Mountains

Compendium Entry North: Himalayan
Central: Appalachian
South: Rockies

A mysterious set of mountain ranges sprawls across the the terrain, curiously flowing from one extreme to the next. In the south, temperate zones are split with canyons and cliffs. The central terrain is comprised of low mountains that appear blue in the distance. Toward the north are intense peaks taller than any have ever gone before. Many of the mountains and ranges are dotted with old bridges and mysterious ancient structures.

AW
i started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was


Early Morning Rain
#1
AW
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any welcome ♡


wildling thing of frost-fables and naught else;
the sapling that creaks beneath his unending growth an anchor in this timid summersun's deluge.

perhaps those blind fates three had been the same that had sung them into this new world, for new it would always remain to the eyes of the lad so near-like to his father. eyes that shut in a slow, practiced cleave of respite sought and now savored. how long had it been since they had first awoken, all of them so easily found by the heather-queen the same way an egg-hunter might chance upon a spring nest?

and how glad he had been that she had not fallen upon them all. his sisters, fierce that they were — his father, even, the very cynosure of which that ferocity sprung.

perhaps that was all that mattered. they had come to these sea-spires, after all; and the song of the nonír was the song of this crux and the blood-rush of the vale-water and the marrow of the green. and so, as the young are so often wont to do, he trusts in the hallelujah of god-writ that might have very well abandoned them here.

and perhaps still fate could be woven even into, through, and beyond the veils of this world, and what-ever had been. even if their gods cannot follow. even if they had been so uplifted, so eroded. they are here, within this spine by the sea. even as if he must act as such an undisturbed mountain as to let his dear sisters flourish in the foothills and upon the cliffs of him; to tangle in the crevices of his stoneheart, keep him fast to the bowels of this very earth. ground him; remind him.

little did asgeir feel yet the worldweight on his shoulders;
but a boy's brooding is never done, really.

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#2
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 This was to be his new home and he was quite happy with it. It was near enough to the coast that he could have a fish whenever he liked --it wasn't uncommon for sick or dead ones to be washed up on shore-- and he could have meat from the budding pack. What's more, he felt like the king of the roost with how the wolves here seemed to revere ravens. With that much of an ego boost he was not likely to leave, even if he was the only raven around. No, he was quite happy to find a hollow to live and settle down with the wolves for as long as he was able.

 That's what today was all about. Despite the rain that fell, he was out and about searching for a proper place to build a nest. Then he could commence with collecting all sorts of shinies. Living out on his own without a nest hadn't allowed him to build up a storage of such things but he would rectify that today! He glided through the trees, looking this way and that while he had an assortment of sticks, moss, and fur clasped in his talons. It was easy enough to find loose strands of fur when one lived around wolves like he did.

 As he soared through the trees, he managed to locate who he thought was Ragnar. Since the man was very high up on his like list, he was going to pop by and say hello. However, when he drifted lower to perch, he realized that that was not Ragnar. It was a small version of the man. The bird let out a surprised caw and drifted further past the pup and landed on the ground with one eye narrowed in scrutiny. "You look like Little Ragnar." The raven asked unabashedly, head tilting to the side as he looked the young boy up and down. "You one of his hatchlings? Krak Krak!" He remembered speaking to the king wolf and talking about the man's brood. This must be one of them.

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"Speaking in Common Tongue"
"Язеьнсхж сх Иьэех ШдхжкебФсиа Шдхжке!"
#3
Discovery
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His  new home was already beautiful to him. Ragnar did not yet know it to be the same for his children or not. He hoped so, of course. The wolf now took the time and endless effort to solidify his home by marking and encouraged his brethern to do the same. For his flying partner, @Krakarak, to keep eye for those who wonder here either with good or ill intention, or neither. His feathered friend could not yet sing triumph of their land and its name yet, but in time that would come.

Ragnar had yet to explore much of the towering mountains and its secrets. Marking the borders of the foothills below in the forest was most important now. He strode through the towering ever green, the forest shrouded. Streaks of light coming from the heavens in patches onto the ground. Ahead, he sees his son and soon the raven who sweeps down to him now to investigate.

Ragnar woofs to them, happy to pad up to them at a quicker pace to enjoy some conversation.
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#4
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you look like little ragnar —

"i am,"  the boy answered to both as something shy and tentative warmed the skin beneath honey-furred features, with all the lowness that became him; yet devoid of the loftiness that some would expect from such a son as himself. it was true, notwithstanding his uncharacteristic bashfulness: he was stormborn, the only other male in their cadre of females, as far as he knew.

he was grateful for the gentle rains of this early morn, and for the way they soothed the sudden flush beneath the coat of him. it wasn't often that he chose to mingle, really; there was so much that he wished to say, that he would think up and dream about, but never really get around to saying them. so silent he usually remained.

unless his father was about, of course.

which he was, now; and as much as asgeir would like to display the portrait of discipline, of stoic, still regard ... he was a lad who loved most the one that rose all great and golden toward them, like some errant sun whose shine was muted by the misty light of dawn. nevermind that, though; he went to ragnar at a uniform trot that soon deteriorated into a boy's half-lope, and it wasn't long until, in a spot of affection, he snuffled at the fine fur of his father's heavy legs; bumped his muzzle against that powerful shoulder with little norse noises of devotion.

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#5
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 "I am." Ah ha, so there was his answer. The pup looked quite shy to be under such scrutiny but Krakarak either didn't notice or didn't care as he hopped closer. Then, he hopped this way and that, looking at the young man as if inspecting him for something. After a moment the bird would step back and nod, as if satisfied. Before speaking though, he gave himself a shake, scattering rain droplets and puffing out his fur. Damn rain.

 "Ya. You Little Ragnar. Krak! You have large wings to fill." He wondered if this pup would take over the pack one day and if he would grow out of his bashfulness. "Big Ragnar. He good wolf! Krakaw!" And speak of the devil! The raven's beady eyes would lock onto the larger creamy wolf as he walked onto the scene. There was the one he was looking for before. He let out a croak of greeting as he flapped his wings so that he could pull up off the ground. Then, he would fly over to the adult wolf's shoulders and alight there. He looked quite satisfied with himself as he perched there.

 "What you up to? Krak Krak!" He asked aloud to both of the wolves. Big and small.

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"Speaking in Common Tongue"
"Язеьнсхж сх Иьэех ШдхжкебФсиа Шдхжке!"
#6
Discovery
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The son of Ragnar stands before the raven, the only son of Ragnar and Frigg. As far as Ragnar knew now, his only son at all, as Sindri still remained gone from them after her sole pup which had not woken with them in this new land. As Ragnar looks around the lush forestry now, he breaths deep and with it, a heavy sigh. There was surely meaning for what happened to Sindri's Whelp, but what, he did not know.

So Ragnar turns back to his son, a smile on his lips. A great large boy he already was for his age and he knew there to be strength in his body where strength was plentiful in heart and mind of his sisters. Krakarak assessed him, seemingly satisfied, too.

“My son...” The words come with a chuckle as the boy greets him and Ragnar lifts a foreleg to toss it over his pup's nape to pull him closer. A paw which then settles as the large black raven flies to them, taking perch along Ragnar's withers. Ragnar beams, another bellow of laughter as he nudges his son's shoulder and takes a few small steps, testing the waters of Krakarak keeping upright as he walked.

“Just getting to know our new home. Starting around the foothills in this forest before moving inward. There is much to see and much to learn- the forest, the mountain, the beaches..” He passes his pale blues from his son and then up with a tilt of his crown to his feathered friend upon him.
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