vagabond battleborn

For @Kaskara :-)

It was with purpose that the wraith ventured further still than the forest he knew as Ravensblood. He could not stay there, nor did he hold any intentions of claiming it for himself. His nephew reigned as Jarl — a title ancient yet familiar with a sorrowfully reminiscent manner — over a territory called Stavanger Bay but the Sigurvegarinn could not bring himself to trust in Eitri's middle son. Draugur had no grounds to trust him. Why should Ragnar be any different that Björn or Váli? Ragnar might look like the ghost's deceased brother but fur and eye color did not make them the same man, and there was nothing but thinly veiled contempt for his brother's sons and their willingness to so easily betray he who had created them, who had given and allowed them to keep life. Joining Stavanger Bay, no matter what the child known as Gunnar had to say about Ragnar or the pack was simply out of the question. Besides, Draugur was not accustomed to bowing. He was of the mind set that you keep what you kill. It was how he had conquered and led in the name of the Cove before passing the position onto an emissary from Odinn's Cove who was the chosen candidate to lead whichever pack Draugur had taken over in the name of his Gods.

The parameters of his mission had not changed with his brother's death. Whether which idiot son led the Cove now recognized the Sigurvegarinn's orders or not did not matter. The mission was larger than any one Jarl; it had came from the Gods themselves — directly from the Seer's lips.

The afternoon was fair as the wraith moved further North, grateful for the distance between the Bay and himself. Though it was not any particular ill will held towards them, he had no intentions of running into them, or further interacting with them. Of course, he could not help if the Fates saw fit to draw them together, but there had always been the belief that the Fates were not always right. It was chilly, being the cusp of a newborn winter as it was but he barely minded. Further the ghost Viking pushed, unperturbed by the winds' nipping kiss upon his nose and face. It was only the oncoming scent of pack borders, the scent growing more pronounced with every placement of his large paws that drew Draugur up short, his steps ceasing all together. Black, leathery nostrils flare to inhale and test the acene that hung heavy in the damp air. There was still a more the adequate distanc between their scent makers and his body for he had no intentions of trespassing. Not that he'd never done it before, simply, this place was not a target for him.

It was only a mild curiousity that bid him to stay.

Kaskara had been hidden in the shadows for some time, watching the comings and goings of the wildlife around her. It was then that she spotted the white wolf pausing at the borders. Normally, she would be hunting or checking in on Paarthurnax at this time, but with tensions running high with Shadow, she was careful to keep her border as secure as possible. Today, after her customary tour of the entire pack land, she had decided to watch the southern approach for any possible trespassers.

This wolf did not seem to be one of those, however. He paused well away from the marker that she and her brother had clearly laid out for the benefit of others, marking the border between neutral territory and that of Swiftcurrent Creek. The ghost of a wolf was large, even from this distance, with muscles that rippled beneath his coat as he moved. Kas wondered briefly if she could claim him for one of their own, or if he was simply passing through the wilds before settling elsewhere for the winter.

After watching him for a few moments, Kaskara decided to let herself be known. She slipped from the shadows and moved into sight, allowing her own large and well-muscled body be bathed in sunlight as she picked her way down the shallow slope toward him. Her coat was dark chocolate, dusted in silver across her back, and her eyes flashed two-toned as she stopped a few yards from him. "Glad to see some wolves still teach border manners. Lately, there's been too many ignorant youths claiming they knew no better when they trespass."

Kaskara studied him briefly, allowing her body to stand rigid against the wind, for once letting the mantle of her rank settle on her shoulders. "I am Kaskara, beta of this pack. Have you come looking for a home for winter or are you simply passing through?" Either way, she didn't mind intercepting him. Kaskara liked meeting others, especially loners; it kept the boredom of the mundane at bay.

Draugur's life revolved heavily around his Gods, specifically the one that he favored: Thor. They largely dictated his choices, and often Draugur did not make moves without some sort of confirmation that it was what they wished for him to do. While he believed that the Fates could be wrong, there was no such skeptism when it came to the Gods. Draugur's attention was drawn to the dark furred woman, her coat the color of warm chocolate, dusted with silver along her back, the Sigurvegarinn noted as his silver gaze rose to study her in the distance that lay between them. While the wraith might have been a largely solitary creature he was still a man and could appreciate beauty when he saw it even if his attention rarely lingered further than that. Having never given thought to the idea of "settling down" and having a wife and children of his own, I would not have spurred his attentions to go deeper. He was the Conqueror and with that title there was no time or place for such a mundane life. This was not to claim that he had never enjoyed the vices of a woman before, and perhaps he might have sired children though he never stayed in one place long enough to find out. Whether he did or not did not concern him.

What concerned Draugur currently was the woman's words, eliciting a small smirk forth from the Viking's lips as they touched his velveteen ears. A moment of contemplation was given as he debated his own words. "I am no youth," The Viking spoke, voice deep and accented. It was the truth, he had lived to see his fourth year mark quite recently, reminding him that he had finally outlived his elder brother. Draugur understood that she hasn't been calling him a youth but making a general statement and incase there had been a misunderstanding continued with, "Trespassers were killed where I come from." They did not live to see another day. It was a harsh way to send across a message but then again Draugur was a harsh man and believed in consequences.

The woman introduced herself as Kaskara and as the Beta of the pack. An inquiry followed and a small chuckle left the Viking's lips. "I am passing through," not bothering to state that she did not want him within their ranks. His ambition was too great and would get the better of him even if it put forth an effort of ignoring it. Besides that, he was not a huge fan of bowing to another's authority — too many years of usurping leaders under his belt to be obedient.

If Kaskara could read is thoughts, she would have laughed. She had never considered herself beautiful, though her brothers and family often gave her compliments stating such. She was simply Kaskara, the dark coated woman who could nearly topple any man and usually hung with the men. She had plenty of female friends - Bazi, Falwasi, Paarthurnax, Junior - but she sometimes preferred male company over female. It was less stressful and more straightforward. Not every friendship she had with another woman was like that, but she remembered some petty and vindictive females from her youth, and didn't wish to relive that.

So if she had been able to hear that he thought she was beautiful, or any semblance of it, she would have laughed at the notion. Instead, she simply nodded and confirmed his spoken words. "That much is clear," she said kindly. He was strong and proud, and not arrogant or foolish like younger men could be. "It appears your youth has taught you well." He could take that how he wished, of course, but she studied him closer as he spoke of how trespassers would be treated in his homeland.

With a grin, Kaskara remembered the brutal ways Dal Riata had dealt with trespassers and traitors of their own. "The same in mine as well. However, these lands are much too weak to understand what true brutality is. We maim them, teach them a lesson, and drive them off." His next words had her shaking her head. "That's too bad, stranger. We could use a hardened man such as yourself as an ally." She could see, quite plainly, that his life had not been an easy one, and that he understood what it meant to be brutal when others expected you to be kind.