Neverwinter Forest en garde

For @Kieran~

Quite by accident, though he would say it was on purpose, Goldhawk had perfected a new manoeuvre. He was doing his usual thing, pausing in his border patrol to shadow-box by the river and maintain his keen agility, but today he needed a sparring partner. The sun was warm but not so hot as to hint at exhaustion, and the trees of Neverwinter glimmered as if with emeralds. He needed someone roughly his own size, so Goldhawk set out to find Kieran, heading for the den of the handsome tawny couple, ears alert and eyes a-searchin'.

Kieran didn't stray far from Kaskara's side these days. No he much preferred to pass his days in her near vicinity. Today was no different and while she napped, her belly rotund with their brood he stared off into space and stood guard. It was a good day to lay in the sun, so that is what he did. He was surprised to hear the whisper of nearby paws and with ears thrust forward and nose upwards he waited on keen alert to see and smell who would come near.

As expected, Kieran stood like a great dark sentinel outside the den containing the future of Neverwinter. Goldhawk smiled into its recesses from a distance, silently wishing Kaskara well, but of course he did not go near, respecting the protective nature of the father-to-be. O'Malley me bucko, he greeted brightly. How about some sparring, old chum? Feeling up to it?

Kieran met the other's gaze and tilted one ear back so he didn't look so imposing. He also offered a small nod of greeting. Then he listened to the other's words. He warred with indecision. It had been some time since he had managed to do any sort of real warrior like exercise, but he also needed to do some if he wanted that warrior trade. Despite the fact that he had it once upon a time long ago in his former home. The older male stood up and shook his pelt free. The grey starting to show around his muzzle glistening slightly in the  light. He tilted his head and spoke, his accent showing up in the words he chose as usual. 'tis been sum time since oi did sum sparrin'. Oi don't clap a problem wi' it, as long as we don't wake Kaskara. Oi 'ill in me brown 'av 'er bothered.

Goldhawk didn't understand half of what his Irish chum said, but he got the gist and was more than happy with it. A silent duel? Sounds like a jolly challenge, he accepted with a charming grin. He took a smooth step back and fell into a poised stance, primed for defense. First move is yours, sah — age before beauty, he added playfully.

Kieran chuckled at the other male and dipped his head. This should be fun, though Kieran wasn't sure how well he'd keep up. It had been some time since he had even dueled. Kieran readied his own stance and studied Goldhawk through slatted green eyes. Finally finding his mark, he dipped forward, faked left and pawed at the other's shoulder to gauge how he would work.

He would never patronise this male he respected so much, but Goldhawk had at the back of his mind that this bit of sparring may actually do Kieran good. Although ageing, Kieran was an impressive figure and if he kept in practice he could be one of the border's most powerful protectors. Goldhawk was keen to keep the warriors of Neverwinter on their toes.

To that end, he parried the male's feint, but got hit hard on the shoulder by a great mahogany paw. Teeth bared (though through a genuine smile), Goldhawk took advantage of the raised foreleg to duck beneath him and aim for a nip beneath the chin.

Kieran wasn't in any doubt that his old bones needed the exercise. It had been some time since he had sparred. He found as they began it was something he had missed and not even  realized it. He alos returned the smile and he knew the other would go for his chin after he struck, realizing his mistake. The gentle nip served as a reminder and Kieran pushed his head downward, maybe catching the other off guard and he pushed his shoudler toward sthe other's chest, hoping to knock some wind out of him.

As they sparred, Goldhawk could not help to be at least a little distracted by the very kingly bearing of this here handsome hulk. He felt oddly as if he were fighting a Lord, though Kieran was not so presumptuous, and was perhaps only accidentally this way. They were well matched, despite Goldhawk's youth and more recent practice, but Kieran's next move caught him off guard, as he'd expected a retaliatory nip, not a shoulder in the chest. So Goldhawk turned and regrouped, forelegs spread wide as he poised himself for another round. How do you do all this with such a bally lot of elegance, sah? he asked with genuine interest, still ready for the next blow.

Kieran had not thought sometime on his past and where he had come. He had been a prince once and he had fallen from grace, at least in his mind. He had lost them all, him the lone survivor even losing his first love. A love that still burned he supposed, but for Kaskara it burned a little hotter. Kaskara was a welcome love to the male.

A small chuckle rumbled deep in the brute's chest and he shook his head, speaking as he leaped forward to snap at the other's muzzle playfully. Scon are a warrior born, sir. From de blud av Kings.

Blood of kings? He'd never heard that one before. He'd never met a king, nor his descendants — Goldhawk spoke in Lords and Ladies, and of those he'd met a few. Warrior born? I am precisely that, wot, he claimed with rightful pride, and parried the next blow. They continued for a few more rounds before Goldhawk sprang back fluidly and drew up with a nod of satisfaction that they had done well. But the blood of Kings... you alone claim that, Kieran me ole buckaroo. He sat thoughtfully, panting lightly and muscles hot with exercise. Who are these Kings of yours? He was curious.

Kieran had simply meant that his father was an alpha and his father before him and so on and so forth. Kings of their packs, the alphas. He had been a prince, an entitled youth. Kieran chuckled at the other and dipped his head. So they were both warriors aye?

Me owl lad wus de alpha, an' 'is owl lad before 'imself. Kings av our own wee cove born pack.

Goldhawk had never heard of King as being a synonym for Alpha, and liked to think there was more romanticism and nobility to it than that. So he listened with interest, quite unashamed of his curiosity, and asked for further details. Could you tell me a mite about this old home of yours? he asked, though kept a great deal of cheer from his tones. He felt that Kieran's backstory was not exactly a delightful one...

Kieran froze at the next question, but he licked his jaw. Thinking of what to say, if he were privy to his friends thoughts, he would agree that his backstory was not a pretty one. Though it had been before disaster had struck, and Kaskara bless her had managed to heal some of the pain that came with his home.

He settled to his haunches and thought about it. Wondering what he could say. He began softly. Well oi lived wi' me mom an' da an' a 'eap av brothers an' sister, but me litter mates were Kane an' Kiara. Kane was set ter take de alpha ship, yer man wus master suited an' Kiara wus a warrior loike me, perhaps even tougher. De lan' dat oi come from, ah it wus bonny. Dare wus valleys an' 'ills, an' a cowl river dat ran nearby. De soun' av de frogs an' de flow over rocks wus me lullaby. We were wee, but loyal an' mighty. Oi loved me family an' me 'um, an' oi still miss it nigh an' again.

The two warriors sat, and Goldhawk listened with ears tall and appreciative of Kieran's every utterance. Although he had a little trouble with the accent, he found it atmospheric for the picture at hand — and oh he really could picture it. The rolling hills, the characterful little family, the lullaby of wildlife... his voice had a tint of sadness, but one thing could be said overall: your past sounds beautiful, old chap, he murmured. It really does.

Kieran was lost in his thougths for a brief moment, as he thought on what had been and what he had lost. He found it didn't hurt as badly this time, though the small dull ache was still there. He wasn't sure if that would ever go away, but so far Kaskara had done more to heal the sadness and the pain, than anyone had since. Oh Kieran still blamed himself, he didn't think he'd ever not blame himself, but at least it didn't hurt to think about it or talk about. 

Kieran nodded his head and chuffed gently. 'eart brokenly so mucker.

Kieran shook his head and laid his ears back and then forward again. Waaat aboyt yer GoldHawk? Waaat wus yisser 'um loike?

He'd learned about wolves with tragedy in their pasts, and Kieran's seemed especially romantic given the nobility of his ancestry. Though there had been something humble about his description of it all.

I hail from Riptide Coast, fondly known as the Ole Rip, he announced proudly. It's a bally huge pack dontcha know, and back in my youth was regularly invaded by foul vermin greedy for territory. So we're warriors over there, soldiers brazen and true.

Kieran chuckled kindly at his friend. He loved the way the man painted pictures with strange words. It made him feel not so alone. He wasn't the only one anymore with an accent. It sounded like a pack he would have fit well in once upon a time. Now peaceful times and age had caught up to him, and he wasn't as full of blood and vinegar as he had been once.

It sounds loike me kind av pack, mucker.

Fading out here if that's okay! <3

Goldhawk's tail thump thump thumped upon the ground in silent gladness at his friend's reply. The Ole Rip had been marvellous. But, as they sat here in Neverwinter Forest, fresh from sparring and enlightening chatter, it seemed that Kieran and Goldhawk had another thing in common: this was their kind of pack.