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Okay, I'm thinking either I can reply with Skoll next, or Lubomir can reply next?
He had thought on what had happened nonstop since finding Soro as a bloody heap in the grass. He had almost killed someone just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Once his initial surge of emotions was gone, deciding what to do had been much harder, as he had predicted it would. He wanted to avenge his cousin, but to do that he would have to abandon any hope of living here, a hope which had only just been born with Soro's death. He wanted to be righteously angry on Soro's behalf, but he couldn't be. He understood completely why Soro had been killed, and knew that the wolf who'd done it had every right. He hadn't liked his cousin's plan, but had gone forward with it. Soro had needed to redeem himself, needed to play a vital role in the acquisition of their target. He had paid for that indulgence, it seemed.
The near-eight foot werewolf stopped at the border of Shadowed Sun, and waited. He had washed himself in the river, the smell of Phoenix Valley long gone from his fur, and was now drying, his hair still standing in spikes at places. The pack at his back was ready with the pommel of his sword and the handle of his knife readied for easy access in the eventuality of a surprise attack. Soon, he would be speaking with Skoll, and that wolf might not like what Asmodai had to tell him. There was a lot of explaining that needed to be done, and it was possible that Skoll would not wait for the whole of it, or want to delay their battle as he did.
Silently, he waited at the border. He wanted to keep it quiet...he didn't need the leaders, he didn't need extra wolves complicating the situation. He needed to speak with one wolf only, and then he would leave on his own, provided he was permitted to do so. The blood of his cousin was no longer under his claws, he had washed thoroughly before coming here, but he could almost still smell it...this stupid mission, it had never been worth it.
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Skoll saw the newcomer long before he smelled him, the winds not being favorable and his high vantage point providing an excellent field of view. Descending the hill in his usual attire, human pack on his right hip and shield on his left, a tall werewolf descending the slope of Halcyon Mountain to meet potential joiners or visitors. Whoever this was, they had arrived shifted, which was generally not a thoughtful gesture, considering that it often made the person more dangerous. Not exactly a show of courteous submission to the new authority they sought to impose onto themselves.
As he arrived, he slowed to a halt. This male was big...as big as him. Not too surprising, he guessed, Phoenix had been far larger. He had an artificial bag hanging from his shoulders, and extensive scarring on his belly, probably from werewolf claws. Skoll made no effort to hide his scrutiny, it was his job after all to size up this individual. "Greetings," he said, his amber eyes finally meeting the gray wolf's brown ones. "This is Shadowed Sun. I am Skoll."
"Good." The reply was definitely threatening in its decisive certainty, a testament to this wolf's resolve, or perhaps his purpose. His eyes stared directly back into Skoll's. This is no joiner...
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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"Good," he said, his muscles loose, ready for a quick escape or engagement if the need arose. As he'd suspected upon first sighting him, this was Skoll, his quarry, the killer of Soro. An inch or two taller than himself, missing an ear, his body severely scarred by a life of trial and error, of being a warrior without a partner, without someone watching his back. He supposed this might be the fate of GreyClaw's warriors if they acted alone, and weren't dispatched in groups. Fighting for your life frequently, knowing there wouldn't be anyone behind you to step in if the situation got out of hand.
"You are the one known as Skoll Axehand. I am Asmodai. You killed my cousin. I came to explain why you had to, and where that leaves us now." He could lie about it, tell Skoll some story, he could still walk away from this...but now, he had the internal discipline to keep his thoughts straight and follow through with this. Besides, the bronze wolf deserved the truth, and he didn't want to make up a lie which would shame Soro...at least not any more than he had already shamed himself.
He stayed where he stood, his gaze unflinching at the scarred visage before him. Would he be able to kill this man? They were about the same size, and some of those wounds probably still bothered him, enough so that there might be some unseen weaknesses somewhere within that formidable frame. The golden wolf had reach on him, more so than his slight increase in height might suggest...his arms were long. More important than any of that was the knowledge guiding his movements...the intense training, the years of practice. He was rumored to be possessed of a harsh discipline, a personal drive rivaling all others, a self-control and dedication that bordered on the unhealthy. It wouldn't be easy, when the time for their fight finally came.
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More replyage!
Skoll's eyes narrowed fractionally, and his body tensed. His blood would have run cold, had the possibility not been lingering in the back of his mind. He had expected to hear back from somebody about that incident, and it appeared as if the kidnapper's partner had come by to answer for his actions. Skoll's right hand moved a few millimeters closer to the axe-handle jutting from his pack. The two could explode into action at any moment, but the stranger remained motionless, his cold, emotionless eyes staring back into Skoll's own.
"Is that so?" he replied dangerously, to which the stranger only nodded. His hand stopped a few inches away from the axe, and Skoll's posture turned, his weapon pack facing slightly away from the stranger. This wasn't a good situation. He had just healed from his battle with SteelRose. As if emerging from that very memory, the smell of Lubomir entered the air. No... a voice in his head whispered. He didn't want to be looking after anyone for this. Lubomir was a valiant soul, but if this got ugly again, Skoll couldn't ensure that he could keep both himself and his packmate alive.
"You see, he was on a mission to kill you. A mission assigned to him by a group called GreyClaw." The straightforwardness of the information caught him off-guard, the sheer frankness of the confession was startling. Nevertheless, this stranger exhibited no sign of outward aggression or feeling, not a twitch or a raised hackle...he was completely composed.
"GreyClaw?" he returned, making it evident in his tone that he had never heard of such a place.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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I assume that at this point, Lubomir is listening in, kay?
"You see, he was on a mission to kill you. A mission assigned to him by a group called GreyClaw." The words came from him as if rehearsed. His tone was official and under control. He wanted to keep this situation under control. What he had come here to do required the utmost self-restraint, by both parties, and a symbolic understanding from both ends, which he wasn't at all certain would be possible.
"GreyClaw?" the bronze wolf intoned, clearly wanting an elaboration.
"It is a group of wolves, an organization comprised of twelve packs, all answerable to the leader of the GreyClaw community. Each pack is led by an alpha, but as every pack emerged from the original pack called GreyClaw, they are beholden to a single leader. This society produces elite, professional warriors en masse. Every pup is given the choice to take the path of the warrior, and if they choose to take this path at one year of age, they receive the full benefits of GreyClaw's exquisite combat training. These warriors are then put to use expanding GreyClaw's sphere of influence, solidifying alliances with neighboring groups, destroying hostile groups, or even winning wealth for the packs by being hired out." The explanation poured from him, but his voice maintained its authority, its control. This was no accident, but preliminary information for a hard truth that was about to be shoved into this older wolf's face. Asmodai wasn't certain how he would take it.
"And this GreyClaw group wants to kill me. Why?" The scarred-wolf's words were clipped and to the point, meant to solicit answers, nothing more.
"Because you have something of theirs, which they don't want you, or anyone else, to have," he answered. "An old member of their group, a man named Gronnor, gave it to you. The fighting style you employ was the legacy of GreyClaw, and it was not meant to be shared or extended to outsiders."
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"Because you have something of theirs, which they don't want you, or anyone else, to have," he answered. "An old member of their group, a man named Gronnor, gave it to you. The fighting style you employ was the legacy of GreyClaw, and it was not meant to be shared or extended to outsiders."
His eyes widened. That was one piece of news that would never have seen coming. Gronnor...his teacher, his mentor, the man who had been a father to him for what was, in retrospect, such a short time. Skoll had never learned where that old man's prowess had come from, never been able to determine where such skill may have emerged, though he had concluded a long time ago that more than simple experience had been needed for that devastating result, perhaps personal genius or an ancient art recovered from some long lost tomb. Now he knew. Gronnor had been taught the same way Skoll had, in youth, in preparation for a life of battle. It made more sense than the romantic ideas he'd cooked up. But if this group wanted him dead, then...
"Then Gronnor...!" The cold figure waited a moment, just looking at him, then nodded slightly, not letting his eyes leave the bronze wolf. "You! You killed him!?" he felt his hackles raise as his muscles tensed, ready to set upon this wolf immediately, but was deterred by an upraised hand and slight shake of the head.
"I did not kill him. My teacher did. One against one. He was given the offer to return home; his two students were offered a place in GreyClaw, also. The students refused, so Gronnor refused also." The gray wolf's right hand had swung behind to his backpack, ready to draw some sort of weapon, Skoll surmised, if he took another step closer. The words had been enough to stay him, though that didn't mean rage for this wolf did not still burn.
"So he died for his honor?" The other warrior nodded his head. "But your group killed the students as well?" Another nod. "All because they wouldn't abandon their homes to join you?" There was no answer forthcoming, but there was quiet affirmation in the stranger's brown eyes.
"You see, the way I was brought up, if you kill someone who can't defend themselves, and have done nothing wrong, it's called murder." His words were thick with righteous disdain and hatred. He had considered going back to visit Autumn Leaf someday, but now that would never happen. He would never see that old man again. Asmodai was unfazed by his words. Those brown eyes didn't move from Skoll's, and he betrayed no emotion at the observation.
"It wasn't their doing, it was their teacher's. He could have foreseen the reaction of his people at such a betrayal. A betrayal that started with you. Nevertheless, we were willing to give everyone a place among us, provided they were willing to let our secrets stay within our organization. Because they were not, they were killed."
"It seems a lot of trouble to go through just to ensure that your skills don't do anyone else any good. If your group is so big, why would you fear an old man and his students?" Why would you kill them? Retribution for a symbolic crime, only? There was a pause after that question, a twinge, for the briefest moment, a haunted look entered those cold, dark eyes.
"It wasn't the first generation of students we were afraid of, Skoll Axehand." He took another step back before drawing a knife, a knife that Skoll recognized as the companion of the one he had taken from Soro's body. Skoll drew his own knife, for protection...and then realized. No.
A long pause entered their conversation, a period of silence through which nothing would break. Skoll could smell Lubomir nearby, he was probably looking in even now, but he couldn't compose himself. His face fell at the final realization...he knew where those knives had come from.
"Art...you monsters killed Art!" He wanted to be angry, he wanted to be furious, to draw his axe and cut this man to pieces, but he couldn't. A heavy weight, from ages past, seem to be dragging at his heart, and he could not make himself move.
"Yes. And his protege. It isn't the present that drives this, Skoll. We never feared Gronnor and the four wolves to whom he passed his knowledge. We feared the future that they might create. A rival for even ourselves...for the future well-being and preeminence of GreyClaw, we could not permit a large population of fighters using our stolen secrets." Guilt-ridden thoughts flashed like lightning through Skoll's mind. He had ruined Art's life when he led him away from his pack and taught him the way of the warrior, only to see him driven to the brink of insanity under the torture of a sick enemy. Now, his interference had ended that wolf's life, as well. Another period of silence followed Asmodai's words...
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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Hey AG. You can answer this with Lubomir appearing after the exchange, or if you're busy/having a hard time, I can end it here under the presumption that Lubomir did hear everything, and discussed with Skoll afterward?
"Yes. And his protege. It isn't the present that drives this, Skoll. We never feared Gronnor and the four wolves to whom he passed his knowledge. We feared the future that they might create. A rival for even ourselves...for the future well-being and preeminence of GreyClaw, we could not permit a large population of fighters using our stolen secrets." The words came out flat and deliberate. He sensed that the warrior had been leveled by the knowledge of his fallen teacher and student, but he wouldn't be frozen in place for much longer. If he attacked now, it would snap the other warrior out of this state immediately. If he did nothing, a cold anger would likely burgeon within the other, and a battle would take place on the border of Shadowed Sun. Now was the time to make his offer, before the gears in Skoll's mind finally worked him through his own disbelief and came to the conclusion that...
"I have to kill you," came that somber voice, strained and tortured, not at all what he'd expected. His own answer was clear.
"Of course. Just as I have to kill you. That is what I came here for. To issue a challenge."
"Challenge accepted." Skoll stepped forward, but Asmodai stepped back.
"Hear me out. I came to issue a challenge, hoping to give you time to prepare. To compensate for the disgraceful behavior of my cousin, I would ensure that this is resolved in an honorable way. I wouldn't have you accept immediately, as if I came here and simply attacked you on your own land. You may have loved ones you want to see before then, just in case. Perhaps unfinished business with other people that you need to address. Soro told me you were with a woman, delaying the battle would give you time with her." Silence in answer. The bronze wolf's face was unreadable.
"I don't pretend to know what is of value to you, only that I wish to make amends for what has already happened between us." A snort in reply.
"You were supposed to be there to help him kill me. You were a part of the plan to lure me out using an innocent bystander, and use her to kill me. Do you know what that could have done to her? Seeing me die...would you have even let her out at the end, seeing as how she would no doubt tell someone of your presence? I find it hard to believe that someone who could play a part in that has any concern for honor." Asmodai's face was emotionless at this accusation. He knew it to be true, and it hurt to hear the words, though he could not fight them. That same haunted look from before...
"My cousin...understood his own sort of honor. He made a grievous mistake, and two of our companions were killed by a pack called the Snow-Capped Pine. Our numbers cut in half, he wanted to ensure the success of our mission at the lowest risk possible. He needed to retake his honor, to compensate his failure with flawless success. In GreyClaw, such a tactic would not be frowned upon. In Orion's Star, the pack my teacher and I are from, it would be. I allowed it, because I knew he had to reclaim his honor. For my indulgence, he has died disgraced." His composure had returned to perfection while he spoke those words, but he felt an extreme drain on his spirit. This topic was difficult to discuss with Soro's killer.
"I will not underestimate you. Even if I am superior in ability to my younger cousin, I recognize the possibility that you will kill me. That is why it is important that I challenge you in this fashion. I would not die disgraced, if redemption is still within reach." Silence. The other warrior had not let his guard down with all these admissions, and his eyes still related a sense of wary enmity. Asmodai didn't care. If he was to decide, there would be no fighting today.
"When?" Short, dangerous.
"In ten days' time. The territory south and west of Shadowed Sun. Follow the shoreline, and you will find me eventually." The gold-furred wolf stood in silence, engaged in some struggle with a darkness inside him, before offering the slightest nod of his head. Asmodai nodded in return, turned around, and walked away.
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