Nord-brødrene

Anatoliy Russo · 06-14-2011, 11:53 PM

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500+
OH LOOK IT'S YOUR TABLE.

There had to be more to distract the man from his problems, from his own mind. So he flung himself into his work with wood, with hammer, with nail. In a couple of weeks he had managed to repair his entire house, from the leaking roof to the cracked kitchen table. Most of the wood had been salvaged from nearby houses but he did not know how long any of it would last; he had no tar to coat the roof in, to seal it in fully and he did not know how to make glass windows. There was a big crack in one in his father's former bedroom. He had not really spent much time in either Rurik's or Liliya's rooms, only to clean up and work on the walls. It had been a full spring cleaning but now it was done and the man really wanted more to distract him. And he sought it; a boat.

Rurik had had a boat in Lunenburg, but the man had taken it to go off back to Russia with his woman. So the moor and the dock that had been used was now empty and the younger sailor wanted a boat of his own to fish from in the sea. The sea was his blood and fish were his staple. He had to get a boat if he wanted to feel fully at home. Especially now that land did not feel like anything other than his tomb. The salt was running thin in his veins the longer he spent without a net in his hands and a sail above him. No way would he have a huge boat like the one he had come here on, but he wanted a sail boat to take out not too far off shore. So he went looking.

He spent a couple of days, scouring from the border of Crimson dreams, up the coast through Halifax, and pushing into the Quartz Shoreline to try to find himself a salvageable boat. A few were in good repair but would never stay afloat long enough to reach the beach past Halifax, let alone the dry dock at Lunenburg. Plenty more were death traps and only good for scrap lumber. All the metal ones were rusting on their sides, holes in their hulls. Fewer still were made of metal and even sea-worthy in a dead-calm pond.

It was hard work. Every night, he curled up in a thicket, against some trees, listening to the calm of the ocean. It soothed him to sleep. And every night, he failed to dream of Anann. But his daily thoughts were plagued by her, for there was so much downtime between searching boats and finding a daily meal. And now, he stood over a boat that was probably another dead end. It was on its side on the beach, already a telltale sign that it would be no good. But he never knew. Truly he wanted a boat still locked in storage, but that was hard to fine. He would settle. Anatoliy pressed his hands on the side of the boat, listening intently for any irregular creaks and breaking groans.

by Noelle

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Viking Sigurdr · 06-19-2011, 04:08 PM

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I'm on a boat, in mah flippy floppies ;D Also, tharr be a swear word in hurr! WC: 453.

The giant awoke in a den that was not his own, and his ears immediately caught the steady breathing of the white queen next to him. It had been another night that she called upon him, and he obliged without a word. And, as with every other morning like this one, his large bone-hued form rose as quietly as possible, dressing in his shaggy slacks, and exiting without looking back at his queen's sleeping form. Though several questions plagued the warriors mind, there was only one way to answer them, as he entered his own den and stopped to pick up his weapon and helm.

As the sun rose higher into the sky, King's hulking form silently tread down the mountain. The morning light played off of his muscles, which showed no sign of deteriorating anytime soon. Scents which filled his wide nostrils still indicated that he was along the clan's territory, though it faded the further he drew towards the ocean. It seemed as if the pack expanded each day that passed, though Viking wasn't one too pay much attention to the new or old faces that came and went. For as long as he was a part of the underground clan of wolves, he would fight.

Rock and weeds soon turned into cool grass, but was quickly devoured by warm hand. The giant stopped for a moment, single eye trained on the horizon, where sea and sky were plainly divided. A silent pain gripped at his heart and made his throat tighten, but the same stern facial features remained. If only he knew how to build a dragonship, like the ones his brothers had made and which they sailed upon to get to the lands of 'Souls. But.. the male could never go back, and so the dream died with the waves, lapping back onto the shore. "Steikje," the male muttered in the tongue he knew best, silently cursing his inability to prove to the Warrior Band of their mistake.

Sounds of creaking and shuffling broke Viking's train of thought, and narrowed his single eye as he looked to his right. His line of sight was blocked by some sparse trees, and so curiosity turned the man's mass in the direction of the noise. As he drew closer, brushing past foliage and stepping back onto sand, he saw another figure inspecting a small boat of some sort. His scent made the fur on Viking's neck prickle, though he didn't know where the man was from, it was obvious he was not from around here. The grip on his axe became tighter, then, stomping on the soft ground once to announce his own presence, looking as massive and as threatening as possible.

Anatoliy Russo · 06-21-2011, 10:55 PM

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300+
I DECIDED TO MAKE ONE IN LIKE 10 MINUTESLOOKATIT

Anatoliy crouched in the body of the boat, it's bottom in the air to the side. He picked at the paint chipping on the wood, revealing a light wood beneath. It had a nice grain but as he pulled at a board, it ripped clean off with a loud, rather satisfying crack. Anatoliy stumbled in the sand with a plank of wood in his hand. Inspecting it, he saw the evidence of termites and other insects burrowing into it, creating holes, and weakening the over structure of the wood. With another snap, he broke the plank in half, far too easy and far too fast. Sighing, he tossed it behind him as he looked through the body of the boat for anything that could have been salvageable for use in another boat. Twice more he ripped out boards and snapped them too easily. All he found inside of it was a rusting bucket with more holes in it than a wedge of cheese. It was a dud. Again he sighed, rather disappointed, when he heard the stomp.

Peering over the edge of the wooden boat, the Russo saw a large man standing with a before him. The Russo looked about for more men, especially ones dressed so strangely and yet so familiarly. No one; it was just this man, standing before him with a weapon. Furrowing his brows, Anatoliy saw the dominance in the other man's body; he was tall, rigid, and massive. There was no doubt about that fact. But Anatoliy also knew that from his point of view, it was skewed and there was no telling who was the taller between them. But right now, the Russian did not particularly want to deal with a hostile man. He rubbed at his eyes briefly, rising to his full eight foot two height. He could tell he was a good foot taller than the stranger. "Sorry, I zhought zhat zhis vas no packs land. Am I wrong?" he asked, trying to be collected, even with a stranger holding an axe.

Viking Sigurdr · 07-16-2011, 01:45 PM

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Lookitthis. All late and junk. WC:322

The giant looked on, braids hanging loose around his squared shoulders. King found himself somewhat confused as to what the other male wanted with the boat before him - it was broken, couldn't he see that? The mildew could be smelled even from where the warrior stood, and holes large and small proved its worth on the water. Besides, it was far too puny, and even Viking felt proud of his brethren across the water when they made ships that seemed to fly on the seas.

As the other stood, it didn't occur to the bone washed warrior his own height in comparison. Though the other was visibly a head or so taller, Viking was built sideways, and his arm consciously gripped the handle of his weapon tighter. His hand loosened only slightly as he heard the others' accent - it was strange, but not at all that foreign. The brown male didn't look like any fighter he had ever come across, and so King was sure he was not kin. But that voice..

The giant pale warrior snorted in response towards the stranger. It was true, he was on no claimed lands, and Viking was not on his queen's grounds. It had become all too natural for the male to scare off unwanted trespassers, to the point where he looked threatening even under normal circumstances. Another snort, and then a grunt from his throat, but no words moved from his lips. He hoped it was enough to answer the tall stranger's question. Single eye looked upon the boat that the male now stood next to, boards ripped apart and pieces of wood lying scattered across the ground. The question was silent, and albeit curious the male dared not move forward, nor completely drop his uneasiness of the other. Though he was on lands in which other wolves could roam freely, it was in the warrior's very blood to keep his guard.

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