That's my son: Craphole, the Baby-Killer

for @Sindri

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The cold stones clicked underneath her claws as she walked across the bridge. A slight shiver went through her. Her raven fur raised against the wind, bracing against the autumn wind.

She sat at the foot of the bridge, a mirror image of her arrival at the dark castle. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, seemingly at nothing. The priestess let out a huff, lazily watching the wisps of condensation in the breeze.
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Sindri had never been to Banesteppe before. Though she has roamed along the coast and frozen ground she had never been compelled to go further. She stayed with her children whilst Ragnar, as adventurous was he, went out and about to spread the word of Stormborn and Northfall.

Now, she moved across the open tundra with a newfound speed and determination. Knowing of those they held on friendly terms, Sindri seeks @Alduin and his lot. Today would be a test of loyalty and how far their friendship would go.

When she arrives, she slides across the snows to a halt, both in awe and confusion of the great formation (and all the little ones) before her. She could not hesitate for long and so makes way towards the edges of Banesteppe territory. There, she finds Meldresi. “Hail, wolf of Banesteppe.”
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Whatever purpose she had in coming to the bridge seemed to come to fruition as a stranger approached. “Hail, stranger,” she echoes, merely nodding in response. She gazed curiously at the wolf. “What brings you here?” Her voice was without threat or curiosity.
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The dark woman with deep violet eyes responds. There is no aggression and no dominance in her stance or voice yet neither was there interest or care for Sindri either. Neutral, welcoming for more information. Sindri went on.

“The enemies of Northfall have attacked and they have killed one of our pups...” Speaking it aloud, her body tenses, a grimace moving over her face as sunflower eyes cast downward to the stone bridging under her feet. She had never seen such a formation before.

“Another needing serious attention...” Although @Aslaug was definitely not in her best condition, it was a sick and tiredness that would mend with plenty of food and good rest. @Elentari however, having fallen from a cliff, needed a Medic if she were to heal properly. “I'd ask for a favour, that one of your medics travel back with me and see to her.”
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She's empty, waiting expectant for information. It's only when the stranger speaks further that her blank mask contorts. Her eyes soften and her lips downturn. “My condolences,” she says, her voice feather-light and barely over a whisper.

“I am one of the medics; what happened to her?” Her words are professional and urgent, spoken with the insistence of a nurse. She doesn't make any comments on the politics of the matter — seeming to care little for the circumstances in its entirety, only the injured party.
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Alduin has been absent. Not physically, but mentally. Banesteppe seems to be wearing on him. The entity of Banesteppe — or perhaps the demon of Banesteppe more like — has been keeping him on a short lead. With constant whispering of demands and incessant touches of ice cold hands down his spine and through his fur. Banesteppe shows him things. As if the entity is putting memories from past into his own eye. Memories — flashbacks — of blood, gore, and death. Wretched things no one would wish to see, but here he is carrying the burden of them all. His pack is waning due to his absence. He cannot hide in the shadows and dwell in the deaths that Banesteppe is trying to drown him in. And he is definitely drowning — he’s going fucking mad.

Anger wells up in him more often, his face set into a grim line of discomfort and rage, just simmering under the surface. He wills it not to boil over the top, but it’s getting harder and harder. Banesteppe is testing him. Banesteppe is making him crazed and mentally absent — he’s losing his mind.

Today he emerges from his quarters. He senses activity outside. He taps down the long corridors, head level with his shoulders and that same phantom touch resting along his shoulder blades. As if something is walking beside him with a hand gently placed between them — petting him, soothing him, but it is anything but a reminder that he is trapped.

He emerges from the large set double doors and finds Meldressi speaking to a pale, cream colored wolf. His ear twitches and his his muscles tense for now reason. These aren’t his ticks, they’re Banesteppe’s. He carries fourth, only catching the tail end of words —

I'd ask for a favour, that one of your medics travel back with me and see to her. Is all Alduin hears of the stranger.

My condolences, I am one of the medics; what happened to her? Meldressi questions back to the stranger.

The cursed one moves across the bridge, his movements stiff, as if his body is sore and his muscles are aching. His face is mostly covered by the grand bear skull @Dove gifted him, but his mouth is set in a grim line, his eyes are hard and unfocused, but he tries his hardest not to allow his energy to seem threatening. This could be an ally and if they’re asking for one of his medics, they must be.

“Greetings, stranger.”He rumbles from the depths of his throat. “My presence was delayed, my apologies. Welcome to Banesteppe, a simple, old, haunted castle on a snowy hillside. Do you hail from Northfall?” It’s a fair assumption. They’re the only pack that they’ve made acquaintances with. “You ask for a medic. Are you having troubles that we could assist in solving?” He speaks easy, gruff but not threatening — mostly curious.
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There is a sadness in her features, eyes softening, mouth turning downward. Sindri does not know if the other has ever been a mother but either way it is apparent she feels for her and her plight. It was but Sindri's first litter and likely, her mate now gone, her last. She knew her little warriors would die young, as many of their type, but Sindri would never be ready for it.

As the Gods made it so, their friends did have medics and it just so happened that she had been first greeted by one. There is a sigh of relief in Sindri which escapes her.

“She fell from the lower foothills of our mountains, though a hard fall onto our rocky shores.” Peachy keen ears back, her bright eyes lift, “It seems one leg is broken but-” distracted, A great behemoth of a creature appears. Not wolf, at least not entirely. Sindri stiffens, directing her attention to the beast who moves stiffly, mechanically almost. Beyond the skull he wore, his eyes lost somewhere, his mind between worlds... This without a doubt was the shaman Ragnar had spoken of.

A woman bound by the Gods she worshipped (far less so then Ragnar whose beliefs were split and broken) Sindri bows her head respectfully to the lord before her. “Yes, I do.” She answers, eyes lifting to him before she lifts up, a pause to make certain she does not upset what she still thinks to be a God speaker. “Our mountains stretch along the coast line. Out to sea great black rocks rise. A group has settled on them, far too near for comfort and claim the beach on the mainland as well as the stretch of land beyond as their own too, making southward journey quite the risk without stepping on all what they call now their own. I saw no possibility for peace to be had in this. Now they've killed my disabled daughter...”

To her tales ending, her head tosses to the side, her rage to deeply set that she quivers despite herself, her eyes watering. “I will not rest until I have the leader of Dragonford Isles head.”
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She begins to respond, but like the other she her breath is halted. She had never seen Alduin in his full regalia before — especially with the gargoyle seemingly disappearing into the castle itself. A soft exhale — a breath of surprise and awe — leaves her, but she stays silent. It was seemingly out of reverence for her leader, or in awe for the sight of the male. “I brought dried herbs as well as seeds,” she says to Alduin after the woman finished. “We can spare enough — some of those I've planted have taken well.” She waits, watching the mind-addled man expectantly.

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Alduin sidles up beside the midnight furred medic, powerful form on display, bear skull sitting pretty on his own enormous head. His head droops level with his shoulders. That is until he’s being given attention. Eyes turn to him as he moves and bloody orbs easily flick to each of his company. They stick on the paler woman’s eyes for a moment longer — such sadness and anguish to behold in those brightly colored hues.

Alduin caught Sindri’s earlier words; someone fell off a cliff. She bows her head to him and answers his question. He hums softly back in response, eyes never leaving her own. Not quite to be intimidating, but to read into her mind and emotions. He listens intently when she speaks though, it’s clear she’s captivated every bit of his attention as she weaves her story past strained lips. Some of her words are familiar, this he knows from from Ragnar, but the last bit…

Now they've killed my disabled daughter...

His emotions are flat, nothing to behold in his far away but somehow present gaze. Perhaps she’d find a flash of awe or maybe empathy in them, but he would keep his expression stoic.

An unfortunate turn of events that've befallen them. Banesteppe purrs into his mind as if he’s merely entertained by this woman’s suffering. What will the cursed one do? The great entity wonders aloud.

Alduin’s auds would flick back and his expression would become a pinch grimmer as a chill runs down his spine at the gravelly voice that resonates through his skull. Then—

I will not rest until I have the leader of Dragonford Isles head.

The world eater’s chin tilts up, his eyes still a blank plane of nothingness. Until his lips tilt up the tiniest bit at the corners. Far away eyes grow dark, vengeful.

Yesss— Banesteppe hisses into his ear.

“Then their heads will roll.” Is all he rumbles out. “I’ll make sure of it. For your daughter.”

It’s then he turns to Meldresi, locking eyes with her. Purpose shines in his dead eyes then. “We will give them a medic, herbs, and assistance if need be. Do what you must, Meldresi.” Alduin hums softly to her, smile gone just as fast as it came.
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Could be the last for me if you guys wanna wrap up with your next posts?

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After Meldresi informs her leader of their supplies, both the women await the Leader's decision. He had watched her, his attention unwavering as she gave her tale. In those blood eyes of the shaman, Sindri wondered if the Gods too saw through them. Listening, judging, waiting...

His chin tips upward then, his expression revealing nothing savor the slightest turning at the corners of his lips. He seemed unbiased, uncaring, unattached, but if anything, he longed for life and the taking of it.

Sindri sighs out, unrealizing until then she had been holding her breath. A sharp nod is given to the man and she turns then to Meldresi. “Northfall will be indebted to you all. When your ready, I will lead you.”

Maybe she was making deal with the devil. Maybe she would live (or die) regretting the decision she made.  But Sindri acted first, questioned later. She was a barbarian, even if the littlest of them. It was no wonder where @Ynness personality had stemmed...
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