Firestone Hot Springs dust turns to gold

It had been quite some time since Ragnar had stepped out of Stavanger Bay's territory to go out on an official Outrider mission. As it stood, he couldn't remember when the last time was that he'd went on an outrider mission, let alone one that he'd given himself. The trail of Julooke's attacker was cold — as cold as the crisp, autumn morning was — but Ragnar wasn't so easily deterred by such things. He'd gotten a clean scent of a pack off of the scene of the crime and he intended to pursue it until it's end even if it had happened months ago. Unfortunately, he had not been bestowed the ability to jump right out of his pack lands to investigate it. He was their Jarl and things had to be set into motion on the off chance that something were to go awry. Odinn had promised Ragnar a long and fulfilling life and Ragnar was a man just hitting his golden ages, but even so the favor of the Gods was a fickle thing, he knew, and Ragnar was no Seer. He did not have the ability to accurately predict such things, nor did he harbor the ability to see what the Fates had in store for him.

The trip to the Spine was a long one, and Ragnar was in no rush. He had things to return to yes, and this wasn't a casual stroll around the Teekon Wilds, but it was also a delicate mission; it required his patience. The days were chilly and the nights colder still. He had to watch out for his own health, as well. The scarred Scandinavian was built for frigid temperatures, had lived through the worst of them in the Cove but even so he knew to be careful. There was a newer pack hanging around these parts, he discovered as he passed it on his way to the Firestone Hot Springs. It did not smell like a very big pack and idly, Ragnar wondered how it would fare in the coming months. Of course, Stavanger Bay had thinned out a bit, itself. It was a fairly common trend at this time of the year, and though it worried Ragnar he did not let that worry consume him. He would see them through the hardships that came their way. It was his job, after all.

A soft shiver rippled down his spine as the steam that came off of the hot springs invited him near them, soaking up their warmth. Ragnar did not step into the water, instead laying down on the bank of one, letting the muggy warmth surround him, deciding that a break might be worth the wasted time.

TABLE CODE BY JOHN