Ruthgar found himself concerned with his place in The Crew. He could tell the bare minimum about the weather by reading the signs of a coming storm but did little to contribute to the pack as a whole. He needed to find some common ground with them, and more specifically, earn the respect of the “Boss” as he called himself. Secretly he longed for his former rank as a beta although he hadn’t done much with the rank before other than bed the co-alpha of another pack. But that was all in the past now, and he needed to move on. Crew was his priority now and he needed to remain focused. It was only by sheer dumb luck that the pack that had driven him out of hiding belong to a band of miscreants and trouble makers, and despite Orsus’s constant attempts to reshape him into a civil wolf, a miscreant and a trouble maker was what he had been born as. He trotted along the edge of the rapids hoping to find a simple way across to move deeper into the pack lands but so far had come up short. He was, unfortunately very ungraceful for a wolf as finely shaped as himself and anything short of a downed tree would mean death by rapids. He would have to find another way across. Or maybe he could find a member of this pack to show him the way. He chuckled at that thought This is him talking

Things had been getting a bit better lately, Lark decided. He always felt more refreshed after pack meetings and training sessions, even if he dreaded them. It gave him an opportunity to spend time with his siblings. He'd even spoken with Sparrow after, which was often a rarity these days. Still, it lifted Lark's mood -- even if the feeling was temporary, he carried it with him on this cool autumn day. He'd taken to scouting the borders, a task that was often quite dull but gave him plenty of mind to zone out and let his mind wander. What he didn't expect was for the scent of a stranger to be brought to him. Though he hadn't caught his trail, the wind had brought a whiff of him and Lark swore his scent was strong enough to mean he could be in their lands. A slight frown creased his lips. The most likely story was that they were someone joining, or a guest, though he caught no signs of his packmates as he headed toward the source of the scent. It led him to the rapids, and across he saw the stranger -- a brutish looking man with a scarred up face. It was hard to tell from such a distance if he was far off in age or height, but Lark's eyes narrowed skeptically as he picked up his pace and veered toward the edge of the rapids. Luckily he'd learned to master them, after nearly falling to his death here once before. This was the only place he'd known as a home, and after so many years he had learned how to navigate the terrain, the rapids included. He came to a halt as he neared the edge of the rapids, eyeing the stranger with a harsh stare. "You intrude on Abaven's lands," he called out, his voice sharp and serious. "Who are you, and why are you here?" He hoped he had a good excuse; Lark felt his muscles tense as he waited for a reply.

OOC Warning: The following text involves explicit language. He looked at the male silently, sizing him up. He was big much bigger than him and he assumed much stronger. Fighting was out of the question, especially when returning injured would diminish the value of his coup. That meant using his wits, and especially his dumb luck. He knew very little about the wolves here, but had noticed a trend of them being particularly polite, especially when the alternative to him was insulting someone’s mother as a matter of principal. He could only hope that his assumption was right, and so, he spoke in his raw native dialect, and spoke as fast as he could manage  "Ye want tae know wha am here, aye? Well just sit ye doon an all tell ye. It oll started wi' this wee'un, comes up tae me an' says..." He raised his voice to a falsetto. ""'Oy, a 'eard ye got roit pished the ither nicht on bloody peaches an' pumped a bar!' His voice returned to his usual gruff baritone. "A lookit this wee shite an' a tells 'im, am nae dinny, and 'e pisses off roit after. Next ting a know, me boss comes up tae me an' asks me if ave been on dead fruit. A tells 'im a were ne'er an' he tells me Wee Aodh's been tellin' erryone a shagged a bloody bar after gettin' pished! Aw'rite, sae as the royal guard a walk up tae Aodh an' a tells 'im, "A shagged yer wife! 'Tis nae my fault she's fat enou' tae be a bar!" Noo as am sure ye ken, those're wirds worth a glassing as we like tae call it. Ting of it though, Aodh's jus' a wee ting, nae bigger'n a deer's wee'un, an' he's leukin' tae fight me, who as ye might ken be a roit beg fella. He dinna care though, 'e's hurtin' o'er 'is puir fat wife. So 'e comes at me, an' a picks 'im up by the scruff an' toss 'im doon. Li'l shite scrambles awa' after thet, but me boss dinna like that a dishonored anither man's wife, an' him an' Aodh's been mates since they was cabbages, so am suddenly flintin'. “ He sighed heavily and shook his head. "Some people cannae take a bloody joke, aye? The damn bastards.  But tare this; as am headin' oot, a sees a bloody bar with wee'uns, an' all of 'em has black an' tan far an' green eyes.” He paused and then spoke as clearly as he could manage, with every intention of being understood: " “So all ask ye ser, wot d'ye make o' that?" This is him talking

This stranger seemed a hard one to read, though Lark had never been very good at figuring other wolves out. His eyes narrowed as he crept a few steps closer to the edge of the rapids, dangerously close now. He felt a flare of irritation in his chest at the stranger's presence before he even started speaking. Always straight to the point, he didn't really feel like hearing any kind of story.. not unless it answered the question of why he was here. Of course, Lark wasn't going to sit, and instead stood and stared as Ruthgar spoke. His accent was unfamiliar, and quite truthfully hard to understand. Much of the story was lost on him.. or he supposed it was supposed to be a story of sorts, though it hardly resembled more than gibberish. There was something about peaches, and a bear? And a bit about someone's wife? His nose wrinkled in vague annoyance as the tale concluded. If Ruthgar had been expecting someone nicer, he'd strolled into the wrong part of Abaven. Perhaps someone else would be more open to understanding his strange story, but Lark wasn't that someone. "I don't make a damn thing of anything you said," he huffed dismissively, tail flicking behind him. "But I'll give you one more chance to answer me. Why are you here?" He was half-tempted to cross the rapids right now and start to chase him off, but if he was someone's visitor or companion he figured they deserved another chance to explain themselves, even if his patience was already wearing thin.

Well that didn’t work. The fur of his throat stood nervously on end as if anticipating it was about to be torn out, his eyes widening ever so slightly as the wolf became increasingly more impatient. He swallowed a growing lump in his throat and attempted to mimic the local accent. “Sir, I believe I am lost.” He said, shouting over the roar of the rapids. He wasn’t sure what would entail a greater coup; running with his tail between his legs before he was attacked or being sent on his way without being detected as a wolf from another pack. He supposed under those circumstances the latter would be more respectable, but if he managed to outfox the other wolf in his escape, either by hiding or simply outrunning him, that might count for something as well. But of course… He was still a good distance away, and the other male would still need to cross the rapids to get at him, it was risky, but if he pulled it off, he would no doubt be regarded as a legend. “Am lookin’ fer a man by the name a Hewart Jass. Also goes by Hugh.” He shouted across the rapids. “Don’t s'pose ye’ve seen ‘im about?” This is him talking

Lark's frown deepened at the stranger's reaction. Only moments ago he had been nearly incomprehensible, and now he spoke far more clearly, saying that he was lost. The tip of his tail twitched in minor irritation, the muscles in his legs tensing as he teetered on his pads of paws. It was obvious not that he was no guest, and that by running him off Abaven territory he wouldn't be upsetting anyone.. except maybe this man. His intentions were unknown to Lark, and he was growing more uncomfortable with his presence here with each moment that passed. "I don't care," he replied bluntly after a moment, his voice rising over the roar of the rapids. It wasn't long before he started speaking again, his words hardly making more sense than his story about the bear had. His lips twitched as a snarl threatened to overtake his features. "I'd suggest you find your way out of these lands, unless you want an escort. I'd be more than happy to provide you one." Nobody had ever really trespassed, at least not that he'd encountered, and he was alarmed at how irritated he felt. Lark was sure he could handle this man, though considered calling for backup. If things got out of hand, he wouldn't hesitate to, but he had a feeling he had this under control. Without waiting for the man's reply, Lark kicked off the side of the river. The rapids were dangerous, he knew that very well -- he'd nearly gotten himself killed here more than once, though over the years he'd lived here he had learned how to cross them. Most of it was about confidence, and not hesitating. Hesitating and missing a leap could mean certain death. His face was scowling by the time he reached the other side and headed toward Ruthgar, no longer amused.

OOC Warning;; Coarse Language ahead “A fook” He muttered as the brown beast began crossing the river with apparent ease, a fact he couldn’t help but feel envious of. “Sir, all leave, I dinny want ta cause ye no trouble.” He said, as Lark approached him no longer a safe distance away attempting to suppress his accent as much as possible and having very little success, his mind a constant train of ”A fook a fook a fook-“ He dropped his head and tucked his tail, already turning to leave “But ye shod no…” He said praying to various gods that he didn’t necessarily believe in that his last words wouldn’t be a butt joke. “ Jass is a violent bandit. E’s th wan who carved up me face. A tracked ‘im here a few days late all tha way frem me home where he killed me wife ‘n barins…” He said, his half blind eyes wide with fright. “It’s ‘im ye shod be worried abo no me.” He said shakily, now fumbling for words that might save his skin. He swallowed a growing lump in his throat and spoke, “E as wan brown eye n pale fur. Please sir I beg ye, should ye find im, do away with him immediately, if no fer yerself than fer this poor old warrior.” He was practically groveling at this point but if it was what got him out of this without losing a hair on his head so be it. Without waitng for a response from the irate man he bolted away, tail tucked between his legs, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed -Exit Ruthgar- This is him talking

He had meant to get their sooner, but by the time he reached them Lark was already crossing the rapids towards the intruder. He watched with wide yellow eyes, carefully watching his sons paws as he made the safe landing on the other side. Feeling like he was able to breathe again, he took off running to the place closest to Lark. The strange wolf was already vanishing, his gaze resting on his son. "What was that about?" he called over the rapids, pacing back and forth slightly. The mist from the water made it hard to pick out anyone's scent besides Lark's, and as much as he wanted to cross the river he didn't really trust his own paws. "Can you smell them?" If they were from a pack, they had another thing coming. Thankfully Lark had been here while he had. "SPEAK!"

Art by Raqinq

He'd very nearly died crossing these rapids before, though he was hesitant to admit that to anyone. He'd kept it a secret -- and truthfully he enjoyed sharing such private memories with Lillianna, even if the contents of the memory weren't. particularly exciting. Lark was amazed at the own grace with which he moved, suddenly overwhelmed by the uncertainty of a stranger in his home, who hadn't been invited. He had a faint pack scent to him, he noted as he got closer and trailed after his retreating form slightly, but it wasn't a familiar aroma by any means. The stranger's departing words made no more sense than anything else he'd said, though Lark was grateful he was leaving without a fuss. He was here long enough, Lark thought, his eyes flashing as he watched the stranger head off into the distance. He'd scout the borders longer than usual tonight and make sure he really had left, and that there was no trace of any other strangers lingering near their homelands. His father's presence caught him by surprise; he'd been too caught up in the present moment to think about much. It seemed Bass caught the tail end of what was going on, and Lark wrinkled his nose in distaste of the whole scenario as he called across the rapids.  "Not really sure, dad," he admitted loudly, scowling as he turned and neared the river's edge again.  "He had a weird accent. It was hard to tell what he was on about. I got a good whiff of his scent, though I'm not sure what pack he's from." It wasn't anyone he'd ever encountered before, he was sure of that much.

He eyed the rapids again, looking at the path that Lark had taken to get across. He really didn't want to risk it, but he also felt like he needed to get a whiff at the one who had been within their borders. Letting out a sigh, he looked up when his son called out to him. He had an odd accent and he could tell he was from a pack, but unsure as to which one. Snorting, he glanced around them with narrowed eyes. He knew that Lark knew what Fiori smelled like, he had met Tib, plus they nearly bordered each other. Plopping down on his rump the older male let out a groan. If the scent was strong enough, perhaps Lark would be able to pick out which pack it came from if he scouted them out. "Go check out the nearby pack borders and see if you can match the scent. I'll patrol our borders and add stronger scent makers." Bass called, rising back up on his paws to make his way to their boundary line. They needed to make sure that this wasn't going to happen again. If it did, he would make sure that they didn't walk away without a bloody warning. -exit Bass- "SPEAK!"

Art by Raqinq

Though he’d never admit it, Lark felt a bit shaken up by the strange ordeal. A foreign wolf crossing their borders and spewing nonsense was disconcerting, even if he hadn’t seemed to be trying to threaten Abaven or himself. It was unsettling just not knowing what the man’s intentions had been, and he hadn’t given them even a hint to go off of. Lark nodded at his father’s orders, though he’d been inclined to do just that without being prompted. ”Will do, dad,” he called back out, his voice loud to be heard easily over the rapids. He hoped he could find some way to figure out where the strange male had been from, and perhaps even some idea of what his purpose was in coming here. Was he looking for something -- or someone? Or even worst; scoping out their lands to plan something? A siege, or even a war? Lark shivered at the thought, dipping his head in Bass’ direction for turning to head off to scout the surrounding lands.