Hunter||Male||Warrior of Viking pack||3 yrs|| M: Raiding party

Hunter was walking with the raid and he had been carrying some pelts and he had wrapped the food he had found in it. He was a bit disappointated he couldn't find a cub himself but decided not to worry about it. He noticed the Earl up front when he felt something was off because it snapped him out of his thoughts. He had been thinking for most of the trip and never really paying attention but it had caught his attention he felt a growl growing for an unknown reason to him but to his insticts they knew. He trotted up to Ráðgríðr and said "Do you feel something off?" He normally would never get this close to a warlord but he had to ask. At times yes he would talk with Ráðgríðr and her mate but it was rare even when they were in camp. He only did it this time because he knew better than to go near the Earl when asking a question like this and plus he could tell their was some tension growing in the party. He hopped that Connie was okay. She had been a friend to him which is who he would talk to the most because of this.

"Of course, you must be quick about it, too. Speed is essential, you know." -- "Is it just speed that's so important, Auntie?" He asked, averting his gaze away from the smaller female and onto the path ahead. "Certainly not!" She chimed, "speed is merely one of the many factors. As is timing. Oh, timing is a big one." His ears had turned, though his gaze remained unfaltered. "You remember that!" She continued, nipping at the younger male, to which he managed to barely dodge. "You listen to me, Valefar. I'm not droning on for my sake here!"

He responded by rolling his eyes.

The conversation had begun when Valefar brought up the factors needed to be taken into consideration when sparring.

That was an hour ago.

"Did you hear me?" She chirped, to which he nodded a singular time. "Yes, yes. Speed and timing." -- "Good. Now, have I mentioned the importance of outsmarting your opponents?" -- "No, I don't believe you have," he sighed, his gaze transitioning onto the others, specifically, the Earl. For a moment, he contemplated approaching him. Perhaps striking up a conversation, though he couldn't muster up the nerves to do so. And as he was attempting to talk himself into it, sudden contact upon his body had distracted him, a growl pulling at his lips. However, with a small glance at this new arrival, his parted mouth clamped shut, the growl vanishing. Rather, he had tilted his head, staring at her.

"Oh, thank goodness," he finally managed to push out. Not only would Isane save him from his aunt's words, but it was also an excuse to not approach the Earl and- "Nevermind," he added on as she began to tug on his ear, his head lightly yanking to the side with each forceful pull. Valefar was used to it, having constantly played with his younger siblings. This? This was nothing compared to several tiny mouths clamped onto his body at once.

He had refrained from doing anything, allowing her to get it out of her system before caving. Turning his head, he had applied a playful nip to her neck as vengeance before continuing on as if nothing had transpired. At this point, his aunt had concluded their conversation and had increased her pace, having no interest in Valefar anymore. Rather, she neared the Earl, staying a few paces behind. It seemed as if she had picked up on something given her heedful posture, though he wasn't sure what. He had almost asked her, had Isane not spoken to him first.

"Nibble their toes? That's a new one." Inputting his dry opinion, he gazed at his best friend while she strode alongside of him, a partial grin breaking out having heard her laugh. "I suppose I'm looking forward to see my own brothers and sisters as well." Truthfully, Valefar was very excited. He constantly strove to ensure that they felt loved in any way possible. Especially Raum. Some may say that Valefar favoured his half-blinded brother, for he was more dependent on help than the others. As an older brother, he often worried about him as well, including now.

However, his thoughts had faded as a new issue rose. There was tension in the air, he could feel it change. Eyes upon his aunt, he noted her pose remaining attentive, her body alert. There was also a shift in the Earl's behaviour, his father. Something was wrong, or a threat was near. Why else the sudden change in demeanour? Eyes shifting from wolf to wolf, he turned his head onto Isane, understanding then that she picked up on the tension.

"Let's stay close together," he whispered to her, for using his full voice seemed like a crime in this moment. Everything had silenced. Inhaling, he turned his head to the sky, scanning the trees. "No birds," he mumbled. "Isane, there are no birds." Pausing, his hackles rose when she mentioned blood. "I don't smell anything." However, moments after her declaration, the scent had struck him like a truck, his head nodding to confirm her suspicions.

And it was coming from the direction they were headed in.

Njal

Warlord || 5.5 years || Male || Mentions: Ráðgríðr & Kalyani, Hunter, Valdemar, Aric[ind.]

The brute was mostly silent as he walked, from the raid he was left with some chosen items, as well as some unwanted interactions. He bore a scratch across his back, it wasn't terribly deep but it was enough to draw some blood, which had now dried and stuck to his fur. During the raid the pack was successfully able to complete their task, of course, there was always some resistance, as pointless as it was. The Warlord had successfully incapacitated whom he needed to, in order to help gain some control over the other pack. In the process, he subdued a very irritating warrior who decided today was the day they would try and do something useful, which ended poorly in their favor. Njal had been jumped by the smaller wolf, who had left a mark across his back, nothing more than a scratch. The warrior was outweighed and shortly flipped onto the ground for Njal to deal with. The warrior ultimately met his end when he refused to quit fighting back and spitting insults.

One of the trinkets the Warlord had found was an odd-shaped bone, it was large enough to fit in his mouth and small enough to be carried. It was curved and in great condition with the animal's teeth still intact, the animal in question was a deer. He had found some poor chums bone stash and had taken the deer's jaw with him, particularly because it stuck out, being slightly deformed. During raids, Njal always looked for various bones to bring home as reminders of all the packs they had raided. He had also found a fresh kill, a small squirrel which he had already eaten in a few quick bites. Now he hadn't shown off his new prize to his mate, he had been trailing behind the back to make sure no one had followed them, but he figured they were far enough away that he could rejoin Ráðgríðr and see what she had gotten.

Quickening his pace the male caught up with his mate, nearly missing the small creature beside her. Njal had smelled pups around the other pack's den site but didn't realize any had been taken back with them. “Now, what do we have here?” He questioned, the Warlord wasn't sure whether to be shocked or not, Ráðgríðr always took her choice of the raided packs belongings, as everyone did, but had not brought back a pup yet.

Njal lowered his head down to the pup's level, examining it with unblinking eyes. It seemed as if the Heirs will have a new playmate. At the thought of the heirs, it brought his thoughts back to the camp. After the journey back, the Warlord was rather eager to return and see if his littermates and the remaining pack members were still in good health.

Njal’s nose crinkled when the wind shifted to bring in the familiar scent of blood…Which shouldn't be right considering their camp was just a ways away, and the scent was coming from its general direction, though it seemed a bit too soon to tell if their camp was in fact the source. He immediately swiveled his head to look for Aric, perhaps the other Warlord had noticed it as well. The male was slightly put on edge at the smell, it was faint, but it was there. His eyes narrowed at the approach of one of the warriors approaching to speak with his mate. The strange scent was indeed catching others' attention. Perhaps Valdemar would address it. Sooner or later they would find out for themselves.

The pale dame walked alongside the returning raiders, a certain aura of calm surrounding her that almost always seemed present. While her mate, the Earl Valdemar, often traveled at the front of the party to guide them, Nehir preferred to walk in the middle and towards the back, making sure all of them kept up, even those that were the most injured.

The forest was quiet, extremely so, and it spiked a red flag in her head so sharply that the newer injuries upon her skin gave a throb of pain in response. She winced, shaking her fur out to get rid of the odd tingle, instead turning her attention to the packmates around her as the lake neared.

The saw Valdemar tense a moment before the scent hit her, just briefly, and she took in a surprise lung-full of it. Tangy, metallic. Blood. Strong, intense, an intensity that hadn't been there mere moments before. It couldn't belong to the raiding party, not unless someone had just very severely reopened a horrid wound.

Nehir stiffened, but did not pause near the lake as other packmates did, stalking past them and towards her mate. She brushed past her son, Valefar, but didn't pause to greet him as she usually would, keeping her strides long and even. She knew that, unfortunately, she was a beacon within the pack as one of very few white or almost white wolves.

Most within their pack were a shade of grey or brown, the odd occasion of a red canid, and the rare paler creature. She could be seen from a distance, she could be spotted and recognized as the Lady Nehir based on just her coat.

She couldn't panic, not when she could be noticed so easily.

And so, when she strode up to Valdemar, she strode just past him and then dropped her head down, nose almost touching the ground. She jerked her head up sharply after just a moment, turning towards the greyscale brute.

"Days." She said, one word, ears angling backwards. "Days old scents."

Days since their packmates had come for water.

The fear that something was very, very wrong doubled in her heart.

Halcyon | Apprentice | Mentions: Raiding Party Indirectly

The apprentice trailed along with the rest of the pack as they approached the quiet lake. His darkly furred ears stood erect on his head, ever so often swiveling to tune into different sounds. But right now, it was eerie. No mirthful sounds of pups or distant speech were detected. Just the steady lapping of the small waves upon the pebbled shore. The familiar hulking frame of the Earl was near the front, leading them to their hidden valley.

The group had just returned from another one of their raids. Raid would be a nice way to put it, though. At least to Halcyon. The black canine sensed the pride and glee surrounding his packmates, most of which were covered in wounds and blood. And most of that blood may have been from their slain or subdued opponents. The apprentice scanned the group, seeing a couple of them carrying their chosen items, ranging from Ráðgríðr's collection of russet fox pelts and new pup to Njal's bone. What did Halcyon come back with? Nothing but shame and guilt. Though he hid it well, as his face was expressionless.

He never understood them. Any of them. Why raid and attack other packs who had never crossed them before? Halcyon found no point or joy in the ventures that his pack did. Instead, he found them to be egotistical power grabs. Imperialism in the finest sense. Halcyon had done his best to leave most of his opponents just slightly scathed. No one had died under his tooth or claw, which was something he always feared. If anything, he had given a couple warning bites as he subdued the opposing pack wolves. He prayed no one had noticed his sense of mercy, though. Once they found out he lacked their love for bloodshed, would he be next?

A sigh left his muzzle, but the smell of old blood flooded in with a breath. His bright amber eyes widened for a second after he blinked. What was that? His head turned to scan the area and his packmates to see if they noticed it too.

The air felt stale with no sound. No birds chirping, not even frog croaking. Lisha was in the back slowly walking behind the pack her eyes peeled for anything. The cold air was starting to pick up and the leaves turning into a dark colored leaves. The eerie place of nothing stale scent, but not even their welcoming home was like a ghost town. Not even the little creatures made noises or even squirrels scavenging for their hibernation to be heard. Something was wrong.

The vile stench of blood of was in the clear. But she enjoyed the scent of blood from her doing or he rpacks. But this. She couldn't put her paw on it. It was like an itch she couldn't scratch. Her hackles rose with deep concern and fear for what lies ahead of the pack. Her tail lashed and her ears pinned back towards her skull. Her pace wanted to sprint ahead and see if everyone was alright and find what that blood was coming from.

Her eyes looked at Ráogríor as she start to guard over her new pup. Her little adoptive pup that was adorable but her heart wrenched for the poor little furball. Taken from her pack as she hoped the young little one shall never remember events of what happened. Something she observed all the others wolves were started to have realized something was off in the valley. In the direction they were headed which was home for the pack.

Thyra

Pup of The Earl And Lady | 16 Weeks | Mentions: Luane, Folke, and NPC Caretaker
The young pup hadn't been able to sleep. She had no idea how long it had been since the attack. But by her guess days had passed now, how she could assume that - the smell of the blood of their pack mates were old. Raum, their youngest brother had even fallen victim to the savages that ravaged their camp. Sure her family did raids and caused destruction, yet they'd never harm the life of a pup or young wolf. That much she knew from what was heard. She was cold, wet and miserable- there was even old blood caked on her paws from running away from their safe haven. She wanted to cry, but she wouldn't let the tears come out. She was the daughter of the Earl and Lady - she had to be strong and she would be strong. For her siblings, for her parents until they got back. Her thoughts were interrupted when the voice of her older littermate broke through the silence.

"They'll be home soon. They have to be." She whispered back confidently to her brother. Her parents would be home and everything would be alright, but it really wouldn't. She was still haunted by the sounds of her dying pack mates, and she swore she could've heard a soul howling in the wind.

"We should be greatful to be alive. It's only because of Frida that we lived." She said to her brother talking more freely, her voice was hoarse because of them being silent and her throat was dry as well. She had been too scared to even drink the water for fear of their hiding place being found.

She watched as her brother stretched and moved around. She began doing similar. It probably did make noise among the reeds, them moving and stretching. But she was certain they had been abandoned, it would've been foolish for those who attacked to have stayed and then met by the fangs of warriors returning from a raid. So this means they were all alone. No one was here. She looked to the sky, and a sorrowful expression crossed her face.

"Not even the birds are flying..." she whispered.

She then noted the body of the Mother that had saved them. The female was more of a tan and brownish color that helped her blind in with the tall brown reeds. She could feel her ears flatten at the horrid realization of why the female hadn't been moving. If the wounds the Mother sustained didn't speak for themself then the lack of motion and shallow breathing did. She was dying. That's when something snapped in Thyra, she had to do something! Frida couldn't die because she saved them . That wasn't fair.

She knew it may have been foolish and reckless to announce their hiding place but it was a desperate time. She lifted her muzzle and she began to howl as best as she could. It was a broken howl, one that clearly displayed distress and panic - hopefully someone from the pack was nearby to hear her cry. She looked to her siblings to motivate them to howl as well.

"Come on. We need to howl." She urged them.

Luane

Pup of the Earl and Lady | 16 weeks | M: Theda, Folke,NPC Caretaker

Luane was sleeping shivering finding warmth from her brother quite smothering her but she didn't mind. She hasn't sleep in well she is starting to lose count. The little runt was disgusting dirty as she could feel the mud that was caked on her drying. She was no longer a beautiful cloudy white furball. She was covered in mud and leaves with no white to be found on the precious pup. Her ears pinned back to the voice of her brother talking to Thyra. The others arrival.

She missed her mother and warmth and her father. And her older siblings that would play and babysit them just for fun. Her eyes widened as Folke wanted to leave and look. She tried to open he rmouth and speak but she couldn't form her words. After seeing the deaths of her pack with no mercy. Not even a reasoning she couldn't share any emotion or even share her words without a fear of being heard now.

She watched as her brother down in defeat but fearfully. She was scared to but she didn't dare do anything suicidal. She had to use her logic and not hope for miracle. Anything can happen now. The her pack could come back in another week. Or even longer. But the pack that attacked us or these band of wolves could come back for round two. Picking off any survivors that could share any stories or even just a legend to the future youth of this attack.

A shrill cry or what her sister calls a howl of fear as she pinned her eyes back. She growled at her stupidity. Then she tackled her sister to the ground. She didn't wanna speak so she put her paw over her muzzle and shook her head with defiance. This was suicide. This was absolutely arrogant for the Pups. If this howl attracted anything else other than our saviors. Then they are all doomed.

Lisha gathered some words that came out as whisper and croak,"Are you crazy?! Do you wanna die? Use your head Thyra."