Kildeer Rest real gods require blood

the vartija themed founding thread | metsästys ❝the hunt❞ — in tundrian lore a small offering is made to nyyrikki the god of the hunt in an effort for his blessing in a successful hunt.

a frosted pelt — taken from a scrawny rabbit, submerged in the meltwater of the glowworm cavern ( yet to be named ) in the intricate tunnel and cavern system beneath permafrost hollow and left to the elements overnight to freeze is stiff and clutched loosely betwixt wintersbane's jaws as he trudges his way through kildeer rest, the fresh snow of the rest is dusted in a fine powder, not doing much to mask his footfalls. the snow crunches and shifts mercilessly beneath his heavy weight despite his best efforts to quiet it.

he ignores the name honored birds in question as they try to ward him off from nearing their nests. his interest is not in them. he pauses at a rock formation; not particularly extraordinary from any of the others and places the frostpelt upon it's snow dusted surface. wintersbane's never been the praying type and he does not see it necessary to start now so he takes a few steps back, draws his tongue across his jowls and lets his glacial gaze roam. he'd thought he scented a small deer herd in this general area of the taiga before the snows had whisked the scent trails away; and before he's been called to border patrols and recruitment drives.

aside from the beady and distrustful stares of two kildeers watching him atop a nearby rock formation — he resists the urge to laugh and despite his best efforts an amused snort leaves him anyway — looking for any sign that nyyrikki will offer him a blessing; though with or without it wintersbane intends to continue on his search for the young buck, two does and their spindly fawns, figuring that even felling one of the fawns would be good bulk for one of their food caches.

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The man decided to wander outside the territory today. He didn't know where @Keen was but decided that if she wanted to follow she could. He'd followed one of her recent trails to extend an invitation to her but alas the trail went stale. 

In his wanderings, crossing back and forth in the general direction he'd gone before, he came across the tracks of Wintersbane. Deciding to see what he was doing, followed them. The call of birds somewhat alarmed him, never having heard them before but watching them emit the noise as he approached. He wanted to get closer with the Sotaherra if he wanted to be an Advisor.
He saw the power they had in packs and, even though Wintersbane had made clear he wasn't like other alphas -- and Derg believed him -- but sometimes having support or backstop, should one indeed fall against said ethos, was ideal for Derg.
This pack would be successful one day, Derg would make sure of it. Especially with the recruitment drive that would soon follow.

Anyways, back to finding the Sotaherra. 
Derg found the Tundrian standing by a rock formation. Odd. Derg let his ears tilt, chuffing softly to let him be aware of his presence. He seemed to be looking for something so Derg too started looking, unsure if there was danger to be aware of. The Tundrian certainly didn't look as if he was about to battle someone. Derg gave the larger male a questioning look, stopping a few paces away.

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256 words

nyyrikki has rejected the offering.

the ursidae had woken out of hibernation early. he isn't sure what had caused him to stir out of it. it is unlikely whatever has called him to rise from his wintersleep has continued to linger as the signs of life emerged from his cave. it was a quick process, the rush of adrenaline, the rapid and rasping breaths, a jerk of his muzzle and the opening of his eyes. a low, discontented growl had rumbled in his chest and then he was up, lumbering out into the daylight, roaming his turf. inspecting.

it is then he smells the deer and it does not take him long to find them. he goes for the the smallest of the two fawns. a swipe of his mighty paw is all it took to fell it — though it did not die right away, bleating helplessly for it's parents which had turned tail and fled the scene as quick as they could. for a short while there was peace. the ursidae was half-way through his meal when the scent of wolves is carried to him upon the wind and the peace is shattered. what is left of the small deer family is long since gone and if the wolves did not leave him be — pests as they were — they'd find themselves on the receiving end of his already bloodied teeth. the fawn was hardly enough to sate his hunger, after all.

the ursidae lets out a mighty bellow and takes off in their direction, bits of spittle and carrion flying as he lets out a second warning, heavy paws thudding against the earth. leave or share the fate of the fawn.

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written by @Wintersbane

wintersbane's attention is drawn from the stone formation at the low chuff to derg. according to tundrian lore, wintersbane launches into explanation at the quizzed look the other male gives him. you present the god of hunt, nyyrikki with an offering. if he accepts the offering you'll have a successful hunt. if he rejects it, you'll be chased off by another predator, often in a bear. it's his sacred animal. it's just lore but still, after spending time with blackfeather and devoting himself to mephala wintersbane is more inclined to believe such things now than he ever had in the past.

i scented a small deer family, he gestures in their direction with his muzzle, ears cupping forth atop his skull. i thought one of the fawns would be a good addition to the caches. of course, one of the adult deers would be even better but he wasn't out to push his luck. you're welcome to join me if you'd like —

wintersbane gets cut off mid-sentence as a bellow from the neighboring woods nearby their current position causes the kildeer nearby to cry out and take flight in panic. wintersbane's hackles bristle with unbidden unease as he turns weary and cautious gaze to the tree line that appears to tremble at the steady pound of heavy and lumbering footfalls. his ears fall back to slick against his skull, a low fuck. spilling betwixt his lips in a hiss. a second bellow comes and he looks to derg. so much for that offering. an attempt at dry humor as wintersbane takes a couple steps back, eager to put some distance between him and the treeline.

aren't bears supposed to be hibernating still? admittedly, he doesn't know in any kind of detail. that always seemed like more of a hunter problem than a warrior problem.

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Derg listened in the man's explanation, noting how he spoke of the god of hunts nyyrikki.
He nodded. It seemed fair but unlikely. Although Derg wasn't inclined to believe in deities, he knew of some and knew others respected the figurative presence. 
"Sounds like a small price for something good."  His face still held neutrality, his preferred state when dealing with those of religion. Wintersbane didn't strike him as religious, however, he didn't say it was anything set in stone. Perhaps the man too had a neutral stance on the matters that he seemingly might've grown up with; being Tundrian lore.

Derg was formulating his words when Wintersbane gets cut off. Derg turned instinctively towards the noise, teeth bared, ears flattened. A guttural snarl of which would rival a wolverine resonated from him as the hulking form of a bear passed through the trees.
His heart turned into a thunderous roar that, above it, Wintersbane was just talking? Derg gave him an expression that made it clear he thought the Tundiran mad to not have already started to retreat.

Derg supposed it was shock.
There was no time for shock when an angry bear was charging you down. He knew the hard way. There was also no fighting it with two wolves. Blood carried to his nose that spurred the man to move up 'round Wintersbane, snapping at him and snarling the command, "Run." 
He often found the best cure for shock was to give a command and pose a bigger threat.
He didn't care if he would be turned upon with a snarl or teeth -- now or later. He waited for the black and silver man to start running before following behind.

He couldn't leave the Sotaherra behind now, could he. 
 

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291 words

only if nyyrikki accepts the favor. wintersbane feels a coy smirk tug at the corners of his lips as he speaks, a slight rise of his brow given. his belief in deities had taken shape during his time with the dark woods — for he'd seen too many weird things to not believe in them ...and then there'd been the whole mushroom incident when he'd not only heard the daedra but seen them. of course, his stance on the tundrian deities is much less substantial. it is lore; for wintersbane it falls into the category of doing it out of respect for his ancestors.

the deep seeded thrill for danger is what keeps wintersbane talking — and perhaps a bit of disbelief that one, his gift had been so readily rejected and two, that he was coming face to face with an actual bear. he'd never had the misfortune of coming across one before. his instincts — on top of derg's command — heighten and his muscles are flooded with the fuel of adrenaline as he turns and takes off after derg, hackles bristled with both petulance that he'd actually taken a command from his subordinate — does this mean he will have to put derg back into his place? — and because his glimpse of the bear was little more than a brown lumbering mass making its way towards them.

when they are far enough, wintersbane spares a glimpse over his shoulder to find that the bear was gone and his steps slow, sides heaving with each heavy pant as he catches his breath. he's not following us. wintersbane points out to derg. we're clear. he says in between pants, drawing in a deep breath to regulate his breathing and slow the furious thrum of his heart.

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Derg slowed, bringing his lengthy gait to a stop and turning back to Wintersbane. 
Sotaherra.
His took in air, slowing his heart easily. Regaining breath in deep, long breaths. He'd been bred and trained to run, to fight and then recover easily. If he didn't, war would never have favoured him well. 

He nodded to the Tundrian, then dropped his head, his tail and avoided his gaze. He'd given the man command, despite the situation.
"I apologise for that. I assumed you were in shock and I'd rather we were not bear food today."
He took another calming breath, expecting the bite of teeth in his scruff. He willed his legs to not lock up against the man if the reprimand ever came. To do so would mean he wasn't submitting properly. 

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​137 words

there is a moment of decision to be made as they both give pause — safe with the knowledge that the bear was not chasing them — to catch their breath and wintersbane watches as derg drops his head, his tail, averts his gaze and apologizes for giving the sotaherra a command. wintersbane feels that it's a weighty decision and he considers it carefully. the truth was, he was over it. he didn't think derg had been doing it to assert dominance or challenge him. it'd been to save his life and it'd been a successful plight; he was grateful despite however annoyed he'd been at the time.

wintersbane could take it at face value, brush it off for what it was. or he could reprimand derg for it. how loyal was derg? how much did wintersbane trust him? no. no, those things weren't in question. derg was loyal and wintersbane absolutely trusted him. what kind of leader did wintersbane want to be? the kind that was confident enough in the loyalty and respect of his wolves to brush it off? or the kind of leader that punished every little discrepancy? though the answer seemed obvious enough wintersbane was aware that if he was wrong one could make him look like a weak fool and the other could make him look like a paranoid dictator that didn't trust the wolves under his own rule.

don't worry about it, wintersbane decides, leaning closer to bump his shoulder amicably and gratefully against derg's shoulder. you probably, definitely just saved my life. thanks for that. wintersbane tells him sincerely; and then he lets out a low huff of disappointment. i hope that bear doesn't become a problem for us. although, it wasn't like kildeer rest was their only option for hunting grounds. they had the whole taiga to hunt in, after all.

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His head lifted slightly, the gratefulness evident in his gaze. Softly leaning against his touch. Clam, easy. He let out the air he'd held. This was the type of leader he had sought for, the type to understand the good intentions of others and trust the pack. Would Grezig have been that leader? 

He gazed back to Kildeer Rest, furrowing his brows in contemplation. "I doubt it, as long as our caches don't build up and borders are kept strong." If we had more members.
The bear wouldn't come into the territory if there wasn't sufficient reward nor if the pack was large and strong. It always made them think twice. Expect, they didn't have that, but hunting here was easy. There was a lot of to and fro in Derg's mind, yet he decided to shrug. 
"We will think of it if the time ever comes." He gave Wintersbane an easy smirk, one that said  I've got your back. Not that that wasn't already proven. 

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174 words​

last post for me & wintersbane! feel free to archive with your post! <3

as far as ursidae went, wintersbane had no real knowledge about them, nor experience with them apart from the moment that had came to pass; and he defers to derg's advice on it. don't let their caches build up and keep the borders strong with their scent. both sounded feasible enough to accomplish. admittedly, the vartija were yet to become many but they had a strong core of followers and eventually others would come to follow and fall in line. it was a slow race but wintersbane would rather build it up with patience then have it attract interest and burn out like a star that was always destined to die.

so then that's what we do. keep our caches in check and make sure our borders are strong. strength was in numbers, true, but a handful of warriors with nothing to lose could also do plenty of damage. well, wintersbane draws a bit disappointed. that hunt was a bust before it even began, he frowns and then steels his shoulders with an errant shrug. i'm think i'm going to return to the hollow, maybe do a patrol. he casts a weary and forlorn look at where the bear had thundered out of the trees now in the far distance.

couldn't be too careful, right?