OOC: I went ahead and did this very vaguely because this is happening regardless of if Yfir wins the raid or not. They're celebrating having actually started the raiding season rather than whether or not they win - the only difference being if they win they'll have more feasting. It isn't going to be a strictly required meeting but it's going to be quite the party.

As Katja returned her pack to their territory, there was a distinct satisfaction in her step despite the long journey and the untreated injuries. Kismet and Hárekr would have guarded the territory well, she was fairly certain, and they had much to celebrate. They had not been successful at raiding in secret, but perhaps that was for the better. What better way to become known than to do battle? They acquitted themselves well enough, though there was much room to improve. One day soon they would be a warband the likes of which these lands had never laid witness to. There was great potential there, and they would be shaped in the fires of battle and tempered into warriors beyond any in the lands. As the pack trotted along, she gestured for Kapra to join her. "The pack has done well tonight," she observed when he had. "I believe that alone is enough cause for celebration. We will hold a blót to honor Tyr and Odinn - it would be a fitting time to adopt a sworn warrior into our family would it not?" She shot him a questioning glance, referencing their recent conversation about Laufey and giving him the choice. "I will gather the pack at the waterfall pool once I have located a suitable sacrifice. Gather what you need to... have a good time," she told him, the words awkward in her mouth as she obliquely gave him the go-ahead to break out whatever drugs it was that he and the others of their family had long partaken in during blót. She, who had herself never done so, wouldn't have been able to recognize a psychoactive substance if it had reached up and bitten her, so she would leave that to him. The pack was likely to be in that odd mix of exhaustion and agitation that would keep ramping up, so it wouldn't hurt for them to unwind a little in a time honored tradition that was said to bring them closer to the gods. Leaving him to do his thing, she split off from the rest of the pack at the border to melt into the great red trees, gesturing for Kassander to accompany her on her hunt. He was big enough to help her subdue their prey, had a companion fox who was as large as some wolves who could assist them, and Kassander also had the herbal knowledge to drug the beast and keep it quiet and compliant as they dragged it to the pool. They were able to locate, subdue and drug a strong young buck, his velvet colored antlers already wide and branching despite the cold spring. A suitable sacrifice, in the absence of a bear. They laid the quiescent creature beside the pool, then Kassander and Rommel melted away into the darkness to retrieve something from Kassander's den. Standing over the buck, Katja raised her head to sing out a song gathering the tired pack from where they had gone to rest, a low eerie note that rose to crystal clarity over the three lands the pack laid claim to. Her own body ached abominably, wounds from her battles stressed beyond what they should have been in the hunt and tiny droplets of fresh blood, her blood, staining the deer's pelt. She was unconcerned, for after all what would a sacrifice be if there were no personal sacrifice involved? "" ""

Kassander and Rommel had varied their explorations to take them south, far south, in search of growing things. Spring was in full swing now in the lower parts of the northern continent, but the late cold meant that it was taking longer for the herbs he needed to grow up enough to start harvesting them. He'd been relying pretty heavily on certain herbs since... since he'd given Katja the pack, and he'd quickly blown through his stores. He felt guilty - knowing that there were wolves who would need those painkillers for physical pain not... what he had. It wasn't like he used a lot either, just enough to take the edge off. It was nice to not feel so desperately, painfully aware all the time, to feel like he could actually be around other people. But a little bit over a long time added up, and he'd all but run out so he'd gone to the southern continent in search of new herbs. Instead he'd found a strange new friend, the odd little mouse lemur named Remy. He'd left Remy at his den when Katja had called them to raid, though the lemur was more than happy to stay there and putter around with one of his strange concoctions.

As the pack was returning to Yfir's lands Katja had pulled him aside to bring him and Rommel hunting. She'd explained in a low, quick voice what they were hunting for, this viking ceremony of hers, and how there was going to be a celebration with feasting and imbibing of substances and his mind drifted back to Remy, and the strange tasting beverages he created. He wondered if some of his other pack mates might not enjoy the strange warm feeling it gave after drinking it, so when he'd left the drugged buck at the side of the waterfall pool he'd excused himself to head back to the gorge where his den was. Remy was more than happy to part with several of the clay jars of the viscus fluids he had insisted Rommel and Kass transport to the north for him. These ones, he said, were ready for drinking now. The clever little lemur was able to use his hands to attach makeshift harnesses to each jar and Kassander and Rommel were able to slip into them so they settled over their necks like a yolk so they could each carry two of the full jars back to the pool. Having something of a head start knowing in advance about the meeting, he was able to return just shortly after her howl gathering the pack, despite having gone all the way to the gorge to retrieve the jars. Remy clung to the fur between Kass' ears to peer over his head at Katja curiously as Kass and Rommel wiggled out of the makeshift harnesses, and seated themselves in the start of a semi-circle before her.

Though he had perhaps been defeated, he had by no means lost. He had bled for the gods and he had no qualms in suffering for them again, no matter who the victor. It was Yfir that had truly won this battle, despite the outcome - for they had doubtlessly made Tyr proud tonight. His injuries were small this time, thankfully, and despite the lacerations that lined his muzzle he moved with an undeniable excitement to his step. Though exhausted as he ought to be, he knew the night was far from over. Rest was far in the distance.

A grin adorned his lips as Katja gestured for him to join her, and he willingly complied. "They have," he agreed with a soft chuckle, and though the fatigue was audible in his voice, he would make no move to stop. Once they reached their home territory, it was time for celebration, not to heal. Not yet. "They will make fine warriors. Especially Laufey," he nodded solemnly. It would be a perfect time to adopt the adult into their family, once they returned home, as Jaeger had never done. His mind strayed as she moved away, his steps remaining steady through their travels.

The pack would disperse as they returned home. Kaprasíus was quick to retreat to his den, retrieving a bundle of strange herbs that would certainly be enough to relax even the most wounded of the group. He found a spot to rest, if but for a moment, before he heart Katja's call ring over the land. He was quick to respond to it, grasping the bundle of herbs between his jaws, making his way to the gathering. Already Kassander had arrived, with his companion in tow, and a curious eye would be cast upon him as he approached with a weary grin. "What do we have here?" he asked, his voice muffled as he eyed the containers with interest, though his attention shifted quickly to the impressive kill that Katja had conjured up. This, he told himself silently, was going to be a blót to remember.

GOT AN ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER But the devil always won... Hárekr mused at the hare that dangled fresh from his jaws. He'd settled quickly into Yfir but was too untried to take part in the raid and so he remained to guard the borders. In the meantime he'd dug his den and started stocking up on kills for what he was sure would be a glorious victory! He'd been working with the other's that remained behind, Lyndvarr, Lærke, Kismet… he hadn't quite gotten all the names yet. Part of him was supremely disappointed to be left out of the raiding, but the taking of prey had eased some of bloodlust. Next time. Next raid he would sate his thirst for battle. Háre trotted up to the returning band, setting his catch down and licking the blood from his maw before speaking. "I am pleased at your return, I take it you have spilled much blood in the name of the gods?" He quirked his head to the side as he watched the monkey creature doing its… weird things again. He dimly found himself wondering what it tasted like. Bi-colored gems lingered over the jars and his nostrils flared as he took a few steps closer. Nose wrinkled. Ick… what was that stuff? Medicine?

LORD, I AM CLIMBING HIGH MOUNTAINS TRYING TO GET HOME Trying to get home...   Lyndvarr had been struggling to deal with the whirlpool of emotions he was feeling upon learning of his mother's passing. Part of him had always known. After all, before she'd left Auöra had more or less predicted her own death, even if it hadn't seemed to be the case then his mother's premonition now seemed all to clear. She'd been sacrificed to the gods. It was this that gave him some hope, some pride. How could he not feel pride for the woman who would sacrifice her own life that it might protect those she loved? And it was a gentler death, at the jaws of someone she loved and trusted like her sister Katja. Not left to the brutal mercies of an enemies fang. It was true that that was where he would seek to meet his own death but it was not something that suited so ethereal a woman as his mother. Still… he mourned her absence. He'd wept where he hoped others would not see. Lynd felt it deeply, a cold blade in the center of his beating heart but he would not remove this blade. He would not let his feelings bleed out into the open. He would keep it there as a reminder of her and a reminder of his oaths. Lyndvarr had chosen to ease his burden with practical chores. Digging and refurnishing dens, patrolling the borders and aiding the remaining Yfir wolves in hunting. He'd also spent a fair amount of time stocking his storage den with spring herbs. A call rang out and his heart leapt. Katja was back! Lyndvarr raced to meet his aunt and her war party, trotting up next to the chatty male bi-colored male. "Welcome back Katja! How did it go?"

Curiously he would stumble across this group, his eye scanning over the grounds. It seemed like there was going to be some sort of celebration, something Vereux wasn't entirely fond of. He was socially awkward for one, silently he would move himself off to the side. Whatever strange drugs they were giving out, in the back of his brain it told him not to indulge in such things. He would rather not have something strange happen to him, and then he not know the next morning what it was. As his tail settled itself behind him he raised his head proudly for a moment, but didn't entirely interact with anyone. Katja had been easy to speak with because she was a wolf of power. Anyone else, well Vereux had never been good with the tongue unless it had been a family member. He had only really spoken to family members. Curse himself for that, he hated to be a party pooper but he was simply here for support. Green eye watching the others, he wouldn't even let out a sigh. Simply stoic in all his form. "I speak"

Grinning wildly, Laufey trotted into the meeting. Shining brightly in the gloom, his eyes glittered with a fierce light. The fighting was over, but his heart still hammered on, pumping his veins full of restless energy. He was on edge and aggressively giddy. His wounds ached, and one on his shoulder protesting painfully with each step, but he ignored it. A querying voice reached his ears and while the question probably wasn't directed at him, he answered nonetheless. "Indeed we have!" he roared. Much blood had been spilled on both sides and it had been wonderful. Wounds aside he felt great, like he could take on anyone and win. His tone jovial, he added merrily, "The slopes ran with it." An exaggeration? Maaaaaybe.

Making an arc around those gathered, Warja hunted for Kismet. He'd stayed behind during the raid, but surely he'd show up for the after party. She had wounds she was very proud of and wanted to show off. Unable to find the giant redhead, Warja paused to look the group over again. There were a few new faces sprinkled in the mix and Warja made a note to introduce herself to them at some point. She hadn't seen them in the raid, so the healer assumed they'd stayed behind to guard the border too. Her eyes landed on the clay jars that Kass and co. had brought to the gathering place. Of course she made a beeline for them curiously. Warja resisted the urge to nose one and chose instead to snuff at the air. Whatever was in there smelled strange. Peering up at the tall brute, she asked, "Whatcha got there, Kassander?" It was then that movement out of the corner of her eye drew Warja's attention away. Was that kill...still breathing?

LÆRKE FINNVI Lærke felt a bit out of the loop, and that settled in her stomach like a stone. The news that her mother was dead had rendered the young fae confused, angry, and trying to reconcile the fact that they'd come so far for naught with the discovery of her aunt. The knowledge that her mother had died well helped but... It was a lot to take in. Rather than take this frustration out on Lyndvarr she'd decided to make herself scarce, checking in from time to time of course, but venting elsewhere. She'd picked her fights, won herself a new set of scars, and returned just in time to find her brother appearing at a congregation of sorts, and at Katja's side. Lynd had mentioned their aunt was leading raids on the surrounding packs, but Lærke had not been of a mind to take much interest. Belatedly she realized it was an opportunity missed, and her mood soured further. She should have been there, fighting at her side, and honoring their gods... She sighed and moved to stand at her brother's side, eyeing the stranger's carefully and with an air of cold reflection. In her brother's ear she murmured, "What'd I miss?" Not that she would admit it aloud, but being reunited with him released some tension from her shoulders. His scent reminded her of easier days, and it helped to flush out a bit of her ire. She nodded to Katja, a small bow of respect, before returning her gaze to the gathering. "Talk" "You" Think

Hypnos was silent as he went towards Katja’s call. He had not participated as actively in the raid as some had. He had been hesitant. The moment he saw Kapra lose his fight the boy had lost all will, all drive, to press on and fight. Besides that, not many defenders for the Threar wolves had arrived. He would sigh, shaking all thoughts from his mind as he arrived. Wolves he knew and didn’t know were there, and the young man would sit on the outskirts, feeling like a stranger in his own home as he gave a small nod to Katja. He wasn’t sure what to feel anymore. What should be expected of him anymore. Where did he belong? ""

Art by Tea

The pack slowly trickled in to her call, some still high on adrenaline and some clearly feeling their wounds and the long journey. She flicked her ears quizzically at Hypnos' seeming despondence, since surely he had no injuries to bring down his mood in such a manner. No matter - she had more to concern herself with than a few moody pack members. Nearly everyone appeared, though Kismet was notably absent, and silver eyes narrowed. Had he not been watching the borders after all? Hare, and her niece and nephew joined them to inquire as to how the raid went. "It went well enough," she told them, then raised her voice to begin the celebration. "Heil, Yfir! I have brought you together to celebrate a glorious start to the raiding season. Yfir has met Threar in battle as we had all hoped to do. We lost no raiders and there were no serious injuries. That is just cause to give thanks to the gods! Tonight we will sacrifice and feast and toast our warriors. Tomorrow we will heal, and begin to prepare ourselves anew for new raids. The packs of Alacritis would do well to look to their borders!" She sent a fierce look around them, at all the potential in those faces that stared at her, a promise from the gods of greatness. She would help them fulfill that greatness. "It is custom to begin every blót with a sacrifice," she told them all solemnly. Some of them had been with her for a long time and would know the traditions. Some had grown up within them. Others were still learning, though, and so she would explain. "Our Hirdha Kassander and his companion the fox Rommel have assisted me in providing this young stag to honor Tyr. We will spill his blood in offering, that the gods may join us in our feasting. His blood will cleanse us, and be a sign of our kinship with the gods." Turning her face upwards to the stars she spoke aloud, "Tyr, hvis ære har alltid vært lyse, ga du av deg selv at ulven kan være bundet. Tyr, mektige, enhånds som ikke ler, hører min røst på denne dagen som jeg kaller til deg." Leaning down, she laved her tongue over the drugged deer's throat in a ritual cleansing, feeling the rapid fear-pulse of the stag's blood pounding through his veins beneath her tongue. "Tyr, ber vi om at du godtar blod denne stag har din æresprisen . Heil Tyr." In one swift motion she opened the big veins of the stag's throat and stepped back as it spasmed and kicked out as the blood spilled across the stones at her feet. She watched impassively in the hush as it's struggles grew sluggish and finally ceased. "We give thanks for the strength of our limbs, the blood in our veins, the soundness of our minds, and the courage in our hearts." She lifted a forepaw, coated in the dark blood of the stag, and smeared the viscous liquid across her face. Her dark-tipped tail dragged through the blood, gathering the precious warmth, and she stepped forward to the pack in great gravity, leaving behind bloody footprints as she walked among them. Flicking her tail to send droplets of blood across the faces of each pack member one by one, she intoned the words. Flick. "Heil Odin og Frig." Flick. "Heil, Freyr og Freyja." Flick. "Heil det altseende Heimdallr." Flick. "Heil til Æsir, og Vanir." Until the blood of the stag had touch all present, and marked them as Yfir. She returned to the forefront of the group with great bounding leaps. Heill ok sæll! she spoke, her head raised and her eyes half closed, in greeting to the gods she knew had joined them. She basked a moment, then turned her head down to face the pack once more. "Before we commence our celebration there is a thing of great import that must be done. Laufey, please come forward." She waited as the giant of a wolf did as bidden, and she pressed a paw to his shoulders to coax him to lay upon the earth. Blood smeared across his white coat. Staring down at him, glancing out at the curious faces, she experienced a moment of doubt. She was a warrior, not a priest. She knew the rites, she could follow the motions, but what meaning did they have in such inexperienced and unworthy paws as hers? But they had no priest, no wolf more experienced than she, and so she must step forward as she had done all these years. There was no time for self-doubt and timidity. "A child has been born to the Finnvi," she intoned. "Who will step forth to claim this child as their own, that the gods will see him and know him as a child of the Finnvi?" Her eyes met Kapra's with a questioning quirk. Her role was done - it was up to him now to complete the rite to claim Laufey into the family he had been born to. ""

It seemed Kassander's strange concoction had elicited quite the interest, but he quickly grew distracted - no matter what sort of substance those containers held, he had plenty of fun in store with his own supplies. He would move slowly toward the buck that had begun to stir slightly near the water. Gingerly he would set down the bundle of jimsonweed weed he had collected on the journey home, his attention snapping quickly to Katja as the murmur of conversation died down and she began to speak. His gaze would find Hypnos, noting he seemed a bit somber, and he made a mental point to share some of his herbs with the boy.. surely it would lighten his mood, and there was no need to be drab on a night as fine as this one.

His eyes were wide as he watched Katja begin. He was no priest and he had never conducted any sort of official ritual in his life, and certainly never one as grand as a yearly blót. His chest swelled with pride for his family as Katja began; there was no one who could conduct such a grand blót, not in these lands. His expression was serious, though wavered slightly on the edge of excitement, as she addressed Yfir and explained the customs of such a sacrifice. Briefly he recalled when Auora had chosen to send herself to Valhalla, such a grand display of faith she had shown - this would not be nearly as solemn as that sacrifice, and he knew tonight would bring far more frivolous festivities.

The true meaning of words were likely lost on most of them. They were sacred and he made no effort to translate them, even to those who might not understand. Surely their tone would give away much of their purpose. Glee would fill his emerald stare as she tore into the stag's throat, watching as it's life-force drained in a crimson pool  onto the stones before them. Only when Katja's tail sent the blood upon his face would he move toward the stag as she had, leaning to lap at the creature's throat before swiping his muzzle through the blood, staining his face as he lifted his head to the sky to let out a brief, thankful howl to the gods on his own. He wanted to bathe in the sacrifice, to coat his coat in blood and entrails from the buck but he would contain himself, stopping when his face was coated and the viscous blood dripped from his jaws. His tongue would lash out, cleaning some of the liquid from his face, turning to Laufey as Katja stated they had one last thing to do.

It was a ritual he had seen before but had never conducted himself, yet he knew generally how it worked.  "I, Kaprasius Sigrunn Finnvi, step forward to claim him," he would state loudly. He would approach Laufey then, his eyes sweeping over him. He had already decided, long ago, that he was part of his family - making it true in the eyes of the god was simply the final step. Leaning toward him, he would lap at the space between his eyes, spreading another thin trail of blood, before wrapping his head around the larger man's neck.  "Before gods and men, this child is mine and I name him Laufey Finnvi. He is born now, before the gods, as a new man and a true member of the Finnvi family."  Finally he would pull away, releasing his nephew - was he considered a sort of son now, before the gods, as Jaeger had never claimed him as his own? - and offering him a wide grin.

Plopping his rump down as Katja began to speak, Laufey watched the proceedings with rapt interest. The fading in and out of the language he understood didn't lessen the intensity with which he observed. Instead he ate it up, committing the foreign words to memory and reveling in the ones whose meaning wasn't completely lost on him. His eyes followed Katja's progress as she walked among his packmates, and when it came time for him to be marked, Laufey readily accepted the splatter of blood across his face. "Laufey, please come forward." For a split second he froze, a quizzical expression briefly flashing across his face, but then without further hesitation, the giant smoothed his features and did as he was commanded. Without a word he made his way to the front and then, as Katja gently pushed between his shoulders, he offered no resistance and laid down. Turning his face to Katja, he watched her attentively. Her words confused him - he wasn't a child...what was happening? - and then his heart leaped up into his throat as the pieces of the puzzle began to come together. A voice from among those gathered drew his attention away from Katja. Laufey's head whipped around just in time to see Kaprasius rise and begin to walk towards him. His chest grew impossibly tight and it began to feel like his heart was going to beat its way free of his chest. His uncle went on to claim him and had he been the type for lavish shows of affection - which he most certainly wasn't - that would have been the time for tears. He'd never belonged anywhere before. No one had ever claimed him. The brutish giant was deeply, truly touched by what his family had just done. Words were beyond him and he felt like absolutely nothing he could say would be able to do his gratitude justice.

Kapra performed his part of the ceremony admirably, and Katja pressed her nose first to Kapra's forehead, then Laufey's, with a surprising tenderness. This was the core of why she had chosen the life she had, why she chose to revive Yfir again and again despite all the adversity and hardship it had brought to her. Her family, or what was left of them. Kapra and Laufey, and now Lyndvarr and Lærke her sister's children. They were few, yet, but with the gods' favor they would grow. Now Laufey's children would be raised Finnvi, as they should. Raising her face, stained with the blood of the sacrifice and electrified with fanaticism, she swept her gaze over the assembled pack, taking them all in. All the strong, the clever, the cunning, they were what kept Yfir alive. Without them the Finnvi would still be scattered and in danger of being wiped out. Instinctively she raised her muzzle to the sky, to the stars, and sang out a long, low note, the howl to welcome new pups to the pack as old as wolves themselves. Laufey was no pup, but in finally claiming his birthright, in opening his eyes for the first time as Finnvi, it was as though a new life had entered the world, and she raised her voice in an ancient, feral celebration. Other voices joined her, even amongst the pack - she could hear young Kassander Xanilov's deep baritone join with hers, and she felt a pang of regret that she had never revealed her growing feelings to Raisa - that they had never had the chance to raise the children together as they might have. Would life have turned out differently for Kassander, for Sigmarr, and Valeriya, and Sindri, and Svetlana, had she not made the mistakes she had? As the song tapered off into silence, she accepted that regret and set it aside. "May the gods join us in celebrating our first raid as a pack," she spoke simply, then to signal the end to the ceremony she stepped aside to allow the pack access to the sacrificial stag to feast. Her leg wound, reopened from the hunt, was hot and painful, stiffening up from sitting for so long, and a bone-deep ache spread through her body. She was, she admitted to herself, beginning to grow old, and she was feeling the pain of her wounds far more than she once had. She would lay here, to the side of the pack, and simply watch while the younger wolves cavorted. ""

OOC: And now they party!

Kassander's ears fell nervously as Remy's concoctions brought him attention. "It's... it's a drink," he explained. "It's warm and kind of sweet and makes you feel... uhm... different. Remy calls it 'mead', it's made out of honey I guess..." His voice trailed off at the end of his not-very-good explanation, but Katja was already beginning to speak and so he sank down behind the clay jars to listen. Her explanation he already knew, because she'd explained to him while they'd hunted what was going to happen, why they needed the deer. Even knowing the vague reasons, the foreign words were strangely electrifying, and everything seemed to gain an aspect both sinister and beautiful as the deer was killed, and Katja walked among them to sprinkle them all with blood. Kassander watched her with wide, dark eyes filled with awe and a touch of fear as the warm blood streaked his face, and Rommel stared silently at him through his own mask of blood.

He continued to watch in fascination as she called forward Laufey, the big white and black warrior. It was a little odd, to see the giant male referred to as a child, but also strangely beautiful to watch. And then... it was finished, and Katja had stepped aside to allow them to eat their fill of the stag. Kassander turned his head to the nearest wolf - another black and white male who he didn't think he'd actually met yet, and asked him shyly as he gestured to the 'mead', "Do you want to try it? It's for everyone."

GOT AN ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER But the devil always won... Hárekr grinned at the news of the raid going well and slopes running with blood. It made him feel almost sick that he'd missed it but that only fueled his desire to prove himself to Katja that he might be taken on the next raid. Battle ran thick and hot in his veins and he would not miss the next opportunity, gods willing. Katja began to speak and Hárekr sat quietly, willing himself to sit still as she spoke. Tonight they would feast, most excellent, and what was even better, they would prepare themselves for the next raid, a raid Hárekr vowed silently to be a part of. He grinned at her words. The wolves of Alacritis would be wise to look to their borders indeed. His thoughts drifted to Sin as he wondered if the other male had succeeded in obtaining a pack yet. Mismatched eyes turned to gaze at the stag, the sacrifice. As Katja began the ritual he found himself entranced by the blood, the life that was flowing out of the creature. Katja dipped her tail in the liquid and as she moved through the blood splattered across the darkened fur on the left side of his face. It ran wet and cool and his tongue subconsciously reached out to lick it. When that had finished they began a new ceremony to welcome Laufey Finnvi officially into the Finnvi family. When the rites had finished the festivities began. Hárekr took to his feet and padded over to Kassander and his strange jars. "I will try it." He sniffed at the jaws flinching slightly. Uff da! Gingerly Hárekr lapped at the liquid, lips smacking together. A curious warm sensation spread down his throat. Hmm… it was different but not terribly. "It is a most curious drink, warm and soothing." Hárekr continued to lap at it before lifting his head. "Come on now, don't have me drink alone! Who will join me?"

LORD, I AM CLIMBING HIGH MOUNTAINS TRYING TO GET HOME Trying to get home...   Lyndvarr took his place as the ceremonies began. He was swept up in the fervor of it and the promise of raids to come. Though thought filled him to the brim with nervous excitement at the thought of participating in the next one and perhaps making a name for himself as a warrior of Yfir. The ceremony began with a sacrifice and Lyndvarr watched Katja slay the animal, it's life given so that it might bring them the gods favor. A flick of blood stained the snowy white fur of his forehead and he closed is eyes, meditating upon the mark for a moment before the festivities continued. He gazed curiously at Laufey, a relative he knew very little of but who would be officially joining their family tonight. All too soon the celebrations began. Lyndvarr turned to watch Hárekr sample the drink, watching closely to see how the other man took it. Hmm… well, it sure smelt weird to him but it wasn't like a warrior of Yfir to turn away from a challenge. Cautiously he gave the strange liquid another sniff before glancing up at Kassander. Was this stuff really safe? Well… only one way to truly know. Lyndvarr laped at it for a moment before stumbling back and making a face. "Oh… uck… that is… definitely odd." He could feel the warm sensation flowing down his throat and spreading through his core. He hesitated though from taking another drink as he analyzed the taste.