09-16-2012, 02:42 PM
How had he got here? Did it matter, and if it did what would he do about it? It was one of those rare days where Melancholia held Einarr in its thrall, perhaps it had been the travelling, the exhaustion, or perhaps it was something else unknowable. Einarr shook himself, both mentally and physically, in an attempt to dislodge it. The massive grizzled warrior stood silently in his Secui form his eyes focused beyond the invisible border. He stood some way from the edge of a pack’s territory, still unsure whether to call out, whether here is where he should settle, but he’d been travelling for so long, would he ever be able to travel far enough? Another shake, droplets of blood flying from his mottled grey fur, not his own luckily, but the life force of the offering he had brought, a gift and a proof of his prowess to support his application. The moose was a large one, but despite only being one wolf, simple tactics had helped to bring it down, that and a quick show of force. The fact he had managed to do it and transported it to just beyond the borders of the pack he wished to join hopefully spoke of the sort of wolf he was and what he could help with, within the pack.
He no longer wished to fight, no longer wished to be known for his skill in battle, perhaps here he would just be a good hunter and perhaps his memories would fade. He huffed out a breath in private mirth, he was only three and already he thought like his grandfather, the spirits knew what he would be like in even a year. Finally coming to a decision the hulking male placed the moose down, he was hungry, but he would not touch the meat, the kill was fresh and the liver and heart were intact, another sign of his sincerity. After another glance, he pointed his head to the sky and howled. The sound was eerie and almost multi-tonal, but broken, the voice of a story-teller very out of practice. It was a serviceable enough sound. It announced his presence beyond the borders edge and requested audience.
As the echoes died Einarr lowered his head, his ears twitching to catch the faintest of sounds, his muscles tense, body alert. He was unsure how his request would be taken, and though he had not entered their lands, some packs were aggressive to strangers, and today he was not in the mood for a fight.
He no longer wished to fight, no longer wished to be known for his skill in battle, perhaps here he would just be a good hunter and perhaps his memories would fade. He huffed out a breath in private mirth, he was only three and already he thought like his grandfather, the spirits knew what he would be like in even a year. Finally coming to a decision the hulking male placed the moose down, he was hungry, but he would not touch the meat, the kill was fresh and the liver and heart were intact, another sign of his sincerity. After another glance, he pointed his head to the sky and howled. The sound was eerie and almost multi-tonal, but broken, the voice of a story-teller very out of practice. It was a serviceable enough sound. It announced his presence beyond the borders edge and requested audience.
As the echoes died Einarr lowered his head, his ears twitching to catch the faintest of sounds, his muscles tense, body alert. He was unsure how his request would be taken, and though he had not entered their lands, some packs were aggressive to strangers, and today he was not in the mood for a fight.