his travels around the valley, before he and Julooke had asked to join the ranks of the Ridge, he'd learned a little bit about some of the packs around the lands.

Beyond that, though, he knew nothing more. He decided that was good; perhaps their leader was fierce not only toward intruders or threats to her pack, but also toward her own subordinates with regards to staying out of trouble with other packs and minding their own borders. Such were the thoughts that ran through his mind as he and Ragnar patrolled together, quiet snippets of discussion passing between them amidst the occasional spell of comfortable silence. It was, in Verrine's mind, a most worthwhile way to pass an afternoon.

*Ragnar* · July 08, 2014, 10:11 AM

Der did an amazing job with it. :D And definitely! In the meantime I'll go ahead and have this one archived. <3

Ragnar’s scarred ear twitched in Verrine’s direction when the Ostrega man admitted that he did not know much about Silvertip Mountain, either. Though the lack of knowledge could have been seen as a concerning matter to some, it didn’t, admittedly, bother the Scandinavian all that much. He was contented with packs keeping to themselves since it was the very same tactic that he, personally, clung too. The fact that he had met Swiftcurrent Creek’s alpha was merely a happy coincidence, as was the fact that he was rather acquainted with Blacktail Deer Plateau’s alpha female: Blue Willow — despite that the circumstances in which the two had met had not, exactly, been all that pleasant if only because Ragnar hated Crete with a livid and fierce passion for clearly taking advantage of Thistle. He didn’t know the male and didn’t have to. He had his fun with her during her heat season and then left leaving her pregnant and alone to the circumstance of Pump who, initially, sought to kill them. Maybe she would have if Ragnar had not stepped up to claim them; though there had been a near impossible chance they might have been his. Aside from that fiasco that Ragnar had been left to clean up (and for as bad as it couldn’t have gone it had went over rather smoothly) he did not often associate with the leaders of other packs.

Ragnar gave a thoughtful twitch of his lips when Verrine admitted that he had heard that the Mountain’s leader was fierce. Ragnar wondered, sure, but unless it was a unquenchable curiosity that drove him forth he would likely never inquire further about this fierce leader and elusive Mountain pack. As it was, Horizon Ridge had enough troubles pressing against their borders like an unwelcome guest trying to break into their home. They didn’t need to add anymore. They had fallen silent by that point, except for the small murmurings of conversation they kept up as they continued on their patrol.