Firestone Hot Springs fuse

Ragnar had been itching to get out of Stavanger Bay's borders and travel a bit, but knew that his duties as Head Warden and Jarl came first before his own desires. It was quiet with nothing overly pressing happening, even so he had been on the fence. It made him uncomfortable to leave Stavanger Bay for any length of time, especially when he had no direction and no idea how long, exactly, he would be gone. The scarred Scandinavian was a conqueror traveler at heart and being cooped up in one place without being allowed to sate his territorial curiosity was never a good thing. He was beginning to feel like scent markers of his pride and family were walls of a cage stretching all the way to Asgard with Heimdall's voice whispering The Bifrost Will Not Open To You in his mind every time he convinced himself to go adventuring. The Guardian was right, of course. He had obligations, obligations that he had willingly took on. He had lives to protect and to direct. He had children that looked forward to his daily lessons and wives who desired his attentions. Wives that he loved too much to simply just up and leave one day and show up three days later without a hello or a goodbye as he had done to his three wives previous. Even his lovers had been afforded a little more (though not much) courtesy than that back in Odinn's Cove.

Even so, Ragnar, after his patrols had finished, sought out his wives separately and informed them that he intended to go on an Outrider mission, unable to give them specifics if only because he didn't have any specifics, telling him that he would be back before the fall of night. He told his children that he would be back in time to tell them a bed time story, whilst throwing in to listen to their mother and step-mother before he departed, slipping out of Stavanger Bay's territory. Instead of exploring the vast unknowns of the territories near Stavanger Bay he stuck to parts of the Teekon Wilds that he knew so that he would keep his promise to his children. It was the unknown that he desired to explore but he was grateful for the chance to just stretch his legs. It was as he was 'exploring' familiar territories that he had stumbled across Atreyu's scent and while part of him felt bad about it — after all his subordinates were free to come and go as they pleased and he stayed out of their personal affairs so long as they didn't come to him for advice or as long as it did not put the pack as a whole in any sort of danger he could not help his curiosity.

He altered his course and followed the teenager's scent trail, near enough to him to hear his excited bark and the scramble of his claws against the granitic ground. They were at the hot springs, he had been here several times before himself, but the moisture that hung heavily in the air, causing his platinum silver fur to curl with it at the nape where the tendrils of fur were longer, was evidence enough. Casually, the scarred Jarl followed the youth, stepping down to where the boy was staring intently at the nearest pool of steaming water. A soft chuckle escaped Ragnar's parted lips as he let out a heavy pant, the heat oppressive to him. hverinn...hot springs...they are called Firestone Hot Springs, I believe, Ragnar told Atreyu, remembering that it was what Dagrun had called them when he had met his half brother here to hear what the bastard son had had to say about the state of the Cove.

TABLE CODE BY JOHN