Ankyra Sound saltwinter

Slight PP of your characters, let me know if it suits them or I will change it. :D

Progress happened in stops and starts - not just on Njal's account, but also because of the numerous personal segues. @Rat disappeared from time to time to do whatever ungodly things he did in private, appearing at the outskirts of the group a few hours later. They lost @Njal and @Rosalyn on occasion, too. The latter was not a lady to be bossed around, it seemed, and would steal away every now and then to make sure that this fact was known. When they finally arrived on the cold and windswept beach, Vlad was exhausted - but relieved.

"Velcoming be to.. SALTY VINTER PECK!" he announced happily, bounding down the beach and spinning to face the group. It was a grey and miserable day, but the scrappy little miscreant's face shone like the sun. @Caiaphas would be so happy to see what he had accomplished - four mostly healthy wolves, plucked as if from nowhere.

They'd done it. They'd made it to the sandy edge of the world. Njal kept up with them doggedly, but with less enthusiasm than he would've followed a friend such as Fox, or Bazi, or even his vanished wife. Then again, he wasn't the type of beast to follow anyone anywhere nowadays. He took his time - distancing himself when the chatter of the Russian got to be too irritating, or the smell of his little friend got to be too much. The dark woman seemed to have similar ideas; yet in the end, the group collected on the beach. Njal took up the rear, lazily pacing along the sand bank while the sea winds whipped around him. 

Now then - where was this cave woman?

It was true.  She was used to going where she wished, and in part, wandering was habit now.  Extended exposure to the same group got wearing and time alone was required.  The rest, however, was calculated... A test of sorts.  When none in their band seemed to take issue with her departures, not even their Russian guide, she relaxed some. Not considerably, but some.

She could tell by the air when they got close, the familiar feel of the ocean on the wind beckoning her further. At least this temporary pack had chosen the coast. If they hadn't, she doubted she would have followed. She was curious to meet this self-proclaimed Queen, and so stopped near the others, but far enough away to keep her own space.

if there was one thing caiaphas liked about vlad, it was that he was not subtle. where she may be inclined to work discretely towards a goal, vlad punched through opposition in an enviously gregarious fashion. this worked in her favor, for he was a stark contrast -- and she had an inkling his unconstrained disposition would complement well her conniving deportment. true to nature, caiaphas heard the rejoiced bellow before she ever breached the surface. a thin smile played on her narrow features as she pulled herself from the cave-wreck. she was pleased for two reasons -- one, she was not taken by surprise by his visitation -- and two, judging by his thrilled holler, he had brought company.

whether or not she cared for that company would be determined.

as the sylph extracted herself from the mouth of the cave she gave herself a thorough shake and the gneiss dust rose from her slender frame. her gaze scoured the strand until she spotted not one but several wolves towing behind the kite-like agouti. caiaphas adopted a neutral mein, though her expression was anything but friendly -- and with the trailing poise of a ghoul she pulled towards the rogue crew.

one was pale, matching in agouti similar to vlad's own peppered coat -- but one, distinctly female, was a vibrant russet that stood out clearly from the bleary teak of the sand. caiaphas' gaze lingered on her for a moment, though no passing pleasantry was exchanged.

"i see you brought company." she intoned loftily, her gaze returning to survey the motley band.

He was a suspicious creature. He trusted Number One, who fed him and never raised a paw or tooth to him. But he kept his distance from the rest, slinking off to the side, behind Vlad as the russki welcomed the wolves to the pack. Rat tread on a piece of kelp, and sank to his stomach on the spot to gnaw and tug at it while he observed the other wolves.

Njal and Rosalyn didn't exactly fall over themselves with excitement to meet the black-faced queen, but at least they were here - and Vlad, as ever, had great hopes for the future. After all, what was the alternative? Freeze, starve, and die - that was the alternative.

The Rat settled somewhere behind them, chewing on something that was either sea weed or his own leathery hide. "Yes! Heving breeng for peck the Beeg Limpy Menn end Stendards Gerl," Vlad beamed, tail flying across his hocks. "Thees Blackface," he introduced, nodding at the coyote queen.

Big Limpy Man? It was an apt description, he surmised with a squint towards the pack of Vlad's head; his tail lashed at his hocks briefly too, but Njal didn't care so much. It was better that they give him a stupid nickname anyway - it wasn't so permanent a decision. 

Njal observed the others. His attention was fixated for a minute or two upon Rat, and he couldn't quite pull his eyes away from the scrawny beast. None of this was within  Njal's comfort zone. He didn't like the drastic shift his life had taken - any of it, from losing the glacier to this gradual fall from grace - and this pack, or whatever it was going to be called, seemed like the icing on the cake.

The she-wolf was glad that the mangy Rat kept a wide berth of the rest of them.  Of all the number, he was the one with whom personal boundaries would be enforced heavily. Roz wasn't normally one to judge a rougher soul based on looks alone; sickness, however, was a line she drew. She didn't know if he carried anything of the sort, but until she did, he could keep his side of the beach.

Vlad introduced them aptly - Stendards Gerl, she rather liked that - and Rosalyn in the meantime eyeballed the woman who was to be their hostess. She wasn't impressed. The woman was slight and lean, not much to look at and with a wicked air. Those would have been fine in any other occasion ( and a few mifht have been positives really) but Roz was already inclined towards dislike due to the circumstances. Likely theirs was a comraderie doomed to fail before it even began.

The Rivaini kept her mouth shut for now, but turned her golden gaze to Vlad instead, a clear 'alright, what now' writ upon her features. He got them there. Was the aim simply survival, or was there more to this?

feel free to skip me if im holding things up!

caiaphas' gaze swept across the group, noting 'miss standards' and 'big limpy man' with wryness plastering her gaunt muzzle. she stirred, rallying herself with a lofty flick of her tail. her expression faded from one of mirth to a chased and virtueless smile -- aimed in vlad's direction. this rough shod, ramshackle group would do -- this coven of degenerates and profligates roused a great feeling of confidence in the salt-wretch.

feigning an accent not unlike vlad's, caiaphas slipped into a gleeful guise, adopting vlad's sense of uproarious buoyancy. "vell now, you heving kept your promise -- come, come -- les'go to hunting the beeg salty vater doges now!" she would keep her word too -- and if they followed, she would show them the salted bluff where earlier that day she had spotted a few seal whelps playing.

The Rat's mouth was a drool factory at the best times, but the mention of hunting encouraged the saliva to flow even more readily until, as it often did, it hung in long strands from his jowls. He did not move except to kick a hindpaw at the back of one ear as he strove to rid himself of an itch, but he turned his unblinking, yellow eyes to Vlad. He too his cues from his brother and no other, such was his almost obsessive nature. Without Vlad, he would have went with his whims, which likely would never have found him among a gathering of lost souls such as this.

fading

the salt wretch watched each of them, feral eyes wary. in some ways, she was trapped - no different than the songbird encloaked by lattice-white wire. it was her duty to engage this sad group -- this otherworldly conglomeration that beat at the tip of each wolf's breadth for only one purpose: their self. their survival.

witch that she was, she kept her thoughts guarded as they made their way to the 'salt vater dogges' -- she would watch each member closely, observe their mein and obeisances -- and eventually, come to her own conclusion of their sea-worth.