Were there bears in the mountain? Do bears shit in the woods-- that is to say, yes there are bears in the mountains. Víðarr knows that they aren't safe to co exist with them, knows that he needs to push them out in order to keep the pack, to keep his family, safe. One by one, he would pick them off, drive them away. With each one tidily done away with, Víðarr would sleep a bit more easily at night. He would rest more soundly, more safely. That would do him well, right?

Well, he thought so. The shadow managed to catch this one fishing in one of the rivers that flowed down the mountain. Well, trying to fish, at least. The viking king melted through the long shadows cast by the late afternoon sun. It was unusual for him to slink in so discreetly, usually preferring to come crashing in with the theatrics. Well, variety was the spice of life, right? Something like that.

When he's too close for comfort, that's when the growl starts. It's commanding, starting low in his throat. Echoing from his deep chest, enough to grab the bear's attention in an instant. Menacing. Víðarr advances on the bear, throwing himself head on into it once more. Truly a heathen menace.

"Speech"

“We really have to stop meeting like this, sweetheart”

She said as she glided across the space between them. He was already diving headfirst at the bear, but she was quite happy to leave him to be the star of the show. This time. She manoeuvred herself around, heading towards the back of it. The larger, angrier wolf at its front was a great distraction that allowed her to close the distance.

This time, Spice leapt off her back and landed on a stone nearby. Content to watch the action with a little distance between herself and the very large bear. Keetie lowered her head, driving her antlers into the soft spot behind its knee at the same moment Vidarr dived in. if she was lucky, it would be too distracted with the Alpha to retaliate.

"Speech"

The shadow is reckless. A berserker in every right, the best defense is a good offense. Something burned brightly, brilliantly within him. By the gods, he is brilliant. He catches Lorikeet's presence somewhere not too far off, picking up on her scent on the breeze before truly turning up. "When the mountain is safe, maybe." The words are spoken with brass and confidence, and Víðarr is in his glory.

Holding the bear's attention, the viking king is more than happy to take a couple shots. Grinning, growling, making to sunder the bear. Sunder and smash, lunging and snapping. Holding the attention of the predator and maintaining an opening for Lorikeet and her little cat friend. Víðarr is so incredibly pleased with this fight, with these feelings. As he takes a strong thump from the bear's paw, he can feel a claw dig into the flesh of his shoulder. It only served to fuel him more, teeth gnashing and shining.

"Víðarr"

"If I take on a few more of these bears, will you give me a fancy title?" She teased. After all, the seductress felt like she was doing a lot of the heavy lifting around her lately. Granted, Vidarr was doing even more. But then, the dear went and made a pack, so what did he expect? 


Her words were light, despite the effort she was currently exerting. After all, her body was her greatest weapon. She honed it to an art, weather for fighting or for fucking, she wasn't fussed. After skewing her horns through the tendons of its back leg, she yanked them - and a considerable amount of blood - out again. Vidarr was keeping it busy, despite the pain she dealt it. But as it struggled to maintain it's balance, She leaped up, pushing her body against it. "Bear your throat for my king, there's a good darling" She cooed, sticking out her tongue to catch a drop of blood that beaded and dripped from her antler.

Heavy lifting was the name of the game when it came to settling new lands, breaking new ground. Heavy lifting and hard work. Sweat. Lots of sweat. Even some blood. Víðarr was content with the spilling of blood, with the rending of flesh. More than that... he might have even been happy with it. Gods, he is happy. In his glory. As Lorikeet asks her question, he can't help but allow the shadow of a smile to color his expression. "We will see." Her assistance had been appreciated, and it seems they are well practiced now, dispatching predators.

Her words to the bear were sensual, and they seemed to do the trick. The bear faltered, beginning to topple. Víðarr struck, sinking his teeth into the bear's now exposed throat. Snarling, sinking in as deep as he could and ripping back. There was enough blood, enough gore to coat him thoroughly. The bear still had some fight left, swatting at the viking king with its massive paws. He could feel one make contact with the side of his head, but it was a weaker blow than the first. He stumbled back, ears ringing, out of the creature's line of fire. Panting. Gods, it felt good to be alive. "Well done." The words were appreciative, gaze turning to Lorikeet, making sure she's still in one piece.
"Speech"