+5. Set in the Kitchen Room inside the caves :3

The bone hued giant watched as things changed around him from day to day. And the longer he watched, the stranger he thought the wolves in this land were.

First of many strange events, in Viking's eye, were the mateship ceremonies. They did not exist in his Band, for love always got in the way of their mission - to protect and serve. Still, the giant warrior was there, at the ceremonies, if only for the queen. King felt it was his duty to keep watch among the pack celebration, but his large form was far away from the large scene that others may not have noticed him. Viking preferred it that way, and the strange ceremonies the underground pack held only reassured him that he liked the company of himself most of the time.

Then the King had disappeared, but the long-braided male did not question this. The black shadow was sure to have his own reasons, and he slipped away one day without so much as a word. Leading alone, the white queen was gone early mornings and back late in the evenings. Inwardly, Viking felt he was losing sparring partners that belonged to the pack, and briefly remembered the display of strength that was interchanged between him and that tall Anatoliy fellow. The giant was beginning to believe that he would have to keep venturing away from the pack if he ever hoped to find a brother in arms.

Thundering within the caves could be heard as the off-white colored jagerfly exited his den, axe in hand as often seen, like a child that held their blanket. As heavy as his footsteps were, it could not match the terrible rumbling in his stomach that indicated his hunger. Entering the common room, he paused as his single ruby eye roved towards the den that the white queen resided. He watched as a few different wolves moved in and out of the female's den for the past few nights, as she had just given birth to the new princes and princesses that Viking already had a duty to protect. They would be future leaders, after all, and King had yet to lay his eye on any one of them. He did not go near the den nor think of asking permission to enter to see how the queen was doing - he was sure she was being taken care of. Until she called upon him herself, Viking would keep his quiet, yet watchful distance.

His direction turned to the kitchens, where a fire had been kept blazing though no one was present within. The flames glowed along his square, bone hued form as he made his way around and to the liquor storage. Things crashed within as he managed to squeeze his way in, and rummage through the various multicolored bottles of all different shapes and lengths. His stomach roared again, but was not yet in the mood to walk across the lands and hunt something down. A large hand wrapped around a long, dark blue bottle which Viking knew well, and instantly he ripped off the top and brought it to his scarred face. In the dark of the storage, he licked his lips, before entering back into the large kitchen and taking a seat upon a circular wooden stool, obviously far too small for someone of his stature.

+3. Caprica has the fishy! Also, this was quickly written because I'm at work.

It seemed a little too quiet, not that the giant minded, in the caves. He was beginning to think he had slept in longer than usual. It was often the case within the dark underground, with no natural light streaming in to tell the time of day. In King's mind, the day was a waste if it were not spent training. Again the large warrior put the bottle to his lips, and then slammed it down on the table before him. His axe was at his feet, never too far away from the scarred beast.

Single eye moved to see another approaching, a dark female whose face he could not see with the tray that wobbled before her. His gaze turned when she set it down in front of the large fire pit that was burning in the center of the room. The giant would have gotten up to move, though the voluptuous female was in the way, blocking his way back towards the common room and beyond. So, with inner turmoil, he remained there, staring intently at the wooden table just inches away from his face.

Muscles moved together as his arm made to lift the bottle again, when he noticed the hourglass-shaped female approaching him. She extended a hand out to him, which the foreign male still thought strange when other wolves introduced each other, and gave her name. His expression was stoic, but it was none different than a relaxed face, briefly studying the woman up and down without looking back into her face. The roughed-up Marbas finally brought the blue bottle to his lips again, smelling the faint sweet air of something cooking. "Viking." The male grunted in a heavy accent, refusing to look back at the other. All the while he kept avoiding her eyes, for years of tradition and scarring had taught him to do so.