Silvertip Mountain i’m afraid to leave the house

maybe @Taggerung, @Vesta or @Surya? aw tho!

Ok, it’s been one too many days since they’d been cooped up here and it showed. Buzzard was skinny enough as it was, but now they were ribs-poking-out-of-sides type skinny. Any scraps that would’ve slid through their bramble prison were inhaled and immediately forgotten. Or maybe they were just hallucinating that. Either way, they weren’t being fed enough.

A groan was drawn out from their lips when the hundredth hunger pang that day gripped their stomach. Fuuuck fuckfuckfuck… Curling in a tight ball helped a little, but not enough. They needed food. Then they needed to get the fuck outta here.

A sway at the touch of wind, a lean figure that didn't appear it should stand at all, but the bard moved with surprising agility when it mattered most. Perhaps, most certainly when it came to the curses of another rising into the air. 

The Taggerung sighted a stranger ahead of him. With a cheery hum, the bard called out, hello and good day to you! 

A friendly sway of his golden tail accompanied the loud greeting. Tagg trotted forward and paused to see if he might be accepted by the unknown wolf.

Buzzard could just barely hear an approach over their cursing, but they acted as though they didn’t notice at all. They were in too much pain to give a damn, and they didn’t want to talk to any of these wolves anyways. Maybe he’d gawk at them for a bit, laugh, and go about his day. But he greeted them in a sickly chipper tone that made their blood boil.

The coyote shot up and spat, I’m fucking dying. A fact that seemed to go over the head of this guy. That or he’s making some sort of sick joke. It pissed them off one way or another.

Did your boss send you to finally feed me to your dumb god or did you just wanna fuck with me?

If he could have, the Taggerung would have lifted his hand to his chest and recoiled ever so slowly at the initial response. The lack of hands did not stop the bard from blinking swiftly and shaking his head. 

Something was wrong, or the stranger was wildly confused, there could have been no other answer. The Taggerung gazed upon the dismal shape with a small smile and a flick of his tail. 

I'm afraid I'm not the fellow you're looking for, if you need someone to feed you to a god. Is there another option, perhaps? Tell you a story, maybe? Of course he would suggest something in his wheelhouse.

Ok now they were like 99% sure this was a joke. Why was he so shocked? As if he didn’t know their hostility was far beyond justified. Then he had the audacity to play dumb and suggest storytime.

Why the hell would I wanna— But before they began chewing them out, an lightbulb lit up in their head.

—wanna… not hear a story? They made the most abrupt transitioned from pissed to pretend-interested in their life. 

Yeah, I’ve been having a rough day- A rough few weeks to be exact. A nice story and some food would be nice. I’m a little too weak to get up and get anything myself though. You mind getting me a little something? Then I’ll listen to whatever story ya got.

The pack fellow was rather prompt in their response, biting with the initial word and fading into something more accepting.

The Taggerung listened carefully as the wolf across from him said that they were merely having a bad day, they were weak, hungry. The bard was surprised initially and then forced to recognize that he knew very little about the leader of Ursus, Cluny. They had shared a strange encounter and it had shifted the storyteller’s life.

Right-o! Of course. I’ll be just a moment. you stay right here now. Back in a jiff, the Taggerung agreed most merrily before bowing his head and turning to search the prey cache he had added too earlier.

Oh my god, that actually worked? Well looks like Buzzard wasn’t such a terrible actor after all!

Their tail wagged with excitement as they watched him leave. Ah they could taste the food already. Really got the mouth watering.

Off and away, the Taggerung trotted to collect a sleek otter that he had hunted and deposited for the pack. When he’d found the storage for the prey, he collected the otter and began to pick his way back to where he had left the other wolf.

While he journeyed back, the bard wondered what hardship had fallen on the unknown stranger. What had made his day so dreadful?

Here you are, Tagg barked through a mouthful of otter and plopped the meal down at the their paws. That’ll do, hm?

By the time he got back, there was practically an ocean of drool at their paws. Buzzard wasted no time tearing into the otter as soon as it was dropped. Never had they so feverishly eaten something before. It was as though they hadn’t even smelled a scrap of meat in years. Well it sure did feel like it.
So you said — the sentence was briefly cut short by a few messy bites — you said you had a story or something? The meal put Buzzard in a good mood in the moment, so they wouldn’t tell this guy off just yet.

The hungry wolf did not hesitate to begin scarfing down the meal that was brought to them. The Taggerung watched with a cheery smile and wave of his tail until the stranger had eaten a good deal of the otter. They did appear rather content, he thought curiously, more so than they were before.

Oh, I’ve many stories. What might you like to hear? A tale of love? Of adventure? Of gods? the bard inquired with a merry chuckle, his eyes squinting pleasantly. If this wolf was particular, the Taggerung wished to appeal to their better nature.

A love story? Ew. Gross. They were eating right now, they didn’t need to throw up over some tale about to wolves making out.
Now a story about an adventure? That they could get behind. Gimme the best adventure story ya got.

The Taggerung laughed heartily at the stranger’s request for the best adventure story in his book of tales. That was a tall order, the bard thought to himself with a small squint of his eyes.

Very well, let me tell you the tale of Thagrin and his brother Faramorn, Tagg decided with a small nod of his head. He drew his narrow snout back and cleared his throat.

Faramorn and Thagrin were born upon the very mountain that had fallen from Kojall’s back when he had been made mortal again. The mountain was a home to warriors and ruffians alike. Wolves who were sharp in fang would travel from far and wide to train beneath the pack that had claimed the mountain, the wolves of Kavastr.

The Taggerung eyed his audience to gauge how invested the listener was in that moment.