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La la la fail. Backdated to the 5th
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The night was clear and crisp, with maybe a hint of rain in the air. Clouds were rolling in across the sky, obscuring the light of the moon and making strange shadows on the land, where the forest met the open clearing. The cattle were dozing peacefully in their pen and Hel had to admit that perhaps it wasn't as bad an idea as it had seemed initially. She couldn't sleep. Thoughts of her pups plagued her. She had risen softly, buckled her belt (already a bit tight) and gone out, draping her dark blue cloak over her shoulders. She seemed to move silently through the lands, noting Iskata's house and the peace that seemed to radiate everywhere.
She seemed to have something on her mind, not that the dark female could tell herself. She walked slowly towards one of the higher points in the land and sat down, her paw coming to her on her belly. She wondered when she would first feel them move. How they would be born. If Deuce would help. How much she could put off telling the other Council members about her pregnancy and what to do about Connor. Slowly gazing towards their borders, Hel noticed the moving shadow. She jumped to her feet. An intruder? Again?
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Fun stuff, man.
The large male moved quietly through the land, his guide slipping slightly as he thought of what had befallen Soro. What would he do? He was alone now, there was a good chance that he would die facing the warrior who had felled his cousin. Soro was a great warrior, though not a match for Asmodai...and Skoll would be weakened after the battle, he had no doubt. So why was he hesitating now? Why was he not creeping into the lands of Soro's killer to finish the job? He was torn...he loved it here. He had held off on that thought, but it was true. He had lost his closest friends on this errand, and now he might die as well, and all for what?
The secrets of GreyClaw, he reminded himself. The all-important art passed down by GreyMane and protected and utilized by his progeny. It was imperative that what his ancestor had created not be passed out of the hands of their family line...it could spell disaster for their way of life. But what kind of way of life is it that they died for? That I could die for? He wasn't sure anymore...he knew what he wanted to do for himself, but Soro's death...he couldn't just leave that, could he? After that, how could he just walk away?
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Minor powerlay, let me know if it needs changing
Her eyes had not deceived her. Someone was crossing into their lands. She felt like shouting, rousing the others. She glanced to where her belt encircles her waist. There, in her body, there was life. She would have to be more careful, for these were her children, who would pass on her skill. But in her pack, a lone attacker was no match. She cursed her lack of bow and arrow, but at least her blades were with her. She retied her mane back, to keep it from her eyes and started running.
This time there would be no warning, for the intruder had made no warning either. She drew a knife and clutched it tightly, her nose picking up the scent of blood. He, for he was a male, had been with others before, maybe fighting? How could they just assume that no one would guard the borders? How dare they cross claimed territory as if it did not matter? Her body tensed some more and she leapt over a rock, snarling, poised to kill. Or maim. At the very least injure. She hit the ground and lost her momentum for a split second, enough to make her shoulder, not her knife, connect with the stranger.
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Some power-play for me, too.
He heard running. He caught the scent in the air, it was familiar, but there wasn't time to do anything about whoever was rushing him. His honed instincts took over, his eyes sought her out in the dark...a flash of metal! The woman who charged him was fast, but covering the distance she did he had time enough to react, ready to catch the blade. Then something unexpected, she led with her shoulder?
If one thought about it, it made sense, giving him the weaker side of her body meant he couldn't take her blade, meaning that she'd have a free hand. It may have been an accident. Either way, he gave his footing to the charge as the well-built assailant collided with the side he presented her. Her arm came at him, but he caught it at the wrist before pushing it down and bringing his knee up, jarring the wrist and forcing the blade to fall to the ground. He expected to take a hit during this process (even as well-practiced and fast as it was), but switched his footing and answered with three precision blows, hoping to drive his attacker off. In the dark, the knife would be difficult to find, but he couldn't give ground now that his attacker was unarmed, lest she take the knife again.
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I can has powerplay
Bastard. Monster. Attacker. The thoughts rushed through her head, the anger boiling inside her. But she somehow remained cool. This was perhaps the strength of Asgard's children. They knew anger and frustration and madness, indeed there were whispered mentions of uncles gone mad with bloodlust, but Hel was balanced. She was angry that this wolf trepassed on the land and yet remained cool and detached, just waiting to kill. She brought the knife up, expecting to connect with flesh, when something extraordinary happened. He disarmed her. Her eyes widened in the darkness. Her fingers released the blade and she heard a soft thud as it landed in the grass. A horrible thought crossed her mind: he knew how to fight. He really knew.
Fear spread through her mind, her body, and she nearly froze. It was almost like her first serious fight in Europe. The old man (by her reckoning, the fighter was only 5) had disarmed her and pushed her to the ground. She'd flayed and spat and bitten but he remained unmoved. He'd knocked her unconscious. Her blue eyes glinted. She no longer was the puppy of then. Kicking out towards his stomach, she felt the blow connect, though not fully, as she had hoped. The bastard was quick. Hel took a few hasty steps backwards and drew another blade. Adrenaline pumping, she made the reasonable choice of waiting for him to come at her.
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A sharp impact at his belly, partially protected by the developed musculature under the scar tissue, and then the black female backed off. The way she moved was familiar, as was her smell. He heard the unsheathing of another weapon before taking a step back and drawing the two-foot steel blade from his pack, previously concealed and unknown of by anyone in this land.
The two stood in weak light of night, both wielding weapons which were difficult to see in the gloom. His short sword was light and deadly in his hand, poised to strike if she came at him, but she didn't. The moment lasted for a moment, before the identity of the woman came back to mind, and he relaxed mentally, though physically he was still ready for any sudden movement.
"Hel?" he said firmly, acknowledging her identity and hoping she would acknowledge his, knowing his voice if nothing else.
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Lol at Hel
He had weapons too. The thought registered with her and her ears twitched slightly. Not only could he fight, he had a blade. She found it both alluring and somewhat disconcerting. Ever since the wolf on the beach, with his crossbow, she had met no one else who could fight as she did. Granted, she had not met many here, but they seemed to prefer the weapons the shifter virus had bestowed upon them instead of those once used by humans. She sneered at the male, her fangs white, her body ready for it.
And then he spoke. His voice was familiar, so much so that it sent chills down her spine. For the tiniest moment, her breath seemed to be laboured, her own heart beating wildly against her ear drums. Asmodai. Vagabond. He'd hold her he was a vagabond, a traveller. He'd joined their pack, lying to two of his leaders about who and what he was. She didn't know if she ought to feel relief at the thought of it being just Asmodai, anger at his betrayal or elation at having found another warrior. Her tone was ice cold and her blade remained firmly in her grip. Just let him try. Put your weapon down, Asmodai. A command. She was his leader. These were their lands. Hel narrowed her eyes, almost daring him to try something funny.
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Lol at weird and dangerous situation, rather =P
Complying silently, obediently, he returned the sword to its special-made hilt within his pack, the unassuming burlap pouch from which he had produced the healing implements which had helped Iskata after her fight with Gabriel. She sounded angry, but he knew how to disarm her if she came at him again...though he wasn't confident that he would be able to stop her before getting a cut or two, he didn't think she could kill him easily even if he put his weapon away.
"Of course, I don't draw weapons on pack-mates when given the choice. We stumbled upon one another in the dark and jumped to conclusions, that's all." His voice was calm, measured, without the relaxed tone he'd spoken in for his entire stay before this. It was not Asmodai the vagabond, but Asmodai the warrior of GreyClaw, whose entire life had been dedicated to perfecting his combat abilities.
"Will you not put your weapon away also?" There was no challenge or mockery, but it was clear by his manner that they would not be able to talk freely until all blades were put to rest in their sheaths or, in the case of his sword, scabbards.
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She doesn't know whether to strangle him or not XD
Hel watched him put the blade away and breathed softly. The last thing she needed was to fight him. Not only was he a pack member, but they could harm each other seriously. What hurt her was that he had lied to them. Sure, she had as well, but she had not hidden her weapons, which meant that a clever mind could piece it together and simply assume what was the truth: she could wield the weapons she carried. And Asmodai had seen her use a bow and arrow. When he spoke, his tone changed and she nearly flinched. He spoke like Fenrir had, with assurance, with strength, with dignity. He also spoke a load of bullshit as far as she was concerned. That's utter bullshit and you know it, Asmodai. It was no jumping to conclusions. You disarmed me.
She did, however, put the knife back in its sheath, allowing herself a quick glimpse at the ground. No sign of the other blade. She would find it later. Now, she needed answers, not lies, and she needed him to tell her why he was entering the lands in such a furtive manner. Where he'd learned to fight. Whose blood he was coated in. So many questions hung in the tense silence, but Hel allowed herself a moment of respite. There was no reason for asperity. If he answered, that was all she needed. My weapon's within reach. I trust you not to be foolish. Now tell me what you were doing skulking around like that. Hel's tone was level, but there was a glint of malice or anger there. One small thing, that was all she would need to bring him before the Council.
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Don't strangle my poor defenseless character D:
"I would have a knife in my gut if I hadn't," he replied smoothly. "You saw me, and concluded that I was an enemy. I heard you, saw the glint of metal, and assumed you were an enemy. We were wrong." His tone was very cool and controlled. She was upset with him, but he would not give her further reason for anger. This discussion could happen very rationally, and indeed he wanted it to.
"I was coming back home," he answered her next question. "I have had a bad day. A very bad day. My friend, my cousin, is dead. I spent the day burying him, and then mourning. I came back late, and we had this mix up. Does that answer satisfy your curiosity?" It was troubling to have her around. If Iskata had lunged at him with a knife, disarming her could be discarded as a trick he'd learned on his travels. Hel was too well trained for such a deception. She had already expected this of him earlier, he believed, and denying it now would bother her enough that she would put him through further tests later to verify her instincts about him.
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Defenceless? What are you on?
Enemy? What was he talking about? He knew exactly where he was going, that there would be no enemy here. Why are you lying to me, Asmodai? She was his leader, dammit. You knew these were your packlands. I saw you skulking. Why in your right mind would you mistake me for an enemy? And if you don't start telling the truth, I'll rouse Iskata and I'd like to see you explain this to her. Hel's voice was as cold as steel, her eyes glinting menacingly. Never before had she been faced with such a tough decision. She wanted Asmodai in the pack, he was a valued member and knew a few tricks. But he was obviously holding something back. Why?
His next words turned her insides to ice. She looked away. Could this be why he was so secretive? So they would not find out about his pain? Her voice was more subdued now, as if she too suffered alongside him. I am sorry to hear that. Why did he not come here, to join us? And how did he die? Still, it nagged at her. It did not excuse his behaviour. Or his skill. What in the world was all this about? Hel had lied about who she was, yes, so perhaps her attitude bordered on hypocrisy. But at least she had not concealed her skill in weaponry.
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"You say you're a warrior, Hel. Any one who fights knows that someone who is trying to kill you is your enemy, at least until the fight is over. Would you stab your friend, would I draw my weapon on mine? It's completely feasible that you were keeping watch somewhere else and someone who wasn't supposed to be in the packland was, in which case treating the knife-bearing wolf coming down on me as if we were friends would be a fatal mistake." His answer was delivered coolly and deliberately. His argument made sense, and if she reported him to Iskata, he would tell Iskata the exact same thing.
"He was an adventurous spirit," he lied, knowing that even now, in his grief, he could not give up vital information. "I didn't expect to get him to come. Nevertheless, when I found him, he'd been torn up. I don't know how. I expect it was a bear." Another lie, but only one other person had seen the body, other than the killer. Bears killed wolves over food at times, so the story was possible. "He never did know when to back down."
Asmodai's brown eyes looked into hers. He knew she had questions that she wasn't asking, but he would wait for them to be voiced. He wasn't weaving any lies or giving any answers that weren't asked of him. "Is that all?"
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I am not a warrior. The words escaped her before she could properly think it through, but she knew that she had to stick to this. Iskata and Deuce were oblivious to her true nature, they thought she was just a merchant who used knives to protect herself. Only Styx knew the truth and he would never give her away. I am a merchant. The blades are simply for my defence. You know that, Asmodai. Her tone implied that no more would be said on the matter. If he wanted her to drop it, then he'd have to do the same.
What had come to pass of Jormundgand and Fenrir? Had they too been mauled by bears? Had they been killed by others? Fighters. Bandits. Rogue wolves. It would make no difference. She missed them sorely, she realised, not only because they would be uncles, but because they were her kin. They were all, the three of them, strong, resourceful, diligent. They were also very close. I am pained by your news. May the great wolf take his spirit in peace. I hope he died a valiant deat, so the gates of Valhalla open gloriously to him. I hope the monster of Niflheim cannot take him. It was a sequence she remembered from Asgard, a rite, a choice few words to be said. It was something they wished upon all wolves. That they be admitted to Valhalla, that the monster of Niflheim spare them.
She almost wanted to tell him that it was obviously not all. She couldn't bring herself around to say. Yet she tried. Tell me where you learned how to fight. Hel sounded tired. In a way, she was. Trying to hide her emotions, to be something she was still training to be... It stung. It hurt. And only Styx could understand. And even in that, she doubted he could understand everything.
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Hope this doesn't just piss her off more XD
"We speak with more than just our voices," he said quietly. She had never said with words that she was a warrior, but he had suspected her just as she had suspected him, and her movement and her manner made her claim...unlikely, to say the least. If he had known what Valhalla was, he would have been further convinced against her claim. Her last question was suspect, also.
"A merchant doesn't care about such things, Hel. To a merchant, such an answer would be meaningless. A merchant, knowing there was no value to such an answer, would not ask for it. Thus, you have not asked for it, and I can not answer." He let that hang in the air a few moments, letting her jump through the mental hoops of his roundabout lack of an answer, before continuing.
"However, the truth remains plain, that I did learn how to fight. I'm sure you wonder why I keep this detail to myself. It is simple, if you take a moment to consider. As a merchant, it wouldn't be so obvious to you..." there was no mockery in what he said. The message was rather clear that he suspected her of lying back to him, but that he was willing to go along with it, that he didn't need or want for her to go against it. "But when people see a fighter, they see power. When people find power, they have the desire to use it. If it was known that I had dedicated part of my life to this path, no one here would let me take a different one. They would see value in the weapon presented to them, and seek to make use of it. As is the way with all wolves. Even if not corrupt, still they would seek to use me in a manner which I no longer wish to be used." That should suffice for her.
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Last few replies?
Of course she spoke with more than voices! He himself was speaking with his tone, his manner of holding himself. The fact that she was being made to jump through those hopes, the idea of her lying, it made her angrier. She itched with the desire to fight him, she itched with anticipation, the thought of pushing him to the ground and fighting him, scrapes, knives flashing, everything a blur. But she was a merchant, yes, and this was a dangerous time and place to have this discussion.
It does not change the fact that you lied to me. Asmodai, I am a merchant, yes, as you well know. And you fight. Very well. You use weapons. It seems pointless to pretend otherwise. But were you that strong a fighter, morally, you would know how to keep them at bay. Or perhaps I am wrong. I know nothing of fighters. Two could play at this silly game. But mark my words, Asmodai. I am deemed protector of this pack. Next time, I will not put my weapon away. Hel stood there, proud, unafraid. It was a warning. He could take it as he wished.
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"Fair enough," he replied, moving slowly to walk by, while giving her plenty of personal space. If she hadn't dropped her weapon, he knew and she knew that he would have had no choice but to keep his own in hand, and if that happened...well, he doubted that at her age she could match his experience. Nevertheless, it seemed that this meeting would go on without further incident.
"Good night, I will do my best to be back before dark the next time I'm out." It had been a strange discussion, but a well-controlled one, he felt. She couldn't directly call him out without giving away her own lie, and that had created some degree of truce between them, despite her anger at his calm demeanor, and his smooth avoidance of direct answers. Hopefully, this would not become an issue again...he wouldn't be around long enough for it to have long-term ramifications.
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And we're (finally) done with this one
Hel watched him leave, her expression dark and brooding. What was Asmodai hiding? She bent down to search for her blade and by the time she'd managed to find it and get back up again he was nowhere in sight. Sighing, the black warrior started making her way towards the house she and Styx shared. She tried looking for him but to no avail. And truly, if she saw him, what would she do? Hold a pack member at knife point and wait for him to confess? Iskata and Deuce would have her thrown out immediately.
Curling up against Styx's back, Hel tried to think of a reason to justify her doubts and fears. One more her hand strayed to her belly, to the pups. She tried to calm herself down. A misunderstanding. Nothing more. Asmodai was harmless. Yes. With that thought in mind, Hel fell asleep, convinced that she was right in her decision to wait and see what would happen next.
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