Frostfire Ridge the north called for me

The ebony male before him had not announced his presence upon what would soon become more than faint scent markers. Soon they would be strong to reflect the strength of the pack the serpent king had created. Aspects of Viking and Amazon, something new with ancient traditions held in reverence by both Cultures for centuries. Not unlike him. The Rekkr was a warrior (perhaps not in trade yet) but he was also a Tlatoani; a King. Týrr, for a few moments as the stranger spoke his intent, dithered upon being surprised and not. Most of the time when wolves were at the borders it often meant they were searching for something more than what they'd already had; or sometimes they offered an olive branch of parlay wanting to speak of peaceful terms. Peace was a fickle thing to Týrr; not unlike fate. It's tides could turn as quickly as a blink of the eye. Týrr found tolerance to the packs that were around the Taiga as necessary and so long as they left he and his alone, he would ensure that his wolves left them alone in turn. Politics were important but they were also corrupt things.

“Why did you leave your previous one?” Týrr inquired. He had not yet figured out how strict he wanted to be with those seeking sanctuary within his ranks, but knew that he would be nothing if not weary. Already he had one (possibly two?) wolves within his ranks attempting to sabotage what he had so carefully built in attempts to get him to bend to their will, and atop that there was always the possibility that Stavanger Bay would discover him as the killer of their Jarl. Though Týrr did not fear the Bay — their lack of numbers suggested weakness; after all he suspected the bulk of their numbers was children as opposed to capable adults. He saw them as no real threat; and as far as he was concerned Ragnar had deserved what he'd gotten. Ragnar hadn't been a good man, his wolves were just too blinded by his charisma to see that he'd done worse than they could likely imagine. He was a liar and a barbarian and the world was a better place for his death as far as Týrr was concerned.

“Frostfire Ridge is ...different,” To say the least. “then most packs you may find in these Wilds. I run a tight ship and though I will not ask my wolves to do something I wouldn't do, you should know before I delve into details and potentially waste my breath that earning your way into our ranks is not going to be easy because it isn't meant to be such.” Before, Týrr had simply offered wolves a place within his ranks but no more. He was past the point of recruiting. No more would wolves be grandfathered in on the principle that they'd helped him found it; and even those grandfathered into the ranks still had to meet the requirements to stay there.