Neverwinter Forest where silence comes

A small, bedraggled creature slunk through the bloodshot evening, russet eyes big and alert.

Ico had imagined that when he'd finally summoned the courage to approach a pack border again, he would be at his best — groomed, sleek, smooth and well-rested. But it hadn't worked out that way, had it?

Having fled a frightening blood ritual at Ursus, Ico had spent August up in Sunspire Mountains, exploring the peaks and nooks, getting into a couple of tight spots, honing his skills as a hunter of small prey, and frequently musing over the whereabouts of Germanicus, the only creature he'd ever truly cared about — and who cared about him. One time, when the rain poured down in sheets from the heavens, Ico could've sworn he'd heard an echo of Germanicus' howl... he'd attempted to track the source for several days, but to no avail.

Yet in doing so, Ico had discovered a mountain pass that had led him through to great westerly lands the likes of which he'd never seen before. It was there he'd laid eyes upon a distant blue forest with a strongly marked border; and thus experienced a new, prickling desire to find a home. A place to stay put. There was something deeply alluring about those rich green trees.

The days he'd spent planning his border approach had been marred by continued bouts of dastardly weather, and a scree slip on Sheepeater Cliff — hence his rugged state as he crossed the gorge west and hesitated at the pack border. Ico's ears began to flatten as if already intimidated. Should he howl, or wait...? Deciding resolutely on the latter, the boy could already feel his desperately summoned confidence beginning to wane like a snowdrop on the wayside.

@Mal @Simmik

Kyr is scouting out if that's okay. Feel free to skip around me.

The woman moved, quick, the huntress she was on long legs and lean, streamlined build. She trotted along the boards on patrol, simply scouting out for anything and nothing in particular- a visitor, a spot of prey, an intruder, a sign of their missing pup. 

It would be the selection for the day would be a visitor, to which she met the sight of a quite small canine as far as wolves went. She thought maybe it could have been an arctic fox, but here? Down off the arctic glaciers? 

Closer inspection and a sniff would tell her that he was in fact a wolf. With his snowy white and small form came the realization of how roughed up he looked. Dirty, furs a mess and if she could see under his coat, looked like he could have been scraped and bruised. But what happen?

She wouldnt hesitate to find out and so came near, stopping at a good distance from the visitor. Pale icy blue eyes looking him over questioningly. What happened to you?

Ico was determined that if he'd taken some proper time to groom the scree and knots out of his fur and make himself presentable, he would talk himself out of taking this leap of faith. It had not been easy to put himself out there again; he had to just do it. No more waiting, no more excuses.

But as he saw a shape approach (and his heart leapt like a salmon up a waterfall), Ico resented his untidy appearance. All the more so when the stranger spoke.

He caught a glimpse of striking blue eyes before he glanced away respectfully, noting instead a distinguished white stripe that cascaded down from her throat.

I got caught in a landslide, he replied a little sheepishly.

Go on Ico, you can do it.

Erm, I'm — I'm called Ico. I'm a wanderer. Could you tell me the name of this packland?

His gaze falls downward, diverting in what she could only assume was an act as respect as a loner outside of a pack's borders. She appreciated it and did not allow it to go unnoticed by her. Some wolves which came, while friendly, were not as so traditional and held the respect and courtesy which came with it. 

She listened on as he explained, her lips pulling back by the corners in a frown. Your lucky you made it out alive. She spoke, as perhaps a manner to reassure that given the case his appearance was acceptable. He could have been buried, could have suffocated or broken something and died a quite horrible death. He was very much so lucky to be here. 

I'm Vallkyrie Archer, Ico. The forest here and its pack is called Neverwinter. Are you looking for someone? Quite a number of times those which came to their borders were.

A call from the borders. Mal could guess it was probably someone looking to join up -- that wasn't a stretch at least. That or someone was lost, also not a stretch. He wasn't particularly close right then, but he started on his way to intercept the voice.

Eventually he came upon the scene: Kyr and a stranger, the one who had called. Mal might not be a grinning fool this month, but he'd at least look amiable at least. This was his pack, he had to do his job no matter how he felt inside. Nobody beyond the pack had to know how he felt or what went on. If Kyr looked his way he'd give her a nod, appreciative of her keeping up along the borders. He approached and once he was close enough, What've we got? An open-ended question. To either or both of them. A tip of his head and he looked between them.

Lucky was a word that described Ico pretty aptly, and he nodded humbly at that. But at Vallkyrie Archer's question, he felt almost as though she had read his mind. For he was looking for someone — Germanicus. But no, Germanicus had not been here; Ico would recognise that stony, evergreen scent anywhere. He felt he'd know — just know — when Germanicus was nearby. It was a faith that meant something deep.

Neverwinter... he heard himself repeat quietly as his russet eyes blinked up to the handsome treetops. The branches swayed and whispered in the wind. Ico blinked, and a shape emerged from those trees as if summoned by the breeze itself. A trim, dapper male with markings the likes of which Ico had never seen before. He had a calmly commanding air about him, and Ico felt his ears and tail dip in instinctive submission. He blinked a little shyly from the stranger to Vallkyrie, then back.

Although technically the answer to Vallkyrie's question was yes, Ico elected to take a more direct approach. The lad would never manage to come across as confident, but he at least wished to be perceived as clear and honest. My name's Ico, sir. I... I was wondering if there might be space for me here in Neverwinter.

A smile touches Vallkyrie's expression as the male repeats the name back to her. The trees brushing against one another in the breeze and with it comes the scent of Mal, followed by footfalls. The huntress turns head over slim foreleg, seeing the gray and black molted Alpha's approach. She holds back her frown, for he obviously is not the overly chipper wolf he once was and with good reason. Now that he was pained with recent loss he still was friendly enough, maybe even a "normal" friendliness that some may show to a stranger at their border. Even on Mal's saddest day he was more sociable then some on an every day occasion. 

Turning back round to the small white wolf, she silently listens to his explanation. He wished to join them. Something Kyr honestly hadn't exacted for one reason or another. They did have space and loyal, honest members who would be here for the pack was needed. She wondered as a member, what role he might play within the ranks... A hunter, like herself? A medic, sitter? She was silent however, giving Mal the floor.

It seemed like there were quite a few shy wolves out there. Mal didn't mind. Took all sorts out there, and honestly he didn't care as long as whoever it was got along with everyone else. Would a new face around make things better somehow? Change of pace. But as Mal looked the white wolf over a bit more, it appeared Ico had a rough time recently, so probably no parties. Cupid wasn't around to look the guy over either -- Aibreann though...

My name is Mal. And yeah, there might be a spot for you here. Why don't you go ahead and tell us a bit about yourself? We can see then if you'll be a good fit. With the Saints sending spies and other nonsense, he wasn't just gonna let someone in on just a name. In case he was someone up to no good, then he'd at least have to put a little effort into lies. Or if he was just some normal dude, then he and Kyr would just get a better idea of who they were talking to.

So this was it. The two wolves — both taller than him, both older, both cool but amiable — looked at him expectantly, and the little rugged wolf felt the grass beneath him turn into a stage, and sunset a spotlight.

Ico realised then that he wanted to be open and honest about himself, and that meant having some confidence. Speaking the way he felt most comfortable speaking; in story form. But doing so without filling up the soundwaves and praying on the patience of Mal and Vallkyrie.

W-well sir, I'm from an Easterly pack called Walnut Grove, he began with a bit of a stammer, but soon found his paws. I took to no physical skill or tangible talent, but drunk in knowledge and tales like moss in a stream. When I came of age I was told to go my own way, until — after a few false starts — I ventured across a pack who helped me realise that failings in hunting and fighting do not make me useless. I became known, in my own small way, as a Chronicler — storyteller, historian, anecdotalist. The world, I think, is best understood in story.

But the pack had a dark side, and in fact proved more dark than light. So I ran away to find it. The light. For Ursus is a cult of blood, and I couldn't find it in my heart to truly be one of them. I've been on my own for the season, learning how to hunt small prey and map the mountains in my head. I finally committed myself to finding a new home, a new place to stay put, when I saw... when I saw your forest.

As a note, this is the day prior to Kyr knowing the pack by name as 'Ursus'.

 

He is hesitant, at first, yet finds his footing quickly, laying out before the pair a story of his travels up until his arrival here. How he had not found settlement from his family pack until Ursus, his they turned out to be not the type of wolves which Ico felt he could agree with living amongst and finally then how he came here, to this forest. 

Not warrior nor healer, nor scout or hunter, however he did say he had learned to hunt some small game for his own survival. Smaller game on the day to day is what Vallkyrie often did and fished when she could as she enjoyed it. She made a mental side note to ask if he would like to be taught more on the skill. But for now...

A historian? I dont believe we have one in our ranks? A question and she side glances to Mal just in case she was wrong. A smile toys over her features as she looks back to the small statured wolf. In my birth home, our sitters and priests would often tell stories of our pack's long standing history- our wars, our creation and of course, our gods. She shared with Ico, a smile still on her mug.

 She knew not of any storytellers here, knew not of the great histories and tales of the Teekon Wilds but what she did know is, should she have pups of her own one day, she had every intention of teaching them of Torbine and all the lore behind the Archer Empire. Its always good to have someone with a sharp mind to pass the stories along. Be it to the children, newcomers, or during celebration. Neverwinter has had some rather trialing times as it were recently. Maybe someone like you could help to push is into better spirits. Between wolves lost in the storms, being attacked by hateful packs and of course, death, the pack deserved some light at the end of this dark tunnel.

I think the thread with Hydra is actually farther backward in time! I forget exactly when, would have to look it up. My brain is a little fried today though, sorry!

At Kyr's glance, he shook his head slightly. Not that he knew of. If they were after stories, they kept it to themselves. Well, kids maybe. And the last comment... It was pointed at him, wasn't it? An ear rotated. Hard times. Yeah. But he didn't want to share with someone new at least. There were some things that he wasn't really wanting to talk to anyone about. Even friends. Maybe with more time he'd be more open, but... Nah. 

And there was a name he was now familiar with. Lovely, Well, probably good you got out of there. Doubt anyone would call us a cult of blood here. Contribute to the pack and you can start over here without worrying about anything too weird showing up over your shoulder. I've always wanted people to figure out who they are here. Be themselves and all that.

The more anxious columns of his mind were already stressing about what he might be asked to do to prove himself, even worrying that he might be laughed out of here. That had happened to him before, after all. But Ico took comfort in the fact that neither wolf interrupted his tale nor quirked a brow at his concerns, and when he finished he stifled a shaky breath and listened.

Vallkyrie was drawn to his interest in telling histories and boosting morale with stories. Ico stored away the sad knowledge that Neverwinter had been through some difficult times of late, but said nothing.

Start over. Figure out who you are. Be yourself... and all that.

These concepts made Ico's heart swell with warmth, and he finally smiled, albeit shyly. Thank you, Mal. And Vallkyrie. Thanks... he bowed his head to both, heart thudding. He hardly dared glance at that treeline; that hauntingly beautiful forest he had been staring at for days. Could he truly be allowed to call it home?

I promise I'll contribute, with all I've got.

Well oop. Lol Maybe last round?

Her patchy leader spoke, accepting enough then of the newcomer. Kyr looked the battered little white wolf over, seeing where she may see him acceptable in other trades in between story telling and lore. A sitter, a quick footed messenger, a mouser and other small game. Curious of him and his time he had been more or less 'sleeping with the enemy', the Archer woman smiles to his thanks. 

Come on, let me show you around then? Maybe our medic could give you a once over too? She spoke with question, both to Ico and to Mal. Many of times Mal would take charge in leading the newcomer around- showing the caches, common sleeping areas, and to the other members. After what happened to Cupid, however, she was certain it would be awhile before he would feel the need to be extra friendly. To be honest, Kyr didnt know if she would have had the care to come to the call at all.

He bobbed his head. Get settled in. Hopefully by the time he found his place, Mal would be a bit more cheerful. It'd make a better meeting next time around. And maybe by then he'd have a much better idea of what he should ask about Ursus -- Mal certainly wasn't going to throw Ico to Hydra to interrogate, that'd just be cruel. 

Yeah, Kyr was right in that Mal just wasn't quite in it right now. So to her a quiet, Thank you. Then he looked back to Ico, And if you do need anything or have any additional questions, you can just give me a shout. Another light smile to go along with it. He could do with a nice quiet bit of time off by himself after this. If Kyr lead Ico off, Mal would go another way.

Thanks both! Wrapping. <3

Ico wanted to reassure Vallkyrie that he was quite okay; just a bit roughed up, and certainly a bundle of nerves. But it was quite possible that the Medic in question would know better than Ico. And besides, he was curious to meet them... though it would be difficult not to be reminded of Evien, the Medic at Ursus.

He felt sure that if he uttered another "thank you" the words would lose their meaning, so he dipped his muzzle low to Mal, with a nod of understanding, and smiled shyly. Then he returned his gaze gratefully to Vallkrie, keen indeed to take his first steps into the forest that had lingered on the horizon for too long.