R A G N A R
Male | 5 Years | Jarl of Blackback Guard | Grey Wolf x Irish Wolfhound x Swedish Elkhound
Mentions: None, Open for Interaction.

As soon as Ragnar reached the mouth of his den the rain began to plummet down. It soaked the mountain side and made the atmosphere intense and frigid, his breath billowing out in thick clouds in front of him. In the distance, the yellow streak of dawn tried to push its way onto the horizon but daunting plumes of mist and storm clouds painted the sky black and grey. It was always dark this early in the morning, but this day unusually so, and Ragnar was familiar enough with unpropitious weather to recognize that this would be the cause. What a shame. He had hoped for clear skies when approaching the mountain range. A raid was easier performed without damp feet and heavy cloaks to keep warm, but no matter. Blood would still spill whether the valley was cloaked with ice or not. Imminent visions of war and destruction enveloped his sleep-fogged mind as he stared out of the mouth of his lair with an absent-minded grin, faltering only slightly when a faint whine behind him caused an ear to twitch. Oh, right. Her.

His giant paws remained fixed to the stone beneath them, glancing over his shoulder to pay feeble attention to the nuisance that linger behind him. "Get out." He commanded in a heavy drawl of a growl. A dainty husky flinched at his tone, lifting hesitantly to her feet before quickly pedalling them to the exit and away from his domain. Despite Ragnar's detest for a lover, he surely wasn't opposed to falsifying affection in order to gain some added insulation at night. Though most dogs would seek out their family and cuddle up with them in the cruelest of weather, Ragnar couldn’t imagine doing such a thing. He had no relationship with previous partners, and his children were.. distant, some might say. They were his blood, but they were not in his image. He let out a gruff snort at the thought and fully emerged from his den with a harsh expression plastered across his face. He wouldn't allow his dogs another second of sleep. Tilting his head back, his jaws parted to let the haunting howl of the wolf wake them, his call deep and deafening and not willing to be ignored. It was time to begin.

G U N T H A R R
Male | 3 Years, 6 Months | Berserker of Blackback Guard | Eurasian Wolf x American Alsatian x Leonberger
Mentions: Ragnar (indirectly) Open for Interaction.

Guntharr let out an irritated huff as he maneuvered across the rugged landscape, his nostrils flared as he fought to breath around the musky, furry corpse of the fat hare he'd recently killed. As a dog with a fairly heavy pelt to carry, this soaking wet weather left his coat hanging from his frame heavily and made every movement something he cringed at. Still, it did nothing to halt him in his quest of bringing home breakfast. He'd awoken much earlier than the rest of his packmates, when the sky itself was still painted black, and went on a mission to bring down a much impressive meal that even the most talented of Scavengers wouldn't be able to subdue.

Well, not really. This terrain proved precarious for even the most nimble-footed creatures and therefore was mostly barren. He'd gotten lucky on his way back when a rabbit foolishly peered out of it's burrow and looked right into the gaping jaws of a hungry wolfdog. It wasn't much, but the Blackback Guard hadn't eaten much since their arrival to the mountains and any sort of morsel was much needed. Gods forbid that Ragnar would make it a priority to feed us, selfish bastard. At the thought, a familiar call split through the air, harsh and commanding and familiar enough that Guntharr knew better than to ignore it. Following the howl, he quickened his pace until he reached the rocky mountain side where they'd set up camp. Ragnar hadn't focused his eyes on him just yet, thank Odin, but he wasn't quite out of the woods just yet. Glancing around to where the rest of his companions were now gathering, he folded his legs beneath him and lay the hare down. "Morning." He greeted drowsily to the nearest dog who wandered his way, in turn pushing the fresh meat towards them with a heavy paw.

H A R L O W
Female | 3 Years | Prisoner of Highvalley Court | European Wolf x Weimaraner
Mentions: Raven, Agmund, Atticus (indirectly) Open for Interaction.

Harlow stared out from the filthy bars of her cell, her muscles tense and her eyes unblinking. Though the sun would soon rise outside, it always remained dark beneath the ground. Here she was, locked away like a rabbit in a cage, unable to run or roam or even feel. This isolation was torture. This uncertainty was torture. Every moment she remained down here she knew someone outside of these walls may change their mind about her. They may come down with a blade and tear at her throat and mount her corpse on a stake and wave it around during war.

That is a display only Ragnar would invent. These dogs aren't capable of such evil.

"On your feet!" Harlow flinched as claws scraped the limestone beneath their feet and the familiar voice of the Lairkeeper filled her ears. He was recognizable now, with his dark eyes and even darker pelt, but he did not come with a name. This made her wary of him even more. She watched as he used his snout to unhinge the lock on her cell, the door swinging open and exposing the doorway that would leave back to the outside world. "You have a busy day ahead. Better get those pretty limbs of yours moving, miss, before I come in and make them move for you." Another threat. Why did they speak to her like she would refuse? Did they really believe her foolish enough to risk her own life? They fear the wolf in you, girl. Use it to your advantage. Lifting her eyes, she glanced towards the cells that surrounded her own. Filled with strangers, criminals, a few dogs who had seemingly lost their wits, and.. family. Friends. Her stomach turned as her nose picked up the slightest, ever faint detection of Blackback scent. She was not entirely a lone wolf, not in this dungeon anyway.

O L E A N D E R
Male |4 Years | Knight of Highvalley Court | Borzoi x Belgian Groenendael
Mentions: Highvalley Court Knights (Open for Interaction)


A thick canopy of mist had enveloped the mountains that lay in the distance, seemingly erasing them from sight as though they never had existed in the first place. It was almost a calming sight, really, to know the place that housed their most damaging foe was suddenly gone from existence and hopefully would take them with it, but Oleander knew that if anything, this was a sign from God himself. They couldn't drop their guard, and they couldn't pretend like by some miracle they'd disappear. These dogs that lived in their mountains were slandering, blood-spilling beasts from the fires of Hell and they'd need to be disposed of quickly.

Was it realistic to walk on eggshells whilst in the Kingdom, however? Most of his neighbours seemed reluctant to resume life as usual and were intent on hiding away in their dens. We can't cower like sheep forever. Oleander rose to his feet and looked away from the mountains, instead turning to look at the brick-coated structure where some of his fellow Knights still lingered. Perhaps he could raise some spirits with friendly gossip during a patrol?

"Morning is upon us ladies and gents!" The black hound exploded into the building with wagging tail and bright, energetic demeanour, sending an array of nest material fluttering through the air as he trudged through their bedding. His long, feathery tail proved to be a weapon when in motion, batting an unfortunate canine behind him directly in the snout as he interrupted their slumber further. "And as such, why don't we start it off right with a patrol outside of Kingdom walls, hm? Markers need to be reset, any way."

| A L I S T A I R |
Male • 5 Years Old • Borzoi • Highvalley Court Lord King
Location: Court Walls • Mentions: {Directly} Open / {Indirectly} Ragnar

As Alastair stared over the walls to the lands beyond he almost appeared rooted to the spot, as still as any statue, the usual stern expression etched into his countenance. What should a king feel in this moment? Fear of the quiet? Or should he be falling under some false sense of bravado right about now? "There is nothing to fret. We would see them coming. They can never reach us here. The walls will protect us.” All commonly muttered reassurances. He believed none of them.

The knowledge of his true heritage weighed on him heavily. As far as anyone was concerned, Alistair’s mother had been the king's wife. They couldn't have known Annika was unable to give their former king a boy even if she had wanted. They certainly didn't know he had sought out others to carry his children instead. Foreign females the rest of the court would never see. The only pup he had ever laid claim to was the single son born among many daughters, and Alistair now lived knowing his true mother lay in the ground and sisters were kept away while another she-dog raised him with cold eyes and harsh words. The blood of his enemies ran through his veins. As hard as he tried he could never forget that.

"Come if you must. You will only meet death here," he growled under his breath, finally turning away to tend to his duties. His legs were stiff from his former stance and he felt a good run would loosen up any tense muscles. It was still quite early and he could perhaps get away with going off solo for a time without any guards hurrying to flank him. Quick pawsteps saw him quickly descend the stairs leading up to the battlements within moments and before long stone turn to springy grass as he sprinted across the court clearing.

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| A L E X A N D R A |
Female • 3 Years, 10 Months Old • Afghan Shepherd • Highvalley Court Knight
Location: Highvalley Knights Den • Mentions: {Directly} Oleander

"Morning is upon us ladies and gents!"

Alexandra jerked upright, shaken from a deep, dreamless sleep as Oleander burst into the knight’s den with a rather enthusiastic wake-up call. The large she-dog stared at her fellow knight through bleary eyes, sneezing as dust from the commotion filled her nostrils. As she moved to step out of her nest her co-workers tail landed a solid smack on her muzzle and she snorted, sidestepping the black dog and shaking her head to relieve the sting currently pulsing across her face.

“You sure are peppy this morning Ole,” she commented with a chuckle, the stub of her own tail beginning to wiggle. Despite the abrupt awakening she was aware the male hadn’t meant her any ill will. There was no reason to be upset. “That sounds like a good idea,” she added, immediately perking up at the mention of a patrol. “We can’t afford to overlook anything unusual, and keeping our scent markers fresh will perhaps persuade our enemies that setting paw in the valley will result in...less than pleasant consequences.”

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| D R I F T |
Female • 3 Years, 8 Months Old • Wolfdog Hybrid • Blackback Guard Scavenger
Location: Blackback Camp • Mentions: {Directly} Open / {Indirectly} Ragnar

Drift crept forward on silent paws, eyes locked on a squirrel settled at the base of one of the few sparse trees the valley had to offer only a few paces ahead of her. She’d set out long before the sun rose with the intent of catching herself a proper breakfast, it had been far too long since she’d had a full meal, but as it so often did her mostly white pelt proved her undoing. Every animal she stalked had seen her coming against the lush green landscape surrounding them and escaped long before she had any chance of capturing them. This squirrel, however, appeared far too busy snuffling among the roots for seeds. It might just be her lucky day. When the time was right she propelled herself forward, snatching the rodent up before it had any opportunity to react and swiftly snapping its neck.

Her golden gaze scanned the clearing to make certain she didn't have any visitors and that the cliffs above were clear of prying eyes before tearing into her kill and scarfing down the delicious meat. With her own hunger satisfied for the time-being she might do a better job hunting for the pack. It wasn't long after she managed to spook a hare from its burrow and sink her teeth into its flesh. Her ears flicked as a howl from the Jarl echoed from camp and Drift was quick to scurry back, her new prey clutched between her jaws. Depositing the hare on what was left of the previous night's food stock, she lingered near the back of the group of gathering dogs as they waited to hear what Ragnar had to tell them.

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| I G N A T I U S |
Genderflux (He/Him Pronouns) • 1 Year, 7 Months Old • Iberian Wolf/Ibizan Hound Hybrid • Blackback Guard Black Witch Youngblood
Location Blackback Camp • Mentions: {Directly} Nevihta / {Indirectly} Ragnar

Ignatius examined the flowers he’d come across during his herb hunt with a critical eye, pawing at the bright petals gingerly. “You would make a lovely decoration,” he commented wistfully, “but I’m afraid you have more practical uses.” Leaning forward, he carefully sliced through the stems with his teeth before scooping up the treasured blossoms, loping back into camp within a matter of minutes, his paws gliding over the grass with ease. He slowed to a trot as the other dogs came into sight and his ears perked with curiosity as he noted they appeared to be gathering around the Jarl. Clearly he had missed something.

As it appeared they might soon be moving, he made haste to his temporary den, pawing herbs and other necessary plants closer, swiftly placing each into a satchel he had made himself for transporting his wares. If there was to be a battle they would be needed and so would he. Slipping back into camp moments later once he was satisfied with his collection, he glanced around his packmates as they awaited Ragnar’s speech, copper flecked eyes pausing momentarily on the Jarl before seeking out his mentor. Ignatius made his way over to Nevihta , brushing against her side once he’d reached her. “Good morning teacher. I found the herbs you asked for the other day,” he announced, pride lacing his tone. “I am certain they are the right ones this time.”

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| R A V E N |
Male • 4 Years, 5 Months Old • Borzoi x Eurasian Wolf • Highvalley Court Prisoner
Location: Dungeons • {Directly, kind of} Harlow

A deep growl rumbled in the formerly silent hound’s throat, the threatening sounds growing into a savage snarl as the Lairkeeper passed his cell. Amber eyes burned with defiant rage and white teeth flashed in the darkness as his lips curled to reveal lengthy fangs. The Highvalley dog was not here for him. They all knew better than to come anywhere near him if they valued any part of themselves or their lives. He had already torn off a piece of ear and nipped at the throat of previous guards who ventured too close. All the same, he always felt the need to let his presence and hatred be known to anyone who entered the dank prison.

His snarls quited into closed mouth growls again, his gaze growing accusing as he watched the Lairkeeper lead Harlow away, likely to serve the king in some way. A sneer of utter disgust crossed his muzzle. Where was her pride? Her courage? Was she truly content to do what she was told? Was the fear in her so great? “Pitiful,” he spat, loud enough to be heard as she disappeared into the darkness beyond his cage. His gaze scanned the rest of the prisoners within his sight range, curious for their own reactions if other Blackbacks were among them.

|••|Mone|••|
3 years|••|Female|••|German Shepherd|••|Highvalley Knight
Location:Knights' den|••|Mentions:Oleander, Sen[directly]

The female's eyelids shot open at a packmate's words. Morning. She blinked her eyes several times in annoyance, eventually sitting up. The one who woke up everyone was Oleander. Of course, she wouldn't except anything else from him. Well, since she was already up, going on a patrol wouldn't hurt. A sigh escaped her snout as she stretched her head, finally speaking after a while. "Yeah, w-we... should go." Her sentence was interrupted by her own yawn, causing her eyes to widen a little bit. Mone looked around awkwardly before her face shifted back to her blank expression. The bitch slowly stood, walking away from her once warm nest. The black brute's excitement made the corner of her lips turn upwards and form a smile. It's curious how some dogs managed to be bright even when other packs threatened them. And be genuinely bright, not fake. Her eyes followed the line of grumpy dogs, soon stopping on her brother, who tried his best to fake a smile.

•||•Sen•||•
3 years•||•Male•||•German Shepherd •||•Highvalley Knight
Location:Knight's den•||•Mentions:Oleander, Alexandra, Mone[directly]

The male slowly batted his eyes open, a frown involuntary forming on his face. Haha, looks like it's morning and someone is excited to patrol. A smirk replaced the cold frown, which was followed by a smile. He sat up, shaking his short fur and licking his chest. "Why so soon though..." These words slipped out of his mouth, even though he only wanted to think that. Sen shrugged and blinked sleepily. His gaze locked on a beige female dog, who happily agreed with the black male. He flicked his ears, hearing another voice from behind him. Looks like his sister wasn't all that fine with someone waking her up. A chuckle erupted from his snout, getting up and padding towards his sister. The black and orange brute was always looking forward to patrols outside the walls, it felt like adventure. He smile never left his features this whole time. After a while, the male slowly nodded, but he doubted his gesture was noticed by anyone.

| A T T I C U S |
| Male | 3 Years | Prisoner of Highvalley Court | GSD x Kelpie x Grey Wolf | Mentions: (indirectly) Harlow, Raven |

The brute, closely resembling a german shepherd, lay in eerie silence in the corner of his cell. Baring glistening, seemingly ever-stained fangs in warning as the Lairkeeper paced down the rows of cages, the handicapped wolfdog narrowed amber and milky blue eyes. Pushing himself up into a seated position with a grunt, the well muscled male watched after the dark-furred Lairkeeper, limping forwards to peer through the bars, harsh gaze tracking him as the Lairkeeper went to a she-dog, a former Blackback. She didn't appear to give any trouble, which made him both confused and slightly relieved. Why was she so willing? Was there no fight left in the she-dog? Even himself, the oddity with the missing leg, fought whenever possible.

Deciding it best not to call her out, as another had already done the honours of barking rudely after her as she disappeared after the Lairkeeper, Atticus growled under his breath. Flattening his right ear grumpily, he snarled lowly, the darkness making his pelt blend in. His amber orb glowed, searching the area. Could he escape? Unlikely. And even if he did somehow manage, he was sure to be incapacitated almost immediately. They were in the heart of the enemies place, after all. The Highvalley dogs knew the terrain here, not the Blackback Guard canines.

Letting out a frustrated bark, followed by a flurry of deeper, increasingly angry ones, he began to restlessly pace. He ws bored, more than anything else. However, a spark of fear found itself in his chest, but he didn't allow it to ignite into a flame. Shaking his head, he huffed and allowed his sound to taper into silence. Limping back to his corner, the brute sighed softly, flopping down not the ground. "It's no use." he mused aloud, though with a soft voice, tail sweeping over the cold floor.

Wren
Female | 3 Years | Scavenger of Blackback Guard | German Shepherded x Belgian Malinois x Iberian Wolf
Mentions: Ragnar and Guntharr
Wren had woken up a bit early to spot where the herds had gone for the night, she was just heading back as she herd Ragnar's howl. Her paw steps faltered for a second before she called back with her own much softer howl to tell him that she was away from the den site before she took off into a sprint trying to avoid to large of jumps down or difficult jumps.

By the time Wren had made it back to the others glad that the Jar had not started speaking yet. The female squeezed in next to Guntharr and muttered a greeting before making herself comfortable trying to avoid touching the others around her.

Tolko
Male | 1 Years | Young blood of Blackback Guard | Anatolian Shepherd x Wolf
Mentions: Sangrita and Ragnar
Tolko lifted his head lazily and as Ragnar called out to them, he laid in the same spot watching the others walking towards the Jar before he finally stood up and followed after them. As the sandy male looked around for a spot he spotted his sister and shook his head before dropping down in the spot he was standing. Tolko watched as Both Wren and Guntharr walked in a bit late and looked away, he was on time so he didn't bother with them.

Hansel
Male | 4 Years | Knight of Highvalley Court | Doberman x Rottweiler
Mentions: Oleander, Alexandra, Sen and Mone
Hansel twitched at the sound of Oleander and lifted his head with a grunt. He listened to Alexandra and the other dark coated male, after they finished he opened his eyes and nodded letting out a yawn. "Patrols always sound like a good idea. How are we splitting up?" He asked as he got up to join the others, his back legs flexed at every step he took towards them, his paws digging into the earth as he basically forced himself along. God, he really did hate mornings.

Freya
Female | 6 Years | High Priestess of Highvalley Court | German Shepherded x Labrador
Mentions: None, Open for Interaction.
Freya hummed as she walked towards the den sites, her long black tail wagged behind her as she patted along greeting everyone she saw in the same cheery tone, mornings were always her favorites, she loved the damp ground on her paw pads and the feelings of the cool morning breeze against her some what damp fur as she walked along. She was hopping she would catch the knights before they left to greet them all.

Sjurd
Male | 8 years old | Husky x Wolf | Blackback Guard Berserker | Mentions: {Directly} - Rikard, Open {Indirectly} - Ragar

It was a quiet morning. Something that only seemed to happen when trouble was bound to strike. Sjurd shook out his heavy fur, the water soaking deep into his coat and chilling him to the bones. But his discomfort was mild in comparison to the dog beside him. Rikard, his younger and smaller brother was bound to be freezing by now. But he showed no signs of it. The older dog nodded his head in approval. Weakness was not something they showed very often, and for good reason. Their upbringing had not been the best.

He shook off his darker thoughts, facing towards the Jarl once more. Ragnar's howl had woken them both, and now they were simply waiting for the announcement that the great Jarl had to make. Rikard was beginning to shuffle his paws from side to side, no doubt to keep warm. "Stop moving." Sjurd muttered out of the corner of his mouth, his own paws moving a bit out of agitation. But the both of them stood still a moment later, still waiting.


Rikard
Male | 4 years old | Husky x German Shepard x Wolf | Blackback Guard Youngblood | Mentions: {Directly} - Sjurd, Open {Indirectly} - Ragnar

Rikard had to stifle a yawn. He'd been up later than usual the night before, practicing the newer moves that Sjurd had been teaching him before his older brother had grown bored watching him fail. But he was certain he had the moves down now. And hopefully he would have a chance to show Sjurd, the sooner the better. He shot his older brother a look, feeling that deep seated thankfulness rise within him again. It happened nearly every time he thought of what his older brother had done for him in his short life. A small whine built up in the back of his throat but he cut it off as quickly as he could, not wanting his brother to scold him again.

He turned away to watch Ragnar again, wondering why they had been called so early on such a rainy day. Their leader wasn't always kind, and Rikard had to wonder if this was a punishment. He hoped not. He couldn't think of anything that he or any other dog had done that would warrant a punishment. But Ragnar was the only one who knew his mind. They could have been gathered for anything at this point, and the only thing Rikard could do, was sit and wait.

Rahla | Female | Blackback Guard | Scavenger
Location: General Area | Mentions: {ID} Ragnar

Rahla was a little unsure of where she was. It wasn’t that she couldn’t find her way back to the camp, but she wasn’t sure how she’d gotten to where she was. There was a rabbit in front of her, though, which she was about to attack. In a blur of motion, she leaped forward, snagging the rabbit by its neck, and it snapped, dying fairly quickly and painlessly. Then, her keen hearing picking up her father’s call, the wolfdog perked up, tail curling over her back and ears pointing up, swiveling around. She retraced her steps, digging up another rabbit that she had killed, and a deer fawn that had been separated from its mother at some point. It was possible the mother had been killed by the Guard already.

With all of her kills, Rahla discovered that she was making slow progress back, but she made it within moments of Ragnar’s howl, depositing the prey in the center of camp and trotting eagerly over to the growing crowd, pushing through to the front and sitting square in the center, where her father had to look at her, and even if he said nothing, understand that she had been out already, hunting for the Guard. Her back was straight and her head was high, a sitting version of the attentative pose she’d taken earlier. Despite . . . her father being well . . . her father, she loved him quite a lot and craved even the smallest praise from him. She couldn’t quite bring herself to say anything to him right then, though; the fear of being rebuked before the entire guard kept her silent.

Nevihta | Female | Blackback Guard | Black Witch
Location: General Area | Mentions: Ignatius {ID} Ragnar

Nevihta had just woken when Ragnar called the pack to wake. She knew her apprentice was already awake, gathering, preparing, so she stood, shook herself out, and shrugged her raven-feather cape-thing onto her shoulders and back. A few steps took her into the camp and she sat in the small gathering of dogs that was beginning. She was already thinking of the things she wanted and needed to do, one of which was . . . complex. It was a ritual, and it would be the first one Ignatius was not only present for, but was a part of.

She needed several things for this, but her young trainee was adept at finding the things they needed, and hopefully he had everything, but if he didn’t, they would have to pray to whatever gods they cared to worship they could scrape it up. The ritual was very complicated and would hopefully grant her pack more success on the battlefield.

“Ignatius! There you are,” Nevihta exclaimed, bumping her young student with her muzzle in greeting. “I’m glad you found everything. I’ll check them, but I’m sure they’ll save many lives in the upcoming days. Did you find any feathers, while you were out? Anything cool? I love cool things. Have you seen Rahla? Anyone else? Are you ready for the . . . thing we’re doing, later? I’m so excited! Seems like just yesterday, you were a brand new trainee and now you’re already so far on the way to being a Black Witch in your own right. I’m so proud I’m going to explode!” Most of this was mumbled and possibly to herself, though she was sure Ignatius could hear her and might respond to it. She didn’t care if he did or not, so long as he answered her main questions.

Agmund
3 Years | Male | Wolf x Asian Shepherd x Collie | Prisoner of High Valley
Location: High Valley Cells | Mentions: Blackback Gaurd {Indirectly} - Open

Paws numb from the hard and cold stone floors that he'd been forced to live on for the past couple moons, or so he believed. Being under ground for so long caused for a bit of confusion on the time of day. The chains reminded him of his inability to escape, and they hung heavy on his pride as well as the flesh rubbed raw around his paws. It was a nightmare being down here, and continuously assutled by the rancid smell of Blackback Guards, again, unable to forget something that haunted him so. Betrayal.

Agmund wasn't the loyalist, that much anyone could vouch for, but turning on your own family was never easy. And left down here with nothing but the constant dripping sound into the large puddle that filled the left of his cell, was also only the sound of his thoughts. Those bretrayed him plenty. Suddenly the sound of pawsteps echoed down the dark cell blocks and he made sure to slink back into the shadowy depths behind his own metal bars. The guard spoke harshly to another prisoner held a few blocks up from his own, a female from the faint and old smell of her.

Then another hit him, this time much stronger. She was one of them. The distinct smell of the forest winds and blood was carried on every Blackback's pelt, some stronger than others, and some held there proudly. His stomach turned, and he ground his teeth together to ease his nerves, hoping she wouldn't recognize his own scent. But before long, she and the Lairkeeper had left, leaving him along once again. Though the quiet yet equally as harsh bark of another prisoner had him biting down even harder on his own teeth. Another.

Was he surrounded by those he planned to expose the secrets of in exchange for healthier living? Was this the gods way of punishment, if so he thought he deserved it. Dropping his head low he closed his eyes. Whatever fate await him, he'd do best to avoid thinking about it for now. At this time, until someone come down for possibly his own execution, he'd try to dream of a better place.

Daymara Lawwood
5 Years | Female | Australian Shepherd x Retriever | Gatherer of High Valley
Location: High Valley Gardens | Mentions: N/A - Open

The berries where large and full of juice around this time of year, and she took extra care in picking them from their sharp branches. Her basket was already brimming with an assortment of fruits, laying on top of them a beautiful display of flowers, hoping to bring them back for the young pups of High Valley. Laughing quietly to herself, she continued picking.

"Oh yes, I've heard we now have four of them down there-" Daymara heard the whisper of a female beyond the berry bushes she occupied, and she stilled. "Four? What is the King planning to do with them?" Another female interjected, clearly she was fearful, the treble in her words proof enough of this. Daymara knew of what they where talking about, but she had guessed it was just a rumor floating around Highvalley. Sitting back on her haunches she looked skeptically down at her paws. Four wolves in the dungeons?

Racing back towards the gates of the kingdom, basket clutched tightly in her jaw, she would hand it over to one of the elders to sort. She needed to figure out if this was true. Why would the King keep four wolves alive in the dungeons? What if one escaped and fled, or worse. She though back to the young dogs of High Valley and her pace quickened.

Radu
7 Years | Male | German Shepherd x Wolf | Blackback Gaurd Commander
Location: Blackback Guard Borders | Mentions: N/A - Open

His paw slipped on a rather sharp stone, tearing into the hard coulloused flesh of his black pad. "Fuck." He snarled to himself, lifting his large paw to examine the wound. So pathetic that such a small cut could inflict such an annoying burn. Chuckling darkly to himself, the single yellow eye that was left uncovered from the rag around his head flashed with intensity. He'd been in a hurry to follow the scent trail of a bull moose, the thing was weak from the obvious zigzags it's scent seemed to drip in and out of. Perhaps one of its legs where wounded? Or maybe just sick.

Still, Radu didn't really feel like hunting, and walking all the way back to the others to inform them of his discovery seemed like too much of a hassle. He was commander after all, if he wanted to keep secrets from the pack he had the right. Maybe he'd tell them later if he was feeling up to it.

His golden eye caught sight of a cluster of purple berries just hiding beneath a bush and he stalked over to give them a sniff. His tail began to wag lazily at his luck. A few minutes and all the berries had been consumed, leaving a rather aggressive looking red stain on his black muzzle, his pupil was blown wide and a crooked grin sat on his maw. Yes, this was much more efficient than hunting for a moose and risking loosing his one good eye. He'd never pass up the apportunity to get drunk, it was already distracting him from the pain of his wound.

But a howl that tore through his drunken haze was starting to bring on a very different kind of pain, and he snarled before stumbling through the forest back towards Blackback Camp.

R A G N A R
Male | 5 Years | Jarl of Blackback Guard | Grey Wolf x Irish Wolfhound x Swedish Elkhound
Mentions: Drift, Rahla (indirectly) Radu (directly)

Ragnar let his eyes scan through the growing presence of his dogs. From where he stood, he could easily see everyone approach, most bleary-eyed from their slumber, but to his surprise a growing number seemed to crawl back from the surrounding mountains. At least some are using their time wisely. He thought snidely as his eyes rested on the ivory-coated form of Drift in particular. He hadn't seen her snatch up the squirrel, and wisely so. He likely wouldn't have been too kind if he caught a female gobbling down a meal without his permission. "Good morning gents." He greeted coolly, paying no mind to irritation that appeared to spread through the female population. He couldn't care less. "Look around you. The scenery is breathtaking, stunning, even appreciated by bastards like ourselves. Yet it isn't enough." His tone grew harsh, his eyes narrowing to piercing little slits as the air became heavy with the meaning of his words. It was time to put their plans into action.

"It is time the dogs of the Blackback Guard have a place to call home. I believe this is also a convenient time to extract revenge." He ran his tongue along his length of his fangs, baring them as his tone grew more grave. He was referring directly to Highvalley's attack on their species so many months ago, slaughtering so many wolves and wolfdogs who came from their own families. "We will take the Highvalley Kingdom as our home, and in doing so, slay those who stand in our way. Do not kill the King." If anyone was to take down the slayer of wolves, it would be himself. No, not yet.This King was far too valuable to kill in the heat of war. "I wish to begin our travel to Highvalley land this evening. We'll do most of our journey under the cover of darkness. Ah. Radu." His deep voice snapped the title of his Lord Commander, just in time as the big black wolf trotted conveniently into their vicinity. "I trust you to assess our fleet and organize them accordingly. I'll choose a small handful of you to accompany me in the lead, but don't take the invitation lightly. If you fuck this up and blow our cover, you'll receive punishment matching the severity of your fault." He snapped his jaws once in a brief warning, before leaping down from his ledge and stalking through the rows of Blackback's. He analyzed his group intensely, deep enough in thought that the large brute barely noticed shouldering into his youngest daughter. He snarled a little under his breath at the interception, but pushed through anyways and paid Rahla little mind. Now who, out of all these maggots, can I stand for longer than an hour to travel alongside me?

G U N T H A R R
Male | 3 Years, 6 Months | Berserker of Blackback Guard | Eurasian Wolf x American Alsatian x Leonberger
Mentions: Ragnar (indirectly) Wren (directly)

Guntharr's ears pricked up as Wren appeared, sitting down at his side and mumbling a barely comprehensible greeting. He couldn't necessarily blame her; only a very small amount of Scavengers ever woke up at this ungodly hour to go out hunting, but Ragnar had taken it upon himself to tear every dog here from their sleep. Typical bastard. "Morning to you too, m'lady. Are you hungry?" He lifted up a giant forepaw, exposing the corpse of the dead rodent beneath it. As much as he craved something in his stomach, he knew he'd have more than enough time on their travels to Highvalley to snag a rabbit here and there. The pale green irises of his eyes narrowed a bit as he discussed his intention of assembling a small, elite force of dogs to travel alongside him. What an honour.. or a curse. "I sure as hell don't want to go with that miserable bat." He murmured partially to himself, keeping his chin low so his words wouldn't float to neighbouring ears. Ragnar was temperamental enough, but the stress of war on top of all that? He'd leave that to someone else.

H A R L O W
Female | 3 Years Old | Prisoner of Highvalley Court | European Wolf x Weimaraner
Mentions: Raven, Agmund, Atticus (indirectly)

The enraged snarls and throaty growls from her former pack mates left the fur along her spine prickling under their stares, flattening her ears to the back of her skull as she was forced to pad up the stairs and emerge into daylight. Did they not remember her? Did they truly believe she was okay with being reduced to a pitiful, cowering lowlife? She halted abruptly as her feet touched the smooth, polished stone of the main courtyard. It was now full of bustling life, dogs scrambling to get to their jobs for the day. Highvalley dogs were so strange to her, all sleek-pelts, flowery scents and refined features. While she was a slender hound, she still held the ruggedness that the Blackback's had bestowed on her. She'd never lose that aura. She was destined to be viewed as a wolf for the rest of her life.

"Alistair wants you with one of the patrols today. It doesn't matter which, given you are supervised." The Lairkeeper's deep, rugged voice was irritably close to her ear, and Harlow had to fight the urge to bare her teeth. Keep away from me or I'll tear your spine from your back. The viking in her snarled, silent but begging to reveal itself. She knew the last thing she should do was turn her fangs on the guard and therefore cause more of a commotion with these Highvalley dogs. "Okay." She responded curtly, turning to glance nervously around the clearing. She narrowed her eyes a little, trying to see if there were any dogs grouping together in sight that she could join in with for the day. Let's see how this goes. It's rare that anyone wants to willingly bring the prisoner along on their trips.

O L E A N D E R
Male |4 Years | Knight of Highvalley Court | Borzoi x Belgian Groenendael
Mentions: Alexandra, Hansel, Malcolm, Mone, Sen

"How can I not be? It's a beautiful day!" He exclaimed vibrantly to Alexandra, despite the fact that just behind him the den entrance was dripping with rain. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, he supposed. He finally settled and sat back onto his haunches, angling his head slightly in thought as Hansel asked how they were dividing the groups. "Good question. I think it would be okay for all of us here to go in one single patrol and then eventually branch out once we leave the Kingdom's quarters. What do you think?" He glanced around at his co-workers with a silent curiosity, wondering if they harboured the same anxieties that plagued his mind. As much as he was eager to push the thought of the Blackback's out of his head, he didn't want to lure his companions out into wolf-infested woods. "Staying together for now would likely be ideal. We can still cover the majority of the marked route, anyhow."

Daymara Lawwood
5 Years | Female | Australian Shepherd x Retriever | Gatherer of High Valley
Location: High Valley Gardens | Mentions: Harlow {Indirectly} - Open

Entering the castle short of breath and pelt a little ruffled, it didn't take long till she found an elder dog to sort her finds. She'd make sure to go back out and gather more food and things for the wet season, but not until she'd seen a Blackback. She didn't trust them at all, and if they where being kept in her home, with so many young and un experienced dogs, she needed to reassure herself with seeing them in chains or at least being escorted by their top knights.

The dark scent of wolf wafted itself into her nostrils and her paws clenched the stone walkways of the kingdom. Almost afraid to go take a look, she convinced herself she needed to see for closure. There's no way she'd be able to focus with the thought of Blackbacks in High Valley.

There was one now, standing in the courtyard beside the dog that ran the tunnels below, she didn't know his name and didn't care too. Her focus completely stolen by the lanky dark female that stood before her. Keeping at a distance she just wanted to watch for a while.

Radu
7 Years | Male | German Shepherd x Wolf | Blackback Gaurd Commander
Location: Blackback Guard Camp | Mentions: Ragnar and Pack {Directly} - Open

As he came into the storm of mutts gathered before their Jarl, he gave himself a good shake or two to get himself together. Though Ragnar's look in his direction sobered him pretty quickly. He gave a sharp nod and then turned to the rest of the pack, narrow eyes and flashing smile set on his dark face.

"Alright we'll have Bersekers second in line, and I want Scavengers behind them!" he snarled out over the talk of all the others. "Youngblood's will be in front of the Black Witches who will be behind everyone else, to catch any of the wounded who fall back!" Falling in behind Ragnar, he chuckled darkly before speaking for a last time over his shoulder. "If you happen to die during this, know that it was the greatest honor someone like you could have." With that he now fell into step beside the Jarl, awaiting orders. Maybe he'd go back to where he found those red berries and get a taste before he possibly died.

It was expected to be a big war, even the biggest the Viking pack had ever seen. He laughed dryly again, the sound demonic coming from his crooked maw. He'd hoped to spill a bit of blood before his own met the earth. He loved the taste of the High Valley flesh, so clean and pampered. Yes he'd be pleased when war finally did strike. Finally some vengeance for his wolf brethren.