Odal
08-26-2016, 01:02 AM
Endurance was a strong point for the gray-coated man. Each stride was wrought with vigor, his tail flagged out behind him at a skyward angle. He was on a mission to scout the lands, maintaining a steady pace despite the wounds littered throughout his coat. He had come to the north to investigate the availability of territories, knowing there were other packs occupying the vast, frozen expanse of land. He'd already passed Ivalice territory, and chose not to make any trips to the lands beyond - he knew what territory was there, after all, he had lived with Sonticus in the north for some time. Yet he'd seldom traveled northwest as to the best of his knowlege, there'd lived a pack there with a strong reputation. Yfir. He'd known their scent during his time in Sonticus, and he had taken note of their existence when he'd come north for the festival with Ivalice. But now, he was sure he'd already passed the territory where that pack had been situated, and there was little hint of them left. No scent, no border patrols, no wolves in sight. Had they moved elsewhere? He hadn't noticed their scent anywhere else - could they be in the west? Xephyris hadn't been there in some time, himself, but he didn't see the likelihood of a northern-based, well-established pack suddenly packing up and moving from the harsh north, to the hottest territory in Ardent. It wouldn't be sensible, not in the least. No, they must have dissolved. The man shook his head. Even the strongest could fall, it appeared, for what seemed no reason at all. No matter - for him, it just meant fewer rivals, fewer wolves to share land and prey with. Having made his way to the northern-most territory that he would find, the land riddled with jagged glaciers and steep, icy slopes, he decided that he would he just slightly west, explore the edges of the north, and then make his way back south. Perhaps there he would find something of interest. As his silver eyes cast around one last time, ensuring that this place had nothing of interest to offer him, he did indeed spot something of interest. A small, lone and rather scraggly looking wolf roamed by itself - from as far as he was, he couldn't tell just how scraggly and disheveled she was, but he saw her presence as an opportunity to perhaps gain information. Shifting from his original course, he headed in the direction of the dark-coated creature, large paws gripping the ice carefully. As he drew nearer, it became rather apparent that the she-wolf was in a very sorry state; there was a limp to her gait, and the shape of her skeletal frame was eerily prominent. He did not know that the woman before him was the well-known viking leader, he'd never actually seen or met her before, but if he had known, he would have surely been thrown off. She looked old, and frail, like a gust of wind might blow her away. In stark contrast, Xephyris was well-built, sturdy, and filled out, his thick coat adding to his stature - he was certainly not very tall, but thick muscle rippled beneath his skin, making up for what he lacked in height. Briefly, the man wondered how she had gotten this way, but didn't linger on the thought long, knowing he may find something out in due time. Approaching the scraggly loner, he dipped his head, halting a safe, comfortable distance from her. "Greetings, stranger," he rumbled in a low, even tone, his tail swishing just a few times as he eyed the dark-gray woman, observing her ebony markings, "The glaciers here seem harsh. Do you hike these icy slopes often?" He wondered if perhaps the harsh landscape had played a part in shaping her, but he knew it could possibly be any number of things. |
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