A Challenge Howled.

[Skald of Storms]

He relaxes visibly as Kirib gives in. "Much better young Kirib, you'll learn that sometimes in this world it's easier just to give people what they want." With that he silently saunters behind his drunken friend. Nodding and smiling to the angered patrons. "Excuse my friend, he's young, and quite drunk as you can see."

Smiling he follows Kirib slowly up the stairs, wanting to have warning should Kirib choose to suddenly fall backwards. For sure as he could see Kirib was struggling with these stairs, perhaps he should've told the the youngster to stop drinking earlier. Well whatever, as long as the story made sense from it's viewpoint he would be happy. For if it were to be told he sought something men should not, and for that reason he had been cast from his world.

[Angel]

He makes it to their room without falling, barely, and flops onto his bed. It's by the window so he can lie in the moonlight and he props his arms on the windowsill, looking out over the bizarre city. He leaves Skald to turn on any lights, as he pleases, but for him the soft light is enough. Besides, where else would you tell a tale about wolves, but in moon light?

He sits in silence for quite some time, ordering his thoughts and memories.

"I never told them why I was leaving. They knew I'd seen something, but not even my sisters could get me to tell... Ah, the look on my fathers face was painful, I think he knew what was happening. How could I have followed him as leader?"

He sits silent again, before turning from the soft sliver light, back to Skald.

"Perhaps I should start with the beginning? My first scar of many. Or should I just tell you the ending?"

[Skald of Storms]

Skald merely follows behind Kirib from a distance. He enters the room, and his hand twtiches involuntarily as his anticipation builds. After all this seemed like it might be quite the story. But he doubted it would rival his own one, but that was for another time. Now he was here just to listen.

He walked softly over to the other spare bed and gently removed his lute laying it under the bed with great care. He then threw his small satchel across the room to land quite neatly in a corner. And as he slowly reclined onto the bed and took up a relaxed position he glanced at Kirib. This story was slow in the starting.

But eventually Kirib spoke, he irritably shook his head at Kirib's rambling before the question was asked. And he looked at Kirib out of the corners of his eyes. "Well my young friend, there is only ever one place to start any true story, and that is the start is it not? For if you told merely the end, I would not have a story at all, I would have merely an outcome. And outcomes are not as fun as how one came to be at that outcome. So start from the beginning Kirib...the beginning."

[Angel]

Very well... we have most of the night left.

*He twists around so that the moonlight falls on his back, but doesn't look at the older man, staring instead at his hands. He seems to glow softly in the moonlight, a trick of the eye, as the silver glances off his hair and the silver chain around his neck.*

My people are Half-Wolves in your language, Lebnen in ours. The intermediate between humans and wolves. In a time long forgotten there was breeding between the two races, but they grew apart and left us to mediate the races.

My pack, the Mountain Stream pack, where the intermediates for a large town, Pystill and three lupine packs. Llewelyn, the Prince pack and the lupine ruling class for the entire mountain range. Gwyngi, the White Wolves, the snow-hunters. And then Melangell, the Rescuers, the crack troops in the fight against diseases brought by fur traders from the south.

We lived to the south of the town, down the mountain side. Llewelyn lived to the east, Gwyngi to the north and west, in the snow-bound forests and Melangell where roamers, coming and going with where they where needed.

I'd not go into such detail, but it'll help you understand. Our hunters had dominion of the south, mainly hunting Arouch and venison. And bandits. The low-landers where a mad race, cutting the trees in great swathes on the planes, letting cattle strip the ground bare. It was inevitable, really, that they'd turn their sights on the territories in the mountains with its rich hunting and fierce mountain rivers to power their tree-eaters. Their obsession with the silver that comes out of the mines and the gold in the streams was intense too, so we took off our bangles while the hunters drove them off.

*He touches the silver anklets on his lupine feet, fiddling with them absently*

I was seven when they started raiding our territory, a year from running with the hunters. The wounds that my uncles came back with scared me, burns and rips so unlike the clean wounds our weapons make. I saw poisoned blood from tar coated arrows, it was truly horrendous. Season after season, they returned, until the spring of my ninth year and my brothers and I ran with the hunters.

Keiran floated the idea of using our river, the Pysgo, to wash them down hill, all the way back to their dirty little town. It worked, by the Moon, it worked. They suffered heavy casualties, and where cowed. Well, they appeared to be anyway. As a gesture of the mountain People's kindness and superiority the Melangell pack went down to the planes to offer their skills. They where turned away and at first we where not suspicious as we are a proud people and assumed that they where too.

In reality, they where hiding something in that town from us. We had no idea... how could we, right? We thought they where stupid, destroying everything that they touched and ripping up the trees...

*His voice cracks and he rubs the back of his hand over his face, a fierce expression in his damp eyes.*

Things where quiet, we thought that it was over, that they realised that the trade we purveyed was more profitable than destroying us. It was the obvious thing to think, for us.

He returned to the southern forests, our rightful hunting grounds. Having been left for a year and a half, it was rich hunting and the Alpha, my mother, proposed a feast on neutral ground to bring the four peoples together again. The wolves and townsmen agreed readily, for the half wolves cooking not something to be missed, but the low-landers took their time in answering. When their messenger did come she was a frightened, pathetic little thing. She had no shoes, imagine that! They let their soft young walk up the mountain, in the bitter autumn, with no shoes.

*He shakes his head, in disgust and annoyance*

It set off a few warning bells, and we let the girl stay in the town with the millers family... the Fleetwoods... Her name was Jenny and she was a pretty little thing once she was introduced to warm water and soap-root. I didn't have a chance to get to know her, but she was kind and would bring the half-wolf young ones hot bread and cheese when we had to go to school in the town. She volunteered to carry messages between the lowlanders and my mother.

A week before the feast, we began the great hunts, ready for the winter. As a consequence... all of the hunters where out of the town when they came...

[Skald of Storms]

He sat listening avidly. It irked him somewhat that thus far there had been nothing excessively useful to him. But knowledge was still knowledge. So he sat, not interrupting Kirib with questions that came to mind. Because he really did not need to know the answers, and doubted Kirib himself knew them either. He nodded at the foolishness of some humans, to send one so young bare-footed. Either she was blessed by luck unrivaled, or she was a creature of some fey roots perhaps.

But as Kirib drifted off leaving him hanging on the last words. He suddenly sat up and turned to face Kirib. "And then what? They came and what? I can guess it was not good, but a story must be finished once started, nothing skipped out, or hidden knowledge might remain lost. Quickly cub, quickly, the rest of the story, I must have it. Perhaps there is something useful in this story, perhaps amongst your people there are things of worth to the mind. Come spit it out!" He snapped the last part his eyes narrowing and his hands trembling.

[Angel]

*Kirib flinches back bumping against the glass. His unhappy reverie broken, he bristles*

Please calm yourself! It is not an easy story to tell. And I could do with another drink...

Nonetheless, as you are so insistent... I will tell it from my perspective, as I knew it then, rather than after, so please restrain yourself when there are holes in the story, it will be explained.

It was only my third hunt and I was cautious. Lacking in experience, I wanted to be aware of what the pack was doing so I could keep out of the way. We where chasing a deer heard towards a corral, I think, though its none too clear. I easily kept pace, my brothers running along side me and following my lead. Kieran would flit away occasionally, to use his superb camouflage to take messages between the hunters.

Kasey ran hard, I remember it clearly. Moving up and down the rolling wood hills with an impressive unflappability, for a cub. He just did what he needed to do. But I digress.

About an hour into the drive, my breath started to come short and I slowed. My muscles didn't hurt, I was not tired, but I couldn't get any air. Scared, I stopped and slumped against the bole of a tree. Still gasping and panting, my vision swam. I could see, but it wasn't the same somehow, things where twisted, off-colour. The perspective was different, high in the air above the Pysgo, and down stream a few miles. I recognised the spot, it was used for christening the cubs when they learnt to speak...

But everything was wrong, broken. The leaves and branches of the brush where crushed into the mud, deep scars in the earth made a track leading up from the lowlands. Horse tracks make a wider path of crushed grass and torn up sod. The yelling of dogs sounds from up stream and I looked up, with what eyes I don't know. A long snake of men and horses wound its way up the river-side, snarling, maddened dogs guarded the sides of the column and at its centre, huge Dhuran horses dragged weapons of war.

I could feel my body shaking, hear someone yelling my name but it was too far away and I didn't have the willpower to leave this awful image. It felt so sure, solid, that I was convinced that it would happen, soon.

Something shifted and the shadows below me changed, as if the sun had jumped in the sky. Now the column was at the walls of the town and in front of it, arms outspread, stood the girl, Jenny Fleetwood...

Horror struck me, the gates, built of hardwood from deep in the forests, lay shreaded behind her. Steel javelins, as thick as my wrist, pierced the wood and into the street behind. Those siege weapons where already loaded with more of the monstrosities, this time loaded with burning oil and rags. I could see miss Jenny, pleading and townsmen behind her, running away with the time she was giving them. My mother was rallying them from a balcony, using all her authority. I knew then, with a fatal certainty, that this would happen and soon.

The vision blackened and sensation of my body began to rush back, I'm fairly sure that I whimpered. My skin felt like it was on fire, fire that sucked all of the heat out of me and burned me with it. My chest wouldn't work properly, no matter how much I gasped it didn't feel like I was getting any air.

With what air I had, I had to tell them! I could feel the hunters gathering, giving up on the deer. Someone was giving orders, I recognised an uncles voice. My brother, Kasey, was close, I could hear his voice calling something and smell his grey-blue fur. Kieran wasn't far either. I tried to speak, but my throat was raw and wouldn't make any sound. The pressure to tell mounted with ever passing moment. Finally the obstruction in my throat gave way and I yelled, trying to get up.

"The town is going to burn! They'll pull everything down and burn it! We have to go back,"

At some point, I must have fallen unconscious again because when I woke up, everything was very different. Instead of leaf litter and soil I was lying on something soft and the sharp smell of foxglove and smoke made my nose itch. It was so hard to open my eyes, but the scene printed on the inside of them was too horrible and I opened them to escape. The first thing I saw was my mother, the Alpha's face, creased in concern and soot smudged. The dirt didn't register for a while, and I hoped desperately that I could still stop this. I struggled to sit up, finding my breathing much easier but my body felt like I had been beaten.

"The town! The barbarians! They're burni-" My mother pushed me back down to the mattress before I had a chance to fall.
"Have hush, cubling! Kirib, have hush now," I still resisted, couldn't she see that this was urgent?
"But Alpha! The townsmen! every thing's burning and, and Miss Fleetwood! they'll get her and! let me go! I have to-"
"Kiribati!" She almost barked, "It's DONE! It's over!" She was worried by how serious I was, to call her Alpha, even in company. I began to sob heavily into her mothers coat, shaking and scared.
"Its, *sniff* really over? *snuffle* every thing's ok?"

She didn't answer for a long time, and when she did it was ambiguous. It was so hard to stay upright, I was shaking and so very tired. A bitter taste filled my mouth and turned my stomach, Mother had no trouble forcing me to lie down and I was asleep before I realised it.

The herbman didn't let me find out what had happened for days, just in case, but he did tell me to never use my ability again. Much good him telling me did. *Shakes head wryly*

He kept feeding me Digitalis, foxglove, and the only reason that I didn't spit it out for being poisonous was that he sat on me and made me listen about hearts and medicine and the fact that my heart would would slow down until it stopped if I didn't drink the damn stuff. *He pick up the bauble hanging on a chain around his neck and shakes it in the moonlight, sending sparkles around the room.*

He wouldn't shut up, until I pretended to go to sleep. Once he'd gone I sneaked out of bed, but barely made it to the door. My head swam and threatened to tip me on the floor. I did manage the window and looked out over the town, once I could see clearly again. It had been four days since the attack and smoke still rose from the south gate.

I could see down into the Green, the park in the middle of town, and the makeshift beds and tents covered it almost completely. I could see one of my Aunts carrying the biggest pan of soup you've ever seen around the beds and handing out bowls to the people scurrying around. I didn't look too closely at the beds at first, since they where mostly white and hence probably empty. Eventually I looked closer though.

They where mostly white because the patients where mostly bandages. The herbman moved around, handing out medicines and checking on wounds, but by then I wasn't paying attention. I suppose my parents where right to keep the truth from me, but this was... horrible.

A half-wolf caught my eye, staring up at me from the green. I turned away from him, expecting to come up and bat me around the ears for not being in bed. I stumbled back to it and crawled under the covers, tail tucked between my legs, quite literally. When my father came in, only my ears where poking out and I was shaking. I'd actually forgotten he was coming, but the enormity of the disaster had hit me.

It was then that he explained what had happened nice and calmly, to keep my heart quiet. He was a smart man, but the enormity of it was a little hard to take all the same.

The lowlanders had attacked at noon, their siege weapons making light of the palisade and setting fires in the whole of the south of town. Then he told me about Jenny, how brave she was, how no one else died because of what I'd done, bringing the hunters home in time to hit the column break their siege engines.

But, little miss Jenny died, giving us time to come home. Dad told me that she'd been an orphan when they sent her up, almost like a sacrifice that no one would miss. That made me angry, but glad too, that she'd found something to protect before she died.

Ah, how I ramble like an old man! That is how all this began... I hope you can make a song of it, because it's going to kill me.

*He slips the silver chain off his neck and bounces it on his palm.* This is digitalis, enough to kill a bison, but still not enough to keep me alive.

*He bounces it one last time, then snatches it out of the air, turning back to look out of the window, mainly to hide his face.*

[Skald of Storms]

He listens and then shakes his head. Nothing of real use, just another story. "Make a song out of it? A poor enough song it would be. I could still put it to music and rhyme, but it would not be a song, it would merely be a waste of time. I hoped for something more Kirib my young friend, but perhaps there is something interesting in that story of yours." He turns to Kirib with a small smile.

"My young friend, that ability of yours, tell me more about it. And about how the half-wolves came to be. Those things interest me, and will help me, perhaps, more than most things. You see I seek for something, it's difficult to find though, very difficult. But knowledge is the first step, knowledge beyond compare. So tell me Kirib, I will soon find all the knowledge of this world, then I shall move on if I cannot find what I need first." He sat and stared straight at his back. "Oh, and that digitalis, tell me more of it's properties, always useful to know about such things..."

[Angel]

*Kirib flops down to the bed, on his side, staring at the little bauble.*

Can't I sleep? I'm so tired...

*He sighs, knowing by now that Skald will just yell at him for withholding information.*

It shows me a picture, just that, of an important moment. That moment becomes fixed in time, you can't change it. But what happens afterwards can be moulded, its not solid. The seeing takes a lot out of me, the fever, the shakes. They've made my heart weaker each time...

The digitalis is a stim, it makes it work more strongly, stops it from beating at the wrong times... too much of it makes the heart wear itself out. Have you ever seen an animal surrounded by torn up grass, having drowned in its own vomit? You'll find the plant that makes digitalis nearby, with barely even a nibble taken... the plant is common, it stands shoulder tall, a single spire with hairy leaves and purple bell shaped flowers...

*He laughs bitterly* It's supposed to contain bad spirits, but its just a poison... A nasty, incurable poison...

*His ears lie back on the top of his head and he buries his face in his pillow.* I don't know how my people first came about, only that we're half breeds...

*He curls his legs up to his chest and covers them with his tail.* Will you let me sleep? It's late and I'm drunk...

[Skald of Storms]

He sighs, seeing little use in keeping the cubling up any longer. No new information of any use would be forthcoming. Not from this one, not in this state. That ability, nothing special as far as abilities went. The herb, nothing unique, nothing he hadn't met before. Perhaps this world would hold nothing to help him reach his goal as so many other worlds before.

"Fine young one, sleep. Sleep well." He smiles warmly at Kirib and then goes back to relaxing on his own bed. Staring at the ceiling, and contemplating now his own past. Those things that are best left unsaid to most. He would have his revenge eventually. Though he was a skald, a bard of sorts. The blood of his people ran thickly through his veins, the blood of warriors born. And he could not take being cast from his world for no crime.

He dozed lightly on the bed murmuring of gods and war...

[Angel]

*It surprises him that Skald gave in so easily, having got used to his stubborn insistence on the journey here. However, he's too tired for it to make much impact. He murmurs something intelligible before tucking his head in and falling sound asleep, curled up with his medicine clutched tightly in his hand.

~~~~~ ~~~~~~

The morning sunlight, streaming in through the open shutters hits Kirib full in the face and it still takes him fifteen minutes to get up the energy to move. His hand is imprinted with the outline of his medication, and he prises his fingers lose so he can slip the necklace over his head. He pulls himself up and rests his chin on the window sill, blinking in the light. He judges it to be about midday then flops back onto the bed, pulling a pillow over his head to quell the pounding.

[Skald of Storms]

He awoke to see the first lights of dawn creep through the window. Looking over at Kirib he saw that he was still fast asleep, he chuckled softly. Young people just couldn't handle their drink. He quietly swung himself from his bed and stood up stretching. Well he doubted Kirib would be up for awhile, he would return in time for lunch.

He swept his hand under the bed and with great care lifted out his lute placing it on his back as usual. Then he sauntered over to the corner picked up his satchel and tried to quietly exit the room. But the door was a bit rusty and squeaked. He winced but slipped out and was down the stairs in a flash. The inn was much seedier than he remembered, it was really rather run down. He wrinkled his nose as he walked through the common room and out into the fresh air.

Time to explore a bit...

* * * *

As the sun reach high noon he took his lute from his shoulder and as he walked back through the inn common room began to strum softly, creating a slow melody that drifted lightly through the air. Ascending the stairs he began to pick up the pace, and strum with more force. If Kirib wasn't up by now, he would be soon, he chuckled darkly. And with the headache he would no doubt have, this music would cause the youngster considerable pain.

[Angel]

*He tries to ignore the thruming, piercing sound, jamming the pillow down over his ears and groaning. He rolls over and his hand gropes out to find his satchel, lying not-quite-forgotten on the floor.*

Oh, you dog-born, out of wedlock, snake-tongued, GOD-DAMNED BARD!

*Kirib starts out quiet and finishes with the hollow thunk of one of his knives hitting the door frame next to Skald's head.*

I'm up already, jheeze... oww..owowow.... *He clasps his hands over his head, screwing his eyes closed.* Is there a shower, or something? A river would do...

*He swings his long legs off the edge of the bed and moans again, his silver hair sliding over his bare chest. He wonders briefly if he took his shirt off before or after they came upstairs. He does remember something about cat-calls... He winces and decides that its better not to think about that right now. Or anything for that matter.*

[Skald of Storms]

He looks a bit startled by the appearence of the knife. But chuckles anyway and stopping his playing. "Well glad to see you are finally up my young friend, a shame it is when a youngster can't out drink his elders. Your meant to be in the prime of your life..." He trails off as he remembers the heart problems of Kiribs. "Anyway my young friend, you have not the constitution to drink at all. You should really stay away from it, it'll be VERY bad for your health. What little of it you have."

He sits down on the bed and then laughs as Kirib asks for a shower or similar. "Kirib, you want to wash? Well I can't blame you, terribly barbaric not to wash at least once a week. Well I'm sure in this fine city, what did you call it again? Has some form of bathing facilities. Or a river, after all you are probably more used to rivers, I am myself, a good spring or pond or anything actually will do me. Once a week I make sure to wash. Once a week. Anyway, I have no idea where one might be. Go look for yourself!" He snapped the last bit as he sat on the bed.

"And anyway, what will you do now young one? You can't be planning to stay with me can you? Though if you want to go exploring this world, that's probably what I shall do. Who knows who one might meet? Or what one might find. After all a world is a vast place. But really rather small to be honest with you young one. The multiverse is a vast place...easy to get lost, trust me."

[Angel]

Prime of my life, my Ar- tail. *He grumbles and goes to pull his knife out of the woodwork before someone sees it.*

Thanks for the advice, old man, but you can shove it up your lute... Everyone needs to drown their sorrows sometimes. Besides... I wasn't just drinking alcohol. *He flashes a canine in a lopsided grin and bends to scoop up his bag.*

You don't remember where my shirt ended up, do you? *He casts around the room for the silver-ish grey material, barely mumbling the words aloud* I've only got one spare... Oh, there it is... *A corner of it pokes out from under his blankets, none of which he actually used, and he tugs on it.*

I... ah, *He leans against the wall, shirt in one hand and bag in the other.* I have no idea how I'll spend what I have left... maybe I'll just find a river and leave it at that. Ad Infinitum, for time without end.

[Skald of Storms]

He shrugs and flashes a grin at Kirib. "Well life is much better when it's unplanned, have a goal and head for that, and let life take you wherever as long as you don't lose track of your goal. I myself, I'll probably wander through this world for abit longer." He stands up rapidly swinging his lute gently onto his back and tightening the strap. He attaches his satchel firmly in place aswell.

He moves towards the door and pauses before he opens it. Briefly looking back he smiles briefly, "Well my young friend, this is where we part ways. Don't go getting yourself killed anytime soon, and watch your back, you never know when I might pop up behind you..." he opened the door slowly and stepped through it. "Luck be with you wolf boy..." He said as his light footsteps faded into the distance, quick as a flash he was gone, down the stairs and out the tavern door. Lost from sight in the streets. To appear wherever next?