i'm no hero

*Ragnar* · June 27, 2014, 06:27 AM

The sun had began it’s ascension into the morning sky, the thick and abstract cloud stark against the sky painted with the velveteen colors of dawn, vibrant goldens, oranges, pinks, and even deep violet. Sharp eyes of Caribbean ice studied it for a moment, the rising of the sun, before the platinum Viking pushed out of the borders of Horizon Ridge, feeling his hackles bristle with both tension and relief. Tension because, for the short couple of hours he would be working on further claiming their Bay he would be absent from the Ridge’s borders, unable to keep an eye on their neighbors and the bear that now haunted their land looking, obviously for blood. Relief came in second only because it was a selfish feeling. Relief because he would be going, for however it long to continue fortifying borders, to his favored territory far away from the murderous bear and the Isle wolves. In a manner, it still felt cowardly to the Viking who had been born in blood and bred for battle; he was weary and blood sick and didn’t have enough fighters to insinuate a war that he knew his wolves, a war that Ragnar really didn’t want. So, he was being the bigger man and diplomatic leader by moving his pack elsewhere because between the two pressing forces he had no other, peaceful choice.

The bear had left another gruesome corpse for Ragnar, and unease, even still, caused the man’s guard hairs to bristle along his spine. Thankfully, it was not a wolf this time, but a doe and though there was a part of Ragnar that thought it was wasteful to let it go he didn’t dare eat it, or let it above the earth for any other to eat it. Ragnar couldn’t help the feeling that the damned creature was taunting him, reminding him of what he could do — as if Pump’s severed spine and blood drenched body hadn’t been enough of a neon sign. The longer the relocation was prolonged the more anxious the Northman began to feel. He inhaled deeply and let it out, supposing that he could only keep doing what he was doing and keep encouraging his wolves to spend more time in the Bay than they did in the Ridge until they could get themselves relocated.

Ragnar’s pace slowed as he approached the Totoka River, bending his head down to give pause for a moment and lap at the cool, rushing waters before he would seek out the shallows that provided fairly safe passage through it to continue on his way. For now, the Viking was contented with enjoying his drink.

*Horcrux* · June 27, 2014, 12:14 PM

<3
I really enjoyed reading your post and then I got a little carried away :3

With all the wolves living so close by, Mees wondered how long the time of peace and serenity would last. Here and there cracks developed between packs and it would only be a matter of time before a small crack was ripped open by new events. His Alpha had explained to him how new the pack of the Isle was but Mees could hardly imagine that his departure from the Mountain pack had been a peaceful one; especially not after being in the chain of command, being the Beta. Especially not either, when he took his mate as well. Loyalty was important within the wolf world.

Speaking of loyalty, Mees was uncertain if he would completely support his Alpha at the dawn of war; he was not interested in being a simple-minded pawn in a game he wasn't personally involved in. He was loyal but not blind to the cause, he had a mind of his own. The young yearling was slowly beginning to understand the world around him; but his quest to learn even more was far from over. It wasn't only the history that gave him information but also the way wolves reacted on his presence when he explained his pack of origin, Wheeling Gull Isle. Would he truly be judged for who he was or where he came from. A reputation not based on his own actions but rather those prewritten by his Alpha.

This and more thought passed through his mind as he made the journey to Totoka River when the sun began to rise from behind the chain of mountains. Somehow as his paws passed through the river land a sense of tranquillity washed over his adventurous spirit and it made him feel relaxed. The young wandered followed the trail of the river with a mild curiosity, wondering where it would lead to. Or to what. His burning orange eyes narrowed at the sight of the Warden Alpha. The silhouette of the male who appeared into his eyesight was grand and impressive, like a goliath. For a second Mees felt like a teeny tiny hobbit. With the same bravery -- if not more -- with that of a hobbit he approached the large male who was enjoying a cool drink.

"Greetings." Said Mees as he approached closer. But not too close. At a respectable distance the young male bent forward and let his tongue slide out to enjoy the cool and refreshing water. His ears stood erect upon his cranium, always alert. He had no wish to be intrusive or to invade personal space, perhaps the berserker had no interest in a chit-chat; still burning bright within the eyes of Mees was a hunger and a curiosity to know and learn more from this impressive male. A few moments passed before Mees no longer had any control, he either was very brave or stupid -- or both -- as he spoke. "I'm new to these lands and I just joined the Isle pack. I'm here -- on my own quest -- to learn more about these lands and the packs. I was wondering; where are you from?"

*Ragnar* · (This post was last modified: June 28, 2014, 06:52 AM by Ragnar.)

:D! I assumed that Ragnar x Mees are on the same side of the river but I can fix that if they're not. ^_^

Peace, Ragnar knew, could never last. It was an illusion because there were wolves out there always looking for more. Bigger pack lands, better hunting grounds. Just because Stavanger Bay was in untamed territory within the Teekon Wilds didn’t mean the lands would stay relatively untamed by wolves for very long. Ragnar wasn’t a fantasts and did not hold to that belief with any sort of concreteness. Still, the respite from intruding neighbors, what would likely be fights over hunting grounds, and a murderous bear (or in general the curse that he suspected plagued the lands of Horizon Ridge) was a welcomed one. The scarred Northman yearned for Stavanger Bay even now as he paused on his journey there. He was exhausted, though he never allowed himself to be exhausted to the point where it would affect his everyday functioning (he had too much work to do for that), but his motive lately had became a morbid one: I will rest when we are relocated or when I am dead. Though, of course, the latter wasn’t precisely true since he was well aware of what happened in Valhalla and it wasn’t rest. Even in death he would train to be apart of the most important army to come forth to battle the forces of Ragnarök.

For the second time within a week’s span of one another, a Wheeling Gull Isle wolf approached the scarred Northman on the Totoka River. Pupils within their pools of Caribbean ice narrowed as his brow furrowed as his face was still bent to the river, the crisp and cool water gliding over parted lips and splashing up against his chin as Ragnar’s salmon pink tongue darted in and out in a final lap of the water as his head rose, droplets of water clinging to the damp fur of his chin sliding off back into the endless movement of water along the bank of stone and earth. It was true, so far, that this ebon creature of the Isle was not hunting, did not smell to have been hunting and therefore the Viking could not make good on his promise of chasing them out even if it was free territory. Still, the Northman wondered if either Majesty was slacking on telling his the warning, or if he was becoming so arrogant that he simply didn’t care.

There had been no hostility in the smaller man’s approach, and none still in his greeting though Ragnar did not return it wondering how different this meeting might go from Beric’s. Beric had been looking to flee Majesty’s ship and Ragnar had offered him shelter and a place in the Bay though he had yet to hear of Julooke and Verrine’s relative. He suspected he was taking care of unfinished business within the Isle but that was only an educated guess. In retrospect, Ragnar didn’t really know. The male spoke again, stating what was obvious to Ragnar (he had became well acquainted with their scent so he would know it without doubt) though it burned his black, leathery nostrils like a physical insult he cocked his right ear, unmarred and pristine towards the creature. He stated that he was there to learn about the lands and other packs, though he, at least, made sure to include it was on his own designs and not Majesty’s — though Ragnar could not help but wonder if there was a difference so long as he served under the Isle alpha — and then came the question of where Ragnar was from.

For a second, the platinum Northman contemplated not answering, but then he could not deny this curious creature the harmless information, at least. He had to appreciate curiosity if only because Ragnar, himself, strove, following in the footsteps of the All-Father, knowledge. “I am from Horizon Ridge,” Ragnar’s voice was masculine but soft by nature, lacking the boisterousness of his ilk, though accented quite heavily giving away that he had been born much further away than Horizon Ridge. The Viking offered the other a coy little smirk, a trademark of his as his head canted towards the Isle wolf, waiting for a new barge of questions, if this creature had any.

*Horcrux* · July 02, 2014, 03:19 PM

Jup, same side of the river! Now mixing a little bit IC up, timewise, as discussed with our PM's.

The yearling was lost. He had not only lost his memories but also his pack. The once Alpha of the Gull pack had disappeared into thin air, the fact that his scent was fading away with the dawn of time informed Mees that he would not return anytime soon. There were no traces of blood, of a struggle or death -- but why anyone would flee from his responsibilities of leading, the yearling didn't know, he could only guess. Perhaps the burden of leading a pack had actually turned into a lot of stress -- especially with the danger of Silvertip Mountain -- and caused Majestic to flee. Fleeing, after all, was a natural reaction to fear. But then again, the former king hardly seemed like a weakling and he had created a safe haven not only for his pack to thrive but also to foster a love and rekindle a new flame, Erika. Together, they could bring off spring and a new future. But alas, it was not meant to be -- and even if it was -- life had created a new hurdle.

The yearling had slowly climbed up onto the rank of Gamma -- as appointed by Majestic just before he disappeared -- but he was not happy being the highest in command. Mees had only learned two other pack members and did not feel fit to rule, he was too young, too inexperienced and the freshest meat of the pack. However, he also did not feel he could give his confidence and respect to an obnoxious female who claimed new leadership soon; her rituals were strange and disrespectful at best and at worse. Distrust ruled her mind, lack of leadership skills reigned within her heart -- she was no role model that he was born to follow. Not now. Not ever. He did not feel as if he abandoned his pack, he had sworn loyalty to Majestic, only to be disappointed by his disappearance. Instead, Mees felt abandoned, betrayed and anger seeping through his veins.

When the Great Northern spoke the words of Stavanger Bay, he felt allured and drawn to it, like a moth to a flickering flame. Maybe it was also, unknowingly, destiny which brought him closer to his kin and bloodlines; Julooke. A few moments after Ragnar's masculine voice had turned to the lanky youth, his ears swept backwards in a sign of respect and his orange eyes were diverted while his body language changed accordingly to show respect to the Alpha. "I want to join Stavanger Bay." Mees said upright and honest. "Majestic has disappeared and the Gull pack is now adrift like a ship without a captain. There is no captain anymore; no one to lead at this moment." For a second his orange eyes looked at the river, as his orange eyes went from Ragnar's paws to his own reflection. He was the Gamma, but he was also just a boy, a squire; ready to explore the world ..but one who also had a lot to learn.

"I need a captain; I need a role model. I see one in you." At first Majestic had been one wolf he looked up to, but those first impressions were short-lived when he disappeared a few days later. Ragnar was a wolf who -- in Mees' mind -- showed ferociousness, leadership and stability. Even more so, he could turn Mees from a squire into a knight; one day. But the yearling also wanted to proof himself, proof his worth and proof that he was valuable as a pack member. "But I also want to proof myself, proof that I am a worthy pack mate; not by words but by deeds." With an undying curiosity, he awaited the reply from the Northern King; Mees had no idea how the leader would respond, but then again; he had little to lose. He already lost everything, his memories, his leader and his pack.

*Ragnar* · July 02, 2014, 05:15 PM

I'll go ahead and title you up and everything. :-)

A silence seemed to stretch between them though this was not something that bothered the platinum Viking in the least. He was a quiet man by nature and naturally found silences comfortable. It did not make him as uncomfortable to be so close to an Isle wolf though perhaps it was because this one was still young and did not seem to bear any hostilities towards him despite that their packs had once been enemies. Perhaps they still were though Horizon Ridge was but a memory now, the territories’ scent markers fading and the bear stalking the lands like the curse come to a living and murdering form. The boy’s sudden declaration, however, caused the scarred Northman’s brow to furrow wondering, if perhaps, it was some kind of trick. Mees’ words sounded entirely sincere and the following words even more bizarre to the Jarl whose coy smirk had disappeared as he studied Mees’ face with intensity. Majesty had disappeared? That sounded like it had the potential to come down on Ragnar if only because the Loðbrók had not necessarily been secretive about his disdain for the earth colored male. Abandoned was the word Ragnar thought of, automatically. It didn’t exactly make sense but Ragnar could not claim that it surprised him, either. The Viking had not foreseen this particular turn of events but he had suspected that ship would sink before it got very far out to sea.

Ragnar’s only meeting with Majesty had not left Ragnar with a very good or very pleased impression. He had seemed eager to jump the gun, and impatient and had came across to the Viking as agitated and perhaps even childish given how he had been running around Ravensblood in a circle howling his agitation to the Gods. Or at least to Ragnar who had been in the middle of a sacrificial prayer to Odinn who had not been overtly thrilled to have it interrupted.

"Then it is not a pack," A pack couldn’t be a pack without a leader, unless they were in that tentative stage of determining a new one. Granted, when Horizon Ridge had been in a very similar but very different stage Pump had stepped up automatically to take the reigns. Mees words were flattering to Ragnar’s ego, and couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped him. In a way, Mees reminded him of Julooke. It was easy for Ragnar to see that Julooke looked up to him even without her saying it. He pondered if they really knew what kind of man he truly was though Ragnar had never attempted to hide his lifestyle or religion or culture. He had nothing to be ashamed of as far as he had always been concerned. "You might change your mind on me," Unless he was as determined as Julooke to paint Ragnar as some sort of avenging angel as opposed to a savage and feral pagan. "I will not abandon my pack, my family," He had worked hard for what he had, for their trust. Granted, he had inherited the title of Alpha now Jarl in a way that was eerily too similar to how he had inherited it in Odinn’s Cove the only difference being he had killed his brother whereas a bear had killed Pump. "Stavanger Bay and I can promise you stability," They were a strong pack and day by day they grew stronger.

"That is good. We are about earning your place in the Bay; you will have plenty of time to prove yourself." Ragnar assured him with a soft smile, salmon pink tongue sliding across his lips to catch the last droplets of water. "Come, I will show you your new home," He gestured with his muzzle in the Bay’s direction but as he turned and headed towards the Bay kept his gaze on Mees. "Do you have any skills or trades do you have? Or are looking to earn?" Ragnar inquired figuring he would start with the most basic ’get-to-know-me’ questions first.

*Horcrux* · July 03, 2014, 11:07 AM

A ship was nothing without its captain, it would just be adrift, a toy for the seven seas to behold. Within the Gull there was no Beta, no structure or hierarchy. The fact that he had been placed as the highest ranked member before leadership without having met anyone but two faces spoke of a story that was about to unfold in a twisted way. Mees did not feel as though he betrayed his pack, instead he felt abandoned. Being a captain of a ship was also hard work, it wasn't only dictating the orders and having the minions crawl up and down, it was also stirring into a direction and setting sail for a new future. However, as such, a captain also needed to take risk, accept the choices and responsibilities and note that sometimes things didn't work out. However, what was totally not done was complete abandoning the ship without a good reason, a cause or not letting the loved one's known. A child of Erika would also be raised without any memory to its father. Mees disappointment but also a sheer sympathy for those left behind.

His head tipped a few degrees when the Northener admitted that a ship, without a captain, was not truly a ship; Mees agreed. However when the masked marauder then said that he was no glorious hero, no role model to place upon a high castle; he gave it some thought. Ragnar did not appear to be a justifying hero, someone who always made the right choices. But he did raise the impression that he could offer all that the young yearling wanted; leadership, stability and someone to look up to. He was not looking for Miss Goody Good Shoes; life was more than just wrong or right. The Northener looked like his invisible scars were carefully hidden from sight, yet each life experience, each challenge brought a new one. "I can give you loyalty, trust and support." The yearling said humbly but also confident, he was certain that he still had to learn many things in many ways -- and make faults along the way -- but he was trying each and every day to grow, to become more than the man he was yesterday. Change from the squire into the knight.

"Thank-you." The grateful male then said as he respectfully followed within the tracks of the other male. "I want to specialize first to become an Outrider. I want to explore, I want to learn and maybe one day be an ambassador for the pack." Carefully his orange eyes glimpsed towards the edge of the horizon, stretched out in front of him was the new land he would be able to call home. A new home. But it wasn't only a home without fierce beauty and endless boundaries, there was by far something much more important; family. '"Family." Mees muttered carefully, nearly inaudible underneath his breath. However, even though curiosity hadn't killed the cat, the yearling wondered if it had killed the wolf. Curious, maybe too much, the yearling had questions about the pack (so that this thread could still count as a Chronicler thread for Ragnar).

"Can you tell me about our fellow brethren of Stavanger Bay? When was it created?" And -- not to make the same mistake twice since Majesty had mentioned enemies such as Silvertip Mountain. "Where do we stand with Silvertip Mountain?"

*Ragnar* · July 04, 2014, 07:36 AM

Ragnar didn’t mean to shatter the boy’s hopes of having a hero to look up too and if he chose to look up to Ragnar despite the honesty in which the Viking spoke then that was his choice. Though admittedly knowing he was looked up to flattered his ego and felt nice he did not want them thinking he was something he was not and then finding themselves horribly disappointed by him later on. He could not tell them what to think of him be it hero or monster, martyr or heathen but he had never strove to hide in false skin. He lived honestly, swept in the mystique of his religion and bathed in the barbarianism of his culture. Ragnar might have never been able to see how savage he truly was if he had never left the Cove and North where his way of life was all he knew and largely accepted. It was his wife’s own reactions to different things he did and told her that made him see the vast chasm of difference between them and him. Upon her convergence to Paganism and into his culture she was a little more accepting and open to things he did though she was not afraid to let him know she disapproved.

"Good," Ragnar spoke when Mees promised him what he asked for. As long as his wolves gave him and the Bay in general their loyalty, respect and dedication Ragnar, in turn, would give them all that was within his mortal ability to give. His respect, his loyalty, his life if it would ever come down to it. They were not his family by blood but sometimes family by bond was much stronger than blood. Ragnar’s ears perked with interest when Mees admitted that he was looking to become an Outrider and that his ambition strove greater than that still by looking to become an ambassador for Stavanger Bay. The scarred Northman nodded his approval. Ambition was a good driving force, he knew from experience considering his own ambitions seemed to be limitless. He would always want more, more children, more scars, more knowledge. "I am close to earning the Outrider trade myself and would not mind teaching you," And smirked softly when he added, "I recommend speaking to Verrine about it too. He is the more seasoned Outrider of us." And the one Ragnar initially reflected to for pointers when he was learning the trade and how to be diplomatic. Ragnar was clever and knew when to exercise caution on delicate matters and knew the difference between necessity and utter stupidity and recklessness (hence why he had decided to relocate to Stavanger Bay instead of fighting the Isle wolves) but his diplomacy still needed work and Ragnar was not so proud as to not ask for help from wolves who knew more about what he wanted to learn.

The word ‘brethren’ was a strange one to the Viking who assumed based on the sentence it was in that it was another word for ‘packmates’ and hoped for the sake of humility that he wasn’t wrong. "Most of us are survivors of Horizon Ridge," What was left of the pack after their slow decline and Pump’s horrible and gruesome death. "I mean no offense to know given your now history with the Isle wolves but between their presence and the increasing tension between our packs and the fact that the bear that had murdered our alpha at the time, Pump, I knew something needed to be done when I stepped up," Ragnar took a deep breath and let it out. "We could have fought the bear, killed it, and we could have had a war…I wanted to fight," He might as well admit it, after all there was no shame in admitting what he wanted even if it was flawed. "But it was not worth risking the lives of my pack for, and I am blood sick and weary. Moving was the best option for the pack and that was all that mattered." It was probably a little more on the subject of ’Horizon Ridge survivors’ than Mees wanted to know but Ragnar felt it imperative that he understood where most of the Bay came from. "Some are from Wheeling Gull Isle like you, Beric and Sköll," Ragnar named them in the off chance that Mees had known them. Sköll didn’t really talk about his brief time in Wheeling Gull Isle too much, and Ragnar preferred to hear about how his old friend Floki was doing anyhow. "We do have two Captives, Ollie and Olor. They trespassed into our borders and I gave them the punishment of being our captives for two weeks to prove a point." It was, in Ragnar’s eyes, the most ‘diplomatic’ course of action though the only thing that had spared them had been the girl’s young age. "We were officially founded on July twenty-seventh, so last Friday."

Ragnar’s brow furrowed slightly at the mention of Silvertip Mountain. He did not know much of anything about them and in reality had not even known they had existed until Majesty had mentioned them that day in Ravensblood Forest that had sealed their Fate of disliking one another. "I have no quarrel with them. We stick mainly to ourselves. I am acquainted, by chance alone, with Blacktail Deer Plateau’s alpha female Blue Willow but it is nothing as concrete as an alliance." Mostly because Ragnar didn’t believe in them.