Stavanger Bay The coffin-bangers were about to arrive.

North of the glacier—directly north—was a mountain chain he had hiked in the past. It held little interest. He did not have the energy to waste climbing cliffsides or navigating steep areas likely occluded by snow. Instead he kept to the lowlands, following the hills until the grass petered in to coarse clay-dirt, and then to sand. The booming of the sea brought Revui back to his messy dreamscape, bits and pieces flickering to the forefront of his mind despite his wakefulness.

He descended along a sand bar and out to the shale beds that banded a stretch of the coast. It was low tide; the afternoon sun beamed down through the crisp air, hardly warming him as it stroked the silver strands along his spine. Debris that had been washed ashore stagnated and filled the air with layers of smell, mostly rot.

Revui picked his way between some piles. The thick green bands of seaweed netted around bulbous heads of kelp, and just beyond those layers were similar amalgamations, though dried. He was careful as he stepped across sections purely stocked with white shells.

it is on a patrol that the scent of a stranger is caught over the salty brine and musky rot of sea creatures left behind by the receding tides catches wintersbane’s attention. the tundrian follows it along the shifting sands, pace steady and polar gaze keen upon the shore for any sign of the wolf who did not belong on their bay. technically, it wasn’t enough to warrant attack as it wasn't technically trespassing: he’d long since known that until they became full-fledged there would be interlopers but there was enough wolves in the filling ranks of the clan to warrant the possessiveness that swells beneath his breast; and the sharp prowl to his step.

he finds the silver pelaged male out on the rocks moor had taken him a few days ago ( the crab incident he doesn’t want to think about ). he lets out a bark, hackles bristled and tail rising over his back in blatant display of dominance to accompany his command for attention.

this bay belongs to ironclan, stranger, perhaps there was something that tickles at the very corner of wintersbane’s brain that sees something perhaps familiar in the male but his pelage colors weren’t uncommon and wintersbane has seen plenty of wolves in his time. he is unable to make the connection that he has, indeed, seen this male before a very long time ago when he was but a cub fresh out of the birthing den with his siblings. it is no longer free to traverse or hunt upon.

word count: 253

Like Wintersbane, she too caught the smell of someone unknown. He wasn't the salt that the clan had gained, nor' someone she knew, and so the kraken skulked over behind the mountainous man of northern colors. He had gotten to the punch, but as the Sealord, she came to a backup. Ebony fur gently riffled with tail swaying high in the air, she kept a raging glaring eye of an attempt of intimidation.

Many were visiting Ironclan for the past few days, some joining, some not. Faster, Umbra thought, that they needed to claim even further to prevent intruders, such as him.

The beast had no memory of this place, in so far as the topography, but the foul smells in the air were reminiscent of some travels. The salted wind was ever-present; in this moment the rotting of the freshly deposited plant-matter was there, smelling strongly of chlorophyll. He nosed at a piece of pinewood that had washed ashore; grasped a ream of arbutus bark that ran red on the inside and pinched it until it splintered apart, ribboning as he raised his head again.

Two bodies were approaching him and Revui had been distracted by his investigation, only noticing once they were very close. The heft of the man sagged against the shell piles. His voice was deep like the tide. Beside him roamed a shadow - Revui glanced at this other body but not for long, deeming them unimportant - and turned his full attention to the man.

He spoke of a claim to this beach. It is no longer free to traverse or hunt upon. The stranger outlined.

Were there scents here that supported such a tale? Revui had not scoured enough of the beach to find them, nor was he going to get the opportunity. The other man was impressive (and so was the woman, but she reminded Revui too strongly of Ikkalrok, and he did not want to heed her for the similarities); he huffs to himself as if he is thinking.

Ironclan? He repeats, watching the man carefully, envious to some extent of the lionine quality of his physique and the pride that flows from him. I am Revui, of Moonsong. The glacier a day or so towards the mountains.

It is nothing more than a pipe dream, nothing solid, nothing that can be backed up. He does not have a shadow that follows him nor any bodies to defend his claim and title. But he offers it all the same, standing with a mirrored pride before the gray king. Your claim must be fresh; how long has it been yours? How many are you?

the sealord is like his shadow; fitting for her physical description at least. even so, the saltking does not mind. they are two sides to the same sword now, and thus she has much a stake in ironclan as he. a nod of affirmation is given as the stranger repeats the pack name. in return, he offers his own name and a name that is presumably a pack’s, even stating that this moonsong is located on the glacier not far from the bay. i was not aware the glacier was claimed. wintersbane states, whiskey-steeped tone contemplative; a low rumble of perhaps skeptical contemplation as he sizes the stranger up. and the empress of the isles did not mention it to me when we spoke. surely, if there was another neighbor ( more or less ) to contend with she’d have spoken of it.

if there was truth to what this revui says, or even if this moonsong is a forming pack like ironclan, the empress would like to hear of it.

they don’t have an alliance — not yet, at any rate — but they would be the reigning forces on this coast ( he intentionally ignores rusalka’s existence ) and figures it best he confers with her.

not too fresh, wintersbane counters. we’ve been here almost a month or so, maybe a bit longer, he informs, polar gaze unyielding. we are seven strong and growing.

word count: 232

Umbra knew none of the groups that are within land. Wraen had mentioned briefly of the various ones, and the run-in with the unknown wolves from the cliff.. Otherwise, he was unheard of. Revui of Moonsong, yet for someone claiming a land, he sure was far from the claim. Though she too, alongst with Wintersbane, dwelved away from the bay at times, but the two also knew one or the other was around, and the recruits that guarded as so. 

The seafang till held suspicions about them, being generally untrusting in nature, but the best that she could do was rely on them to help and protect. They were all watched with a starry, scrutinizing gaze.

"If you claim the glacier, what is your business being so far from your land?" The Sealord voiced her suspicions after Wintersbane spoke.

Revui might have been offended by the lack of awareness had he not been so new to the area, or had he been a more dominant creature in these last days. As he was steeping in his jealousy and self-loathing his attention wasn't fully placed here at this conversation; he heard the comment and let it pass. Except, as the man mentioned the Empress, he wondered if that was the term Hydra was now using for herself; he bristled without meaning to.

We've been here almost a month or so, maybe a bit longer. The man clarifies for him. They had many more bodies than Revui could hope to acquire for his own claim; it was disheartening.

Then the shadow spoke up too: What is your business being so far from your land?

The man took a breath, tried to push thoughts of his dark-coated beloved from his mind, spurred by the recent denouncement by his sister. This was not Moonspear, this was not Hydra; this was Ironclan, he had to behave.

I wanted to know what was near. The beach often holds treasures, he explains. But now that I know you are here, I will leave. It is good to meet you both, although his voice lacked any positive sentiments as he spoke the words, I wish your people well. Perhaps in the future when I am seven-strong we can meet again, build a proper relationship.

Except as our readers know by now, that never comes to pass.

last post from me.

the saltking and the sealord, in this at least, seem to be a fairly united pair; and though wintersbane first had his hesitations about making her his right-hand-woman she has given him no reason to think that he made a poor choice. on the contrary.

there is little room to ruminate upon that as revui of moonsong speaks of treasures hidden on the beach. the look the tundrian offers the man is one that says ‘there are other stretches of beach to find your treasures’ and confident that his visage sends the message clear enough does not bother reiterating more or less what he’s already stated prior.

perhaps. wintersbane allows, intending to keep an eye on this glacier just in case. he is not opposed to alliances but knows that without a proper give and take they can become too unbalanced, quickly. the topic is something he will have to speak to umbra at length — to go over what they’d be willing to offer those who seek to draft an alliance with them and what they expect in return.

until then, revui of moonsong. wintersbane says as the man takes his leave. when his form disappears, wintersbane turns to umbra; lips twitching into a small smile. perhaps, if you have the time, we could speak about what we are willing to give and what we expect from potential alliances as we patrol, he gestures to the borders with a sweep of his muzzle, wanting to strengthen them just in case there was a weakened spot. if not, you can seek me out later to discuss it. the choice was her’s.

word count: 271

Umbra held suspicions, for leaders normally don't leave their claim unless there was a motive behind so. Though he was respectful, and she had no reason to for any more aggression on her part, nor' more interrogations, as the man came, and left just as quickly. It of course, rose a brow to such a windstorm of a meeting, but pushed it to the back of her mind.

He caused no issues, and the seafang was confident to cease any conflict in the future.

The Saltking then turned toward her, and she nodded as so, "allies are valuable, though it's right to be picky on who to be with." She took upon the offer to perhaps have small discussion on what to do on the thoughts of allies. She held no protest to gain some, as there was always cons to more to the name. However, at the same time, their enemies, would be Ironclan's memories. She was rather picky, on who to claim for.