Born of the blood of giants and gods.

POSTED: Wed Jan 19, 2011 3:30 pm

Character Name: Viking Sigurdr
Character Birthdate (including year): March 30th, 2008
Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci: LUPERCIIII
Species: 30% arctic wolf and 70% British Columbian wolf
Gender: Every bit of him is a sexy man
A secondary form of contact (AIM, MSN, Y!M). AIM - Roomwifamoose
Currently played characters: Bangle Guffawri, Malachi, and Shiloh Dawnrunner

954 words. BEWARE THE RAWWWRIOR. Also, this post marks the end of my SoSu!

The dry foliage crackled under bone washed feet, adding a haunting reverie against the steep, winding mountains. Bitter cold swept through the land, and its visitor, who never faltered among the frost-laced peaks. The strong steps that the shadow took were ones that would not go back, no matter what force or being pushed them. Thud, thud, thud, the earth reverberated with footsteps, muscles bunching together and slackening in other places on the stranger's form. The body of the wanderer told stories, from every deep scar to every hole gouged from its place, and coming from a place where obedience kept lips shut, the wanderer would simply walk, stained with the blood of those slaughtered. That life would never be spoken about, not from the mouth of the stranger. The life once lived was now dead and gone, like the several that fell to the swing of a mighty axe. An owl called out in the distance, but fell silent as the trembling of the ground began, like a god that was waking from an ancient sleep.

A chill wind chipped through the ashen skies, announcing the new presence among the rocky cliffs. It swept through locks of the incoming shadow's long, dark braided hair, and took in its wake loose snow and dust; invisible fingers spreading the debris among the rest of the world. The colossal figure's heavy footsteps trembled through the earth, as if waking the very core, stirring up an ancient presence between land and sky. This meant everything to the stranger - the gods were with the warrior yet. Strong form was silhouetted in the distance, a silent, looming figure whose life revolved around a single motive. This theme was evident upon the tall figure's shape, in the reflection of the sharp blade at its side, in the powerful steps that were taken to find a determination; a driving need to put this motif to use.

It seemed so long ago that the muscular stranger was cast aside from the Warrior Band. The eye of the moon looked down upon the male and the barren scene around him, making him appear otherworldly, a tall shadow looming near him like a constant reminder. He moved as silently as he could, like the warrior always did, though small pebbles shook inches above their leveled out resting place when he approached. Too long has it been since he saw the faces of whom he once knew, hearing the clanging of hefty axes fill the air, fighting side by side with brothers. Yet the large, bone hued male followed their ways, trained as if the moon itself were watching him. It was what he was born into.. it was all the warrior knew, and ever cared to know.

A torn, pierced hark from atop waves of thick hair pressed forward, hearing the once calm wind now brush up against taller rocks up ahead, which jutted out from odd angles and towards the stars. It made the rocky outcrops howl, like the chorus of many wolves lamenting of days gone by, of the souls being lost into the wind. For a moment the warrior paused in his trek, tilting his large head towards the moonlit night. A single, ruby-golden eye flashed back into the gaze of full white, a stoic and hardened face contrasted against the midnight skies. He narrowed his right eye, then, muzzle angled downwards again, looking straight ahead once more as the warrior continued on his journey.

The hand that griped the worn, leather-wrapped handle of his weapon tightened, almost feeling the pain of where his other eye once was. A black patch was there, now, becoming part of his rugged appearance. It wasn't so much that the hulking warrior had lost a part of him; he had another, after all. But the events that led to the loss of the ruby orb, which eventually led the giant to that evening, climbing the top of the mountain as if to challenge the very gods themselves.

From the distance, one would be able to see a tall shadow of a man, with horns of a prey animal jutting from the head; though the rest of his built body had predator written all over it. The trained warrior ascended the cliff, which rose higher and higher, following the traces of moonlight until there were only shadows, where the outcrop enveloped everything below it. Grunting his way back onto a level terrace, he stood up straight in all his might, letting the wind run its fingers through his long fur. Before him, a set of caverns opened up between the large mouth of two twin peaks, each of them beckoning to him with a howl.

These lands were far unlike anything the warrior male was used to, where colors were vibrant as the blood that coursed through him. Where wolves were not friends, but fellow warriors - brothers in arms. Sword and shield were not just weapons, they were the extension of the arm. Such a proud race was the Warrior Band, their whole lives devoted to protecting themselves, and their king and queen.. the only two a warrior was taught to trust. They ate, slept, and breathed in the lifestyle they were accustomed to, and knew no other. Training was not an option, and failure an unacceptable term. To fail was weakness, shamed under the eyes of the gods. Constantly was a warrior tested, for their physical and mental strength, working in tandem on the bloody battlefield. Even now, as it was temporary weakness that led the scarred shadow here on the cliff, the warrior felt he was being watched.

And there, bathed in partial moonlight and darkness between both god-like peaks, Viking waited.

POSTED: Thu Jan 20, 2011 3:57 am

ooc: :D wc: 517

Light shone down from the orb in the heavens above, casting the lands in a silver glow. It always seemed to be snowing in the mountains of Anathema and this night was no exception; it drifted down in little clumps, collecting on the back of the female as she walked. Breath misted in front of her, coming in even flows; she was in no hurry to get where she was going on this quiet night. The borders weren’t going anywhere.

She walked on two legs on this night, feet making deep imprints in the foot of snow that layered the ground. Naniko had recently claimed more land on the Southern edge of her territory to create a buffer zone between Anathema and the rest of the world, and she’d acquired herself a few new sub-territories in the process. She was on the verge of claiming Dawn’s Breath, if they gained a few more pack members, but had taken all of the foothills.

A light fog was settling over the area, making it a little harder for her to see as she went. A peculiar scent was making its way toward the female, drifting along on the breeze. Her ears went up, jade eyes shooting this way and that, looking for the figure that she could not yet see. She emerged from the mist and turned her head back and forth, searching for the source of the unfamiliar scent. She wasn’t too far from her denning area, so the scent was a concern to her.

Naniko had remembered to bring her weapons belt with her, as thin as it was; all that it housed was three daggers and a small pouch, which was filled with a fishing line and hook, fire-making supplies, and a few emergency packets of her drug of choice. She would be set for the night if she ever got snowed in somewhere. Two of her daggers were poison-tipped, an advantage to the female; she didn’t have a lot of fighting experience, having been a healer in Crimson Dreams in the past, and it made her feel more secure to have those types of daggers along.

The tall female caught sight of the other without much more walking. He was a big one, wasn’t he; her eyes widened in surprise at the size of the male that stood before her, her fur standing on end as she took a step nearer. She wouldn’t have a chance against someone of his size; he was as large as she was, if not bigger. Naniko was one of the largest wolves in her pack, tipping the scales with her height, and she didn’t often meet wolves who could be an even match to her stature.

”You have business here?” She called, still standing a good distance away. Naniko was wary of this wolf because of his size and his odd hat; the twisted horns on it freaked her out a little. Had he killed whatever animal those had come from? She kept her voice steady, though, head high and tail still. ”These lands belong to the Anathema pack.”

Table by Jenny!

POSTED: Thu Jan 20, 2011 7:59 am

642 words.

The warrior of lands far beyond watched and waited, with an expressionless face into the frosty ashen darkness. It was the same expression 'King had on when he occasionally watched the seas, as if expecting the massive dragon ships to come from his homeland. But they never did, and they never would return for him, though the proud warrior held fast to their ways. What else could he do? He was born into it, and all he knew. Now he was on his own, and without a brother to fight alongside or leaders to protect, there was virtually nothing the strong, stoic-faced warrior had to live for.

His red-violet eye watched steadily as an angel, or even a goddess, faded from the mist in the distance - and out emerged a white wolf, standing a ways from the bone furred warrior. This did not surprise the male at all, his appearance seemed to make those in the lands of 'Souls wary. Viking had been here for over a year's time, then, but spent time only near the high mountains and the low valleys, still putting his muscles to use in training. Briefly did the warrior's mind wonder about the chocolate and caramel fighter he met and taught his techniques to, realizing it had been moons since he had seen the lithe shadow approach him in the lush valleys, asking to train with the giant.

But thoughts of her faded with the remaining gust of wind that now stirred between the two shadows, standing feet apart from one another. They were not so far as to have to howl at one another, as the wind did as it sailed through the small caverns in the high cliffs. He watched the phantom colored female's straight shoulders, as she held them level when approaching him. 'King knew only one type of standing this woman had, for a demeanor as strong and as tall to match his own was no comparison. She was the queen, the ruler of the lands that she graced, and which he thundered into like the misplaced beast he was.

Ruby eye peered out from its bone colored socket, staring back with the same intensity that the female before him gave. She was rather tall, and rather big, and looked similar to the warrior's former female leader. She spoke into the wind, and it buried itself deep into his scarred ears, as they moved atop his head in response. Anathema.. it was a strange name for a place. 'King grunted in response, telling the female he understood, and what the warrior did then was nothing uncommon. With a quiet grace that seemed unfitting for the large male, Viking hefted his axe so that it was center to his body, turning the hilt so it kissed the cold ground. Gripping the object just below the worn blade, the giant went down to one knee, braided hair falling in waves across his massive shoulders. His head bowed in respect to this female, already knowing she was the matriarch without her having to say so.

"My queen," he said in a gruff voice, cracked from lack of use. The male's head remained bowed, his free hand on his bent knee on the dirt. Born and raised in a world where the king and queen were dominant, the massive male put himself in a position where he did not feel worthy to be among her presence. It was not his queen, the warrior was not part of the lands he traversed, but the customs were as natural as the blood in his veins (well, almost). Sworn was he, the Guardian of Victory, to protect his leaders, though he did not directly answer the white phantom's question. The male hoped, as he knelt in the dirt and stared hard at the ground, that this would be enough.

POSTED: Thu Jan 20, 2011 4:19 pm

ooc: wc: 240

He reminded her of Fiachra in some ways. The lady had always spoken very politely and used a different sort of language than she was used to, always calling her "my lady" rather than her name. Naniko didn't mind this and was beginning to grow used to the way that the gray scale wolf spoke to her; she had told her once that it was a sign of respect, the ways that she acted and spoke toward Naniko. She hadn't expected to see similar behavior from anyone else, though, and to see it from a complete stranger struck her as odd. She tried to project an image of leadership wherever she went, with her head held high; he must have noticed her posture and decided that she was the leader here.

She didn't know what to say when he knelt down, though. He had referred to her as "my queen", as if she already ruled over him. He was obviously equipped for the warrior rank, if he meant to join and become a member of her pack, and she thought about asking him. But no...his actions were clear with his words. His queen. He did mean to join. "Well...get up, then. We can talk while we walk." Her moments of indecision were over; she now turned from him, long braid swinging, to walk purposefully back into the territory. "Name. Purpose. And anything else you feel like filling me in on."

Table by Jenny!

POSTED: Thu Jan 20, 2011 4:50 pm

404 words.

The muscular warrior kept on examining the cold, hard ground, staring intently as if something would rise from the earth's core any moment. This action of bending to her was not the foreign warrior's way to kiss up to any leader - it was by customs and way of life that brought him to one knee. Ears swiveled atop his helmeted head, when the words of the queen graced them, in a tone that already called for acceptance. The ways of the wolves in these lands were much stranger, much more.. calming - to a warrior who knew nothing but obedience to leaders, and loyalty to the Warrior Band.

And it was those words that made the large male shut his red-violet eye for a moment, as if listening intently to the white queen's words - no, commands. To him they were commands, as much as her voice proved otherwise. Like an obedient pup, his bone tainted mass raised from the ground, standing as quickly upright as he could. Whether the queen before him knew it or not, the Guardian of Victory now had a new goal - to protect her at all costs. No matter what strange ways the wolves of these lands held to, the warrior held onto his own, silent beliefs. Warriors in his homeland were fully expected to obey their leaders, and any doubt otherwise led to intense punishment. Blood and war was life, and life was full of blood and war.

The phantom was already disappearing into the winter mist of the cliffs, and 'King mentally kicked himself for not hurrying behind. Earth trembled under him as the warrior took giant steps to catch up, finally falling behind the queen. She was nearly as tall as he was, though now he stood behind her, eyes slightly downcast, the guardian for a queen whose name he did not know. He did not have to know, he knew his purpose already. Her following words were quick and simple, and the warrior only spoke when asked to. "Viking," he grunted, with an accent that was all but familiar to these lands. The voice was deep and guttural, a perfect match for the off-white colored beast. "Protect.. my queen." His English was broken, though the warrior explained as best as possible. There was no hint of sarcasm or doubt in his words, they were as true and deep as the scars he bore.

POSTED: Thu Jan 20, 2011 6:45 pm

ooc: wc: 477 Slight pp of them walking?

Viking was a quiet fellow, it seemed. Naniko found this concerning, as she was usually the quieter of those who she conversed with and she was unused to having to take lead of the conversation. In this situation it made sense for her to be the one asking all the questions, yes, but he wasn't giving her much feedback to go on. A man of few words. She wondered if it was the language barrier between them; he had an obvious accent, and she wondered about where he had come from and what his natural language was called. She could speak a few languages but hadn't practiced them in over a year...she doubted she could remember much of them.

She didn't have knowledge of what a viking was or of the old human legends of the vikings, and took that as being his name and nothing more. "Naniko." She said in return. "If you're seeking a pack where you can protect a queen, then I don't know if you're in the right place. I need little protecting. The packlands and the lands are what is protected by my warriors. But if you're looking to join up with us...well, if you can use that hunk of metal then I think I could have a use for you." He had called her his queen and had said that he wanted to protect a queen, that it was his purpose. But did that mean that he wanted to live in the pack?

"What do you say?" She didn't know him at all...but that would come with time. He was valuable to her, looking as if he had experienced many battles. He also looked as if he had been wielding that weapon for a long time; he held it and moved it with a lot of familiarity, an extension of himself. Oh, yes, she could find something for him to do in Anathema. She had a few warriors, but she wanted all the protection for the pack and the pups that she could get. Scorpius had already proven that he needed more training, having wandered away from her once before, and having some strong males around could prove useful for that reason as well.

They walked through the woods and over the peaks, crossing through a few heavier drifts and down the mountainside toward the pack's main entrances. Naniko was familiar with the lands and moved easily through the snow, used to clodding her way through snow even deeper than this. The fog was settling and becoming deeper as they moved toward the entrances and they came upon them rather quickly, the rock walls jutting out from the side of the mountain. "The pack lives underground...some wolves aren't comfortable with that, but we try to make it as homey as possible." She explained as they entered into the main meeting room.

Table by Jenny!

POSTED: Fri Jan 21, 2011 4:44 am

495 words. HOW DARE YOU PP VIKING'S MANLY STRIDE! Just kidding. :3

Viking was never one for many words. The bone washed male used to be, but discipline and talking back caused nothing but painful lashings. Blood, sweat, and tears were what kept the warrior's mouth shut nowadays, though he would never really tell anyone. This obedience training was not harsh, by any means, it was the only thing warriors of his kind knew. The few words he spoke directly answered her questions, as 'King was always taught to do, and nothing more. Small talk was something he did not understand, therefore it could not be made.

As the queen before him spoke, the warrior listened intently. Did not need.. protecting? The concept seemed strange to the male, and his thick brows furrowed in curiosity. The large male did not walk beside the white queen, nor did he look up at her - customs were what made these actions possible. One did not look straight into the eye of a leader, it was a challenge. One did not speak unless they were spoken to, at least in the presence of a leader. Ears flickered at the mention of other warriors, and 'King didn't have to question how she knew about his way of life. The stories were in each long scar, in the nicks that were missing from his body, and in the ebony colored patch on his face.

'King grunted and nodded once to her question, red-violet eye glancing down at the axe he wielded. It once belonged to his father, whom he did not grow up to know, forged of the strongest metal. Worn at the edges, it was still sharp and stained with the lives that fell to it. The weapon hardly left his sight, or even his rough hands. He let it swing at his side as the warrior followed the white phantom; though she gave her name, it did not matter to Viking. The giant would use the title that was ingrained in him to use towards any female leader. Snow crunched under them, his steps much more thunderous than the careful steps the female in front of him took.

Their trek stopped as they came to cliffs that rose up higher than most of the neighboring ones, on a lower elevation than where 'King was climbing. The warrior followed without reluctance, muscles tensing up when the queen mentioned a pack of wolves living underground. It was strange to the figure who crossed long seas, and came from an entirely different culture, to see wolves living inside the earth. But he would not voice his thoughts, and just like everything, 'King would come to accept the terms of space. His hulking mass had to crouch a bit with the low ceiling, but he regained his full posture when they entered a very spacious room, the ceiling high and every dirt wall packed tight. Ruby eye absorbed the scene of the place, before glancing back at the female, as if waiting for instructions.

POSTED: Fri Jan 21, 2011 6:38 am

ooc: wc: 192 short post is short!

"You'll have to pick your own spot. Once you've been around for a while and proven that you're not going to run off on me, you can advance up into a rank tier of your choice. I figure that you'll be a warrior here...unless you think Puppysitter would suit you better" She made a small joke to see if he had some kind of a reaction to it. He had indicated that he wanted to stay, and that was good enough for her. Who was she to judge someone for not speaking as much as she wanted them to?

"There is one thing that I'll have to have you do before I accept you into the pack. We have a ritual where we share blood; to become one of us you have to become one of us in blood. It's nothing big...just a small cut. But it will tie us together as members of Anathema. After this you'll always be welcomed here." She pulled her dagger slowly from her belt, showing it to him before making a tiny cut on her finger. "Your turn." She held out her hand, reaching for his.

Table by Jenny!

POSTED: Fri Jan 21, 2011 7:03 am

332 words. Viking: Sit.. on pups? o_o; Whut?

Confusion was evident in the warrior's single eye, unsure what the queen before him meant by 'running off'. Who or why would any wolf run off from their pack? One devoted themselves fully, until they were dead or outcast - which was just as good as the former. Something clicked in the male's mind, which would have indicated sadness if he could put a word to it. Briefly he thought about the Warrior Band, who did consider the elk-horned warrior dead. They did not matter anymore, this place, this queen, did.

What was meant to be a joke from the queen was something 'King found himself deep in thought over. Puppysitter? Brows furrowed again close to the small, dual-sword tattoo on his forehead, trying to analyze what the white queen meant. Did she want him to... sit on.. puppies? The concept was extremely new to the warrior, born in a place where puppies where placed into training as soon as their eyes could open. No inkling of a smile crossed his scarred muzzle. "Yes, my queen." He repeated, vocal chords rumbling in their cage, deep and broken. From this point, the large giant would follow any orders she gave him, whether she knew she was commanding him or not.

Ruby eye gazed upon her face, making sure not to look straight into her own eyes, as she explained the ritual. 'King relaxed slightly, shoulders sloping down at a gentle angle. At least these lands had blood bonds, something the warrior was familiar with. A bond of this kind could not be broken, and - at least in his violent world - to break it meant death. With a slightly more relaxed expression, Viking watched as the blade she drew sliced across her finger, drawing the red life fluid from the wound. The moment she addressed the titan, he stuck his free hand out towards her without hesitation, palm upwards. They were calloused and worn, showing how often they were put to use.

POSTED: Fri Jan 21, 2011 7:41 am

ooc: PP on her grabbing his hand :o and making the cutsies. wc: 212 Welcome!

Viking wasn't a bad looking wolf, in her opinion. He looked like he could really instill some fear into enemies if he wanted to, but he'd been nothing but polite and quiet during their conversation. She wondered if she would ever get to see the pure warrior side of him...or if she even wanted to. He would look pretty scary. He had an eyepatch, which she found odd (she hadn't seen many wolves with them), and wondered what had happened to the eye beneath that one. How had it been damaged? Was it completely gone? She wanted to ask these, but didn't feel that she would get much of an answer.

She received a similar answer to what he had given her before and grabbed hold of his hand impatiently. The Angela then made a small cut on it and pressed their two appendages together, holding them there for a few moments. "There. That was easy enough. Now..pick where you want to live, I suppose." She pointed to the hallway where the rest of the pack slept. It was slightly dangerous to have accepted a newcomer into the pack and to have allowed them access so quickly, perhaps, but something about the gentle giant made her trust in him. "Welcome to Anathema."

Table by Jenny!

POSTED: Fri Jan 21, 2011 7:42 am

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POSTED: Fri Jan 21, 2011 3:55 pm

Awkward ending is.. awkward?

For a moment he noticed the queen's gaze upon him, and 'King quickly averted his eye. The warrior wasn't sure why she looked at him, as if judging his hardened face and scarred form in the dim light of the tunnels. What was there to look at? What more did she need to know? The bone hued male took to focusing on the floor briefly, as the leader before him scanned his brutal looking face.

Small scars adorned the backs of his ears, focusing on the quarter-sized hole that was torn from the top right one. Below that, an ankle bone of an elk was pierced through the skin, somewhat loose but clinging tightly to its host. The patch that wrapped around his stoic face was worn down, something 'King had found on the ship he sailed on to these lands. Twin marks stretched parallel on his muzzle, coming down to lips that could not attempt a simple smile. If he so tried, large ivory fangs would be bared instead, into more of a sneer of sorts. What had to have been the most impressive, though, was the deep scar at the base of his neck, running down towards the left side of his sturdy chest. The scar that started it all, the one that forced him to walk on two legs, to wield a weapon.. to become a true warrior.

The warrior allowed for the queen to grab at his hand, almost too swiftly, and 'King shut his single eye when their blood mingled, forming a close bond that the warrior did understand in these lands. As soon as it happened, it was over, and his hand with the small cut dropped to his side, droplets slowly forming and falling onto the earth. Opening his ruby orb, the giant followed the gaze of his queen's hand towards an adornment of hallways and passages - indicating that rooms were dug into the hard packed walls. Viking nodded slowly, and once, his eye expressing more of a gratitude and willingness to serve more than his still lips could form. "As wish, my queen," his accent evident, the viking bowed his head to her, braided locks falling to the front of his shoulders as he did so. And with that, 'King tread through the underground, grabbing the nearest dark, empty room he could find.

And the Verto giant slept in the earth, in a deep slumber that could have easily matched an ancient god's - yet to awaken with a silent power.

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