The Gods Making

Ragnar had not before seen such a thing before. And such a large formation at that, made of stone and rock, though not as the mountains he had come across time and time before. Having moved out into the Frozen Ground time and time before, he had not yet followed the scar on the earth which the ocean had caused. At least, not had followed this far outward before. To what he found was without name, without words.

He does not draw too closely, but looks upon the aged castle with a curiosity which outmatched anything before. “Asgard?” He thinks to question. He knows of Sindri's faith but lacks many details of it. For him, the Gods of Old were the making of everything and everyone, however, this thing he now saw looked to be the making of another such Gods, one of Sindri's own, perhaps.
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Alduin had been along the outskirts of the town that bordered the castle. Peeing over every other corner and marking the territory as his own of course, but respectfully. Last thing he wants is for him to pee in the wrong thing and have an ear full of an angry spirit.

That task only lasts a while before he made his way back into Banesteppe itself. Moving down the walls and scoping out for any other secret passageways. Which there seemed to be a lot and he’s sure he hasn’t even discovered all of them. But when he passes by one of the knocked out panes of stained glass, he absentmindedly glances out of it. And look at what it is — another wolf. Cream colored by what he can tell so far away.

They desire an appearance with Banesteppe. Go to them cursed one. Go!

The rasping voice of Banesteppe growls out to him. The voice reverberates within his skull and makes his head pound. Causing his auds to lie flat along his skull from the pain as he closes his eyes.

“As you wish.”The cursed one growls back with attitude at the deity he’s connected to be the castle itself — the demon that binds him here.

With that he’d get moving, a deep scowl seated in his face from the castle’s, rather rude, demand. Fog settles heavy over the land and even seeps into the giant double doors of Banesteppe’s entrance, leading into a grand hallway. The World Eater would appear through the fog and pass through the barriers of the doors, stepping heavily onto the bridge.

He halts there, looking at this stranger with dead, emotionless eyes and that scowling face of his. Alduin looks monstrous, all brawn and muscle — intimidating. The full skull of a bear he wears atop his head does not make his intimidation technique seem subtle either. Though internally, he may not be having particularly ill thoughts of the stranger, his usual resting bitch face makes it seem the opposite.

So he watches the stranger, taking his appearance in more now that he can see him better. With cream fur and bright eyes, he blends in with the snow well. But the world eater doesn’t let his staring go on forever before he speaks.

“You’ve made it across the ice. Do you feel a pull to this place or is it just your curiosity?” He rumbles out in that deep baritone that seems too loud for the eerie silence around them.
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To that great creation he does so linger, but it is not a pull which calls him here. In fact, deep within his gut Ragnar holds a feeling that he should not to go near, that the land was not safe for he and not only was it not safe, it was not alone.

Out steps there from the formations open mouth, a creature unlike one he has seen before. Ragnar knows little about dogs nor the mixed blood which they had with full wolves. The only that he had known before were that of the coywolf. So, because of this, Ragnar looks to the half-breed in the same manner which he looked to the castle- curious, confusion and distrust.

The skull he wore atop his head, that of a great beast. And the canine, a greatly large beast himself- large, round and meaty like a bear too but definitely not one. ond ånd — Evil Spirit, the words murmur past creamy lips and out into the cold northern air. He thought such until the creature spoke. Not a spirit at all, but live and in the flesh. Still, the canine reminded him of something akin to a shaman or Seer.

“Is my curiosity alone not enough of a pull?” He questions, a scarred brow left to rise as he side glances around him. He thought maybe he felt the presence of another. Felt the presence of something other here out before these haunted halls. “What is this place?” He then asks the Seer. “What is its making?” No mountain, no cavern...Maybe the one who lived within would have the answers he sought.
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As he appears to the other, he can tell he has a certain type of effect on him. Perhaps not a good one, but he doesn’t not back down. This gathers respect from the World Eater. Those that have fear are weak. At least to him. He sees his lips hardly move, but he cannot hear what is said, so he doesn’t acknowledge it. A whisper in the wind is all it is, only that whisper turns into words. Louder and more known to Alduin’s auds.

Is my curiosity alone not enough of a pull?

Alduin remains silent at his rhetorical question. Watching his brow rise, Alduin takes a second to inspect the rest of his body language with quick eyes before making eye contact once more. He is suspicious, cautious perhaps. Maybe of Alduin or maybe due to his surroundings — most likely both.

He asks two more questions then. Ones that Alduin answers along with the first.

“Could be.”He hums indifferently to the others first. Skipping to the later ones, “Banesteppe — and no one knows.” Comes a vague but truthful reply.

Alduin carries the conversation in another direction. “I am Alduin Deagon-Sandraudiga of the Saints. You are?”He offers his rising packs name, perhaps hoping to get equal information in return, if the other is even a part of one.
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“Banesteppe...” It's given name, likely by he which stood at its gates. What the place was and how it came to be was still something beyond Ragnar Stormborn's recognition. Alas, like dogs, Ragnar had never seen a human either. 100% wolf and 100% wild, too.

He listens to the man's name. A strong one, along one, as Ragnar's own had been before he decided on making headway from the Archer family name and taking a namesake of his own, via his middle given name. “The Saints?” He then questions, a scarred brow lifting as he remained standing in the ice earth of the Frozen Ground. “I wouldn't peg you for a priest.” A small smile lingers there, joking for the man who stood emotionless and as cold as his domain. Ragnar at least had a bit more warm playfulness than this.

“I am Ragnar Stormborn. Across this ice land to the south, you would find my family and I home in Northfall.” He offers equal information. “Has this place been home for you for long, Alduin?” Because apparently in Ragnar's travels, he had been just a bit too east to have missed such a haunted sight.
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The pale man parrots back the strong name of Banesteppe and Alduin feels the hair on his spine prickle and rise. He merely stares back at him, nothing to say as the two continue. Alduin offers his name and his pack and he sees humor rise is the other’s eyes and flit through his tone.

At that, The World Eater huffs a breath through his nose. One of equal humor, but doesn’t expand it anymore beyond simple words. “It’s complicated.”

Only it seems his exchange of information bears fruit and Alduin listens intently as he offers his own title and pack as well. He even offers a location, which Alduin files away for later use, just as he’s sure the other has done to his home. So he nods slowly to acknowledge said information before answering his question.

“Not horribly long, but long enough to have no desire to leave.” Though the option to leave isn’t really consensual, but he doesn’t feel the need to state it aloud.

Just then an idea blooms in his head, ruby red eyes gazing curiously at Ragnar. “Perhaps you know the other packs that live in the area? It does good to know ones surroundings and those who dwell within it.” He continues then, greedy as he asks another question. “Have you had any trouble on your side of the ice that I should be aware of?” Because most likely if they have trouble, it could become Alduin’s trouble too, best to know than not to.
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A bit of a snort as the skulled bear-dog (as that is as close to an explanation as Ragnar could think of his looks) said 'it was complicated and the sun-kissed wolf smirks further, happy at least with what little personality Alduin offered him from beyond his stoic, dark and mysterious cloak which he wore. Shaman, as Ragnar would dub him, all seemed to have complicated minds. A part of them being somewhat lost between worlds and seeing or hearing the images of the Gods. It was a trailing thing to endure and definitely not for everyone. Even the strong bodied were not always the most strong minded. Sindri was far more in touch with her gods then Ragnar had ever been with either he or hers.

“I understand. ”And certainly he did. The moment he saw the mountains he claimed as Northfall, Ragnar knew there wasn't any other place he would rather call his own. It was both in the north, both mountains for elevation and both right along the sea which he had come to quite enjoy. It was the best of both things which he craved for a home for he and his family.

Then, a curiosity strikes the man's features, ruby eyes peering though the large skull over his face. He asks of other packs near, he asks of troublesome ones. Ragnar shrugs, lazily and his lips purse as he takes a few steps nearer and settles down where the snow met the beginnings of the castle's bridge.

“I know of two further east of here, far beyond the Frozen Ground and the Everfrost forest. One I learned of when I first awoken to these lands, Vanderfell Woods Lead by their High Queen, @Ira. And the other, Shiroshika. Both within the mountains.” He pauses only to guage the man's interest. And why not tell him? A good pack, a strong one, would enjoy being so well known. At least he would want such one day for his own.

“There is a stretch of open land between Northfall and the mountain of Cloudrest, these wolves we call ally.” Ragnar might as well make it clear, who the new pack in this castle would be facing against should they prove themselves any more troublesome than Northfall had apparently become. “And foes, directly south of us on the isles, who found it fitting to settle themselves too close for comfort.”
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At Alduin’s previous words a smirk lines the male’s face. Alduin’s bloody eyes gleam with a pinch of mirth at that, but it seems he understands. Just as well as he understands the fact that when you find a place and it sticks with you, you stuck with it. Despite the powerful entity that traps him here, Alduin feels as if he’s become one with the castle. Perhaps that’s just because the very spirit of the castle has become one with him. Who knows.

Regarding Alduin’s inquiry on other surrounding packs, Alduin’s met with a contemplative expression. It seems he might just get what he wants as the other seems easy enough to step forth and become more comfortable. Lowering his haunches to the ground and pursing his lips in thought. That’s good news. That means Alduin will get information and information is knowledge — knowledge is power.

So, the cursed one shifts his weight as he waits patiently for the other to gather his thoughts. First, he speaks of a pack beyond the icy barrier just outside the walls of his castle, further beyond a forest known as the Everfrost. A pack with a Queen, Ira, by the name of Vanderfell. Then another pack called Shiroshika, where Alduin assumes they sit in the same area as the other pack — they both dwell within snowy mountains.

Ragnar pauses, looking at Alduin. Alduin’s interest is peaked. He watches the other with trapped interest, eyes indistinguishable besides that spark of curiosity. As if he’s filing away all of these names and places for later use — as anyone would do when give valuable information.

Next he speaks of two other packs. One near a mountain called Cloudcrest. That sparks a memory. The day he found another soul who had woken up with seemingly no knowledge of these lands — confused and uneducated of her whereabouts. Alduin hadn’t even realized he’d walked onto their land despite the scent that lingered, but he took that risk and thankfully ended up leaving without a fight.

Alduin hums at that, nodding softly. His interest is returned when Ragnar speaks of potential enemies that settled too close to his claim in the isles south of their pack lands. Interesting. It’s never good to have foes that close to home. A war is inevitable.

Considering all the new information Alduin nods. “I see.” He mumbles easily. ”This information is greatly appreciated.” Is all that’s hummed out in thanks, but is tone is definitely not ungrateful, but rather the opposite.

Demonizing eyes flick up to him, a touch of a smile gracing his lips beneath the skull. “I will make use of what you’ve given me. Introduce myself to them, become acquainted.” Then his smirk grows a bit more mischievous. “If you need, and if luck permits, I could attempt to gain information and a following by your enemies in the isles. If you’d have it, I could play spy.”

That is what Alduin likes. Being sent on missions — having a goal. “They don’t know who I am and if they don’t have a problem that I can fix, I could just cause a problem that I could fix.” His tone is low, almost playful as he proposes the idea to his newfound neighbor. “What say you Ragnar of Northfall? Information for information?”

It’s truly the only way to repay the information he’s given. Alduin doesn’t like to owe anyone anything, but Alduin gets something out of a deal such as this too. A fresh alliance, an exchange of information, some fun, and for Ragnar, a deal with the devil and his advocates. Would he accept?
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Calculating, does the other man watch him, eagerly and greedily drinking in the information which Ragnar offers to share from his ventures beyond the coastal mountains he claims his own. Of Vanderfell, of Shiroshika, of Dragonford and Cloudrest... many new packs with many new bloodlines already had formed since Ragnar's settlement here and beyond his time here, too. The lands were free to the taking and take many had.

It would seem already Ragnar's information given would not be met with nothing in return. Tick for tat, as it were, leading to the mischievous smirk played across Alduin's mug as he offered to help with Northfall's little problem.

A hrmmm moves across Ragnar's lips, meeting Alduin's excited gaze with his own. If anything stirred fire within the northerner most, it was a thrilling adventure and a great fight. “I think this could work...” The gold and blonde mused, “There are risks with this, of course...” His scarred brow rises, tempting, toying... “My pack is but my family and I. And yours as far as I am aware, still new too?” He looks left, then right, and lo and behold it was still just but the two of them.

“There may be blood... their may be war...” A large grin there added, shrugging his shoulders. “If your not shy to any of that, then, I'd say we have an accord, Shaman.”
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Alduin can see the man thinking over his offer, muttering a few promising words that make him seem like he’s definitely considering Alduin’s suggestion. This is good, he seems level headed enough to lead, but really Alduin wonders how the two packs got off on the wrong foot at first. Was it simply distance between packlands that they fight over? Perhaps this other pack is over protective — aggressive and greedy with the amount of land they possess. Either way, Alduin seems content to stick around and find out for Ragnar’s next words seem promising.

There are risks with this, of course...

Alduin watches his brows raise, the quirky expression in his eyes too. Then he mentions blood and war, the entity beside him hisses his thoughts into his ear.

Yesss, an opportunity for blood. Bring Banesteppe a life — bring Banesteppe a sacrifice, cursed one.

Alduin’s auds flick back momentarily, but he’s still terribly engaged in the conversation.

There may be blood... their may be war...If your not shy to any of that, then, I'd say we have an accord, Shaman.

Alduin hums low in his throat in satisfaction. He watches the others lips tilt up, eyes flicking down to watch the motion. The cursed one nods then, a ghost of his own satisfied smile playing then, hardly noticeable, but there nonetheless.

“I am not shy to war, but I will be sure to play my part with your enemies softly. I will travel to their lands and speak with them, perhaps gain favor and in exchange, information.” Information that he will replay back to the wolves of this Northfall Ragnar reins from. “Consider it a deal, wolf of Northfall. And when blood befalls you, I will be there to help.
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Could end this here?

---

The bear-wolf gives a pleasured hum and nod and with a smile that suggested he had no doubt in the decision which he had made. Still, big as he were, the half-breed before him was but one man. Maybe, somewhere, there were more. After all, Northfall seemed just as dormant. With just children and their parents on the mountains, there was much ground to be covered out of the pawful of them. Ragnar would not underestimate those here and the founding which they desired, like others had found it fitting to underestimate him.

Ragnar nods softly then, lifting and stretching out and shaking his coat. “Wonderful then!” He exclaims, happy with the newfound alliance and that together the two young groups would hopefully prosper. “We should celebrate then, do you not think?” He looks about the area then. The great castle and the path which led to it had caught the most of his attention, but Ragnar would come to notice then the little formations out to the side and beyond. A small town, lost by the wolf.

“How's about a hunt? I could help you catch something for you and yours.”
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Yes! I’ll close it off here and have them say goodbye if you’re okay with some minor PP. <3

---

Alduin is satisfied with the deal just as it seems Ragnar of Northfall is. But considering the way the pale man gets up from his comfortable sitting position to stretch and shake, he’s ready to take his leave. Everything is sorted out and the beginnings of plans have been made, it’s time for them to part. Alduin will be seeing him again.

Yet, the other surprises him a bit more with his offer of a hunt and a celebration. Alduin is the calm and collected sort — quiet snd mysterious — most others don’t see him in action until he gets thrusted into it. He hardly ever runs too, truly he seems unrushed, always going at his own smooth pace. So a hunt would be a change of pace.

Alduin nods and a huff of breath falls from his nose. “I see no harm in it. A hunt would be well off for both of our packs.” He agrees. “But until next time, I will gather my own and inform them of our new plans and alliance.”

With that, they’d agree, say their goodbyes, and part ways, sure to meet again.
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