Stavanger Bay Doing everything I can to justify your arrogance

I'll try to make this quick lol
@Wintersbane

She'd tired of this Yuelong rapidly.
The landscape was cut off, the pack was...dull in her opinion.
No fighting there was no bloodshed.
She wanted more.

Vanity left with the intention of not returning.
She hadn't laid proper scent in their land for days.
Anyway, she wandered back towards where she'd met Rokig. She wasn't there yet but here was the place where'd she'd learnt to catch crabs.
And here, there was a pack.
Well, it was forming so, whatever.

She sniffed at the scents that lay there, thinking it over.

the ebony pelaged woman stands out among most scenery; as sore a thumb as wintersbane himself, especially in the light of day when the shadows slunk hard to find. black leathery nostrils flare, sniffing 'round the rabbit carcass cradled betwixt his jaws as he scents her; a faint and fading scent of others upon her.

ideally, the hale tundrian would've liked to have buried his quarry rather than bringing it along for the interception but ...the idea of someone lingering on his borders prickles at him.

ironking's steps slow as he approaches, posture dominate even as he pauses to unload his cargo behind a rock — hoping no scheming and sneaky scavenger will steal it while his back is turned — and draws nearer still; salmon pink tongue drawing across his muzzle in a half-hearted effort to clean it.

you find yourself at ironclan's borders. i am it's saltking, wintersbane. he introduces, leaving the statement open ended so she could supply what brought her here.

Her eyes lifted for the prickly feeling of being watched settled upon her nape.
A burly male clad in a winter coat and hold eyes of bright ice watched her.
Rabbit slack in his jaws.

Her head lifted with a natural smile. She held her tail still today.
He made more effort than Venny ever had -- oh Vengeance! His body laid to rest in some forgotten woodland! Oh, she'd have to go back for him soon.
Oh, perhaps she'd find Arwen there. Or even Leshen!
Now she just wanted to go back to Haunted Woods, but had to secure herself here first.

"You seem stronger than most," she replied breezily. He could take it as a personal compliment, or one for his pack. She didn't mind. 
"What are you then hm? ¿Guerreras?"
​Maybe it wasn't helpful in her native tongue. 
"Warriors? Hunters? General do-gooders?" She chuckled softly, for it seems that's all she found around here these days. 

wintersbane, a vain beast since the moment he was born upon the strath, accepts her observation taken as compliment. he finds it perhaps amusing that her first thought it so flatter before all else and he offers her a soft smile, humming non-verbal thanks. do i look like the kind of man that would be a do-gooder? wintersbane cannot help but ask with a low snort. ironclan welcomes any that want to be apart of a strong family, wintersbane says. any that prove they have the ironwill to live among us and upon the coast. for wintersbane already knows the sea will test them just as effectively as they'll test one another.

who asks? comes the saltking's request for her name. and to what end?

She hummed, satisfied. A lazy smirk graced her features.
Men were so easy. Not that she'd let them know.

"No," she replied, "but I'd been tricked before."
Valour. He was such. He had anger in him, but he was inherently good. Vanity would like to meet what pathetic drip his mother was to see what he came from. It might explain a lot.
"Vanity Valadez," she replied easily, "Former Nightwalker General, former Warlord of Pico del diablo."
She watched him steadily. She wondered if he had any credentials as such. Or if he were just some mercenary making his way.

"Do you think I'd have your Ironwill, Wintersbane?"
If he were interested at all, he'd reply yes. If not, she'd probably take her leave there and then and come back another day. Sooner or later.

for a moment, wintersbane studies her; ebon with her strange markings of white as a ghost of an amused smile tugs at the edges of his lips as she mentions being tricked. wintersbane's never been good; always operating and choosing to live in the grays of the world with the assumption that nothing is ever so black and white. was there good in him? probably. he didn't murder cubs and he wasn't a cannibal, or any of the numerous other things that would ( to him ) make him 'evil'. but he was as a far cry from saintly.

general. warlord. strong titles; believable ...but they mean little to him. he, too, had plenty of credentials but none of the other packs he'd led have anything to do with what he's building in the herenow.

her past was her past and her future could be ironclan ...if she wanted it to be; but he wasn't going to beg.

i believe anyone can have the ironwill. wintersbane responds diplomatically. the bay, the creation of ironclan and their foothold on the coast would be testament to whether that holds true or not. it was not his call to make, especially not for someone he does not know but in name and credentials only.

Of course, he did.
Her gaze cast about, watching the land around them.
Thinking.

It made him sound like those other wolves who included everyone in their packs no matter what. Even if they had a deep-set sickness and all that crap. Not her vibe. She wanted the strong. Though she could see the disinterest in his eyes. Her past meant nothing, which was fair enough.
Her eyes met his again. "Is that so," she mused. This ought to be interesting.

"Perhaps I could join you." She expected to be tested. If not it would be sorely disappointing. She'll have to see.

just because i'm willing to give the chance, wintersbane speaks, after she muses; as if she were unimpressed. truth was, ironclan was not for the weak ...but that judgement would not be his — or umbra's — to make. the land and the hardships and the sea would make the ultimate call; the ironwill trial would determine who was cut out for the life of a seafarer and who was not. does not mean that they will prove to have the mettle to survive as apart of the clan.

there will be a trial for cubs and adults alike that where each clan member will prove their worth. and even then, it wasn't entirely infallible, he knows. still, he figures if a wolf can survive the trials, complete the task given to them then they had what it took. if you wish, you are welcome. wintersbane tells her. when we are more established here, when our claim is indisputable the trials will begin. and he, well; he would be the first.

it is only fair that the one who calls himself king would be the first to put himself thru the testing process, too; playing off of that type of leadership that revolves around 'i won't ask you to do anything i, myself, am not willing to do'.

His eyes spoke to her.
The soft tilt of his brow, the slight crinkle in the corner of his eye.
The way his pupil constricted the longer she took to speak.
She almost let out a huff, but he'd surely be too tired of her shit and just chase her away at that point.

"You're," she was about to say kinder, but he probably wouldn't like that, "probably a better leader than I then," she grinned like she was proud of herself.
She was, in truth.
But her blood-terror was over, it seemed.

"I would like to help you see it through." Her chin raised slightly, ears cupping solely on him.
Time would tell if she could trust him, but even if she thought she couldn't then leeching from him wouldn't be too bad for a while.
"What are your numbers now?" She needed to know if she should try to find Valour. He might like it. Close to Yuelong and all that good stuff.

vanity's words bring a small, amused twitch of wintersbane's lips that he does not elaborate upon. on whether he was a 'better leader' than her ( or anyone ) was rather subjective and depended wholly upon who was asked. if someone were to ask rusalka, they might claim he was a tyrant and a terrible leader. really, wintersbane thought, it depends on how they get to know him.

thoughts shift and he offers a small nod of his head as she offers to join the clan's ranks. welcome to ironclan. he rumbles, gesturing for her to step within the confines of the borders he's been laying down for days ( weeks? ) now. we are six, with you. wintersbane responds. you are free to recruit as you see fit but any wolves you run across that display interest should be sent here to speak with either myself or umbra, the saltlord. wintersbane explains. she's my second-in-command. and her judgement on recruits was as good as wintersbane's own, in his eyes ( though he knows they might not see eye to eye on everything, granted ).

We can archive here if you want

He invited her in.
She accepted, passing over the scented claim.
Ironclan.

Six. Not bad, but they did need more. She'd see where she could pull wolves from.
"Of course," she replied. It was only appropriate to be so formal.
Umbra huh. sounded kinda powerful.
Had the sort of ring as Hydra.

She'd see.
Time to get to work, she guessed.