Stories are just words without meaning.
#18
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I'm glad! Also, in Norse mythology (viking mythology), Skoll was the wolf who chases the sun across the sky each day. Hati is his brother, who chases the moon, but I figured it would be lame to name my character's brother so obviously. In Norse mythology, Fenrir is the biggest wolf to ever live, father of Skoll and Hati, and was the son of a god and a giantess (his siblings were also monsters who didn't resemble their parents: Jormungand the serpent which got so long that it wrapped around the world and could bit its own tail, and Hel the care-taker of Niflheim (hell) who was half woman and half corpse). Fenrir isn't as nasty as his brother and sister when he's a puppy, so the gods let him stay in Asgard. When he doesn't stop growing and matures into a massive monster wolf, they end up tricking him into being captured, and he stays captured for all eternity until Ragnarok (the apocalypse) where "all bonds are broken" and he as well as many other nasties that the Gods pissed off becomes free. At the big battle of Ragnarok, he fights Odin (the all father...he's basically the Zeus of the Norse pantheon) and eats him...but the awesomeness of killing Odin is offset when he ends up getting killed by Odin's son Vidar who slays him with...a magic shoe. Lame, I know. Thor fights his brother Jormungand, and they kill each other (Thor's hammer owns but he dies of poison later). The whole 'all wolves die and go to join Fenrir's pack' isn't in Norse mythology, I just figured thatg he should have more bearing on the afterlife if he was to be a primary wolf god.

"No," Skoll answered. "From there I decided to become a traveling fighter. I still did not trust packs, I had been betrayed by my family, and felt that, since I was out of the cold already, I may as well live on my own. Still...I wasn't very good at hunting, and so I often teamed up with other wolves, or maybe bands of two or three, and helped in a catch. Pack-lands stretched far there, and many wolves laid claim to catches which we had worked hard to attain. It isn't possible to mark a circle around one's territory, especially when it is so large, and so there was no way for us to know, a lot of the time. I would step in during these periods, and protect my hunting partners." He paused for a time, remembering back to those days.


"One thing I haven't mentioned is the story surrounding HawkWind. He was fierce, yes, but it was also around his time when lycanthropy first made an appearance in that part of the world. His tale is for another time, but I think I can sum it up like this: he was a kind and well-meaning wolf when his rage had not taken him, but when werewolves first made an appearance, his rage was not enough to fight them. He acquired the ability to shift unwittingly, and the next time his rage took him, he killed someone he did not mean to, and fled StoneTree forever. I knew that he would be old, but I decided that I would try to find him. He was a legend in my home pack, and I wondered if he had made an impression anywhere else. I decided that I would find him, or, if he was dead, find the end of his story, which was my favorite growing up." He flashed a slight smile at the memory. How young and innocent he had been, even after the incident at the Creek.


"So, I traveled in that fashion, asking passers-by if they had ever heard of a man named HawkWind. I met one loner who had, and he told me of a figure from his pack's history that fit the description. A wolf who had lost himself to rage, and slaughtered his friends as they tended his wounds. A darker side to the story, no doubt, but the name was correct, and he had killed unintentionally before. I felt that it was a good lead, and followed it. Soon, my reputation as a fighter grew, and I used that to keep my belly full as I traveled, trading stories with anyone I could on the way, always asking about the legendary black wolf, with blazing orange eyes and possessed of a fierceness unknown in any other man. Sometimes I was lucky, and found another lead, for other times I wasn't. Soon I had determined that HawkWind must have gone mad, for no where that his name was remembered was it associated with anything but monstrous violence and senseless destruction. He was rapidly becoming a far different figure than the one I had hoped to find. Nevertheless, I moved on, further and further south." He took a breather here, looking at the ground around where he sat, he grabbed a stick idly, his eyes a little unfocused as he tried to look backward in time.


"Eventually, I was asked for my services in the defense of a small pack named Autumn Wind. They had a nice piece of land, but it wasn't easily defensible. One of their rivals had recently swelled in numbers, as three of its children grew into adults, and they feared an attack, a territorial push. I agreed to help them, and was acquainted with their current guardian, an eight year old named Gronnor. I wasn't impressed with the old wolf, and understood why they had enlisted my help," he chuckled to himself, knowing that the next part of the story would be a little grim, but that there was humor in it.



"Well, their rivals attack. This was a shifted fight, my first. I was almost two years old now, and had the typical cockiness of a youth who has had one too many successes. The entire pack of Autumn Leaf participated, outnumbered eight to twelve, with just their leader, their guardian, and myself having any real hope of evening the odds. I descended into my rage, the one they had wanted me fore, and fought two wolves at once. I didn't see most of what happened in the fight, though I remember passing glimpses of the old wolf fighting in a phenomenally technical and practiced manner which I, being a wolf who employed feral fury in his fighting, did not fully comprehend. Autumn Leaf won the fight. I had killed one wolf, savaged another so badly that he dragged himself off the field with his arms, and was attacking my third when Gronnor came over to pull me away, the fight being over there was no reason to hurt these people any more."


"Well, I turned on him. HawkWind's gift does not allow for conscious thought. I was fighting fully on instinct, and did not recognize friend from foe. I attacked, and he incapacitated me. Easily. When I awoke, I had to cope not only with the fact that I had been so easily dispatched by a wolf who was four times my age, but that I also had fought so dishonorably. I was shamed in every sense, unmanned. When Gronnor approached me later that day, after I'd had time to cool down, I apologized, and told him that I would leave. Turns out I had two choices, given to me by the leader with some input by the old guardian. They could thank me for my help, excuse the attack on their members and I could leave, or I could stay with them, under the promise that I trained under Gronnor to learn to fight properly, in a responsible and controlled manner which limited unnecessary violence and brutality."


"My spirits lifted at the thought of bettering myself, becoming as good a fighter at this man and redeeming my honor. I accepted. Gronnor taught me everything he knew, and is solely responsible for my skill and fighting style today. I owe that man a debt of gratitude that I can never repay. I trained with him for six months before he told me my training was done. I left shortly thereafter, to lead the life of a traveling warrior again."

~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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