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

The wind and rain slicked his coat to his skin as he ran, waves of black and golden brown brindled fur plastered to his slender frame as he raced further into the valley, thrilled to have this time alone. No knights, no duke, no queen mother breathing down his neck every waking moment. Just himself and the valley. Finally he came to a halt, paws sliding in the wet grass and mud flecking his pelt as his claws kicked some of it up.

He stared into the mist, only the very tips of the mountains still visible in the distance. The enemy waited beyond. Maybe hours away, perhaps only a few minutes. One of them might even leap out at him now with snapping teeth aimed for his throat. In this moment he didn’t care. The valley was silent save for the soft sound of rain breaking on the earth's surface, and he’d found a rare moment of peace.

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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, Mone, Sen, Hansel, Mac

Alexandra’s gaze strayed to the den’s entrance, the sight of raindrops dripping to the floor matching the soft pattering she could hear beyond the brick walls currently shielding them. She didn’t mind a bit of water and mud, but the thought of troublesome weather during such a critical time sent a wave of unease crashing over her. The vikings could use the coming storm to their advantage. Alexandra might have came from a land of hardship, but many of Highvalley’s dogs lived lives of security and comfort. She had little doubt the wolf blooded knew how to handle the elements in ways they did not.

Her attention snapped back to the conversation at hand as Mac questioned whether or not their foes had been sighted. “No. Not even a whiff of them,” she murmured. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t coming.” The fur along her spine began to bristle, hackles rising at the thought of those beasts setting paw in the valley. “At least two of us should stay here,” she reminded the others, eyes travelling over her fellow knights. “The Gatherers will likely be arranging a hunt soon and they will need guards. We can’t leave them vulnerable.”

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| D A G |
Male • 4 Years Old • King Shepherd • Highvalley Court Gatherer
Location: Highvalley Court • Mentions: {Directly} Daymara/ {Indirectly} Harlow, Brooke, Olivia

Dag descended the stone steps spiraling up to the battlements, the scent of hare and fresh prey blood still clinging to his pelt. There was little harm in fetching the knights guarding the wall a bit of fresh meat and Dag often made a habit of bringing them any tasty morsel that could be spared. No dog appeared to take offense and so he assumed the prey was not missed. He noted the bored expression the young knight on duty wore and had hoped perhaps the prospect of a meal and some friendly company might relieve some of the monotony for her. He knew he shouldn’t distract the knights, but four eyes on the horizon would be better than just two. Watching and chatting weren’t mutually exclusive.

Unfortunately the knight didn’t seem to agree, accepting the snack but quickly sending him on his way. Dag didn’t allow the dismissal to dampen his good mood, instead heading for the courtyard to seek out the other gatherers. It had been a few days since they'd grouped together to hunt down larger prey and his long-furred tail wagged at the thought. A good hunt was just what they needed right about now. Distracted by his thoughts, he nearly walked straight into Daymara’s backside, only just managing to keep from colliding with the shorter dog. Moving to stand beside her, he glanced at her curiously before following her gaze until deep brown eyes landed on Harlow. His head tilted slightly, large ears flopping to the side. “So it’s true. We have wolves among us,” he commented thoughtfully, though the girl looked more dog than wolf to him.

There was no fear in his observation, instead his tone expressing intrigue. Why had she been left to stand on her own? Was she one of them now? “Shall we introduce ourselves?” He asked, noting both Brooke and Olivia had already approached the silvery female. Brooke was as friendly as could be, though Olivia seemed to share Daymara’s misgivings. “It will be alright,” he added, voice soothing. “She is surrounded. There are more of us than her. She’s probably feeling frightened and overwhelmed right about now. We should show her some kindness. God calls us to be kind to our enemies and turn the other cheek,” he reminded her gently before padding out into the rain, approaching the females with a raised tail in greeting and a friendly smile crossing his muzzle.

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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} Candice / {Indirectly} Ragnar, Rahla, Radu

"Good morning gents."

This comment was met with an unabashed roll of the eyes. Such a greeting was typical of Ragnar, and while she knew he didn’t care for her opinion the feeling was mutual. She cared just as little whether or not he noticed her disapproval. They were too close to a battle for him to consider punishing her for throwing a sardonic a look his way. She was useful, and if he was smart he would use her and the other Scavengers for more than just providing food on this journey.

As the speech ended and the gathered dogs began to disband, she remained seated for a time, her golden gaze tracking Ragnar through the crowed. Vengeance. A place to call home. Would life be any better behind the court’s grand walls? Would anything change? She doubted Ragnar’s views would ever be enlightened. She could only hope he and Radu would be slayed in the battle and Ragnar's daughter would take his place.

Drift sought the other female out, eyes soon landing on Rahla’s grayish pelt. Admiration filled the paler wolfdog. Rahla loved her father she knew, but Drift hoped someday she would see the light. How grand would things be if the pack’s females finally received the recognition they deserved? ’It’s time things changed.’ Rising to her paws, she made a beeline for Rahla, but found her path blocked as Ragnar shoved his way from through the group of dogs. Biting back a snarl, she found herself standing beside Candice.

“So, what do you think about this?” She asked, turning to face the pack’s only female Berserker, the only dog she admired more than Ragnar’s daughter. “Are you ready to avenge our ancestors and fallen brethren? Is there any dog you wish to fight beside you?” She asked hopefully.

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| R E V E J O |
Male • 3 Years, 6 Months Old • Wolfdog Hybrid • Blackback Guard Berserker
Location: Blackback Camp • Mentions: {Directly} Rahla {Indirectly} Ragnar, Radu

Ears flattening against his skull momentarily as his father’s commanding howl rang through them, Revejo was abruptly awakened. Grunting, the silver brindle brute heaved himself to his paws and answered Ragnar’s bidding, making his way through the crowd and occasionally gently nudging other dogs out of his way with his muzzle, taking a seat beside his sister. “I can see you were up bright and early,” he commented, catching a myriad of prey scents still lingering on her pelt. He didn’t have much chance to say anything else, falling silent as Ragnar began speaking.

Dark amber eyes narrowed as Ragnar claimed this land wasn’t enough, and they must set siege to the court. “Nothing is ever enough for you. This won’t be any different,” he muttered under his breath, quiet enough that only those sitting closest could overhear. The speech ended and dogs began to disperse, Radu’s parting words less than encouraging. Revejo sighed deeply, feeling weariness already pulling his limbs back to his nest, yet refusing to give in to the impulse. It was not a luxury he or any dog beside the Jarl would be allowed.

As his father pushed through the crowd, Revejo tensed when he shouldered Rahla out of the way, teeth almost instinctively baring. if Ragnar lashed out it would not stop his teeth from slashing at his face. An early grave it would earn him perhaps, but Ragnar should know by now he would protect his sister always, even if she didn’t need him anymore. Relief coursed through him as Ragnar simply moved on with a snarl. Today would not be the day he and the Jarl came to blows,

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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, Rahla

“Here I am,” he agreed, raising his chin proudly as his thin tail began to sway back and forth in a slow rhythm that always signified his happiness. “I did not find any feathers,” he confirmed, expression growing surprisingly somber for a moment or so before nudging his satchel open, grasping something between his teeth and setting it down in front of his mentor’s paws. “I did find this though. Do you know what it is?” He asked before pawing at the glittering rock he had found buried beneath the mud of a shallow stream.

“I have not seen Rahla, and everyone else is here somewhere,” he mused, continuing to play with the odd stone before his ears perked forward at the mention of the ritual. Gaze snapping back up to meet Nevihta’s, he nodded enthusiastically. “I am ready to be recognized by the Gods and bless our pack with good fortune,” he confirmed. It was not lost on him that many of their packmates did not approve of his new position, desiring he return to the rank of a scavenger. After this ritual they could no longer deny his right to his title, and the thought brought a satisfied smirk to his muzzle. “When can we begin?”

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

Raven’s growling ceased once Harlow and the Lairkeeper had departed, the dungeon doors sending a loud clang echoing through the room as they were slammed shut. For perhaps the hundredth time since his arrival Raven slunk to the front of his cell, rising onto his hind legs as he slid his slim front legs through the bars of his prison and attempted to wrap his paws around the lock and pull it free. As with all the times before this attempt resulted in little more than sore paw pads and a number of curses spat each time he jabbed a claw too roughly into the lock or scuffed a toe.

Atticus’ fit of barks went mostly unnoticed and Agmund was barely acknowledged at all as he focused on the task at paw. “Gods damn it! Open already!” He snapped in bad temper, shaking the cell door roughly in his frustration before eventually falling back onto his haunches, shoulders slumped forward as he glowered into the darkness. “You can’t keep us down here forever!” He snarled, lifting onto his paws and giving one of the bars a savage kick from a hind foot before returning to the dirty pile of straw he had pawed into a pitiful excuse for a nest and curling within it.

|••|Mone|••|
3 years|••|Female|••|German Shepherd|••|Highvalley Knight
Location:Knights' den|••|Mentions:All knights

The female dog blinked quietly, listening to the others chat. Indeed, someone had to stay here and defend the gatherers. Of course the wolves wouldn't attack them right now, she doubted they would be fine with battling in the rain. Dogs hate rain. She cocked an eyebrow, realizing something. Those canines aren't dogs. They're hybrids. Maybe they are fine with fighting during rain. Nonetheless, gatherers aren't all that frail, right? They can still take care of a few dogs. Wait, nobody knows what they can think. Someone really had to stay here. But not her. "We should start off together, then eventually make smaller groups. Though sticking together the whole time sounds better to me." Mone shrugged, glancing at the others.

•||•Sen•||•
3 years•||•Male•||•German Shepherd •||•Highvalley Knight
Location:Knight's den•||•Mentions:All knights

Ah, rain. Something he despised. A disgusted expression appeared on his face at the thought of fighting in mud. That's just, worse than simple rain, of course. Looks like someone had to offer to stay here. Well, he would. His ears flicked at the sound of a familiar voice. He faced his sister, a rather dull expression resting on his face. No, he's going to stay here. He was quite angry he didn't get the rank he wanted. Maybe this way he could observe what the others are doing. Mhm, nice idea. Nobody knows what those dog, wolves or whatever want. Nobody can predict anything. He was certain they'd try thinking out of the box. It's going to be a rough day with this temperature. Sen couldn't think straight.

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

Sjurd wanted to go on this raid, and he wasn't going to let anything stop him from going. He pushed past a few other dogs to get closer to Radu, wanting to hear what he was saying. He bared his teeth happily, knowing that this raid was going to be the bloodiest one he'd ever been a part of. He whirled around, but only to tell his brother the good news. Maybe his younger kin would be able to finally prove himself in battle. If he died, Sjurd was going to be pissed.

"Little brother. Good news. We're going with the raiding party." He gave his younger brother a small smile, knowing the young dog would be excited. "Don't die though. I'll be upset that all my hard work went to waste." He teased, but deep down he was telling the truth. The fact they shared blood was one of the few Sjurd still trained Rikard.

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

Rikard nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his brother's words. His first raid. He swallowed deeply and nodded to his brother, not yet trusting himself to speak. He was worried his voice would break if he did, and that would only show weakness. The two dogs then turned and made their way back towards the rest of the raiding party, taking up their positions, and waiting for their next orders.

Captain
Male|5 Years|Silky Greyhound|Duke of Highvalley Court
Location: Highvalley Battlement -> Dungeons|Mentions: Harlow [Indirectly]

Captain tried to keep an eye on the King during the morning. He seemed to have a habit of attempting to escape his duties. Today was no exception. The longdog watched from a battlement as the borzoi king slunk his way out to the valley. For the briefest of moments, he considered chasing him down, baring his teeth, dragging the king back to his throne. The urge was swept away with the wind. Without the king, he was the highest authority in Highvalley. Everytime Alistair left, it gave him this rush. He wasn't power-hungry, not by any important means, but there were so many things power could give. So many things that could be answered.

One of the prisoners was released into the courtyard below. She seemed cautious, but he noted the way she tensed. She was still a wolf, a viking. That caution would only last as long as she was truly powerless. He wondered if the other prisoners were like her, afraid. There was only really one way to tell. With soft footsteps, he made his way down steps and stairs until he reached the prison. The Lairkeeper hadn't returned yet, likely made a detour to the kitchen. He'd have some alone time, at least until the next guard came around. With a gentle push, the door opened just enough for Captain's sleek body to squeeze in. He was about to press on when the smell wafted out. A mix mess and dampness and wet dog, but mostly the overwhelming stink of wolf. His nose wrinkled, but curiosity pushed him on. He barely made a sound as he slunk into the dark of the dungeon. His paws whispered against the stone floors, bringing the cells swiftly into his sight. He paused before the dim light cast by candles and settled his body down. He wanted to observe, not be observed, and his white underbelly was obvious even in this engulfing dark. With the fur pressed against the stones, he was hardly noticeable. His red and black brindling seemed to mimic the dappled shadows around him.

With the darkness surrounding him, Captain eyed the prisoners. One was distinctly wolf, abnormally large with a filthy white coat. Though he knew the raiders were all hybrids, it didn't seem like this one had a drop of dog blood in him. The next was curiously average sized, though distinctly muscled. He carried the notable German shepherd markings and seemed to be missing a leg. It was curious that those ferals would have let the mutt live for so long. He wondered if they should fix that. An injured dog would be difficult to torture and practically useless. Culling it would be a gift. Captain licked his lips and eyed the other cells. He almost oversaw the large grey creature. It seemed to blend into the dark much as he did. It was a bit of a paradox. Tall and slender, but with almost comically large paws and muscles. As if someone had pulled apart a sighthound and wolf and stuck different parts together to make a whole. Of the three, this one seemed to have the most dog in them. He wondered which one of them would notice him first. Perhaps he'd interrogate them, perhaps he'd just talk. It was unlikely they'd know his position, who he was, what he could do to them.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Adhara
Female|5 Years|Aussie Shepherd x Mexican Wolf [60/40]|Scavenger of The Blackback Guard
Location: BBG camp |Mentions: [indirectly] Ragnar

Adhara had been jerked awake by the Jarl's howl. The keening sound seemed to fill the space between the raindrops like some physical silence. The tricolour dog rose groggily to her paws. A call to gather wasn't to be ignored. As she joined the growing crowd, her nose caught faint whiffs of newly caught prey. Her stomach growled in response, but she knew better than to sneak breakfast. She'd have her morning meal in the forest as she hunted. At least out in the mountains she wouldn't have to watch her back all the time.

As the Jarl spoke, Adhara's ears perked to attention. She ignored the charming belittling that Ragnar sent to the women of the group. Not even mentioning them in greeting, as if they did nothing for the Blackbacks, as if they didn't make up half of this gang of mutts. Adhara steadied herself, there was no use getting mad, not if she wanted to survive this. She listened restlessly at the talk of war and revenge. Pitiful, and of course Ragnar wanted the gloried title of Kingslayer himself. She would have rolled her eyes if she thought she'd live through the action. As Ragnar stalked off, she breathed a sigh of relief, something that seemed to resonate with much of the gathering. How these dogs could come to call such a beast their Jarl was beyond her, though, so much of their world was. She sent a glance skyward, hoping for some sort of answer, but her god just burnt silently.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

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

After sulking in silence, he pushed himself off the meagre, dirty straw bedding. Nudging his muzzle through the bars, he glared ahead at nothing in particular. Atti noted the sounds- mostly growls and curses- coming from his captured comrades. The wolfdog pondered over what it would take to get out. Would he have to play nice? Perhaps then they would let him out to work, and he could run. A smirk curled the edges of his maw, the thought exciting him. Though, the brute quickly grew somber. Stupid, he thought with a huff. In his euphoria, he had forgotten that he was on enemy ground. Any attempt at escape would end with rather brutal consequences. He shuddered at the thought, trying to relax his painfully tensed frame. Besides, they would most likely take precautions, like a muzzle, and even a hobble.

It seemed like an eternity later before he heard the soft creak of the heavy door. Instantly, his brown cranium arose, ears perking alertly. Was the she-dog back? It hadn't been all that long, so he assumed that the Lairkeeper was back. However, Atti was, unpleasantly, surprised. A new dog? The white of the newcomer's belly was painfully obvious, clashing with the shadows he slipped through. With a light shrug, the brute moved backwards slightly. He knew that these 'pure' dogs would happily stoop as low as to torture their prisoners, and this newcomer certainly looked capable of such brutality. Huffing out a quiet bark of amusement, the wolfdog stretched out, amber and blue gaze fixated upon the dog. He didn't speak, afraid his voice would sound weak and ragged from dehydration and lack of use.

R A G N A R
Male | 5 Years | Jarl of Blackback Guard | Grey Wolf x Irish Wolfhound x Swedish Elkhound
Mentions: Radu, Drift, Sjurd, Rikard.
Ragnar prowled through the crowd of dogs like a mountain lion, head low and teeth clenched and bared. They parted for him without fault, tripping over eachother's hides in order to make way for the ill-tempered leader. It was a satisfying sight, but the bitter cold that enveloped his limbs still supplied him with a rampant anger. He angled his muzzle slightly as Radu's scent weaved through him and the large black brute strode alongside him, matching his pace. The Lord Commander was quick to bark out orders, but was more keen on sharing some last words than ensuring their dogs were quick to actually organize themselves. "Consider it more of an honour for you to have even worked under me, you audacious bastard." He snarled in a gruff tone, though the hint of amusement he possessed was betrayed clearly in his single amber eye. He halted suddenly as he came into view of Sjurd and his younger sibling Rikard, watching the two in silence. He was aware of Sjurd's capabilities, but Rikard was always shielded by his brother's protective nature. It was time to separate the brutes and see if Rikard would be of use or not. "No time for chatter." He snapped curtly, forcing them to give him their attention. "Time is of the essence here. Sjurd, you'll join my patrol at once. Rikard will remain with Radu and his dogs." Turning his attention away from them without hesitation, he reviewed the rest of the faction. He didn't wish to bring many Scavengers along with him, but he'd need someone to catch his dinner. "Drift, you'll be joining Sjurd and I." He called to her, beckoning the white female with a lazy flick of his tail-tip. He didn't offer her much explanation aside from that, continuing to scour out for one last dog.

H A R L O W
Female | 3 Years Old | Prisoner of Highvalley Court | European Wolf x Weimaraner
Mentions: Brooke, Olivia, Dag.

A sea of eyes pierced her as soon as she surveyed the courtyard. Most were untrusting, nervous, but a handful flicked their eyes up and down her form in a vague curiosity. She could only imagine what was transpiring between them, especially in their minds, but she'd been in their midst for long enough that she wished she didn't gain so much attention. It didn't take long for the floral scent of herbs and blossoms to invade her nostrils as two collie-looking dogs approached her, all dainty-pawed and well groomed. She almost wanted to snort at their typical Highvalley air, but she wisely chose a more appealing greeting. "Good morning." She said as pleasantly as she could manage, not missing the irritated body language Olivia was displaying. She couldn't blame her, but she also felt an instinctive urge to growl in response of the Shepherd's behaviour. The viking in her felt pleased at her discomfort; the rest of her felt somewhat.. offended? "I'd be pleased to join you. What are your usual necessities? I'm only familiar with tracking and gathering.. well, prey items, I'm afraid." Her head jerked up rather sharply as another dog approached her from her peripheral, large and shaggy and almost resembling her wolf kin. As her eyes focused, it was clear that this male was friendly and far from imposing. She offered him a rather awkward nod in greeting, unable to completely turn her back on him. There were so many dogs coming her way, and it made her skin crawl.

I V A R
Male | 1 Year, 10 Months Old | Youngblood of Blackback Guard | Eurasian Wolf x Great Dane
Mentions: Valen, Ragnar.

Ivar padded through the dampened valley, his paws fixed with a thick crust of dried mud and dead grass. He had spent the night alone away from his pack, as per usual, and was summoned by the howl of Ragnar. He wrinkled his nose in irritation at the thought of the Jarl, his distaste for their leader far from apparent but loud in his own head. He already knew what his beckoning was for and that today was the day they'd set out in pursuit of Highvalley lands- he also knew that Ragnar believed the Youngblood had a very important role within their war. Why hadn't Valen come to fetch me, though? He thought silently, a little bitter that this mentor had seemingly forgot about him. He slowed to a halt, his large paws thudding heavily on the earth beneath them as he shifted back and forth onto them. He felt agitated, anxious, and terribly worked up. He growled a little as his impatience grew, struggling to catch sight of Valen from where he stood at the edge of their campground. It's time to kill. It's time to kill. It's time to kill. Where is Valen? Did he forget about me? Has he left without me? I'll kill him if he left without me.

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

An amused grin pulled at the edges of her mouth as Mac lost patience with the conversation, showing himself out while the rest of them discussed the patrol’s details. “I assume you’ll be staying?” She inquired of Sen, noting he didn’t seem in any hurry to remove himself from the den. “The gatherers will be thankful for your-”

She paused, Mac’s voice drifting back to them as he called to the gatherers. For such a little dog he sure did have a commanding presence. “Or, we could all just leave together.” Leaving the den behind, the beige knight failed to even flinch as cold rain sank into her pelt. Pulling up beside Mac she nodded in approval.

“That was a fine idea. We’ll need to make certain we don’t lose track of anyone while we’re out, but a conjoined patrol and hunting mission will certainly see everything gets done. The gatherers should learn how we mark borders and check for intruders regardless, and if they manage to track down a deer or elk we can help bring it down.”

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| D R I F T |
Female • 3 Years, 8 Months • Wolfdog Hybrid • Blackback Guard Scavenger
Location: Blackback Camp • Mentions: {D} Ragnar, Sjurd, Candice / {ID} Rikard

"Drift, you'll be joining Sjurd and I."

Drift’s golden gaze snapped from Candice to Ragnar as he beckoned her, the excitement in her eyes dulling as they settled on the gray wolfdog. Perfect. She was stuck tending to the Jarl. All hopes of fighting by Candice’s side died and with a respectful dip of her head she departed, answering Ragnar’s call. She said nothing as she halted a respectable distance from where he currently stood, bitter resentment threatening to spill off her tongue should she open her mouth.

She needed no explanation to understand what her purpose would be. Fetching Ragnar and the Slayers’ meals with perhaps scouting ahead for danger being the only hope for some excitement she would receive. She wondered briefly if Ragnar would use her as fodder once they reached the kingdom or order her to remain on the outskirts of the battle. Anticipation had her pelt prickling and eyes sparking again. She prayed for the former. Then she could prove to the Jarl she was a force to be reckoned with and a valuable asset.

Glancing at Sjurd, she wondered briefly if Ragnar planned on keeping his group smaller than the rest. Separating the brothers seemed the best choice tactically, but she couldn’t help the rare flicker of pity that passed over her face seeing Rikard left alone among the crowd to fend for himself. She thought about stepping aside to offer some words of encouragement, but ultimately decided that wasn’t her style and turned to gaze out at the vast valley awaiting their arrival instead, mist shrouding the lands beyond.

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| R A V E N |
Male • 4 Years, 5 Months • Borzoi x Eurasian Wolf • Highvalley Court Prisoner
Location: Highvalley Dungeons • {D} Captain / {ID} Other Prisoners

The arrival of a newcomer was not lost on Raven though he remained tightly curled within his sad excuse for a nest, tongue soothingly washing sore paws. Even the littlest sound echoed here. From the open and close of the door at the top of the stairway to the soft click of claws treading over stone. The pampered pooch currently hiding among the shadows was not as unnoticeable as he thought himself to be, though Raven had to admit he was far quieter than any other canine that had deigned to ‘visit’ them. All the same, Raven was content to ignore Captains presence in favor of self care.

Only when the sharp pain shooting through his pads and claws lessened to a dull ache did his amber gaze search the surrounding darkness. Lifting himself from the dirtied straw, he stretched his limbs. His front legs extending in front of him, spine arching and jaws parting in a yawn that revealed lengthy blood stained teeth. He relished the feeling of muscles rippling beneath his wavy black coat, his imprisonment not long enough to have seen it waste away just yet. The display was fully intended for their guest. He hoped seeing him in his full glory had them reconsidering their reasoning for being here, whatever it may be. Nothing good he assumed.

At last he prowled closer to the entrance of his cell, movements predatory and expression intense as he peered through the bars keeping him trapped inside. It wasn’t difficult to separate Captain's scent from those of the other prisoners occupying the dungeon, clean with a hint of the same flowery aroma all Highvalley dogs seemed to carry with them. A glimpse of reddish brindle fur captured his attention and he met Captain’s gaze soonafter, holding it for a moment before speaking. His posture suggested he was a dog of importance, and knowing already the king was a full-blooded Borzoi, he took a wild guess. “Well, well. If it isn’t the lord duke. What do we owe the pleasure of such an esteemed visit?” He asked loudly, his tone mocking.

Rahla | Female | Blackback Guard | Scavenger
Location: General Area | Mentions: OPEN {ID} Ragnar, Revejo, Bjorn, Drift

Despite Rahla’s intense love for her father, she barely stopped herself from literally snapping at him as he pushed her. It was lucky for her that he didn’t pay attention when she was concerned, because he most certainly would not have liked the snarl on her face. She was like her father, aggressive and quick to anger, and that certainly didn’t make dealing with him any easier.

She saw her brother bare his teeth, and wanted to go over to speak to him, but too many others were in the way, moving to follow their marching orders. She joined them, falling in with the rest of the scavengers, but not before she noticed Bjorn. He was trouble, and she was aware of that, but he was a good fighter . . . Oh, dear. She wished desperately that Drift, someone she looked up to greatly, was a berserker, but she wasn't, and it was looking like Bjorn was going to have to do as a teacher. He was unlikely to get in trouble with her father, given how good of a fighter he was, even if he was teaching his least favorite child how to fight against Ragnar's wishes. She would have to talk to him later.

Everyone she wanted to speak to otherwise occupied, the young scavenger looked around for someone else to talk to. It would be a long walk, and even longer if she were bored out of her mind.

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

Nevihta smiled at her apprentice, and picked up her own satchel, speaking around it - which wasn’t difficult, as it was made with a leather loop at the top that served to carry and close it. It needed to be repaired or replaced every now and again, but other than that it was nice. “Not a clue. But it is pretty - let’s keep it. I’m sure you found it for a reason,” she said, sniffing at the rock, before she was distracted by receiving orders. “I’ll speak to the Jarl . . . I want to get it done as soon as possible, but it is not a quick process and it may have to wait until we can make another camp tonight,” the Witch explained. “Now, while we’re walking - I doubt anyone will manage to injure themselves and need healing - we must pray for the success of our pack. Or for whatever you want. I, personally, will be asking for success in all of our endeavors in these coming days, and maybe that Rahla grows a spine and does something for herself for a change.”

She nodded, resolved. “You know your deity?” she asked, not really expecting an answer. It was an old game, one she’d played with the Black Witch before her - a reminder to remember the ways her specific god or goddess liked to be worshiped, if she needed to make a sacrifice, if the deity knew her and recognized her already. For Nevi, the answer had been yes for a long time.

The Storm knew her name and had since the moment she was born. It was wild and uncontrollable and she loved it beyond reason, and occasionally, it listened to her. It was nice, and she didn’t think to hard about it, because she would then get into wondering what all of it really meant.

Agmund
3 Years | Male | Wolf x Asian Shepherd x Collie | Prisoner of High Valley
Location: High Valley Cells | Mentions: N/A - Open

It was cold when he awoke from his slumber to the sound of sharp snarls and barks. Scoffing to himself he slowly rose to his feet, the chains that choked his wrists giving him barely enough room to move from his spot. They'd put these on him when he'd nearly escaped a few days back. And now these dogs fought to escape for themselves and he couldn't stop the heavy shake of his head. He wouldn't say anything, bother to help them. For all he was concerned they where the enemy now.

Looking up towards the ceiling, he wished it was the sky for a moment, and the inky blackness was almost enough for him to trick himself into thinking it was the shadow of a nights starry sky he where gazing up at. More growling and barking quickly snapped him from his daydream and he was reminded of the sorry state he was living in. How pathetic.

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

She nodded when the male approached her, though never did her eyes leave the wolf blood mere yards from her own shaking paws. Was it fear? Anger? She didn't have a moment to figure it out as Dag began to tread forwards, finding herself blindly following him without actually commanding her own body forth. And standing in front of this wild Viking, she knew now it was a mix of both.

"A Blackback." she spat out, not exactly aggressive, just stumbled and blunt. She wasn't asking a questions, more just, pointing it out. Like everyone here didn't already know. Now at a loss for words. She had willed herself to stand still, and was now just waiting. For. Something. Clearing her thrown noisly, she stepped back behind Dag and sat back on her haunches. She should have just not come up to her.

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

He'd want a few next to him personally during the raid, but as he scanned the crowd he wasn't exactly sure who. Snapped out of his predatory gaze through the Vikings only by Ragnar's comment, he forced one of his own wet cackles, single eye narrowed at the back of his leaders head. The twitch in his tail giving the slightest hint of his anniycane with the Jarls words.

As quick as he'd been to start a fight, it disapated just as fast. Now following behind Ragnar silently, pushing through others without so much as a sidewards glance. He was eager to begin the attack, but knew time was important when faced with an opportunity like so. He really needed to figure out who'd be worth taking personally. Perhaps anyone willing to come to him and ask he'd consider, he'd always admired fearless soldiers. Where never afraid to die during war. Something that couldn't be avoided.

| D A G |
Male • 4 Years • King Shepherd • Highvalley Court Gatherer
Location: Highvalley Court Clearing • Mentions: {D} Daymara, Harlow, Brooke, Olivia / {ID} Mac, Other Knights, Lairkeeper

“Good morning Brooke!” Dag greeted jubilantly. “Olivia,” he added, noting the presence of yet another gatherer. “The weather isn’t quite as lovely as days past, but I think we’ll manage. A little water and mud never hurt anyone,” he added before glancing Harlow’s way. “We’ll put those tracking skills of yours to good use today if you’re up to it,” he answered, aware she didn’t exactly have a choice beyond obeying whatever was asked of her. Such a fact was no reason to rub that knowledge in the prisoner's face. She was already quite aware he was sure.

“Let’s hunt today. See if we can find an elk or a nice sized deer. We should fill up our storage while we have the chance before…” he paused, an awkward expression passing over his face as his gaze landed on Harlow again. “Before it starts running low. Better safe than sorry. The weather could always get worse.” Daymara’s abrupt declaration only increased the tension radiating from the group and Dag sent a glance full of warning her way before she settled behind him. It was clear Harlow had been left here by the Lairkeeper to serve the kingdom. Causing trouble would only create unneeded stress in the whole patrol and chances of a successful hunt would plummet. He understood her displeasure, most Highvalley dogs had been raised to hate and mistrust wolves, but he hoped it could be put aside in favor of completing their duties.

Dag wondered if Olivia or Daymara had actually even met a wolfdog in person. His eyes seemed to cloud as memories claimed his thoughts. Jagged yellow fangs snapping for his throat. The sheep fleeing around him in panic, their despairing bleats drowning out any other sound. His mother’s teeth meeting in his scruff and carrying him away from the sight of his father’s motionless corpse, his pelt ripped and bleeding. A shudder seem to work it’s way down the Shepherd’s body before he shook his head, snapping himself out of it. “Let’s get moving.” The call of one of the knights had his head turning to where Mac stood with a few of the others, looking impatient as ever. “We don’t want to be left behind.”

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| R E V E J O |
Male • 3 Years, 6 Months • Wolfdog Hybrid • Blackback Guard Berserker
Location: Blackback Camp • Mentions: {D} Guntharr / {Indirectly} Rahla

Revejo watched as Rahla was carried away by the crowd, fighting off a feeling of disappointment that he hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with her before preparations began. Hopefully they would end up in the same group, or else have a chance to converse before the battle began. Revejo knew his sister was eager to prove herself to their father, as were many of the Scavengers for that matter, but he prayed to the gods above she wouldn’t do anything reckless or foolish. ’Your life is worth so much more than his approval.’ Rising to his paws and readying himself to join the other berserkers, he noticed Guntharr lingering in the meeting area.

One of the scavengers sat near him, but she was quick to depart once the meeting ended, leaving Guntharr without company and the offered rabbit untouched. Revejo moved to join him, sitting beside the other male in the wet grass. “You aren’t looking especially enthusiastic,” he commented. Though he hadn’t overheard his quietly uttered words, he could see displeasure written all over his fellow berserker’s face. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited to tear into dog flesh and have a few chunks taken out of you in return?” He asked, his grim tone somehow still holding a hint of humor.

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

Ignatius nodded his agreement, pawing the glittering stone back into his own bag. “Perhaps the gods led me to it. This rock could be important,” he replied, pausing similarly as Ragnar’s voice rose above their own. His large ears perked attentively, his attention only returning to his teacher once the Jarl had descended into the crowd surrounding him. “I will also pray for good fortunate throughout our rapidly approaching tribulations,” he assured the older wolfdog, head tilting curiously as Nevihta once again brought Rahla’s name into the conversation. “Why is it you hold her in such high esteem?” He asked, amber gazing searching the dispersing dogs until he found her standing alone in the clearing. “Have you received a prophecy?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, expression growing thoughtful. “Do you believe Rahla would prove a better Jarl?” He asked, unfortunate enough not to keep his tone at a whisper. Any passing dog might have the chance of overhearing. “She is quite a bit like him. Her temper flares like a raging fire just as his does. Her soul is filled with the same rage. Would she be better? Or would she become him? Perhaps, this would be interesting to see.” Her parting question seemed to snap him out of his pondering and bring on a whole new line of thought. “Yes, I believe I do, but one can always learn more,” he responded. When Ignatius prayed, he most often called upon Sif. A rarely spoken name in their mythos, known only as the wife of Thor and a goddess of the Earth. Ignatius found great strength hidden in mystery. Perhaps if he continued to worship her she would share her secrets with him.

The tall beige form of an unfamiliar canine moving across the vale caught his eye as he watched Nevihta start toward the Jarl, intrigue sparking in his gaze as his attention shifted to the newcomer. This was the dog Ragnar kept away from the rest of them. In the past he had only caught glimpses of him in the distance sparring with his mentor, or scented his blood splattered across the grass. Deciding he would like to speak with this dog, he trotted across the field, slipping in between departing slayers and scavengers before slowing to a halt in front of the stranger. He was interesting, more dog than wolf like himself, his body tattered, a canvas of horrendous scars. The grotesque sight failed to make Ignatius so much as flinch. “Hello. I am Ignatius.” He introduced himself, spindly tail beginning to wag. “What are you called?"

RANA
2 yrs. 11 m. | Female | Border Collie x unknown | Highvalley Gatherer
Location: Court Valley | Mentions: Alistair

The sky had darkened overhead, the clouds growing gray and swollen with the promise of rain. Rana had been returning from a morning solo hunt when the water finally touched her pelt, giving the silk-like outer layer a darker and thicker appearance. Her pelt began to cling to her body, making her slender frame more apparent as she slipped through the tall grasses and underbrush. Licking her mouth, Rana felt warm blood and fur caress her tongue. The baby goat in her jaws would provide a decent meal for two dogs, if not three if they were conservative and caring enough. The she-dog knew it was better to hunt as a pack with her other Gatherers but she found she never felt quite welcome within their ranks. That was possibly due to her own fault, however, her erratic tendencies pushing her farther and farther from the pack-family life she desired so much.

A figure on the horizon had her fur instantly bristling, pushing against the water pressing down on her coat to give her just a little more mass to her, even if most of that supposed weight turned out to be water. The blonde and white dog was nearly touching her belly to the wet grass while she watched the tall and lanky figure, trying to keep as much of her pale coat hidden as possible. The dog wasn't facing her, and she had a slightly higher ground from where she was standing, so although the gentle rain masked her vision, she knew if she couldn't see them very well, then they most certainly couldn't see her either. The fur was dark and gray, and for a moment, Rana's heart side-stepped its own beat and she could swear the figure took on more of a wolfish glint in the tiny glance of sunlight that slipped through the clouds. Before she knew what she was doing, Rana had clenched the small carcass tighter in her teeth and was creeping down the hill to get a better look.

She was just a short distance away when the dog turned their head very slightly and Rana suddenly realized that the lengthy canine in front of her was Highvalley's King, Alistair. Ashamed of her inability to recognize her own ruler, Rana remained silent and backed a few paces away while watching him to ensure he hadn't noticed her yet and that she could get away with her dignity intact.
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ELIAS
3 yrs. 10 m. | Male | C.A Shepherd x Ovcharka x A. Malamute | Highvalley Knight
Location: Highvalley Camp | Mentions: Alexandra, Mac, other knights

The large tricolor canine padded heavily down from the rocky outcroppings, his head and tail even and expression bland. He never disliked his duties, but sitting on that wall and watching the large valley below could grow boring over time. Especially when his compassion for his pack pushed him to watch for their enemies more often than he was required. He stretched his jaws wide in a long yawn, though contrary to what said yawn entailed, Elias wasn't tired at all. As he approached the camp, he noted a very large pale figure emerging from the Knight's den with the familiar smaller figure of Mac, their fierce Scottish terrier companion.

"Alexandra, Mac," he greeted them with a gentle head dip and a low baritone voice, his tail twitching in a momentary wag. "I hear there is a patrol being planned. My legs could use a good stretch if you're still accepting group members," his ears tilted towards them and though he wasn't usually the most charismatic, he offered them a small smile in hopes of an invitation. Rainwater dripped down over his eyes and muzzle, forcing him to blink heavily and lap at his lips to clear the water there. The thick and rugged brown collar he'd gnawed into shape himself hung heavily on his neck and chest.
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VALEN
4 yrs. 1 m. | Male | Sarloos Wolfdog x unknown domestic | Blackback Berserker
Location: Blackback Guard gathering | Mentions: Ivar, other pack-members

Valen wasn't normally one to remain at camp for very long so he was surprised and then alarmed when the Jarl's echoing howl reached his perked ears from where he crept among the bushes, stalking a small hare for himself. The rabbit bolted at the sound before he could respond and he sighed in dismay. His silver, brown, and black coat was damp and bristled easily in frustration as he turned and headed for his current home. The wolf-dogs ears turned back against his head and he grumbled quietly to himself before breaking into a brisk run in order to return home in enough time. He slowed when he reached hearing distance from the gathering, not wanting to be heard so loudly approaching.

Ragnar was splitting up a few of the pack-members in preparation for the oncoming attack so Valen remained silent and glanced around the gathering until his eyes found the angry and expectant gaze of his Youngblood, Ivar. Valen desperately cared for the young wolf-dog, who he saw so much of his own young-self in, but Ivar was Ragnar's own experiment. Which made him more blood-thirsty and vicious than Valen ever was in his younger years. He skirted the edge of the dogs, venturing the far way around so as to avoid Ragnar and Radu. In the short time it took him to make it to Ivar, another dog had joined him, and he eyed the two of them warily as he approached. It wasn't often Ivar joined with the other pack-members.

"Ivar. Ignatius," He greeted the wolf-dog and his new companion with a curt nod and took an easy seat beside him, flicking his ears towards Ignatius. He hoped to loosen his Youngblood out of his defensive and aggressive shell over time, and Valen always believed actions spoke louder than words. He could only hope this new influence proved to be an alright one. "My apologies for not being here sooner. Did you hear what Ragnar's plans are for attack positions? I assume Ragnar will want the lead, yes?"
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RIELLE
2 yrs. 1 m. | Female | Wolf x Wolfhound x Elkhound x E. Shepherd | Blackback Scavenger
Location: Blackback Guard gathering | Mentions: Rahla, Ragnar, other pack-members

Rielle, for all that the blood-line of her vicious father entailed her, had never been an overly confident or dominant canine. While other packmates spoke up occasionally as Ragnar gave orders, the young golden female was semi-content to lay in the shade of a tree behind most of the other dogs. She desired to be brought along on any mission but was unfortunately too submissive to speak up, especially to her father. She watched him for a moment as he turned to stalk aggressively through the crowd, sharing a momentary smirking statement with Radu before moving further on.

She sat up to scratch an itch behind her ear and then stretched her legs as she made it to her paws. Most of the dogs around her were otherwise occupied, preparing or conversing with their companions, so Rielle continued to glance around the gathering until her eyes fell on another searching gaze. It belonged to Rahla, the more wolfish of Ragnar's children. The golden Scavenger almost never spoke to her half-siblings, especially her half-sister, who was Rielle's object of jealousy, if she was willing to admit it even to herself. Rahla held Ragnar's fine-boned grace, the wolf genes giving her a thick and gorgeous coat of grays alike to their fathers. Rielle wasn't an ugly female by any means, but her lack of wolfish appearance gave her little reason to see herself as the gorgeous canine Rahla could be when she was in action. But, she admitted to herself, Rahla and her were alike in that Ragnar gave them both little heed or time of day.

Rielle, keeping her head and tail low, padded quietly over towards Rahla, her own muzzle softening in a small smile. She didn't venture too close to the other female in fear of being snapped at or rejected immediately and didn't sit down either. "Hello Rahla," she managed to finally murmur, "How are you today?" It was all she could think to ask but it made her smile somewhat sheepish and shameful as she faced the other wolf-dog.