Silver Moraine Wearing a Warning Sign

Recruitment was harder than it looked, especially in a realm full of skeptics. She had managed to capture herself a rabbit,  It wasn't much but at least it was an accomplishment. 
she found herself on a sort of natural passageway, desolate and Rocky. It was an unpleasant location to say the least, but Following the passageway would lead her closer to her goal. Closer to wolves more inclined to follow her.

It was almost as though Renard had never left the North.
 
Renard had always been well-acquainted with the kind of land ice left behind. If it wasn't still slick with snow it was cold and rocky, dotted with narrow outcrops of evergreen. Walk far enough and there would be valleys of spruce and conifer in between the spires of rock, rivers clear as crystal that carved canyons into stone. This place was half familiar. It felt good to stand on the crumbling soil and rock, heat bleeding out of the darkening sky around them, to look around and see the trees on either side.
 
Ugh. Maybe they were homesick after all. All they needed now was --
 
No. There were no worries about that. It would be a struggle for anything to hide here, amidst so much rubble; the wolfdog didn't bother to keep themselves low to the ground. Renard drank in a lungful of cool evening air, ears angling forward to the crunch of loose pebbles under their pads, and kept walking. The trail wound on, unchanging, but for a single figure up in the distance, and they drew slowly closer without announcing their presence. The sound of rattling gravel would surely give them away.

The gravel hurts her paws. It's irritating, putting her in a foul mood. She wished she hadn't eaten her last consort. Not really having anyone to talk to was driving her mad. 

As her eyes scan the terrain in front of her she spots a figure, a male, a toy. "Well hello there." She purrs, a too-wide smile on her features as she closes the distance between them. 
"I haven't seen another wolf for days. So imagine my relief to stumble across you." 

Renard slowed as they approached, picking their way forward with heavier steps until the stranger turned to look at them. Smiling already, sliding towards them with barely a pause. The wolfdog returned it, ears forward, lifting back to a lighter tread over the stones. Curious. There was something to be said about boldness. Many things. Renard was willing to keep judgment to themselves, for now.

That being said. The purr was a fascinating decision.

"Hello." Renard returned the greeting, tilting their head just a fraction. What an odd start to the meeting. Emphasis on the strangest words. They couldn't wait to see where this was headed. "If you're looking for directions, I'm afraid I won't be too helpful." 

How cute. He thinks she wants directions. 
"Oh sweetheart. I don't need directions. 
I need...well, you." Any followers would do. It was a vexing position to be in. 
"You see...I'm hoping to stake a claim here... eventually. But I need other wolves for that." 

Renard fixed the woman with a smile. A less pleasant one than they could have. Kind of her to be so direct, but in this case all it was doing was giving the wolfdog a picture of the kind of person they were dealing with that, as far as they were concerned, was not to her benefit.

"Could do without the condescension, but I appreciate the honesty. Getting straight to the heart of the matter. I like that. Here's the question," and now Renard paused, gave her an appraising look, "why should that matter to me?"

It was a genuine question. Whether she'd take it that way...that was another matter entirely.

She rolled her eyes, leveling a look at him. "Simple. Theres a...limmit to what A wolf can do alone. I'm planning to build an empire. But for that, I need men. And time. But I assure you....When I am successful... Loyalty to me will be greatly rewarded." 
She knew she didn't exactly have much proof, or power...yet. but empires were not created overnight.

Renard watched her politely as she spoke, though it had to be said they were not overly impressed with the case she was making. That was why it mattered to her, certainly – the wolfdog might have a professed lack of interest in power, but they could at least see where it appealed.

However.

“There is,” they agreed. “I’ll need more than that, though. From my perspective…” Renard swept their muzzle in an arc, indicating the barren, rocky earth and the sparse groves of evergreen clinging to its edges. “This isn’t much of a beginning. Maybe this is a better question. Why should I owe any loyalty to you? All you seem to have to offer me is empty promises." A pause. "Unless they aren’t as empty as they seem?”

She laughed slightly. 
"Oh goodness. Not here. Far too open. I'm going to be going inland." 
She huffed. Backstory it was then. "My name is Nemisis Bloodbourne. I and Daughter of Caige and Bathory Bloodbourne. I was Heir to Bloodbourne Pack. Unfortunately we have an... unconventional set of law's. My father was overthrown, and our law dictates I was to either be immediately impregnated or eaten if not in heat. So I was escorted here. I plan to continue the Bloodbourne legacy." She looked at him sweetly, for all intents trying to look the part of an innocent waylaid princess. 
"I'm afraid I can't do more than give my word. But...prove yourself to me, and work together...and we will thrive."

Though there was something interesting inherent in these sorts of stories, Renard wondered if this one was truly the best for…encouraging dedication in her cause. Why was it always cannibals? Renard was so often forced to revise their estimation of them, and the result was never any better.

And the wolves descended from cannibals? Renard didn’t know if she was one herself, but they were starting to... suspect things.

“A fascinating tale. But if you didn’t escape on your own… The way I see it, if you want me following you, you should be proving yourself to me. And for that, tales aren't enough.” Renard shrugged, still watching her, unblinking. “If you can’t do that, you’ll have to find help somewhere else.”

Her lip curled, the innocent facade fracturing. 
If there was one thing she hated, it was being told "no." 
"Fair enough." She bristled. 
"What are your demands? And make it quick, please. I'm not going to dawdle. " 
How had father tolerated them? They were all filthy. Asking too many questions. Not obeying. It was enough to drive her mad!

Ooh. She didn’t seem quite so pleasant now. They did enjoy poking at things on occasion, but it was only really happening – and working – here because everyone else had just been so polite thus far. Genuinely polite too, at least as far as they could pick out, not any of this. And they didn’t start any drama unprovoked. Anymore.

And they hadn’t even tried to poke things, either. She called them demands, but it did seem like the bare minimum you could do for the followers you were gathering was prove to them that they would be gathered for a decent reason. Renard would never be caught leading anything – that wasn’t for them – but they had standards, right?

Truthfully, they weren’t sure this would even convince them, but Renard was always up to be – no, that was a lie, they hated being surprised.

They hummed, as if mulling it over.

“Well, if you still don’t have a claim or followers…” Renard slanted their head to the side. “Then show me you can fight, at least.” The moment it escaped their mouth the question of whether that was the best idea spoken to a potential cannibal hit, but, well, too late to turn back now.

It would be interesting, either way.

The table thread https://wolf-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=41880&pid=439081#pid439081

As much as she detested dirtying herself, Bloodbourne women were trained to be fast and efficient killers. They were assasins as much as they were vampires and cannibal. 
And so she moved, quickly and efficiently, before he had even finished his sentence, not even a snarl to indicate her intention. Her teeth closed tight around his jugular, and she smirked against his flesh. 
"Do not flirt with death. I assure you, I could easily kill you and have no remorse in doing so. You would be nothing but a few hairs in the next pile of shit I decide to leave somewhere." She closed her jaws, not drawing blood, not yet, but causing enough pain to force him to really consider whether he wanted to push her patience.

thank you! not sure what size dice you were rolling but i just did 1d6s for each. renard's actual attack missed so i will let you decide how that happens

They’d been thinking too hard on the last spar, apparently. That had been…well, it had all been very neat. All with rules, a clear goal in mind, apparently they’d forgotten that they were not bound to play by any rules of fair conduct, which was just sad. So instead of keeping on their toes like they were supposed to, no sooner had they finished the sentence then there was a set of teeth around their throat.

Most of what she had to say was muffled around their skin, though.

Renard laughed, and the teeth around their throat closed a little tighter, enough to hurt. “Dirty fighting, huh,” they said, approvingly – it was what they should have been doing. “I can respect that. Though if you’re going to deliver me an ultimatum, it's hard to hear with your mouth full.”

She wasn’t drawing blood, though, and luckily there was enough loose fur there that when they angled and wrenched their head back and out of her grip, stepping quickly away, the way her teeth snagged left only shallow wounds there under the fur, which immediately started to sting.

Catching them off guard – that was good.

“You do know I meant a spar, right. Just to get an idea. Practice fighting.” And though she was certainly skilled, Renard’s interest in serving someone who was clearly more interested in grandstanding was not high to begin with. “Relax.” Now a good foot or so away, jaws open, Renard darted forward with the aim to rake their teeth down the side of her face.

I use a D 10

She smirked, eyes glittering mischievously as he pulled away from her. The warning usually was sufficient-however this peasant seemed to have a chip on his shoulders. 
"I don't... Practice is for pups. Play fighting is to keep children from killing each other." The idea of him teasing her filled her with an anger, and as he rushed toward her she dipped low, teeth opening deep ruts in his shoulder. She used her momentum to pivot, as he no doubt circled back for a second attack, and snapped her teeth full force on the tender flesh of his ear. She gave it a violent shake and released, licking the blood from her lips. 
"I am easily faster and skilled enough to kill you. If you don't want to die, I suggest you submit." 

just ended it there since 3 successes seemed enough haha! renard is exiting now unless you try to stop them :)

They had thought they had moved quick enough; then again, there were two potential results to getting someone mad when it came to a fight and it was either them acting rashly and messing up – that had been their hope – or actually working that fury into a weapon. So they’d miscalculated, this time.

Their teeth flashed by mere inches from her face, and instead she came down on their shoulder in a perfect mirror of what they’d done to their last sparring partner (though they weren’t sure they’d call this sparring since their partner apparently refused to entertain the term) that didn’t make it any more pleasant. So they passed, and turned around like they’d done before, but apparently the teasing had been too much for her to handle, because she came right after them and tore a gash into their ear before they could do much other than bring their muzzle around in her direction.

“All right,” Renard conceded, a half-smile still lingering on their face as they rolled their shoulder. The skin stung where her teeth had split it and actually, the funny thing was, all that conversation they’d had before, maybe Praimfaya had more a valid point about the roaming cannibals than Renard had bothered to take seriously at the time. You learned something new every day.

That was enough for them. They weren’t looking for a fight to the death.

“You’ve got the skill,” they admitted and, keeping one eye on her in case she was not familiar with the concept of a fight ending in something other than a kill, trotted past and down the scree-strewn slope in towards the mountains. “When you learn to take everything a little less seriously, I’ll be around.”