Stavanger Bay i knew something would always rule me

The sky darkened with the Fearghal's mood. Of course, this was a ridiculous notion even to Arturo's mind but it seemed oddly befitting to match the ferocity and ire that burned like unsettled embers in his chest, beneath his skin — cinders that his eyes were mirrors of. Did he settle? Fuck no. He was a fucking Fearghal not a civilian. He was better than those he considered infidels and yet here he was crawling on his stomach to the Sea Titan. There were a good few wolves that had managed to elevate themselves to the top of Arturo's shit list in his life and the wolves that had claimed Two Rivers Isle out from under him while he was away scouting and tending to his eldest son currently resided in the top tier of said shit list. He wanted that Isle and he was unsatisfied that he had to walk away from it. Yet the gangster had been outnumbered and he knew when to forfeit a game before he got himself into trouble he could not get himself out of. He was not a fighter. Of course he could fight as well as any wolf but it was not his true calling. He was no colossus. Though tall he was svelte, wiry, built like iron perhaps but still he was not as powerful as a full bred wolf.

The dark clouds roiled above as the melanistic coywolf moved with purpose towards the coast through the Honeyed Pasture towards the borders of the Bay the Sea Titan had intended to claim. The Sea Titan's scent was present, easily identified among the others that mingled with it. For a long moment as thunder rumbled over head Arturo lingered, warring with himself. Yet, if he was to be bested at every turn and be forced to subjugate himself it might as well be to a wolf he had forged respect for. In that moment, Arturo was glad that none of his children decided to stay with him. This was a level of low that he did not want them to see him at. Especially Devin, out of them all.

A heavy sigh left the gangster's lips. He was out of options and pride alone would not be enough to sustain him. The Hinterlands had went from being deserted to be the biggest tourist attraction to date, it seemed. The end of the famine caused those who had stayed away to flock to it with renewed vigor. With an almost reluctant acceptance of his fate and future Arturo tipped his head back and let out a low howl for @Skellige.

The time was drawing close for the wraith to stake his claim on the lands by the sea. He had found a group to follow in his path and he knew they would stand by him, or they would face the punishment of the swell. Their goal was an ambitious one – marking and taking the land that sat right beside the borders of another pack. Skellige had known this to be a difficult challenge, but he was never one to shy away from such issues. The many talks he had shared with Deirdre had given him the strength to believe that she could persuade her family and her fellow members to allow him access there. Without the pull of the waves, he was nothing; if they were to deny him, the brute would find himself in a fit of rage once more. Already having lost his rightful place in his homeland, he was not willing to do it again.
 
The call that rang overhead was something of a surprise to the wraith. Already, the coywolf ushered him to the edges of the bay, though the wraith could not have anticipated the reasoning behind it. Perhaps it had been that sheer curiosity that had pushed him to draw nearer to the where the voice had risen from. The dark burn of his gaze trailed along the skyline for a moment, following the thick clouds that were building a quiet storm that would travel overhead. Rain was good for the land… while the famine had faded and the greenery had returned to the wilds, the water would only bring more life. Though the sea would bring them all they needed in terms of survival, the salty king knew that his followers would need the option of hunting on land.
 
Drawing in on the shape of the familiar figure, the wraith drew a single brow upwards and allowed a half-smile to curl the corner of his lip. “Arturo Fearghal,” he spoke and the timbre of his voice seemed to rumble like distant thunder in the dark clouds. “What brings you to my bay?” the brute inquired. Though he had not yet made his claim, he would be certain that there were no doubts from beyond that land. His intentions were clear; Skellige Cairn would seek to own that land.  

Skellige did not keep him waiting long and for this the gangster was grateful. It gave him less time to debate, to change his mind, to cling to his hubris and let it waste him away to nothing. Which, no doubt, it would if he were to let it. Yet, pride turned out to be the most bitter and hardest pills to swallow. It stuck in his throat like a lump, for a few seconds refusing to humble himself to the cold, hard truth as the Sea Titan posed his question. Would this snag make him look weak in the Sea Titan's eyes? Arturo worked hard to appear anything but, and had hoped that he'd been making some semblance of progress with the man he'd stricken a deal with. There was no point in a deal when he could not even stake claim to the land that he wanted. And Oh, how he wanted it. Especially now that those who had stolen it from him believed it to be theirs.

Bitterness aided in snuffing out his pride. It had given a valiant fight, a brave fight but it was time to tuck it away. There was little else he could do for the many had flocked to the Hinterlands with the same dream. Funny, that. He'd seen no hide nor hair of any others except for Skellige himself. For a moment Arturo held onto his silence before his lips parted for him to speak. “I had ventured out of my Isle for longer than I should have, it seems. Upon my return I found a small family had decided to move in and when I called for them to make a deal, they spoke as if they already claimed it and only seemed interested in offering me a place as a fucking civilian. As if I were trespassing upon their home,” Arturo scoffed with tempered rage inhaling deeply and letting it out slowly.

“I was out numbered and I value my life too much to fight a desperate man's fight.” Besides, was he desperate? He didn't think so. “The Hinterlands is crawling with wolves who seek to claim it now that the famine had passed and while I searched for potential seconds I decided second best wouldn't do. If I can't have my Isle then fuck it. I can either bring war to their doorstep or I join up with another.” He hadn't exactly given up on the war option, granted, but perhaps it might not be as awful as he thought: playing the role of subjugate in someplace other than Quicksilver Hollow.

“Since I went with the second and as you're the only option I'm willing to consider, here we are," Arturo breathed with a subtle rise and fall of his shoulders. "I respect you and we did have an alliance.” The first was more important than him to the latter, admittedly, but it was better than joining up with some pack and serving under leaders that he didn't even know.

Skellige did well to listen to his ally’s tale of how the lands he had sought to claim had been snatched out from under him by means of wandering strangers. The fur along his neck rose in a manner that suggested he was equally as frustrated by this turn of events, and would empathize with the halfling. Arturo had been an honorable creature, and a man of his word, even when the starvation had devastated the inland. In spite of the callous behavior of the inky titan, the coywolf had provided him with the catch he had obtained, and their deal had been solidified in the muck of the swamp lands. Not an ideal location, by any means, but the sea king was a man of his word.
 
The rage that was spoken in every word was understandable. Somehow the hybrid still had managed to keep his composure when speaking of the wolves who had robbed him of his land. The entire event perturbed the great sea wolf, and he frowned as he continued to listen to the explanation for why Arturo had come to the shores. Certainly the wolf did not belong there; he was not a man of the sea, but there was a strange sort of need from the diplomat as he recounted the story.
 
Once he had finished, Skellige held himself for a long moment and breathed in a heavy breath. “You speak as if you only have two choices,” the inky titan then uttered in a quiet timbre. “Should you choose, we could still bring war to their doorstep, Arturo.” For the great titan of the ocean had been born and bred for such things. The taking of land was something that was ingrained in the blood of his body. If this coywolf should speak it as his desire, Skellige would rally his wolves and they would fight. But it would only happen if the halfling wished it.
 
Flicking his tail upwards and nodding thoughtfully, the sea king took a step forward and gestured with his muzzle for his ally to pass into the land of the bay. “As I had stated before, you will have a place in my ranks. Come, let us discuss your intended role here,” he stated and tossed his skull in welcome to the shore. The heavy brackish scent that clung in the air seemed to linger on his pelt as well.

Skellige reminded him that the very core of their deal had been that they were to respond to the others call to arms: to rally theirs to aid that of their ally's. The Sea Titan was willing to fight beside him to retake the Isle and while the knowledge that Skellige was also a man of his word filled Arturo with a deep gratification, only solidifying the respect that the coywolf already felt for the savage, Arturo offered a sage nod of understand but nothing more. He wanted to. He wanted to lose his carefully crafted composure and take what he'd begun to claim as his own. He could do it, especially with Skellige's help. Currently, it would simply be a waste. The small family was just that: small. Three adults and two babes. The children would put up no resistance and three adults against a pack of bigger numbers was laughable. Yet, Arturo had no followers. His children had went their own ways, to forge their own paths in these Wilds and though they would always be welcome to join the Family this was not something he would force them to do. “My children have decided to venture down their own paths in these Wilds, something I cannot fault them for and my previous potential recruits are long lost,” He'd had nothing but the Isle and had intended to build upon it but without that he simply had nothing. He found himself pushed back to square one.

No, this was for the better. If nothing else, he could aid the Sea Titan.

Arturo welcomed the acceptance and the change of topic. He did not wish to speak of the Isle and his usurpers any longer. Thus, he crossed into the Bay and joined Skellige's side, accepting the fate that he wondered if always had been his from the beginning. He took a moment to take in the landscape with a studious fiery red-orange gaze. So very different then what he was used to; but he would adapt; perhaps in time, even, he would grow fond of it. The idea struck doubt within his mind (oh, if he only knew the whump Tori had in store for him) but he was open minded, at the very least. “Let's,” Arturo agreed, encouraging Skellige to speak of these Roles and the ideals of his pack. He was familiar with the term, of course, but Arturo had no doubt that the roles of the Sea Titan's pack differed very greatly from the roles of Arturo's own.

The great Leviathan was not opposed to war; certainly not for a creature that he had forged an alliance with. Should Arturo wish it, the inky brute would unleash the gates of hell on the wolves who had taken the isle from him, but he found himself more surprised by the answer that was given. The halfling had family, and they had opted not to follow him in his endeavors. Frowning at this, Skellige continued to listen to the man speak of his children and how they had come into the wilds and opted to forge their own path. It was a noble thing for the Fearghal male to simply allow them to wander about. Though it did remind Skellige of his own family and how they had been slowly coming out and making themselves known. He was certain that not all of them would wish to join him in the Depths, but would seek other options for themselves.
 
“Then we will not speak of it again, unless you wish it,” the leviathan said with a firm nod of his head, and as though his words had cast aside the premise of war, he allowed Arturo to enter into the bay as one of his own. It was not a time to feel shameful; the coywolf was a proud creature, and Skellige would not make him feel as though he had lost anything by joining into his ranks.
 
On the matter of their roles in the pack, the brute turned so that his dark gaze settled on the halfling with a peculiar intensity. "My culture is rich and we are unwavering in our ways,” he explained in a quiet rumbling baritone. “Each member is assigned a role upon entering the ranks, even whelps will be given their roles upon birth. The Witch Doctors commune with the mystics and bring great blessings to our land. They are vital to our success and should be respected. They are shamans in times of war and can offer us great power,” he spoke in a level voice, but there was a strange reverence when it came to the witches of the sea. Though he had not always understood how they obtained their information, Skellige had seen their magic for himself. “Reefers are the watchful eyes; they will make their homes near the borders of the pack and keep themselves alert to anyone who may approach. Joiners must be met by a Reefer before they will see me,” he went on to explain, and though much of the information was not fully given, Skellige did not want to overwhelm the man.
 
“Anglers are our most proficient hunters. They will keep our caches stocked and will teach the children how to thrive on the ocean if it is their only resource.” The hunters were vital to the life of the pack and would provide them with plenty of food if they did well at their assigned task. “The Dredge and Breakers of the pack are our most adept warriors. The Dredge are youthful, war forged, thirsty for battle. They are the savages of our kind. The Breakers are tacticians and oftentimes diplomats; they will know the truth in battle and will seek to teach the new Dredge the art of war.” Skellige had been born and bred with the intention of becoming the Dredge King. His entire purpose was to kill and leave nothing in his wake. He had truly disappointed his mother by going against her wishes.
 
“Finally, we have the Nautilus. They are our scholars and intelligent minds. They will tend to the newborns and teach them stories of the sea and of the old ways. They are tasked with finding appropriate mentors for pups when they come of age to begin learning their roles,” he concluded. Glancing at the coywolf with a questioning expression, the titan frowned thoughtfully. “Where are your strengths, Arturo? So that I may assign you,” he inquired of the man beside him. There was no doubt that the Fearghal would do well in the ranks of the Blackrock wolves. He need only discover his true purpose.

i typed witcher instead of witch and had to fix it, jfc, lmao.

A nod of appreciation was given to Skellige as he confirmed that they did not need to speak of it again. It was a recently dug grave that while hardly forgotten about, the gangster wished to keep buried for now. Hubris was vicious and degrading when it did not get it's way but for now this was what it was and Arturo had little to stand on. He would not ask Skellige to go to war when he didn't even have what he needed to build a pack. That would be a foolish thing to ask and Arturo was not the type of man to ask his allies to endanger themselves for nothing. Someday, the gangster would have his revenge; but not now.

The idea of witch doctors — which was what Skellige started speaking off with — was an odd concept for the gangster to wrap his mind around. As he was not truly a religious beast by any sort of means the idea of “shamans” and sea witches would have been enough to cause the cynic to scoff ...if he would not have respect Skellige as he did. However, as it came to be, he did respect Skellige a great deal and kept his cynicism to himself. It was fascinating, in a way, he supposed, though only in the same way that a bed time story of Irish legends was fascinating to him. It wasn't something he put much stock behind but he offered a nod all the same, to show that he was paying attention. Whether the gangster believed in such things as sea witches or not no longer mattered much, he supposed. It was apart of Skellige's pack and as a new recruit it involved him in some manner or another.

Arturo was contemplative as they walked, lending his rapt attention to the sea titan as he gave Arturo the slew of information. It was a lot to take in, though there was some relief in the gangster's chest that for the most part the roles were not that dissimilar than what he was already accustomed to. They simply held different names. “Are these roles set, or can they change?” Arturo couldn't help but pose the question to sate his own curiosity. “I've got extensive diplomatic background,” As Arturo was not the fighter. He'd always had wolves to handle that, though this was not to say that he did not get his teeth bloodied on occasion. It was always wise to make an example, to remind those who was boss. He was not a mindless soldier. He depended too much upon his intellect and gift for words to call himself such.

“but I've also raised four children. I've got experience with the young, though I don't know much about your customs so perhaps that skill is neither here nor there.” And generally he very much enjoyed being a father, though there was a big difference between father and mentor. “Which brings me to another question: what is your stance on family? Who may all breed?” Because while one part of Arturo's ambitions had been put on hold he saw no reason why they all had to be surrendered.

Though difficult at most times, Skellige was – at his best – a transparent individual. There was very little for beating around the bush with him. So when the question was posed as to whether or not the roles were set, he furrowed his brows and glanced to Arturo with something of a stern expression. He was forced to realize that the Fearghal did not know of the ways of the Warsaw wolves. He was a stranger in a strange land, and he was about to immerse himself into a culture that was quite different from the one he originated from. “No. The roles are set for the remainder of your life unless the mystics should speak their will for you to change,” he answered gruffly.
 
It was not altogether uncommon for the great spirits to speak to them and correct their path. Skellige had seen it happen before in his homeland, and had noted that even his sister was subject to such a change. Their mother had said that it had been the great mystics who had called down and spoken of Ksenia’s right to lead Warsaw, but the inky sea king did not believe it to be true, and so he had cast the thought aside. His disbelief had not caused him any issue, save for the botched attempt on his pale sibling’s life, and subsequently his banishment.
 
Arturo went on to explain that he had extensive diplomatic background, and had raised four children. This was a feat; Skellige had yet to father any children, and so his mind set to work in an attempt to figure out where the halfling would best be suited. “Your skills suggest you would make a fine nautilus,” he remarked after a long moment or two. His mind continued to tick and spin at the prospect of fleshing out the man’s talents and seeing his true potential. There was a thought that had struck his mind, but he found himself conflicted on the matter. “The mystics could very well tell you which role would best suit you, though,” he spoke in a manner of secrecy. “Should you climb the cliffs near the sea and request to speak with them, you may find answers.” It was simply a suggestion, and not one that Arturo would be forced to take. Should he decide against the role of nautilus, the great spirits would always assign another task.
 
Once on the subject of children, Skellige drew his ears forward at the question that had been posed. The coywolf was wondering about the stance on breeding. “You may take a mate, but before you decide to have children of your own in my ranks, you must know of the risks,” he warned, a fire striking the darkness in his gaze. “All children are subject to The Drop. Once their legs are strong enough to support them without wobbling and their words can be formed, they are taken and tossed into the depths of the sea. If they should survive, they are blessed by the waters. If they do not… they are a worthy sacrifice,” he then went on to explain to the man.
 
“My own children will endure the drop, and so will yours – if you will choose to have them.” It was a matter that he was unwavering in. Though pups were a delicate thing and most parents were quite protective of them at such an age, Skellige would have all of the Blackrock wolves blessed by the ocean.

Skellige replied in a gruff tone that the gangster found to be mildly offensive — as if Arturo was a child who should have known better — that the roles were set for life unless mystics claimed otherwise. To Arturo, this was a very strange concept. “Roles” were important in Quicksilver Hollow, even more so under his rule and the implementation of them into his gang but they had never been “set for life”. There had been room to grow, to change, to advance. Interests in life changed and for those that were more ambitious in their lives then other Arturo had never sought to control that. His expression was hard and for a long moment he was silent as he studied Skillege, realizing just how different their cultures were and just how much of a struggle implementing himself to the sea titan's would be. He could do it, sure. He would do it because he needed it, no matter how it wounded his pride to admit himself let alone anyone else; but that didn't mean it would be easy.

“Very well,” The gangster drew in simple acceptance. There was nothing else to do other than accept it. “Then nautilus it is, I have no reason not to trust your judgment.” Because he thought it a bit silly to ask a being that he could not see for something. He wasn't a religious beast by any mean of the word and he took spirits and gods to be things of a child's fairy-tale. He didn't speak this aloud, of course — and never would. There was a small catch in the father's breath when Skellige spoke of their bizarre ritual. To toss one's children off a cliff and hope for the best...it was the worst thing he'd ever heard. If he could have paled, he would have. As it was, he felt the blood drain from his face.

Perhaps Skellige had meant the knowledge that even his children would be subjected to The Drop to be comforting but to a man whose whole world revolved around his children and his desire to see more into the world this was a hard thing to accept. He didn't have to have children but the problem was that he wanted them...or else he would not have inquired at all. “Well, there's no rush,” As it was he had no mate, nor even a female he was considering. He hadn't even truly taken the mother of his children as his mate. Arturo was known for his wandering eye, after all. “Thank you for being honest in your answers to my questions.” This would definitely take some serious getting used to, of that Arturo had no doubt.

We can close it out with one more post from you, my friend! <3 I'd love another, of course... maybe with Riptide. It'll get Skellige all excited.

Things in the depths would be very different for Arturo. Skellige had anticipated this, and so he had taken upon the face of transparency. The great wraith did not wish for there to be any surprises for the coywolf male. He wanted his ally to know that there were things that would be difficult and the transition would be unlike any other he had endured, but the leviathan also had a great deal of faith in the halfling and his capability to survive. He would have to simply understand those moments in which the great titan seemed gruff and even rude in his responses or explanations. Skellige was a difficult man to get along with, even on his best days, but he would show Arturo a home and offer him the chances that he wanted. It would simply take time.
 
The halfling settled on the prospect of nautilus and Skellige bobbed his head in approval, certain that the coywolf male would make for a solid teacher and mentor in the time to come. Even for those who were wanting to join their ranks, Arturo would be a voice of reason among all the chaos. It did well to settle the brute into a sort of calm. He was understanding the pieces that were falling together for him, and he was willingly moving forward with a peculiar determination.
 
On the subject of the drop, the leviathan knew that this family man would not take kindly to the prospect of throwing his offspring off of a cliff into the depths, but it was not a negotiable ritual. If the man were to have children, they would endure the drop, and there would be no question of it. Instead of inquiring, though, Arturo simply stated that there was plenty of time. In his polite way, he also mentioned his thanks for the honesty that had flowed from Skellige in regards to his questions. The titan nodded his head in response to this, unsure that he wanted to make another comment to overrule the doubts about the drop. He would leave it for another conversation.
 
“You should go then, make yourself comfortable,” he instructed with a wave of his muzzle into the depths of the bay. “Meet the others and let them know your face. You may assist with helping the witch doctor or my younger brother Szymon in gathering items we may need for the blessing. When that time comes, I will call you all to the bay and we’ll stake our claim.” It would not be long for the sea wolves; they would have their home and their numbers would be surprisingly large for all that they had endured to get to that land. With a gentle bump of his nose to the coywolf’s shoulder, Skellige disappeared into the territory to tend to his own matters.  

ok! haha, i'm totally down for it - i'd love a riptide x skellige thread! <3

 

The adjustments that would come for the Fearghal were not tiny ones and the gangster knew, without any doubt, that it would take him time to adjust to this new life. Did he think he could make himself believe in things that he had written off as a child's fairy-tale for all of his life? He wasn't certain. Perhaps he needn't. Perhaps just going through with the motions and rituals out of respect for the sea titan would be enough. Not pretend, of course. Arturo could never to pretend to be something that he wholly wasn't — besides that would only serve to be insulting to both of their intelligence's — but he could subject himself to an open mind and holding his tongue; and in some way he did believe in “magic”. It had been a long time since he'd given thought to the Druids and Faeries of his childhood and Irish culture. Though this was a peculiar thing for his name and the name of all of his children revolved around it, after all.

Arturo's brow furrowed for a moment as he was swept away in his thoughts before he brought himself back to the present when Skellige began speaking to him once more. It was a dismissal, Arturo realized. Gathering medicines and (perhaps) trinkets was not the best use of Arturo's skills but he gathered the Blessing was important to the whole process and the gangster gave a sage nod with a murmured, “Alright”. The contact of Skellige's nose against his shoulder in a gentle bump was an odd one, but a gesture that Arturo took to be of camaraderie. When the Sea Titan disappeared Arturo inhaled deeply and let it out before he ventured off, deeper into the territory, figuring a good place to start was committing the Bay to his memory, while along the way attempting to seek out those that Skellige had mentioned to him.