Nightingale Palisade Mister Know It All

ooc: @Kjors since Kjors is the Dragon - dragons are smart, no?

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Ease brought his paws swiftly through the altering landscape, although he was not truly too concerned. This was always a risk, walking where there was a chance that death's doorstep was laying out the hungry, happy welcome mat. The reality was just something that could not be denied for those long moments, and his head seemed to dip toward to be bowed toward the earth as he walked - although to be sure, the quiet wolf was not unaware of his surroundings.

The instinct was not about to be doused, but he found himself unable to stop the half smile that seemed to be playing on his features. It was a question that could not be asked, but he found himself already restless. Where was the things to find, where was the landscape that begged him to dig and find whatever was left to be tormented. It was at this point, he found his nose taken to the air. Something screeched overhead, but his ears fell against his skull for a few moments.

A temptation to simple do something foolish took him, but he hurried squished it. Absolutely not, there would be no tomfoolery on the matter, being well behaved on things, it was why he found himself unable to stop the pull. It was almost to be an endless thrill, something that could not be denied for even the faintest of moments. It was why his anticipation was almost swirling through him, and he rumbled with glee as he found the rocks turning up toward the sky with a shine as he took a small decline into what looked like strong flowing water.

Just paws from the front in near the more shallow edge, his eyes narrowing at the odd colored blue stones. Why, they looked absolutely fascinating - what were they? What heaviness did they have? It was why his head snaked out, and the silvery wolf dipped his head into the water, seeking the stones to retrieve.

Every day brought more strength – every day, his paws itched a little more for something outside the sequoia trees. The need had been sated for a little while, at least. @Karina always seemed to know what was best for him, pulling him along on a short adventure southward. It had quickly become much more exciting than either wolf had intended – his sense of adventure had been slaked, but not for long. Things had become so dull in the presence of the Hearthwood River pack, but he had not the foolishness to stir up trouble against the ranks once more. One defeat at the paws of Karpos was plenty. (For now.)

Instead, the dragon turned his attentions outward. After a brief word with his priestess in training (and a promise he'd not be gone more than a day), the swarthy male ventured west. He had half a mind to visit the fjord again – there he'd met Gent, which had turned out to be an interesting interaction, if not informative. However, the likelihood of finding the Crest alpha again outside his territory was low – instead following the streambed on the south side of the plains.

The adventure had proven to be fruitless when Kjors decided to turn back, only by chance coming across another wolf as he began to head east once more. "Careful," he warned the stranger, remaining on the banks of the tributary. "S'awful fast. Gonna get swept away, if y'ain't careful," he hummed, tail swishing behind his hocks as he studied the white wolf. "Y'ain't from around here, huh?"

Fascination seemed to beckon him, and in part Gunnar wondered what it would be like in those moments to feel the ability to drown. Would it make him choke? Would it make him want to whimper? It was hard to say, but he was feeling the trepidation as he leaned toward the edge. Knowing that one wrong slip could be enough to make him end up washed away into the blue beyond, well, it was an interesting concept to ponder.

In part, he had not heard the approach of steps - but then they were there, warring against his senses. He found himself unable to stop the half smile, but it poised about his features. He did not move, he did not stumble. Merely his head turned until plain, almost dopey looking dark brown eyes looked over the golden one eye that had appeared like some figment of his imagination. To the warning that had been issued, his deep voice grumbled in response, No more than the rocks do, I suspect. Yet still they go. But again, it was not his intent to get swept away. Not today.

Was this the point where they snuggled and made passionate noises, with his bottom arched up on the solid ground, and his paws in the water. It would be a dramatic scene, one would have imagined. It was why he attempted to struggle with his senses, but he could not imagine what this wolf wanted. With a slightly put out sigh, he abandoned the treasure hunt in favor of coming back up onto the bank, pondering the question. Was he from around here? Well, I'm not a fish, no. Words that might have been otherwise cocked heads with sarcasm, but then he tacked on, almost reluctantly, But I'm not from here either. No. There is little consistency, here.

A snort was the only response he could must, a wry smile slowly crawling over his grizzled muzzle at the clever response. What luck! A stranger with half a brain – now that was something new. "Ah'll wager they're a lot smaller than you, lad. An' those big rocks, they weigh more. An' even those go a bit down stream. Ain' no use, tryin' to avoid Th' Mother's will." And that was the way of it, really. She might be the All-Mother, but her design effected even those objects that did not live – the streams that provided water for all her children, or the stones that provided shelter for the fish and the frogs. It was all part of one, great master plan. One that the stranger here was unlikely willing to get tangled up in.

Kjors' grin only grew as the vagrant surfaced from the streambed with another sharp response. "Ah may only have one eye, lad, but Ah ain't blind. Can well 'nough see y'aint no fish," he rumbled, a hint of laughter dancing in his single golden eye. He wasn't nose-blind, either. The pale wolf did not smell like the forests of Relic Lore – either he'd only reached the woods recently, or he was an expert at masking his scent. While the dragon supposed he could not rule out the latter possibility, he did not consider it a terribly likely event. "Y'got a name, stranger? 'er should Ah jes' call y'Fish? Er Stone, maybe." Just to spite him – just because his clever tongue had sparked the dragon's interest, and now he'd have to live with the consequences of that.

The northern soul was not someone to be denied that he had a bit of a wanderlust, when it came to wanting to addict himself to the lands that he could be calling home. Even as he righted himself back up onto the platform of the land, his eyes were dancing, and he found himself unable to stop the cheekiness. Crows have, thus far that I've seen, the largest brains to what I've seen thus far. Although they're not the biggest I've seen. Looking over the smaller black wolf, he found himself amused.

Are you a crow?

It was a silent question, looking to engage with the intelligence of someone who was going to be facing him head on. Not that he was particularly excited with the notion that this wolf mentioned a mother of sorts; his eyes widened lightly, and while he guessed instantly it was a religious connotation, he added contently, Mothers are a dangerous thing. Endless mothers would eat us if we were incorrectly made, smelled funny - others are happiest to abandon us.

His gaze swung back to the water, and he refrained from the pressure that made him want to go back swinging his paws into the water. But head cocked to the notion of being given a name, and he pondered the consequences. Well a name is often a best identifier to send off the dead, not much more. Droll words seemed to be playing on his tongue, thoughtful enough to make sure that he was seriously humoring the male's insistence on a name.

Stone would be nice, but Gunnar will do. Serious words responded at ease, I'd like to be buried by a water source like this... to poison it as I decay. Mind, that's only if I am to die by poison - such that the tissues my absorb enough to leak out as decomposition takes place. The words had exhausted him, and the wolf drew his mouth in a thin line, struggling to make sense of things. Chattiness was never a good thing, it must have been close to nap time. What better way to ready oneself to sleep, than jaw-flapping?

(This post was last modified: Aug 09, 2015, 06:56 PM by Gunnar.)

Crow.

He liked the sound of that.  Crow Firstpaw, he murmured internally.  It rolled much better than his previous alias – perhaps in future encounters, he'd take up that name instead.

The thought was quickly stored for a later date and Kjors turned his gaze back towards his new acquaintance, one ear swiveling at his dismissal.  There was a huge difference, he often found, between the mortal dam and the All Mother.  "They'd poison ya, 'n favor of another son.  Bu' tha's not the Mother, understand.  The All-Mother, she ain't no petty bitch, and she don't believe in no punishment, either."  The male paused then, his tail swishing once as his mind raced.  "Outside of bein' excluded from her love – an' tha's punishment enough, mind."

Ah, but he was blathering.  For all he knew, the white wolf had no interest in such a thing, and he allowed the topic to turn to names instead.  Gunnar, he lodged away, next to Stone, should this man prove useful, should he prove to be the sort the dragon sought to keep by his side.  He had a priestess, after all, but Karina would never be asked to fight or render judgment.  That was what the Mother assigned to him, and it was likely he would require assistance.  Two heads were better than one, and all of that nonsense.  "Gunnar it is.  Suppose Ah'll remember tha', should Ah ever come across yer body devoid a' life.  Though, Ah generally make a habit of avoidin' me own untimely demise," he drawled, continually tickled by the strange turns the conversation kept taking.  "Y'may call me Kjors.  An' when Ah die, it'll be in a glorious blaze, finally called back t' me Mother's side.  Mind, Ah have a few things t' accomplish, between now an' then.  Ain't got no time for such bucolic thought  Ah'm sure y'could do better fer yerself than this, y'know – plannin' yer own funeral."

(This post was last modified: Aug 09, 2015, 05:01 PM by Kjors.)

Ears swung on his head as he found himself engaged with a male who would not, well not quite, dismiss the facts that came rolling off his tongue. That was enough to alert Gunnar that he should have been wary, but be damned if he knew what would be the right reason to take on something of nervousness. In the end, had he ever met someone who he felt he could not keep up with? While he was not a fighter, he was not muscle grown; but he was calculating. He was educated in the ways of torment, of harm. He was also a proven usage for when a statement had to be made, and wolf flesh had to be consumed in front of the pack to leave a statement.

Gunnar no longer held a longing to be apart of a pack such like that, but he was undoubtedly in a state of mind where he could not help but recall it. Such was why the pleasure took him, and he found himself unable to stop the denial that came to his lips. Even in a religious connotation, the mind argued instantly, the pressure of the entitlement of a mother was difficult to rationalize in a proper order. For such, his head tipped and he poised himself lightly with spread legs, huffing.

As the word could not take him, he found himself unable to keep his thoughts to himself - and his tail swished from one side to the other with the concentration that was required to come with such words. Deities are a grave argument, the Mother of All is a creator, the One is a creator, God is a creator, and often times many other foreign cultures will invoke multitudes of deities. All have nobility, or evil, and center the balance in which we must maintain - for it is, in most stories, deemed our burden. The observation was seeming to take him with the notions that were playing about on his mind, and he found himself unable to stop the pressure that was singing in his ears.

But then the atrabilious comments that seemed to trickle into the conversation was not what the other expected. Kjors was a reasonable man, evidently, but Gunnar was not so relieved with the notion. Death is an inevitability; the consequences of ignoring it make us more mortal than ever, and one often finds themselves with sharp objects in them when they override their deities, especially. It was a thoughtful way of explaining that he simply was not bothered by it, it was good to know what was coming ahead for him.

With that thought in mind, he bobbed his head and found his eyes rolling upward toward the sky as he started to pick out words from what had been said, and finally organized his mind better. You're a blood-seeker. Erm, power - power would be more apt, but in my culture, a blood-seeker is the ultimate player in the game of Life; he takes from all, he sucks them dry and fuels his own triumph. Question was in there somewhere, but he was simply baiting - observing. After all, someone who wanted to go down in flames - they had big plans.

A lynx has left behind the remains of a deer. +5 Health

"There is only one, and She is the alpha and omega, the beginning and the end. There is no other," Kjors protested vehemently, a sudden flame sparkling in his golden eye. It mattered little to him how others sought to waste their souls – nothing could convince him to abandon the embrace of the All-Mother. Even his recent rash of bad luck had not driven him from Her side. There was nothing his companion could do, or say- But it was difficult to remember he was not here with missionary purpose.

Clearing his throat, the swarthy male rolled a single ear back. "Ah accept that others have their own beliefs. But Ah'll not be swayed from me path. Ah walk in Her name," he hummed, allowing the subject to rest there. Gunnar did not seem particularly interested in any faith, and just as well. The subordinate's calling was not one of a priest, after all – his purpose was even higher than that. He was to bring down the Mother's judgment, and shape the world to Her will as Her Right Paw, foretold by his prophet Karina.

Instead, he allowed the pale man to steer the conversation, unconvinced by his squirrely attitude towards death. "So it is. All born, all 'll die. All th' same, won't waste wha' time Ah have preparin' for it. Wha' do Ah care wha' happens after Ah'm dead? Ah'll be dead," Kjors snorted, shaking his head. Hopefully, that would be some time yet, and he would have a legacy to leave behind. There would be things to take care of, naturally (@Karina sprung to mind, her welfare and happiness), but as for his physical being? It would be left to return to the earth it had once sprung from, and that was enough for him.

"Blood-seeker? Nah. Power doesn' only come wi' violence. Sometimes, most times, maybe, but only a fool thinks there ain't other ways," he hummed, tail swishing behind him. "Ain't no secret, though. Wasn' born to shoulder th' ambitions of other wolves. Dragons ain't born for chains. Me triumph will come. Naw yet. But soon. An' those with me will be raised t' glorious heights, basked in th' Mother's favor, an' burdened wi' a glorious purpose."

One day, I will be King.

Gunnar's ears swiveled on his head, absolutely riveted with the notion that he was speaking to one of the reverents. On the matter of it all, his mind was almost bursting - addiction was coming through his head. Priest, naysayer, pope, eunuch, henchman, so many words that could be associated. And yet as he pondered on the words, he did not appreciate the correction. No, this was a false speaker on the means of thinking they were dutiful - there was too much an aura for him, there was too much self satisfaction.

Then the word came, the entitlement and Gunnar looked up toward the sky. Dragon. Really, a potentially made up flying lizard that, even if you asked some more naive wolves, were the ones that popped out birds through their cloaca. Did that mean that Kjors was half a man? Less than that, even, for the bird anatomy was not particularly enthusiastic. It was why his head cocked to the side, and he found his sharp brown eyes dropping back to look upon the features of the other, attempting to align his mind with where the conversation was going. Instead, he struggled to make sense of where the line of conversation was going, While dragons are considered superior creatures, their wingspan mighty; they're still lesser than most of their avian counterparts. The vulnerability at some of the wing points could always alter the power, and the reality is the exhaustion of being provided a gift, from your deity or otherwise, is fairly unlikely.

Honestly, where did someone get off in believing in potentially imaginary things without having a concept of the afterlife; of course it mattered. Every second mattered before the birth and creation of the egg in which made young, so how could not the following matter? Perhaps you need to do some fasting, I often hear that those who are required to have heightened religious positions need their harem of aid, and then their own rituals in which truths will be revealed to them. He was not... well, trying to be insulting. But it would certainly not be a harm for the... Follower.

Triumph? Who is it you expect to triumph over - you have a marvelous ambitions evidently; your game plan is evidently dusted with a bit of quiet - I've not heard of you, but then again, I've not heard much yet in this land. Swift smile graced his features, almost looking embarrassed over the fact. While he was teacher at heart, his mind was always open to learning. And that was why his shoulders shrugged, Give it a few more weeks though, the sun's not set yet.

(This post was last modified: Aug 11, 2015, 10:02 PM by Gunnar.)