Private Gathering of the Alpha's

[Aelin Erevos]

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Outfit | XoXo
Location | Council Chamber, Hardhaven, Islimore
Tag | Dorian Durinson

In the spacious chamber, the newly minted Anasa, born from trial and bloodshed, stood, her auburn-brown hair cascading like a waterfall over her small shoulders, holding herself with that same resolute determination she'd possessed the first time she'd stepped foot on Islimore nearly a year prior. Her smoldering gaze passed around those who'd gathered. Their faces betrayed little emotion, each hulking Alpha sitting tall and proud as the immovable Abolase mountains, but for those attuned to the workings of the Force, the feeling of their collective unease permeated the gathering like a thick, palpable miasma. Finally, she set her eyes forward, rosy lips parting as she called to order the first gathering of Alphas in nearly four-hundred years.

"Thank you all for coming," she began, feeling her stomach churn uncomfortably and grasping the edge of the table to help stave off what she assumed to be a combination of nerves and exhaustion. You are the blood of Thorir, she reminded herself, squaring her posture. "I do not need to lecture any of you about the great threat we face to the South," While the physical memories of the devastating attack on their previous encampment had finally started to fade, it would be years still before the memory of that night even marginally dimmed. "nor of the fact that the only way we will eliminate this threat is by working together - uniting. Through the efforts of multiple Alpha's these last few months, ( Gerwald Lechner , Brynjar Threist , Børre Drage , Zaya Tawfik , Gustaf Lögr ) we have a plentiful cache of weaponry, stores of bacta, a rapidly increasing influx of warriors, and a proposed target."

Anders stepped forward then, placing a large roll of parchment in her outstretched hand. Thanking him, she carefully undid the bindings and unfurled the paper before those gathered, revealing a detailed map with circled markings and outlines. "Thanks to the work of our scouts, we've been able to identify viable targets to launch our first attack." she walked around the table, her boots clicking with each step. "These eight circled towers stand as the bastion's of our enemies defense. Should we succeed in tearing them down, not only will we have weakened them, but we will have gained an advantage. Starting out I'd like to send two different groups, one to each tower, launch the attack simultaneously. Sow chaos and confusion among their ranks before we go on to the next."

She paused, watching as some leaned forward and others fell silent - their eyes turning to look at the delicate she-wolf as if waiting for permission to speak their peace. "This is an open floor," she explained. "If you have something to say, then now is the time. I may be Anasa, but I wish to give each Alpha here a chance to voice their thoughts and concerns. Let us put our combined wisdom to work."

​

 

[Rowan Hathbi]

Location: Hardhaven, Islimore - Council Chamber
Equipment: Outfit
Tags: Aelin Erevos Dorian Durinson

Insanity could always be described in numerous and decorative fashions across the galaxy. Perhaps gaining a newfound understanding, only to be brought low to spend innumerable hours searching for that same understanding as what one has once achieved.

The endless toil of an artisan to create the perfect piece when their abilities had been recognized for its quality. Creations thrown aside in various states of completion under the intense scrutiny of their hand that had brought it to existence.

And another as repeating the same actions an unforgiving number of times while expecting varied results.

Rowan had experienced the last form. No. He had continued experiencing the last would be more accurate a descriptor. Long had he pondered the giant stone titans that lumbered over the warm sands of his ancestral home. Stared in awed silence. Whispered prayers for their return. Begged for their arrival. Screamed at their impotence. And mourned beneath their uncaring gaze.

Information had found him. Old writings and musings of their origin. Their purpose. And while his journey to the familiar conditions had been to gather supplies and allies, Rowan had taken a sidestep to act upon the new knowledge with bated breath.

Only to once again be met with disappointment for such hope.

The other ventures had been more than fruitful. Meeting another that had called herself Zaya. Seeking a similar goal of recruitment for the North. They had divided the region to make their work lighter. To avoid perhaps an overbearing presence in the pursuit of willing souls.

The other had been seeking the Hathbi clans hidden gardens. Kept hidden from sight by natural barriers only the shamans had known of.

His time away finding the gardens over run with both beneficial and detrimental flora alike. The process of culling what harmed and tending to the beneficial far exceeding his expectations. For someone that held little respect for the flow of time to begin with, he felt shameful about the stretch that he had been absent for upon his return.

The only benefit to his absence a large gathering of holistic medicines that only grew in potency with the knowledge of the Hathbi elders that he had brought.

A meeting had been called for the Alpha's of the clans. And while he felt ill equipped for such a calling, he still found himself at least present for the sake of his kin that joined in the fighting for their home. The unease that settled in the air was oppressive, and while he could offer no reprieve from it, he settled into his seat to listen.

"May the ancestors smile upon us." A near silent prayer all the more he managed before the meeting began, his eyes moving between and his attention never faltering. The call to speak was made, and for the time being, he was content to remain silent.

 

[Brynjar Threist]

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Location: Islimore
Attire: This
Tags: Aelin Erevos | Rowan Hathbi | Dorian Durinson

It can been weeks since Aelin had taken the title of Anasa and was now preparing to build a formidable army that could stand against the humans of this world. Finally seeking to remove them and bring peace to Islimore as the home of Lupo. However, these moves had been the last straw in the minds of his parents. His inaction to contest for the role and his constant dismissal of their advice and desires had caused them to leave their homestead and head to Islimore. Brynjar knew why they were coming, they were hoping their physical presence would ensure the compliance of Brynjar to their wishes. It was something that he was dreading since he had learnt of their upcoming arrival. It would be impossible for him to avoid and he knew it was leading to a confrontation that would put his clan at great risk.

That was a worry for a time far from now.

For now, it was set for a council of Alphas, a meeting that would mean the plans of war would be set ready for the future stages. Entering the room, his head nodded to Aelin, they hadn't really spoken since the winter festival and Brynjar had ensured that. Delving deep into training the people they had and preparing them for a fight. He breathed in deeply as he stood around the other Alphas that had arrive and maintained a silence. His gaze looking around and attempting to figure out who would be arriving for this meeting and who he should make note of wanting to participate in this war. Those that they could trust and those who would not stand with them while the odds seemed hard against them.

The odds be damned, if they didn't fight then they might as well die. That was his stance.

Brynjar remained quiet, just letting the others talk and thinking about what it was he was going to be doing in this war. He knew where he wanted to be, but he also needed to ensure that his desires did not contradict the Anasa's wishes now. He couldn't go running off on his own.

​

 

[Dorian Durinson]

Wearing | Chamber in Hardhaven| Aelin Erevos Brynjar Threist Rowan Hathbi​

His presence here was little more than a formality. Dorian, Alpha of Clan Kanaka, son of the great protector, and blood of famed hero Durin sat at the head of the table of polished dark wood as was his right. Thin ribbons of light from the newly risen sun penetrated the dark clouds that gathered above Hardhaven, peering through the stained windows of the chamber, doing little to affect the darkness within. Torches burned low along the walls their dull light sending shadows dancing through the room like a troupe of grotesqueries and making the vast chamber seem much more full than it was.

This momentous occasion, the first gathering of the Alphas in four centuries, was being held in his father's stronghold. A sadness stabbed at him then. For Dorian to be the one who sat here in place of his father as history was being written, that was surely some jest of the gods.

Dorian wore the colors of his Clan with pride. He was in leather armor stained black as a dragon's eye with gold filament woven throughout worn over heavy rings of black iron. Draped across his shoulders was a thick coat of black fur giving him the look of some hulking ursine.

Dorian spared a glance around the chamber at those in attendance and was again struck with a sadness and even a touch of guilt. They had assembled in a modest chamber in his hall but even now it seemed cavernous for the first gathering of Alphas in living memory was sparsely attended. Even with councilors, advisors, guards, and servants who had come with their Alpha's they numbered half a score. Dorian knew the southern clans had seen the worst of their peoples troubles and even still to see it for himself was something else entirely. He could have filled this room with thrice as many Alphas from the North if he had so desired but he did not. Dorian was the only Northern Alpha present for his was the only voice in the North that mattered, he was the blood of Durin, and his presence here was a mere courtesy.

A courtesy for the new Anasa. Dorian's gaze met Aelin's as she looked around the chamber. They lingered on one another for no more than a moment as she made sure she looked in the eyes of all who were present. He knew she could feel the tension and he wondered if he was some sort of oasis for her amongst such turmoil or if his being here only made things harder.

He had gone to her late last night and had not found her sleeping. The news that the Alpha of Kanaka paid late hour visits to the southern Alpha on the run from The Fayth, had long stopped being interesting gossip but surely the whispers would begin anew now that Aelin had claimed the title of Anasa, Alpha of Alphas. He had gone to her late last night because he owed it to her to tell her that The North, that he, could not support her war. It was not exactly news to her and she took his words with good grace and a soft touch. It was more kindness than he felt he deserved but he did not turn it away. Did not turn her away.

Dorian had spent enough time with Aelin of late to know something was amiss when she steadied herself with the table. Muscles in his back flexed nearly imperceptibly as the instinct to go to her came to him. A hand pale as moonlight and decorated with severe runic tattoos rested gently on his shoulder.

The hand was that of Yasmine of The Wilds, the sole councilor that attended Dorian. A fact that was sure to displease his other advisors. The woman was an outsider, a witch of the wilds, with fiery red hair, a pale complexion, and an air of mystery that surrounded her despite the fact that she had lived amongst his Clan for more than two decades, she wore a dress green as pine, red accented filament wove through out like blood.

Aelin laid her plan out before them all and offered the floor to any who would wish to be heard. None rushed to speak.

By The Gods they would have her do this alone.

He was stunned.

The muscles in his back flexed once more and again it was Yasmine that came to his aid.

"Forgive me Anasa," Yasmine said from over his shoulder with an expertly suppressed giggle. Dorian could not help but smirk just a little. He did not know if those around him caught the laughter in Yasmine's voice but he did. a part of him was displeased with her disrespect of both Aelin and himself, no matter how well Yasmine tried to mask it but another part of him admired her.

Yasmine was more than a simple advisor. She was mate to his late brother and predecessor, she was once the acting Alpha of Clan Kanaka, and daughter of The Feral King, first Anasai of The Wilds since before The Great Purge. She was of the North and The North cared nothing for the title of Anasa, that was a southern notion.

Yasmine glided silently on barefeet to stand next to Aelin and examine the map. She traced a finger along the surface from one tower to the next, singing softly to herself. Some of the lesser wolves in attendance whispered or sniggered at this. Dorian only smiled.

"This is some distance you mean to travel,"'Yasmine said to Aelin like they were the only two present. "A difficult task to coordinate simultaneous attacks, very difficult. Are you sure you have the numbers for something so…bold? Are you sure these scouts are loyal to you?"

When Aelin had first arrived in Hardhaven with her pack they numbered less than a thousand and only half of that number could truly be considered warriors. It was true those loyal to her grew over their time here, their number bolstered by Lupo from the far south and yet without The North it was likely they were still too few.

"As I'm sure you know, I was born in the great Black Forest north of this castle. I am familiar with having to fight even when outnumbered. What is it you mean to accomplish with this war?"

Yasmine turned from the map and faced Aelin.

"My father dared stand against the might of Durin Anáil Dragan and all The North. The numbers never favored my father and yet he went to war all the same. Towns, villages, holdfasts, keeps, and even great castles, all fell, all burned. Places in this country remain untamed, unclaimed and wild to this day, land my father took with blood, that is his legacy, Anasa."

Yasmine's fingers brushed down the side of Aelin's face, over her scar, traced lightly over her heart before continuing down and lingering near her belt line before finally resting where The God Gems hung in a pouch.

"What will your legacy be, Thorirsblod?"

​

 

[Aelin Erevos]

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Outfit | XoXo
Location | Islimore
Tag | Brynjar Threist , Dorian Durinson , Rowan Hathbi

It was disheartening, that most of those who'd gathered seemed so listless that they might as well have been asleep. They listened, yes, but did they truly hear? She wondered silently. Even Brynjar, usually known for his assertiveness, held his tongue behind its pearly white gates.

It struck her then, the fear.

Their oaths bound the southern wolves to respect the call of their Anasa, but perhaps they'd truly only come to satiate their curiosity when they heard the name of her ancestor, leaping at the chance to gaze upon one of Thorir's blood, interested more in her lineage than her mission and the purpose of this historic assembly...

Or perhaps this was the way of things once one claimed the title Anasa and they simply expected her to lead them, to tell them where to go as though they lacked autonomy. The way a shepherd guides a flock of dumb sheep.

Perhaps if I’d come naked, they’d be more apt to contribute.

Thus, it was gratitude that swelled within her with Yasmine's timely interjection, feeling the tendrils of her own anxieties ebb away like a retreating wave that’d crashed down on the shore, over shadowing the slight tinge of annoyance from the woman’s repressed giggles.

During the many late nights she’d spent in Dorian’s company, he’d spoken of Yasmine with utmost reverence. It was not hard to see why. Her reasoning and voiced thoughts conveyed one of level-headedness, despite her demeanor displaying what many might have considered curious and even uncultured. Aelin suddenly found herself regretful that she only knew Yasmine in terms of her relation to Dorian.

“You raise valid points.” she conceded, her eyes lighting up with approval. "However, we won't require a large force to defeat them; and the wolves that I hand selected to retrieve this information, are ones I’d trust with my life. Now, although these towers hold strategic importance, their defenses are…very lacking. The Sabathians have become fat and overconfident, which is consequently beneficial for our goals. Once we topple the towers, it will take time for the news to reach Blackbrook, allowing the bulk of our troops to advance towards Tarsal Fortress - our ultimate goal, and one of the two primary sources of their wealth." she paused, inhaling. "Should we be successful, the Sabathian forces will be uncertain where to deploy their troops and will be forced to split them up... resulting in weaker defenses at Tarsal and an increased chance of victory. Yes, it is a bold risk. But sometimes bold risks are needed for extraordinary results."

She paused under Yasmine’s gaze and grasped the woman’s hand, gently removing it from the proximity of her Gods Gems. “That might have been your father’s legacy, but it won’t be mine. I do not embark on this war lightly, nor do I seek glory or conquest. I seek justice. One way or another, I will see the dismantling of the oppressive forces that have plagued not only Islimore, but the hand that’s reached beyond it and hopefully inspire others to stand up and do the same. I’m fully aware of the sacrifices and challenges that lie ahead. But I’d rather that if death should find me, it’ll find me on my feet with steel in hand. Not prostrated with my neck stretched out, waiting for the inevitable swing of a headsman's axe.”

​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

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WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: xxx | xxx | xxx
TAG: Aelin Erevos | Dorian Durinson | Rowan Hathbi | Brynjar Threist

They would not have expected his presence, and perhaps they would not know it if they had been searching for it. Gerwald had spent many months away and among the Sith. There were debts he owed and promises he had to fulfill. Now that they had been paid the lone wolf had returned to the news that Aelin had claimed a title he had told her to all but abandon.

Typically stubborn.

The more she pursued the Fayth the more like Brynjar she became. Aelin would no more listen to sound logic and reason as a petrified tree would be felled by an ax. It was the way of his kind he supposed. Many would say Gerwald was just as stubborn as them all, if not moreso. He would not deny it if they did. The wolf was annoyingly so because he knew one thing the others refused to admit.

He was right.

The alpha of none sat in the back, among the shadows where he would not be seen. What did he have to contribute that he had not been saying for the past year or more. As he listened to Aelin’s words he knew nothing had changed in his absence. Bryn was quiet because she was feeding him the war he wanted, the chance to prove himself. Dorian and his advisor sat as the only two which Gerwald did not fully know or understand. Their position was unique, one which would only satisfy the north.

When the advisor spoke, Gerwald was intrigued. There were more questions the wolf wanted to ask to press the other points made further. It seemed the fiery red haired witch had yet to weigh Aelin for herself. Would she find the illegitimate Anasa wanting?

Gerwald scoffed at the answer. His blood began to boil as she spoke. Perhaps he should have let the woman die rather than helping her treat her wounds. His concern had blinded him to the reality of something he should have admitted sooner.
Aelin was filled with a blood lust that would not be easily satisfied.

He could no longer stay silent.

“It is not justice you seek, but revenge, and you will pay for it with the lives of those willing to blindly follow you to their deaths. This strategy is suicide, and you know it.”

Gerwald stepped into the light and took the place at the table reserved for the Alpha of the Lechner clan.

“You wish to attack these towers, and while you are correct that they would weaken the Fayth, the fact they are not well guarded means subsequent targets will only be more difficult to capture, and much more costly.”

Gerwald took his seat.

“Besides, you have another target you must take first. One which you promised to help me regain. I have served this cause in several ways despite the fact I stand in opposition to it. You will keep your word, or I will take the title you hold so dear and so precious, one which my ancestors once held long ago.”​

 

[Astrid Ylva]

Location: Islimore
Attire: Battle Armor w/cloak (Helmet held by Bjorn), Battle Axe (Held by Bjorn)
Tags: Aelin Erevos | Rowan Hathbi | Dorian Durinson | Brynjar Threist

In the grand chamber, bathed in the soft glow of flickering torches, Astrid Ylva made her entrance. As the Queen of the North and Alpha of Clan Ylva, her presence commanded attention and respect. With each step, the polished marble floor seemed to yield beneath her, as if paying homage to her regal stature. Her platinum silver hair cascaded down her back in lustrous waves, catching the light and shimmering like moonlit snow. It possessed an ethereal glow, enhancing her striking appearance and adding to her air of mystery. Dressed in sleek black battle armor, Astrid exuded both strength and elegance. The armor hugged her form like a second skin, emphasizing her lithe and toned physique. It bore the marks of her countless battles, scars etched into the metal as testament to her resilience and tenacity. The golden lacings and intricate designs added a touch of regality to her attire, gleaming under the ambient light and casting a warm glow against the backdrop of darkness.

Her piercing blue eyes, clear as the depths of a frozen lake, held a captivating intensity. They seemed to possess an inherent wisdom and a profound understanding of the world around her. When her gaze fell upon an individual, it felt as though she could see into their very soul, reading their hopes, fears, and aspirations. Astrid's features were a testament to her heritage, her fair complexion radiating an almost ethereal luminescence. High cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and a regal nose accentuated her beauty, while a thin scar traced a path across her left cheek, a permanent reminder of battles fought and sacrifices made. With each elegant, purposeful stride, the soft echo of her footsteps filled the modest chamber, an unlikely setting for such a significant moment in history. Every step she took pulsed with authority and power, commanding the reverence and regard befitting a true Alpha. Even the very floor beneath her seemed to resonate with the unyielding resolve that radiated from her core; a tangible aura encompassing her presence, infusing the room with an intensity that urged those nearby to straighten their spines and listen a little closer.

Bjorn stood vigil at Astrid's side, a living embodiment of the Northern Clans' might. His towering stature, dwarfing her and many others by thrice her height, only served to magnify the air of reverence she carried. His deep amber eyes held a mountain's steadiness, the silent sentinel that never faltered. Together, they formed a formidable pair, a living embodiment of the power and unity of the Northern Clans. The bond between them was palpable, a silent understanding that required no words. With a gentle smile, Astrid acknowledged those already seated at the table, silently apologizing for her tardiness. She carried herself with grace and poise, her eyes briefly meeting Dorian's, the Alpha of Clan Kanaka, conveying a sense of understanding and unspoken support. As she took her seat, Bjorn moved with a quiet efficiency, pulling out the chair for her, a gesture of respect and reverence.

Seated now, Astrid's posture remained regal, her hands resting calmly on her lap. The room seemed to hold its breath, the anticipation thick in the air. Astrid said nothing, her attention focused on the council at hand. She was here to listen, to absorb the perspectives and insights of her fellow Alphas. The weight of responsibility settled upon her shoulders as the Queen of the North, guiding her people towards a future of unity and survival.

In this moment, Astrid Ylva embodied resilience, strength, and unwavering determination. Her very presence commanded attention, conveying a powerful message of leadership and unwavering dedication to the welfare of her people. As the council commenced the discussion of their plans to go to war and launch an attack against the Fayth, the chamber brimmed with a sense of purpose and anticipation. The air crackled with tension as each Alpha brought forth their perspectives and strategies, their voices echoing with a shared resolve to reclaim their homeland and vanquish the threat that loomed over them. Astrid's unwavering gaze and focused demeanor showcased her commitment to this cause, her every fiber aligning with the collective determination in the room. The weight of responsibility settled upon her shoulders as the Queen of the North, guiding her people towards a future where their lands would be free from tyranny and their clans would rise united.

 

[Astrid Ylva]

Astrid's piercing blue eyes swept across the room, taking in the presence of each Alpha, their words hanging heavy in the air. As Gerwald stepped into the light and took his place at the table, Astrid's gaze settled upon him. The unfamiliar face intrigued her, for she had not encountered him before. His strong, commanding presence demanded attention, and she could sense the weight of his convictions in his words. She listened intently as Gerwald voiced his concerns, his voice filled with a blend of skepticism and determination. His words cut through the air like a sharpened blade, challenging Aelin's plan and questioning the very essence of her motives. It was a confrontation that had been brewing beneath the surface, and Gerwald had summoned the courage to voice his dissent.

Astrid's mind raced, analyzing the points raised by Gerwald. She could see the truth in his words, the strategic implications and potential risks of their chosen path. His skepticism held a mirror to her own doubts, forcing her to confront the realities of the impending conflict. It was a test of her leadership, her ability to adapt and consider alternative perspectives. The Queen of the North and Alpha of Clan Ylva remained silent for a moment, the weight of the room pressing upon her. Her gaze shifted from Gerwald to Aelin, studying the Anasa's reaction. There was a flicker of determination in Aelin's eyes, an unwavering resolve that Astrid had come to recognize. The fire within her burned bright, fueled by a thirst for justice and a desire to dismantle the forces that plagued Islimore. It was a flame that resonated with Astrid's own spirit.

Finally, Astrid's voice resonated through the chamber, commanding attention.

"We are at a crossroads here, need I remind all of you. Our choices now will shape the future of our clans." Astrid looked to Gerwald and then to Aelin and then back to Gerwald. "Gerwald, you speak of a promise made to you, and I understand the importance of honoring our commitments." She paused and looked to Aelin. "And you are an Anasa, you are to guide our united cause, to bare that burden upon your shoulders - but you must also take in account that which has been promised."

Astrid's gaze swept across the room, acknowledging the presence of each Alpha with a nod of respect. "We are all here because we believe in the power of unity and the strength of our people. Let us work together to forge a path that not only brings justice but also ensures the preservation and prosperity of our clans. Our shared future depends on it."

With her words spoken, Astrid settled back into her seat, her piercing blue eyes shifting between Aelin and Gerwald, a silent understanding passing between them. The room fell into a contemplative silence, awaiting the next steps of this pivotal council of Alphas.

Aelin Erevos | Gerwald Lechner | Dorian Durinson | Brynjar Threist | Rowan Hathbi​

 

[Rowan Hathbi]

Location: Hardhaven, Islimore - Council Chamber
Equipment: Outfit
Tags: Aelin Erevos Dorian Durinson Gerwald Lechner Brynjar Threist Astrid Ylva

He had listened. Had thought for as long as others had given him the chance to do so by speaking their mind. By interrupting and distracting from the initial conversation.

Information and deals coming to light for the desert alpha as he adjusted in his seat to take in the sight of those joining suddenly. The Lechner Alpha seemed less concerned about their current situation than most, and the white haired one who intended to diffuse the situation.

If only a fraction.

"Innaction will do as much harm as infighting. While the strategy is foolish, it has been the only plan given. Perhaps an alternative plan of action can be found." Rowan decided to speak without standing. Scratching the spot between his cheek and nose before frowning. He felt ill suited for the position of speaking of military matters. His own power had once been enough to protect the lands he had been entrusted with. But that time had passed, and he found himself wavering in the belief of his own strength more often than not.

The Northern tribes had been more affected by the need to rally and become militarized. While his own could rely on the ever shifting sands and conditions to keep them from needing such things.

A folly that still burned bright in his mind as he continued.

"I do not suppose there exist some allies to call upon given our lack of numbers? We are already stocked with weapons and aid, but without hands to guide those weapons, or medicines, it may as well be a warlords fortune to waste." He grimaced before addressing the point of a promise with a glance between Aelin and Gerwald.

"Aside from that. It is unhealthy to allow a promise to wear thin. Especially one brought to light only now, in the midst of such a critical meeting. It casts a dark moon across our path and pursuing this promise will remove such troubles. And perhaps allow for allies to arrive, and ideas to form." His speech flowed more like a wondering thought than observations. A nagging thought behind his eyes but never forming beyond that as the frown deepened before settling.

 

[Yasmine of The Wilds]

Wearing | Location | Aelin Erevos Gerwald Lechner Rowan Hathbi​

Astrid Ylva Brynjar Threist Alfhildr Ótta Gustaf Lögr

"That might have been your father's legacy, but it won't be mine." The young Anasa declared.

Dorian was not wrong about your pride.

Yasmine entwined her fingers with Aelin's. An intimate gesture that belied how little each knew of the other and yet Yasmine held on like they were old friends. A comfort for the other woman or an oddity? Only Aelin could answer that.

"Such a malleable word, Justice. It means different things to each of us. The Fayth took nearly everything from me. My mate, my Alpha, my son's father. I left the only life I ever knew for him and they drove him to madness, corrupted his very soul."

Her eyes never left Aelin but Yasmine thought she could hear Dorian's teeth grinding, that she could feel the wolf inside him bare its fangs threateningly. Yasmine knew she was treading over very thin ice.

"I wonder if your Justice would be the same as mine. I doubt it would be the same as his." She gestured toward the wolf who had so openly threatened to challenge Aelin.

Yasmine studied this one who was a stranger to her. His blood ran hot, that took little effort to see but he had the stink of pollution on him.

He smelled of worlds beyond their own, just as Declan had when she had faced him from the Alpha's seat in Hardhaven's great hall. It ran so deep it took effort to recognize they were still Wolf. She did not know who this Wolf was to Aelin nor did Yasmine care. Extortion was the tool of a coward or a pup.

'Help me or I shall take from you that which you have earned'

Yasmine was curious how Aelin would respond. The wrong choice of words or actions now could see everything she worked for, bled for, killed for, all turned to ashes in a moment

Yasmine leaned so close to whisper in Aelin's ear that her lips brushed against the Anasa's cheek as she spoke.

"You are Lupo. You were birthed with your neck outstretched.”

​

 

[Brynjar Threist]

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Location: Islimore
Attire: This
Tags: Aelin Erevos | Dorian Durinson | Rowan Hathbi | Gerwald Lechner | Yasmine of The Wilds | Astrid Ylva | Gustaf Lögr | Alfhildr Ótta

The meeting was not smooth. Or at least, there had been silence when Aelin was asking for questions or thoughts. Brynjar had remained quiet since he knew what was coming.

He had seen how war was.

He knew what it was like to lose this war.

He knew Aelin was better than him at leading therefore his decisions in this, his actions. They were better put to use enacting Aelin's plan rather than attempting to enact his own. Not all seemed to believe that Aelin's plan was a solid one. Not all seemed to think that Aelin's right as lead was something that should be not challenged publicly.

But then again, Gerwald was never one to respect their ways as Lupo.

Brynjar sighed, before his wander through the desert, he knew that he would have approached Gerwald loud, aggressive and called out the man for deciding to convenient turn up when there wasn't any trouble but never there when the Lupo needed protection or guidance. That Gerwald only seemed to arrive to tell them that war would never work, mock their traditions and then run away, never sticking around on Islimore. There was the fire still in his body but he couldn't do this fight with Gerwald. It was not his to fight and it would only offer weakness to Aelin that he came in fiery hot and attempting to defend her.

Especially when she was never his to defend. They were friends and that was all she wished.

He stepped to the table and examined it, "if attacking the towers is going to heighten the defences, the security around them. Then that spreads their forces from other areas more. Could it not be best to first attack the towers, make our enemy think they are our goal, then help Gerwald with his promise. Which could be exactly the plan that our Anasa held." Was all Brynjar wished to offer, "that way our forces are not lessened and we put the humans on the backfoot?"

Brynjar had hoped Heddwch was enough to protect Aelin but he wasn't sure how the axe would keep her safe now. And Brynjar was making it clear that he was not seeing to argue or fight himself. Internal fighting was all that they had done for hundreds of years, unity was needed now. Neither him nor Gerwald were unifiers. Given that his own family had held the title themselves long ago but Brynjar never questioned who was the better leader for their people right now.

​

 

[Dorian Durinson]

Wearing | Location | Aelin Erevos Brynjar Threist Gerwald Lechner Alfhildr Ótta Rowan Hathbi Astrid Ylva Gustaf Lögr​

Aelin had little reason to explain herself to Yasmine and yet she did with some measure patience and that touch of self importance that Aelin often carried. Aelin was not as outwardly boastful as many of their kind but her pride was there all the same. A live current ready to strike when touched, that was the thing about her Dorian liked the most.

He suppressed a laugh behind a grin when Yasmine took Aelin's hand. Before these Wolves from beyond the stars arrived, he had never seen Lupo so unaccustomed to the physicality of their people.

A voice spoke from the shadows. Another of their kind. One who smelled like a stranger but once he stepped dramatically into the light Dorian realized that his face was familiar but he could not place why.

This stranger who Dorian must concede was an Alpha of some southern clan spoke at length his vehement disagreement with Aelin's plan, "suicide" was what he called it. There was a venom to his tone as if he had been personally wronged by Aelin Jhaansdotir.

He spoke of what she owed him and then in front of every Alpha here gathered he threatened to challenge her for her title. Threatened. It was absurd. Dorian laughed. That's how absurd it was. He was a coward that postured with strength. How could this one be expected to be taken seriously? If Dorian were Aelin he would answer this fool's challenge with blood, let none in this room forget.

His laughter was interrupted by the arrival of Astrid. Dorian swallowed hard and never took his eyes off of her as she crossed the room followed by her hulking simpleton of a guard. She took a seat, both too far and entirely too close to him. She paid him fleeting acknowledgement when she'd entered and he wondered to himself if the pain from that had been his own doing. Had he chosen wrong at the Varblessum when he had picked Aelin? Did Astrid hold that choice against him? She hadn't even been there. Aelin was, and Aelin was there after as well, and yet…he still wondered.

Astrid spoke. It was a surprise to hear from her. He thought that she, like him, would remain mostly neutral to the events in this room. That she would let the southerners solve their own problems but she did not. She called Aelin and the stranger out both. She had called him Gerwald and realization struck Dorian. He was a Lechner. Declan had made mention of him and Dorian recalled seeing the two of them share a moment at Durin's funeral.

The most curious thing said by Astrid, Alpha of Frosthold and the second most powerful Wolf in The North was when she referred to Aelin's war as "our united cause"

It is not my cause cousin. Why should it be yours?

"Innaction will do as much harm as infighting. While the strategy is foolish, it has been the only plan given. Perhaps an alternative plan of action can be found." The Alpha from the desert proclaimed. That one was Rowan, he had also attended his brother's funeral though they doubtlessly never met.

"Inaction could do more good than you would think." Dorian said. "I have no desire to force any of you from my home. You are welcome to continue gathering your forces and your strength while you can. I have soldiers and more who can help turn the farmers you brought with you into something resembling warriors. Allow for more Wolves from the south to bolster your numbers."

Dorian wondered how many of Aelin's pack had ever seen a true battle before what happened at the temple and then more talk came of the mysterious promise. First Astrid had suggested Aelin give the fool what he was wanting and then Rowan in his own way made the same suggestion and now Brynjar was seeming to claim that may have been Aelin's plan all along. Dorian knew it wasn't. Aelin had mentioned Gerwald a time or two when they would spend their nights together but if this promise she had made him Dorian knew little if anything at all. Gerwald had not been seen in the north since Durin's funeral, whatever was promised could wait until now, Dorian did not see why it could not yet wait still.

"If this promise is so urgent you feel the need to remind the Anasa here now, Lechner. Perhaps you should find the courage to say what it is you feel you are owed and why it is any more worth sending your people to die for than these towers?"

"My Alpha," Yasmine said softly from next to Aelin.

"Do you find this Wolf to be correct?" She gestures toward the Wolf Dorian knew to be the Lechner Alpha. He remembered him from Durin's funeral, no doubt Yasmine had more on her mind that day.

"About?" Dorian asked.

"The mission. Would you think it to be suicide?" Yasmine questioned.

"Suicide?" He asked thinking "There is no plan that would not see lives lost. It is war that is being proposed, not a feast."

"Can it be done?" Yasmine asked.

That was a harder question.

"Perhaps. It would depend on your numbers and forgive me, Jhaansdotir but I cannot think that you would have enough capable warriors for this course."

"Why?" Yasmine asked now. It seemed he had lost his own advisor over to Aelin.

Dorian chewed it over for a moment. It was not a question of how honest he would be, that was never a question, the question was how to find the words that would get through to them all and leave her with her honor.

"I believe," he began leaning forward, knowing now the attention would turn to him, the Alpha who was withholding his own soldiers from this conflict.

"I believe you are approaching this from a false position. I was not at Hljóðleva…" he paused when he brought up the site of the southern pack's encounter with the crown and the losses they encountered there.

"…those of you who were are unlikely to forget it easily," He thought of his hands brushing over the scar Aelin bore near her neck. "And you should be able to correct me if I am mistaken but at Hljóðleva your pack faced the crown prince himself. He drove you from that holy place, here to the land of my father and to my keep, your numbers less than a thousand, many wounded, most not warriors and to think a few months later you are whole and prepared to face them again. This I find hard to stomach. You claim complacency from the humans but I see none. They nearly killed you all, hounded you through the mountain pass. Had winter not come…"

He let the last of his words go unsaid.

"So you think Aelin's scouts misled her?" Yasmine asked. He could see what she was doing. His good sister was dragging him into this any way she could.

"No. It's possible but it does not feel that way. When your father took war to mine, you traveled with him for a time, yes?" Dorian asked Yasmine who nodded softly in acknowledgment.

"When you would move through the wood or through my father's land and you would find an abandoned camp or holdfast with supplies left for the taking, was your first thought something triumphant? Did you feel empowered that the mere sight and smell of you sent Kanaka warriors fleeing?"

"No, Alpha." Yasmine answered.

"What then did you feel? What did you think?" He questioned.

"Fear. I felt fear." Yasmine answered softly, her eyes locked on his.

"Why?" He asked

"Because I knew. Even if it turned out not to be. I knew." She said

"Knew what?" He asked.

"It was bait." Yasmine conceded, making his point for him.

"The humans may have grown fat as a dragon on its hoard but never forget that dragon's spit fire. You hope to get the humans to split their forces to do what? Take back these towers they didn't find important enough to secure in the first place? I cannot speak to the military prowess of this prince but if it were my lands under attack, and I received word that no less than eight important strategic points had fallen, I would make sure not to concede any more, not rush to reclaim what was already lost. You could find this fortress adequately guarded when you first arrive but any prolonged attack would surely see reinforcements fall upon you. Even then your plan hopes that nothing goes wrong at the towers."

​

 

[Aelin Erevos]

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Outfit | XoXo
Location | Islimore
Tag | Dorian Durinson , Yasmine of The Wilds , Rowan Hathbi , Brynjar Threist , Gustaf Lögr , Alfhildr Ótta , Gerwald Lechner , Astrid Ylva

Her effort to shake off Yasmine was thoroughly thwarted, feeling the comforting warmth of the other female’s fingers delicately twining with her own. It was gentle, yet distinctly contrasted from the sort of touch she’d come to associate with Dorian, whispering of a maternal tenderness that'd been forever lost to her the night the Gods saw fit that her entrance into this unforgiving galaxy be marked by a blood soaked genesis.

As she listened to Yasmine’s words, a pert brow raised in response to Gerwalds… passionate… display. This wolf trying to cow her into submission, bore little resemblance to the loyal friend rooted in her memories. She could veritably smell the anger he curiously directed towards her, as though she’d done him some great wrong, overpowering even that cloying scent of hyperspace that clung to him like a second skin.

The resonance of a baritone laugh echoing through the chamber barely registered in her consciousness. The voices of Rowan, Astrid and even Brynjar, blurring into a distant murmur as her pulse thundered deafeningly within her ears, silencing all else.

With slow, purposeful strides, Aelin walked the length of the table to stand where Gerwald sat, the clicking sound of her boots coming to a stand still as she took up place beside him. “Go on then,” she challenged with a low, inhuman growl bubbling across her lips from some deep, primal place within her chest. Her expression was one of deadly calm, her glowing amber eyes boring into him with some expectancy. “take it from me.” she let the words hang in the air, every soul present seeming to understand the gravity of the challenge he’d brazenly issued. Calling her honor into question and vowing to seize the title she’d earned – a birthright that’d been rightfully hers, long before the other clans shaped it as their own – if she didn’t meet his demands.

“Either make good on your threats, or let your fangs find their sheaths.” And with that, she turned her back to him - a bold statement, a gamble, tantamount to declaring his accusations didn't merit a moment more of her solemn contemplation, retaking her spot near Yasmine.

“I promised to help you reclaim Bloodraven Hall when the time was right,” she continued with cold detachment, “but why should I prioritize a fortress we cannot hold, swarming with our enemy, that would lead us into open conflict? Why are your family's walls and lands any more precious than that of other Lupos stolen territories?”

Aelin mulled over the careful assessment Dorian presented, another wave of nausea washing over her. It was a gentle way of getting his point across that the Prince and his forces were the apex predators of their climate. Her hand hovered over the scar that ached from memories of that night, when she’d almost been lost in the most permanent of ways. A fragile breath lingered in the charged air, taking the moment to gather her thoughts. Perhaps Gerwald was right. She was too eager, too ready to jump at her first chance to avenge the wrongs done to her and those she’d lost. It was the impulse of a child and she rebuked herself thoroughly for it. She was Alpha, Anasa. Shield and sword of her people. She needed to do better.

“Alright,” she murmured under her breath, arms folding as her gaze fell to the map as if she might find the answer there. Her sculpted brows furrowed, lingering on Tarsal Fortress. Her chin lifted, brown curls swaying with a nod of her head towards Dorian. “How long do you suggest we wait then? And how do we revise this strategy in a way that might better ensure victory?”

​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

​

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: xxx | xxx | xxx
TAG: Aelin Erevos | Brynjar Threist | Dorian Durinson | Rowan Hathbi | Yasmine of The Wilds | Astrid Ylva

Gerwald smirked as he listened to the spoken and unspoken reactions to his words and arrival. All of it was far too familiar. Many would accuse him of being absent when it mattered, only to conveniently forget he was the reason they had healed in the first place. Aelin had not returned with the Bacta because she found the substance, but rather because Gerwald gave it to her. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, Gerwald always helped them in times of great need, even if he voiced his opposition to the path they walked.

He was loyal, and it pained them all to know it.

His words to Aelin did break from his usual interactions with her, but the moments she so fondly remembered had all been shared in private. Aelin would do well to remember he had always publicly opposed open war, and in private shared the same sentiments. Their relationship had always been built on a foundation of complete and altruistic honesty. She knew things about his past none of the other Lupo did, even to the point of vulnerability.

“Be careful what you ask for Aelin,” he whispered so only she could hear it. “We both know you will not win.”

It was not a threat, but a truth. Aelin did not possess near the level of training nor experience that Gerwald had. The amount of dead warriors under her command was enough to make the claim.

He took in a soft breath and sighed as she turned her back. She did her best to appear as though she had the situation under control, but Gerwald knew better. The only one at the table who truly supported her claim to the title of Anasa was Brynjar, and despite his silence the wolf knew there was not one shred of decent thought about the Lechner Alpha in the warrior’s mind.

Irony. It was the one word which seemed to sum up every thought each held in regards to Gerwald’s words. They would ridicule him for not being like them or giving deference to traditions he was never raised to observe. He would earn their ire when he did behave like a wolf. Decorum and civilized behavior was weakness until suddenly the Anasa was challenged openly. Wolves did everything in the open. It was what made them wild and unpredictable. This was why the Fayth would win. Until the Lupo of Islimore stopped behaving like pups yet to be weaned from their mother’s teat, they would continue to suffer defeat.

“You did make a promise, and the time has been right on many occasions, and we would be able to hold it had you taken my advice from the start. The fact you do not think you can now is more of a testimony of your inability to lead effectively than it is a matter of poor timing.”

Yes, his words did have a bite to them, but only because unlike the others, he was not willing to change who he was simply because Aelin assumed a title. She would learn the weight that came with it, and as always, Gerwald would be the teacher.

“Bloodraven Hall, the Lechner Clan, were trusted with the secrets of our people. You were with me when I recovered the journal from Geralt Lechner, the first Anasi from my clan. Those secrets are held in a vault under my ancestral home, secrets that should the Fayth discover, they will have the means to eradicate our kind for good. The Lechner’s knew of this… as did your ancestors.”

What those secrets were, Gerwald would not say openly. He knew they would simply cause a fair amount of disunity among them. There would be no time to discuss the matter further as others spoke. The blonde queen from the north spoke for compromise. Brynjar spoke to delay the promise and still take the towers. That was to be expected.

Dorian was the wildcard, and his words echoed Gerwald’s thoughts.

“Dorian is correct,” he interjected. “The towers are nothing more than a diversion, and the Fayth will only double the soldiers at their treasuries and the palace. Should you suddenly take out the towers they will consolidate their forces to protect what they value most. In the end they will suffer a calculated loss and remain in power. In your attempt to draw them out, you will accomplish the opposite.”

He nodded to the Alpha, Declan’s brother.

“He is also wrong.”

This time Gerwald set his eyes on Aelin.

“You cannot wait to show strength. If you truly wish to seek justice, start by taking back what belongs to the Lupo. In your passion and ignorance you want to deal a killing blow, but we are wolves. We play with our prey before we kill them. We enjoy the thrill of the hunt as much as we enjoy the taste of iron and the flow of blood down our maw.”

The wolf paused as he looked at the map which was laid out before them. His fingers stretched out to three locations, one of them being Bloodraven Hall.

“These are all lands which belong to our kind. If we gather and take them, perhaps you will draw the enemy and the towers you wish to take will be manned with more troops. It will spread their forces thin, give us more to kill at one time, leaving less to guard their treasuries and palace. Force them to choose between their coin and their royalty.”

Gerwald’s lips spread into a wolfish grin.

“Play with your prey.”​

 

[Eydis Erevos]

Perspective.

The listless ones of the far north had bared fang and claw for paltry reward for centuries. They would not be swayed from this path easily. A culture had formed around process of raids and subsequent bounty distribution. The lost culture of The Caileadh had been watered down to a pale imitation of its former self. Much like the planet as a whole infighting had kept them from greatness.

Eydis had been hard at work to alter their perspective. It was perhaps not what Aelin had meant when she had been sent into the tundra, alone. But it was what was happening.

"Am I forbidden from seeing my sister?"

The 'no' was followed by some other words that Eydis paid no heed to as she pushed past the guard and pressed against the door to the room in which the Alpha meeting was being held. It didn't budge initially, but with another shove of her shoulder it swung open.

Hood pulled down over her face, Eydis stepped into the room. Her hair stood up on the back of her neck as she sensed the attention of various eyes draw towards her.

Empty palms were shown immediately, as s sign of non-aggression, and slowly those same empty hands rose to her hood. Her sister already knew it was her, no doubt. She could not hide her scent.

Her cervine skin hood fell leisurely behind the matted dark mane of hair. Thick bands of red paint ran from beneath her tousled fringe and disappeared beneath her cloak that was pulled around her neck.

"You forgot my invite," she said, with a subtle roll of her eyes, "but let me guess...no one can decide what is going to happen and we are just about to devolve into infighting?"

| Aelin Erevos | Dorian Durinson | Gerwald Lechner | Brynjar Threist | Rowan Hathbi | Astrid Ylva | Yasmine of The Wilds |​

 

[Astrid Ylva]

Location: Islimore
Attire: Battle Armor w/cloak (Helmet held by Bjorn), Battle Axe (Held by Bjorn)
Tags: Aelin Erevos | Rowan Hathbi | Dorian Durinson | Brynjar Threist | Yasmine of The Wilds | Eydis Erevos

Astrid's piercing gaze swept across the room, her icy blue eyes flickering with a mix of impatience and indifference. The gathering of Alphas had devolved into a cacophony of voices, each clamoring for their own desires and agendas. They spoke of war, of strategies, and of promises made. But to Astrid, it all seemed like a futile dance, a never-ending cycle of empty words. She shifted in her seat, her posture straight and unwavering. Her presence exuded an air of aloofness, a detachment from the squabbles that consumed the others. Her attention flitted from one Alpha to another, her sharp ears catching snippets of their arguments, their pleas, and their grandiose claims. It was all noise to her, a discordant symphony that held no sway over her thoughts.

Her thoughts turned to Dorian, the Alpha of Clan Kanaka. There was a flicker of disdain in her gaze as it landed upon him. She had little patience for his posturing, his grand gestures, and his attempts at asserting his authority. It was clear to her that his loyalties lay elsewhere, that he held little concern for the greater cause at hand, or her feelings. A wry smile tugged at the corner of her lips, a silent proclamation that she saw through his charade. But her gaze quickly shifted to Aelin, the newly minted Anasa. There was a hint of curiosity in her eyes as she observed the young Alpha, assessing her resolve and determination. Astrid had no doubt that Aelin possessed a fiery spirit, a burning desire to dismantle the forces that plagued Islimore. But in her pursuit of justice, Aelin seemed blind to the realities and consequences that awaited them all, or perhaps it was Dorian who blinded her.

Astrid's mind drifted to her own territory in the North, where the Fayth grew like a relentless weed, threatening to consume everything in its path. Hunting parties were constantly on the move, vigilant in their pursuit of the enemy. The survival of her Clan depended on her unwavering focus, on her ability to navigate the treacherous landscape of the North. These southern squabbles held little significance to her, and the promises made by Aelin were of little consequence. Astrid's restlessness grew, her patience wearing thin with each passing moment. She longed to return to the solace of the North, to face the challenges that awaited her there. The bickering of the Alphas seemed petty and trivial in comparison, an unnecessary distraction from the true battles that lay ahead.

In the depths of her thoughts, memories flickered to that fateful night when Dorian had made his choice, when her heart had been stung by the sting of rejection. She had retreated to the wilderness, channeling her frustrations into a merciless pursuit of the Fayth, unleashing her fury upon them with unbridled determination. It was a solitary battle, one that she waged without the need for alliances or promises. Astrid's gaze returned to the gathering, her eyes narrowing slightly as she contemplated her next move. It was clear to her that her allegiance lay with her Clan, with the challenges that awaited her in the North.

With a silent sigh, Astrid resolved to hold her ground. She would not be swayed by the discord that filled the room. Her loyalty remained with her Clan and the greater cause at hand. The battles they faced required unity and resolve, not fractured alliances and personal grievances.

 

[Yasmine of The Wilds]

Wearing | Location | Aelin Erevos Gerwald Lechner Brynjar Threist Rowan Hathbi Eydis Erevos Alfhildr Ótta Gustaf Lögr Astrid Ylva​

Aelin’s fingers slipped easily from Yasmine’s as she crossed the room to confront her challenger. The witch of the wilds watched the confrontation with the intoxicating warmth of anticipated violence emanating through her body.

She was however left wanting as the confrontation amounted to nothing. There was very clearly an energy between the two Wolves, it did not take a witch to know it. This would not be the last between them, though whether they would bare fang or something else she could not say.

The two would continue to bicker over some southern holding and when the right time was to reclaim it from the humans. Yasmine was finding herself disappointed in the Anasa. She chose not to put the big mouth in his place with either fang or steel and instead chastised him with words and for his part he was no better. He did not make good on his boast to take her title, he only spoke back to Aelin and seemed to think himself quite adept at it. He spoke for some length and seemed to think he achieved some great victory from doing so.

If this is the best the off worlders can do, it is no wonder Dorian hesitates,

Yasmine watched bemused to see her little brother stiffen when this…Gerwald, claimed his strategy was wrong. She knew Dorian meant to stay out of this as much as he could.

This is their war.

He had told her as they had walked together to this hall.

We are merely here to play host.

Yasmine of The Wilds was no fool. She was certain this Gerwald was. This meeting had alighted the fact that he was of Clan Lechner. An ancient line that drew back near as far and Dorian’s but she knew little else of this Wolf personally. She recalled hearing he had been a great leader and warrior.

Out in the stars perhaps.

She did not know if he was familiar with the sort of war they were proposing. She was familiar however. That was her life before Hardhaven. War, with the odds stacked ten to one in favor of her enemy. Dorian knew it was well but from the other side. He could speak to to the way The Fayth would think to respond to their attacks and yet this Wolf claimed to know better than her Alpha.

Aelin it seemed was more receptive to Dori.

“How long do you suggest we wait then?” Aelin asked.

“Not long.” Yasmine answered for Dori. That earned her a harsh look from her Alpha. “When spring comes, so shall the humans.”

Dorian began to question Gerwalds plan n a way that was reasoned and sensible for her little brother was a sensible and reasonable Wolf but Yasmine was aware that this sort of talk could take weeks to find an end as everyone tried to be the one doing the humping and not be the one getting humped.

“They do not have the numbers.” Yasmine said loudly, looking only at her Alpha. “Help them. Join Hardhaven’s forces to this southern army. Avenge Durin.”

Dorian’s fists slammed down hard on the table and he was on his feet towering at over seven feet tall. Before he could speak the council chamber doors opened and a hooded stranger came in. Well a stranger to Yasmine, she seemed awfully familiar to Aelin to judge by her reaction.

"You forgot my invite," the new guest said, with a subtle roll of her eyes, "but let me guess...no one can decide what is going to happen and we are just about to devolve into infighting?"

This one is wild.

Yasmine thought.

“Leave us.” A voice from across the room commanded. Dorian’s voice. It took Yasmine a moment to realize he was not talking to the new arrival but to her.

“Dori…” she started to say but the look her brother gave her sent her blood running cold. Yasmine straightened her back and held herself with pride as she glided barefoot to her Alpha.

Yasmine leaned and whispered to Dorian, kissed his cheek and turned to take her leave.

​

 

[Dorian Durinson]

Wearing | Location | Aelin Erevos Gerwald Lechner Brynjar Threist Astrid Ylva Gustaf Lögr Alfhildr Ótta Rowan Hathbi Eydis Erevos
​

“How long do you suggest we wait then? And how do we revise this strategy in a way that might better ensure victory?” Aelin asked.

As long as you can. Bring all our dead back from Freann and let Aeros himself lead the charge.

This is what he thought but it was Yasmine that spoke.

“Not long.” Yasmine answered for Dori. That earned her a harsh look from her Alpha. “When spring comes, so shall the humans.”

There was no doubt she spoke true. The North had its own trouble with The Fayth; if the thaw came and the humans had nowhere else to look, his lands would bleed.

Gerwald spoke at length. He continued to undermine Aelin as Alpha. She had accepted his offer for challenge and yet he did no more than sit and needle her. It was unbecoming of them both. It made them both weak and it made every Wolf who would serve under them weak. He wanted no part of it.

It had not taken long for Gerwald to wear on Dorian’s patience. He was tired of his arrogance. His posturing. His entitlement. He most of all had grown to dislike the way he forced Dorian to see Aelin in another light.

“Cannot wait to show your strength?” Dorian asked. “should you not gather your strength before putting it on display or did you neglect to tell us you brought an army with you, Lechner? It seems to me quite the convenience that the initial plan was ‘suicide’, that Aelin was ‘blindly leading Wolves to their death’ and that was enough for you to bare your fangs but this plan…your plan is somehow sensible. The plan where you are to get what you want, am I correct? You say to take back the lands that once belonged to your clans, take them to what end, I ask? You could not hope to hold them, your forces are what? less than three thousand?”

The only hope these Wolves had was to burn what they could and move before being caught. Pitched battle would mean the death of them all. Gerwald did say take but not keep, though what Dorian knew of Aelin she would never take her pack onto Lupo land only to raid and pillage. Reclamation was their aim though none would state it outright. It was idealistic. It was foolish. He admired her for it.

“They do not have the numbers,” Yasmine said loudly. Dorian locked eyes with his advisor who never broke her gaze from his. He had called her Alpha once upon a time and she did not wilt.

“Help them. Join Hardhaven’s forces to this southern army...” He heard the plea in her voice though she masked it well and then she went too far

“...Avenge Durin.”

Dorian’s fists slammed down hard on the table and he was on his feet towering at over seven feet tall. The Wolf flashed in his eyes as he looked at Yasmine. The urge to cross the room and take his good sister by the throat was a struggle to control. He could snap her neck as easily as breathe.

The door to the chamber opened and another joined them now. She too it seemed had come to speak. To needle. It was never ending. Dorian dismissed her entirely upon her arrival. She smelled of The Wilds. Bitter black leaves of the Yronwood, the sweet sickness of decay, and most damning of all she smelled of him.

“Leave us.” He commanded.

It took Yasmine a moment to realize he was not talking to the new arrival but to her.

“Dori…” she started to say but the look of her brother was hard as stone. He would not repeat himself. He was Alpha and not one who played at it but true Alpha. She would hear his command and obey or there would be violence. She knew it. They all knew it.

Yasmine straightened her back and held herself with pride as she glided barefoot to her Alpha.

Yasmine leaned and whispered to Dorian in the harsh variation of Wufi spoken in The Wilds,

Cluiche Líne Dori Beag An Cosantóir

She kissed his cheek and turned to take her leave. It had taken until Yasmine had a hand on the heavy wooden doors of the chamber for Dorian to swallow his pride with more effort than he thought he had.

There were times when he loved Yasmine of the Wilds and times when he hated her. This he was certain was a time that he felt both in equal measure. He did not know if it were some witch trick that she knew but Yasmine had a way to take a few words and use them to ask a thousand questions.

Dorian’s great-great-grandsire had been Durin III. In the histories, he was called Durin The Defender and that was because he decreed it so. Durin III had been the ruling Alpha of Clan Kanaka when The Great Purge occurred and he had seen to it that The North did not take part. He would not set his eyes beyond his own borders and so The North prospered as the other clans suffered. The histories called him Durin The Defender but to most, he was Durin Doe-heart, a coward and shame to the line of Durin.

With a whisper, she had made him question what his legacy would be. If The North was worth thousands of Lupo dead. If he could live with himself knowing he had done nothing. He had told himself he was making the hard choice by staying out of this war. Maybe he was and maybe it was okay to make the easy choice.

“Wait.” He commanded. She stopped but did not turn from the doors.

Dorian took his seat. He took a long look at Astrid. Dorian may be the greatest Alpha in The North when it came to how many other clans were sworn to him but he still looked up to the Alpha of Clan Ylva. She had been born to her position, had endured great hardships, and yet she held the esteem of her pack. She ruled with grace and dignity and when a firm had was required she did not shy away from that duty or any other. She was as beautiful and unforgiving as The North and she had not hesitated to be here. Had he chosen her for The Varblessum, had she made herself available to be chosen, what then? Would they be ruling The North together? Would one of them be Alpha of Alphas and leading the charge against The Fayth? Could some of these things still come to pass?

“Hardhaven can provide three thousand soldiers. Will provide those soldiers. More could be found from the other Clans of The North, but I will not force them to aid us if they choose not to. Winter is harsh and when the thaw comes, The North will need to be able to defend herself from enemies without and within.”

With a sigh, Dorian turned his attention from Astrid to Gerwald.

“If what you claim is true and Bloodraven does truly hold the key to our extinction, there is no other choice but to make it our first target. We must see it taken or destroyed. You seem to think The Fayth have not yet discovered this secret means of our destruction? So they may not know what they have.” Thoughts whirled through his mind.

Aeros’ Blood. That arrogant ass was onto something.

​

 

[Brynjar Threist]

​

Location: Islimore
Attire: This
Tags: Aelin Erevos | Dorian Durinson | Yasmine of The Wilds | Rowan Hathbi | Eydis Erevos | Gerwald Lechner | Astrid Ylva | Gustaf Lögr | Alfhildr Ótta

It seemed that both Dorian and Gerwald thought that heading to the home of the Lechner clan was the most important thing they could do to save their people from extinction. Brynjar could only shake his head and sigh, "you talk like we are raising an army that will match our enemies." Brynjar stated to them both, "we take that home and attempt to keep it, that will be our doom." He gestured to the large map in general and leaned back, "the humans are numbered in their billions, billions." Empathising that number.

"That means, we attempt to hold onto a base longer than a day. We risk raising an army of millions to face us. A force of less than ten thousand currently." Brynjar pointed out, their force was tiny in the face of their enemy's and it seemed that both Lupo needed reminding of that fact. "We are feared by humans, the Fayth will only have to unite that fear and direct it at us for every man, woman and child to be ready to kill us." His voice was not raised but laced with the anxiety of seeing the death of their people at hand. "Come Spring, we have to fight or we die, doesn't matter what is in that vault or not. The extinction of our people is at hand!"

His fist slammed into the desk.

He looked to Aelin and then let his temper calm, "the way we fight these humans is with tactics that will make our army feel ten times more." Pointing to several locations that were low guarded. "We send small forces to these locations all at once, raid, pillage and burn them down. We divide and spread out, make them have no idea where we are based, where we are going to attack next." He leaned forward, "they will hate us, they will want to kill us, but they won't know how to find us."

He stressed that for everyone, reminding them of the last time they attempted attacking while remaining in a single location.

"We are not a great heathen army, we cannot run around and fight like one. We need to destroy what holdings they have, whether they are ancient homes of ours or not. We can rebuild and recover if we win. However, we need to fight like the underdogs that we are. Whether that fact is something we like or not." Brynjar looked around then sighed, he wasn't sure if his point was being well made by himself but that was all he could hope for. They were fighting an army the likes of which they had never faced before. They couldn't fight like they had, they couldn't fight like they were warriors that were proud to face death. Not till the end of this war. The final battle, that would be where they could display their strength.

"We cannot win this war in a single fight, they can. Until that tide turns, we need to be a force that comes from the shadows, a force that fights from multiple angles at the same time. A force that could be numbered in the tens of thousands, the hundreds of thousands. Never let them know the true number of our Force." Brynjar stated finally in attempt to argue his point. He then took a step back to let Aelin say her piece, let her decide the fate of their people.

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[Aelin Erevos]

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Outfit | XoXo
Location | Islimore
Tag | Gerwald Lechner , Dorian Durinson , Astrid Ylva, Eydis Erevos , Alfhildr Ótta , Brynjar Threist , Gustaf Lögr , Alfhildr Ótta , Yasmine of The Wilds Rowan Hathbi

He just wouldn't stop, would he?

Did he truly not understand the position he was putting her in? Was he so blind to not see the target he was putting on her back?

Did he not posses even a single ounce of care for her? Or did he see her existence as one that only served to stand in his way, keeping him from what he wanted?

What did he want? Surely his aim wasn't to die for a cause he himself did not even believe in. So was it really only his home? Her? She remembered the look in his gaze that night in the springs, it was the same hungry stare she'd seen from others. She'd come to fully know what that particular look meant. Still, she couldn't fully parse his motivations or goal.

She listened to the plan Gerwald laid out, each slight he aimed pricking her spine, urging the metaphorical blade to pierce her back harder. For not the first time with Gerwald, Aelin saw multiple paths to take and their conclusive ends. She attempt to kill him then and there, well aware of the unlikelihood of success. Yet, she was no stranger to facing up against insurmountable odds, she'd emerged triumphant before. She could potentially do so again.

Still, extinguishing his life meant forfeiting the guidance of a seasoned general with a proven track record of triumph in war, magnified through the plan he outlined for them.

Declan had told her to trust Gerwald and Brynjar, to lean on them. What would he think now, had he stayed? Where was his advice, his voice, when she needed it? It didn't matter. Declan wasn't here, was he?

The other path, she lost. Despite Gerwald's hesitance in acknowledging it, the armies that rallied under her would disband. The cause would crumble, dooming their kind to ultimate extinction. Not an immediate demise, but an inevitable fate nonetheless. New rifts would form within their ranks, some alphas seeking vengeance against Gerwald, others yearning for his spoils. Would anyone pick up the banner? In four hundred years, no one else to her knowledge had attempted to. Infighting would consume them. The Prince and his armies would do the rest. The North would be safe for a time, but every day the tide of men swept closer to their untouched lands and the place they called home. They would not be safe in their snowy mountains forever. Her own ancestors had believed themselves impervious to harm, high up in their mountain sanctuary. The ruins of Cælestos spoke for themselves of what that hubris lead to.

And the last path? A path she could not stomach. One she wouldn't entertain.

She sighed tiredly, eyes widening marginally at Yasmine's pushing against Dorian to join them, before turning that gaze to the opening door. The scent of the familiar and the unfamiliar, hit her first.

Eydis.

She'd been appraised of her sister making her way back, progress supposedly having been made, yet she interrupted with the same flippant attitude and disregard as before. What should have filled her with a sense of solidarity, of security, instead filled her with dread. More chaos was not needed. "Take a seat." She told her firmly, returning her attention to the conversation at hand and what at first appeared to be Yasmine's dismissal... but then...

"Hardhaven can provide three thousand soldiers. Will provide those soldiers."

Her brows shot up at that, feeling her heart leap into her throat. It was still less than what they needed, but more than what they had. It was a chance. "More could be found from the other Clans of The North, but I will not force them to aid us if they choose not to. Winter is harsh and when the thaw comes, The North will need to be able to defend herself from enemies without and within. If what you claim is true and Bloodraven does truly hold the key to our extinction, there is no other choice but to make it our first target. We must see it taken or destroyed. You seem to think The Fayth have not yet discovered this secret means of our destruction? So they may not know what they have."

"We are not a great heathen army, we cannot run around and fight like one. We need to destroy what holdings they have, whether they are ancient homes of ours or not. We can rebuild and recover if we win. However, we need to fight like the underdogs that we are. Whether that fact is something we like or not."

Aelin weighed, considered.

"Bloodraven is close to the capital of Blackbrook. I still doubt our ability to hold it... but we do need to get that vault. Taken or destroyed. If we pillage along the way and draw attention to ourselves, we might not make it to Bloodraven. We will follow Gerwald's plan for the time being and reassess once we've succeeded."

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