Stavanger Bay Alone and Confused, Infected and Abused.

It'd been three long, painful weeks for Giana. Her captors, while they'd inflicted a hearty amount of damage, had released her, and without a care in the world for her broken right foreleg or any of the gashes scoring her pelt with red, Giana had fled. It wasn't fast, by any means: In fact, it took her all these three weeks to get to the Coast from the Flatlands. Three entire weeks for something that could have taken less than one.... Granted, she had no idea where she was going, and refusal to clean her wounds meant they were now badly infected.Italso didnt help that she traveled only in the cover of night or the odd hours of the day where nobody was out. Cicero and Kendra had really scrambled her brain, and while she now understood that Giancarlo had never been there, it was then that she fully relinquished her mateship to him. Things were too fucked up right now, and everything was hard to understand through the fog of constant agony and confusion, but there was one thing she did know. Giancarlo isn't coming back. The ivory queen had, admittedly, wished him home even long after she'd struck out alone, but that was all done with now. Her babies were out there, somewhere, living life. The other Ferretti's were out there too, but the one that hurt more than any of their abandonment was her mates. He was supposed to be her mate, be there for her through everything. Hell, he'd given up the title of Don for.... For what? The worst part was not knowing where he was, why he'd left or, the most frightening, if he was even alive anymore. 

It was close to sunrise, Giana could see the sky lightening with the coming of the sun. The shore was beautiful, and it distracted her as she limped onwards. In fact, she almost missed the borders of Blackrock Depths, and would've crossed right into them had she not come to her senses. The white woman even backed up a little bit, studying the border as if she could see it but not understand. A pack.... Her last attempt of joining a pack, Rosings, hadn't gone well. It wasn't that she couldn't get in or had some problem... She just hadn't been ready to submit, not to those creatures. Did that mean this meeting would go the same? Wait, there was no meeting!
Giana pushed herself a few paces forward, but her inner turmoil caused her already scetchy attention span to wane, and she tripped over a stone. Falling forward directly onto her fractured leg and howling in agony, Giana gave up: clearly, she had to at least try. And so, she let out a louder, more purposeful call for the leaders: @Doe @Skellige

"Holy shit, what happened to you?"
Fluer had heard the summons, and while they were not for her specifically, she had been near and sought to investigate. She had approached at a trot, stopping within her side of the border and looking over the broken woman quizzically. Broken foreleg, numerous scratches, she looked utterly spent. The first thought that came to mind was that the woman before her had surely pissed someone off in the extreme, and come away from the encounter like this. 

Her greeting may have been...crude, but pleasant, normal greetings were a waste at a time like this. What was she supposed to do? Comment over the weather and ignore that this woman might be dying on her new pack's doorstep? Better to get straight to the point, and make sure whoever had hurt her wasn't still on her tail.

Using this for !

The sound of her screaming was like the squeal of a pig being led to slaughter, and as soon as he heard it upon the air, Tetsubo was roaming close. He was drawn away from his patrol by this keening sound, this agony, and as he worked his way across the sands his interest was palpable. The beast's fur spiked all over, rising like a wave down his spine, making him appear larger than his brawny self already was, and his pupils at first dilated like a hungry cat's before shrinking down to pinpricks.

As he arrived, he saw more than one body; and initially, the beast could not tell friend from foe, and heard no words. It was his way. The way that had been beaten in to him, worked in to his muscles and his mind. He was a dutiful dog for his lord, and his role in this moment was to defend, because there was little value he could place in someone so gravely injured. His glance told both wolves everything they needed to know: there was no question within him, only rage, and the need to direct that rage at something lest it consume them all.

A rumble drew itself from his throat like rain across a corrugated rooftop; he breathed deeply of the sea's layered aroma that wove its way between them, and noticed the scent of Skellige on one wolf, but not the other. He was at once perplexed - for this other was an intruder, yet by the look of things they were not being driven out as they ought to be, and briefly Tetsubo's desire to rend and tear was paused. His hungry gaze looked to the other Blackrock loyalist as if it ask, why do you wait? And then he was pacing around the two of them, slow, steady, like a hungry shark, while the stranger's fractured and bloody leg weakened Tetsubo's control over himself.

She's not tresspassing: she's outside the borders.

It isn't long before her noise brings company. The first, a pale female, one who greeted her with a holy shit, what happened to you? It wasn't aggressive, though, and Giana was at least glad for that. Clearly, she's in no place to fight. From where she was on the earth, the ivory female struggles to three feet. It is then that another, a male that seems much more eager to drive her away, but doesnt. Fixing her attention on the one that'd actually addressed her, but keeping both Blackrock wolves in her stormy gaze, Giana gives some insight to what happened:
                   "Some pair poisoned me and tortured me, two I'd never seen in my life. It took me three fuckin' weeks to get...Well, here, even if I'm not sure where this is."
Granted, she'd taken a meal from a girl, but she'd literally asked for it, taunting her and demanding things of someone she didn't know. Maybe if Kendra wouldn't have said anything, Giana wouldn't have taken that damn rabbit.
For a moment, she glances around: she knows she's at the shore, but its a place she's never been, never seen. Even if she wanted to go back to the Valley, or even the Hinterlands, she'd have no clue what way to go. The ivory female then looses a sigh.
                                              "Obviously, I'm a mess, but I'm not useless. I'm a warrior, a starwatcher.... I was hoping this pack would consider taking me."

“N-Not useless,” agreed Szymon with casual malevolence, arriving on the scene from the sea itself, his pallid fur bristling with brine and set into urchin-like spines. “The sh-sharks grow hungry.” Recent events had put the youngest Cairn into a foul mood, and he was far less inclined to greet the strange wolves of these wilds with succor after the tawny trespasser had seen fit to breeze through the territory borders. The inky-ribbed wolf stepped forward, his tail twitching frenetically as his head and tail lifted assertively, befitting his rank. His forelegs were stiff, the crest of his shoulders tensed in easy readiness, as he breathed in the familiar scent of the wolf he’d seen near the sea lions’ shoals and the less familiar scent of the long-legged female whose coloring was similar to Szymon’s own. Golden eyes blazed with auriferous spite as he stared down at the stormy-eyed female, marking the fractured leg and her paltry verbiage. What pack would “consider taking” one so broken?

“Th-Three weeks,” mused Szymon aloud, his deep bass timbre impassive. “You sh-should g-get started on your w-w-way back if you w-want to f-find a pack b-before autumn.” What use did the Blackrock wolves have for a broken creature such as this? It was smarter to turn her away before she dragged whatever enemies she’d made to their borders. Between the Cairn brood and their recent recruits, they had more than enough muscle to guard what was theirs — but that didn’t mean inviting trouble was a good idea. And Szymon, naturally suspicious, didn’t believe her story. It could have been the gospel truth, but for all he knew, she was an ally of Ksenia seeking to infiltrate Skellige’s loyalties. The best he could expect from this violet-eyed creature was fish food at this point, but the word “poisoned” gave him pause. Perhaps she still bore the poison on her fur — her flesh — and perhaps it was intentional, to cause the tongues that laved her sullied flesh to blacken and swell. That was even less incentive for the Cairn boy to take her in.

The blessing was nigh — not one of Skellige’s wolves could be spared.

I was curious to see where this would go... but I figured now is a good time to pop in.

 

The call at his borders was one that did not draw his interest at first. While he was aware that there would be some attempting to join his ranks with the newly formed pack, he was beginning to grow skeptical of the wolves who would arrive. The sea – he knew – would bless him greatly, but Skellige was aware that she would test him and his strength. The way of a devoted man was to be tried and tried again in the name of his devotion. Their newest recruit was one wolf he had felt the need to keep his eye on, but she had done well so far and had not behaved in a manner that had irked him. There was always a chance to drive him mad, though.
 
As his long limbs carried him toward the sound of the call, the brute caught wind of not one, but three of his members who had answered the beckoning. His dark gaze traveled over the group of wolves: Tetsubo, Szymon, and Fluer. For a moment, the titan was surprised that the newest member would find herself answering a call on the borders. As long as she was keeping the Blackrock safe, he did not have qualms with it.
 
Tensions were high as soon as he stepped on the scene. He had closed in just in time to hear the injured woman explain that she was not a worthless creature and that she was a warrior. Szymon seemed to echo his thoughts well enough; why would he want a poisoned broken thing within his ranks? Drawing his lips over his canines, the wraith stepped forward and drew his skull upward, leering at her with the expression of a shark. “You say you’re not worthless,” he sneered with a snap of his fangs. The fur along his neck and shoulders bristled slightly. “But you’re not intelligent enough to request my presence when your body is healthy and strong.” Skellige’s brows lifted upward and he took a step toward her.
 
“If you can best my dredge Tetsubo in a fight, I will grant you access into my ranks,” he growled to her with a toss of his muzzle toward the slate figure. The dark sea wolf did not want the broken woman in his pack, and his faith was high in the warrior that he had found on the beach. To best him would have been a miracle.

Fluer is apparently being dropped, I have permission to powerplay Tetsubō, and I believe @Skellige might make an appearance so we can get this thread to ten posts. Going with the outcome that was discussed via PM: Szymon and Tetsubō will drive Giana further away from the territory but not inflict grave injuries upon her. This post is short and kind of cruddy, but this thread has been sitting for a full month at this point.

A sneer shaped Szymon’s curling lips as the Leviathan himself made his appearance and concurred with the youngest Cairn’s assessment. Turning his gaze upon the dredge, the same boy he’d seen briefly near the sea lions’ shoals, the golden-eyed Cairn stepped back to afford the fighters room. It seemed, however, that the female was uninterested in pursuing her application to rent out the beachfront property enjoyed by Skellige’s warband — she uttered a comment he could not hear and began to worm herself away, knowing it to be useless to fight against the weapon of war whose loyalty Skellige had claimed. Szymon turned his attention to Tetsubō and the Leviathan, his muscles tensed and itching for the chase. He could make no move without Skellige’s command, however.

There was tension in his body that needed to be relieved; a great aggression, and a hunger. When Skellige gave the order to pursue the injured creature — to test her mettle — he felt his face contort with an uncontrollable sneer. The graceless boy sat there, feeling the blood flowing hot in his veins, grinning malevolently despite not realizing the distortion of his appearance, and when given the signal of her retreat he chose to lunge. Clearly the injured woman was not interested in sticking around, for she tried her best to backpedal and to escape — but Tetsubo was in fine form. He launched himself after her and, with a sound that was closer to a demented hyena's giggle than anything, followed close to her haunch and snapped whenever he was near enough. He did not outright kill her - but only because Skellige had not wished it. A part of Tetsubo was thirsty for the taste of their life upon the tongue; yet without the express permission of his master, he would hold back.

Permission to skip Skellige granted!

The command was given, snapped out in a harsh, guttural growl, and Szymon moved swiftly to keep pace with Tetsubo — his trained eye regarded the older wolf with new respect as he watched the alacrity and precision with which the dredge moved. Simply for the joy of it and the fact that he and Tetsubo had never completely tested one another’s mettle, Szymon announced to his brother that he would escort the plague wolf out. There was no telling who might follow behind her, and every precaution needed to be taken as the warhounds prepared for the ceremony.

This makes 10 right?

They would make quick work of her, should she falter greatly. Perhaps it would be worth it to chase her partway and then make her course round back towards the depths; that way he'd be given the leeway required. He could kill her. Pull her limb from limb, like the wings off of a fly. Except his purpose was to chase, not to maim. To dissuade, not to kill. Beside Tetsubo there was Szymon, and the pair of them cut across the landscape towards the hobbling, useless creature. To think that she tried to join them in this condition! There was no logic there, none at all. Tetsubo licked a line of saliva off of his chin just as it began to drip and, still giggling quietly, picked up speed.

Ja! Just in case it’s ten replies and not ten posts, I’ll leave this here.

Tetsubō’s hyena-like laughter goaded Szymon on; he didn’t particularly like the sound, but it smothered the ragged bitch’s paltry whining. Alongside his equally bloodthirsty counterpart, the youngest Cairn picked up his pace, wary and watchful lest she have pursuers waiting in the wings for her departure from the bay. It had been so long since he’d killed, and the urge to end her life was disturbingly strong — but he had lost his grip on the monster this day, and could not rationalize his baser desires. Wickedly he snapped for the woman’s hock, seeking to place a flesh wound that would leak blood and mark their passage further inland.