ooc: song: black blade by two steps from hell

Icy wind picked at their thick fur as the dark pack glided quietly across the tundra, paws falling silently on the frigid earth. Even as the spring months approached, the tundra stood fast, held tightly by lingering frosts of winter...nothing the Rike weren't accustomed to already.

Faded pink eyes blinked, long lashes held low to protect them from the needling breeze. Eulalia carried himself somewhat at the head of their pack, scanning the frozen earth ahead of them for signs of life. Nothing but the occasional hare loping across their path far ahead. The scent of the Sigrun was long stale and gone from where they had been tracked last, although this was but a mild setback for the Rike, and they found themselves pressing on into some new land that they'd never been before.

They had been walking for some time, and Eulalia decided it would be time to rest...no sense in running themselves ragged. Pleased to make an executive decision, the veteran chuffed to the pack and slowed his walk, veering to the side of their path and turning to face them. Eyes glittering faintly, he scanned them one by one to assess. Strong and healthy, all of them, brawny and cunning. Every bit what a Rike should be. “We'll rest here," the older male rumbled, settling into a sitting position.

@Liserli @Magdalene @Odhgrimm @Fjalar

""

Cliffs rose 'round them and the cold pierced weary paws. Veil of snow covered the jagged rock faces rising on either side of them. The gentle thrum of paws wading through the snow and orange-hued grasses had become background noise to her, so when Eulalia spoke it startled her. She looked to him, who had taken up the helm of the group -- why not him, he was older than most and thus wiser, she had no quarrel with his position.

Liserli moved closer to where @Eulalia sat, taking up residence a short distance away from him. She licked her paws, moisture glistening on them, and looked to the sun. It glistened off the rock faces and warmed her pelt ever so slightly. She yawned and stretched, arching her back before turning to Eulalia with a curious glimmer in her eyes. "What's the plan?" she asked. Of course, the question was open to whoever else wanted to answer. Scarred face turned to look to the rest of the Rike who had followed them (@Magdelene & @Odhgrimm & @Fjalar), notched ears perking slightly.

Their journey had seemed endless, so her father would not need to prompt her twice. The plan was to rest, and rest she would; after all, they certainly deserved a pitstop. @Eulalia, as the eldest male, naturally took the lead. While Magdalene and @Liserli did not have to trouble themselves with such matters, she could only - idly - wonder what her uncle and cousin thought of it. @Fjalar and @Odhgrimm were both men in their prime, and though she did not hold them in as nearly high esteem as she did her father Magdalene could not help but wonder how long it would take for their little splinter group to wrestle for dominance. And who would prevail, when all was said and done. The hierarchy in their clan had not been properly established for some months, now; something would have to give at some point. Silently, she would lower her rump to the ground, a few feet away from her sire, attention shifting from one face to the next.

A foot broke through the crust of frost. He walked behind them, an extra yard or so apart. Weeks ago, he had gone ahead and scouted the area. There had been no sign of the Sigrún other than a handful of washed-out trails. He had checked bird's nests for fur. The sun was so distant and weak it might as well have not been there at all. It shed its anemic light over the five of them, washing their faces out into two dimensions. Only their eyes shone, the fine muscles around the sockets twitching from time to time, squinting, surveying, as a predator was wont to do. Fjalar exhaled. Faint steam rose from his mouth, as if he were a machine. The dark engine in his chest churned. "You and your plans, Lis," he said, feigning exasperation through a jaunty smile. Maybe a shake of the head, a little tsk tsk. But he did not care so much about hierarchy as wanting a change of pace. As long as his older brother did not go as far as to clip his wings, who was he to complain?

The Rike were adrift at sea without a true figurehead at the helm to guide them. This was no mute issue; the tension in the absence of a proper jarl was tangible. Everyone felt it.

Eulalia had not hesitated to place his paws where the jarl's had once been. No one had really questioned his rise to temporary leadership; both due to his age and renown in the clan, and because they had had little time or opportunity to dispute even if anyone didn't want Eulalia in charge. The elder Rike had proven his mettle over and over again, watched generations come and go from birth to death in battle. He was the most likely candidate for the new jarl (at least in his eyes), and he would be interested to see if he met any opposition today. He had carefully waited, bode his time for the right moment.

They could wait no longer.

@Liserli questioned their plan, their direction, followed by a characteristically impish comment from his younger brother, Fjalar. Frosty rose eyes drifted across their dark little group, passing his daughter @Magdalene, going back to his young brother momentarily.

“A plan is in need," Eulalia affirmed, twisting his neck side to side to stretch it. “We have been adrift for some time now." He remarked, a sidelong glance assessing the reactions of his fellow Rike. He knew they would likely know exactly what he planned to lead up to. After all, the subject of the new jarl had been a cloud above their heads for some time. “We need a jarl. As well as a second." He paused briefly, then continued, “I have led our clan thus far in this time of uncertainty. You all know me. I was there when some of you were born. As the current eldest - and able - Rike, I lay claim to the title of jarl."

A little flutter of excitement riddled his heart when he said it. It was only customary to claim an empty title, and for those who opposed to make their opinions known by tooth and claw. “If anyone challenges my experience and ability - my right - to leadership, let it be known now." Long, silver claws unsheathed, glittering in the cloud-diffused sunlight. His extra toes made for an impressive display of weaponry, pricking the frozen earth delicately. Eulalia would not say as much, but any battle against him in opposition would be met viciously. His gaze cast to @Fjalar, his primary concern. His younger brother had not shown excessive ambition, but he was a sly fellow, and popular amongst the Rike. “If not," he said, his voice always soft and velvety. “I shall take the helm. I shall appoint a second. And I shall orchestrate the demise of the Sigrun at our very own claws." He added with a baritone purr.

""

She welcomes the cold, clinging to its bitter grasp with every fiber of her being. They'd had to skulk their way across the entire damned island to get here, but it is at least a suitable place for the thickly-furred clan to settle, now that they have stretched far enough north. Her paws flex comfortably against the snow, and she'd had to refrain from throwing herself into it and rolling around like a child -- there are prying eyes, and she is better than such petulant behavior. Or so she tries to tell herself, anyway. Sunníva has trailed somewhat behind the group, still within view but not beholden to the shackles of sticking close to their sides. She is more than capable of holding her own, and her husband knows that she will not drift far -- she simply has wandering eyes, eager to drink in all that this place has to offer. With any luck, it will house enough Sigrún to really get their paws dirty. Her ears twist forward as she notices the group stopping up ahead, abandoning her bored stalking of a hare's trail to make for the rest of the rag-tag Rike clan. They could do with more numbers, to be certain -- but that is a problem for another day, and one that she will be happy to tackle with Eulalia's help. It would be Sunníva's greatest honor to bring more Rike into the world. Her approach is quiet, but not without a venom. With her husband addressing the group, she knows better than to interject with any sort of speech, especially not when what he has to say is so important. Sunníva stalks nearer, making a point of putting herself between @Liserli and @Eulalia, sidling up alongside the latter with a flick of her tail. She has spent the majority of her life fighting the women of the Rike clan at every opportunity, and one could say that old habits die hard -- she can hardly deny herself the chance to snub one of them, to make certain that they know her place now is not beneath them, but beside Eulalia. And should they forget, she is only too happy to remind them. The scarred warrior leans onto her haunches, her sharp gaze looking over each in turn, pausing for a moment on @Magdalene, though it settles with a particular keen interest upon @Fjalar, who is potentially the biggest threat to her husband's claim. Of course, she would live to see Eulalia pummel his brother into the snow, but on the other paw, they have to be smart. Their numbers are dismal as it stands, and their strength is better served being saved for the Sigrún. A smirk touches the corners of her lips at the wizened male's final promise to demolish their enemies, and she cannot help the reflexive curl of her claws into the dirt, imagining them digging into the flesh of their enemies.

table by koi

For a moment they would simply look around at one another; it unsettled Magdalene, and she curled a lip subtly and quietly. It would only be once her uncle spoke up that such a mask would morph to something a little more amenable. Her father would speak up, then, and his address would be heeded most attentively; shoulders back, head high and purple gaze trained solely on him and him alone.

It was what @Eulalia deserved, after all - complete and utter obedience.

Surely none would dare oppose him as their rightful Jarl? The only candidate present was his younger brother, and something told Magdalene that it would be unlikely that he would decide to oppose his new Jarl. Sure, @Fjalar was a formidable warrior in his own right, but that was nothing in comparison to the bronze patriarch.

She was a little biased, though.

Magdalene would shift her attention to meet the stare that @Sunníva cast her way; lip curled into a subtle smirk. How comfortable she looked at the side of their leader - how pretty. A dark voice whispered, sordid and full of violent promise; consider how much prettier she'd look with gored out eyes? Banishing the thought, for now, she would focus back on Eulalia. "I know you will lead us to victory, father." Whatever he and the family needed of her to succeed, Magdalene would do.

@Liserli

The silence dragged, a sweet tune to Eulalia's ears as he waited for anyone to dare speak. A familiar spotted pelt slunk quietly towards the group; his wife, no doubt gotten stuck on some scent at the back of the group. She frequently forged her own path, something Eulalia often did not care for in his women but found particularly charming with her. Perhaps it was because he knew she would do anything for him regardless.

His daughter's gleaming stare did not go unnoticed by the veteran, and he smirked. Perhaps he ought to find it a little concerning that his daughter could shoot such daggers at his wife, but he was too preoccupied with appreciating the undying loyalty between them. Regardless of what it meant they may or may not feel to each other. @Sunníva was at his side.

Eulalia cast his rosy gaze across the group once more, examining each one by one. “I didn't think so," he said softly. “I claim the title of Jarl, as it is rightfully mine." And it was.

“I shall appoint a second soon. Tonight we rest," he said, glancing sideways at his wife. “Sunn, find shelter nearby." He ordered, shaking out his mane and preparing to follow her to a place of rest.

-exit-

""