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 Posted: Wed Sep 29, 2010 6:49 am
 It wasn't exactly common practice for the Warlord of the Stormborn to make personal visits to Freeborn who had just won their challenge. At least, it hadn't been under the previous Warlord, Gunne. Aesir want to change that, and other things, in his time as Warlord. Like this Freeborn, Aesir had not been born into the pride, but he had won his challenge and been accepted. He had not realized what he was getting into, exactly, and though this place was undeniably his heart's home, he knew things might have turned out differently for him had he had even a smidgen of personal loyalty to the Warlord.
It wasn't exactly difficult to guess where he might find the newest Stormborn. Most newcomers spent their first few days being tended by Freeborn healers and enjoying as much of the inebriating mint-plant which grew so hardily, even in this stormy and barren land. Aesir liked to chew the fresh leaves himself, though they were more potent when dried. A lion of great passion, he didn't need the mint to rouse himself to action, but the mellow state it imposed after the initial mania wore off gave him a sleep surpassed only by the sleep which followed battle.
The large, dark lion padded through the pride. His paw pads were hard and rough, almost able to cause abrasions on bare flesh with just the thick calluses formed by the stony ground and constant battle, but he walked silently nevertheless. It was still early morning, and many in the pride would probably be nursing headaches from the mint. He didn't want to be the Warlord who met his end because he trod too loudly outside the den of a semi-conscious, hung-over Reaver. That would be a colossal disappointment to everyone, he was sure.
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Posted: Wed Sep 29, 2010 7:36 am
Being a good patient had its perks. Later in the evening, he’d gone out to search and talk with some of the Freeborn about new Thralls. There weren’t many, it turned out, and none matched the description he gave. He’d gone to sleep early that night with a frustrated heart, but he’d woken early with a tired one. After some tentative stretching, Emeka went to find an especially dark rock to wait for the sun on and laid himself out in a long white and silver heap upon it. His eagle friend, Abdul, perched some distance away on a scraggly, half dead tree branch. His dark head and beady red eye were tucked under a wing in sleep.
They had simply run in the night to make more time and to avoid payment then. Now where was he? These lions were too warlike to have need of a mercenary. The surrounding areas were likely so plundered and subjugated there was no sense in trying to sell his services and defend against these Stormborn. He was giving real thought to staying longer, but…. He grunted to himself and licked a bit of dirt from his paw (scars were worthy, but he had no toleration for filth).
Maybe. He became enamored in cleaning himself and didn’t hear the black lion approaching. He saw the dark figure in the corner of his eye and glanced up expectantly. He pushed his weight up so he was sitting on his haunches instead of lying on his belly.
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Posted: Wed Sep 29, 2010 8:04 am
"Someday I will kill you," Aesir said off-handedly to the pale-furred lion.
Aesir had stopped some distance from the Freeborn to study him, reading the challenge he must have fought in his wounds. He didn't know which Reavers had been on guard duty yesterday, and so he did not know which had fought this lion, but he could guess how the fight had gone, based on the Freeborn's injuries. He had seen many battles, and earned his fair share of wounds, after all.
Despite the intent study he was making of Emeka, Aesir's expression bordered on amusement as he recalled the first time a lion had spoken those words to him. He had first heard them when he approached the stronghold and demanded a chance to face one of the Stormborn, of whom he had heard much, but seen little. The Reaver who had come out to challenge him had said the words and Aesir had taken them for a threat, rather than a greeting, and so he had unwittingly given the expected response, startling his opponent and gaining the advantage of first strike.
"But not today," the Warlord concluded. He continued with the confidence of a lion who was used to winning his battles, even though he had lost his share. "I think it would not be a fair fight, and I would rather not waste one of my Stormborn."
What he wanted to see, really, was what kind of lion the pride had won in this, its most recent challenge. How did he react to provocation? Would he make a Reaver, or remain forever Freeborn? Either would have been fine with Aesir, but he did hope that the lion would prove no only to be a Reaver, but a good one. It would be a fortuitous omen for his rule, he thought.
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Posted: Wed Sep 29, 2010 9:19 am
The greeting challenge was met with a particular, scrutinizing look. It seemed a bit casual for a threat, even after the dark lion had stopped and looked him over. And had he heard the exact same phrase yesterday?
”…and I would rather not waste one of my Stormborn.”
The possessive phrase said a great deal more to Emeka. He might have answered the challenge with his own haughty response had it not been for that last bit. “Am I looking upon the Warlord, or at least some other ranked lion then?” He cocked an eyebrow. The Warlord, whoever he was, had been part of the healer’s gossip, though he was uncertain about other titles. “For it would be a pitiable thing for a leader to so swiftly kill a lion after his healers had tended him.”
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Posted: Thu Sep 30, 2010 5:58 am
Aesir continued to watch. He might not be able to remember what all of the runes the Priestesses used meant, let alone what they signified when they fell a certain way, and he might not have an extensive knowledge of healing or history, but he had what humans would call street smarts. He was also very, very good at reading others' character, since it wasn't that much different from reading what another would do in a fight.
The way Emeka cocked his eyebrow, even after formulating the suspicion that he was speaking to a lion who outranked him, told Aesir much. Most importantly, it told him that this was a lion with a great deal of personal pride. As Emeka continued to speak, Aesir also drew the conclusion that he might not have too much of a sense of self-preservation. Not that such a sense was valued terrifically highly among the Stormborn, but it was good to know who had one, because they tended to be more useful in the long-run. Reavers who threw themselves into a fight with nary a thought for their personal safety could be fearsome and survive based on fortune and their foes' terror, but the odds were against them.
"If you were addressing the Warlord," Aesir supposed, "would you really seek to advise him on the best way to manage his pride?"
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Posted: Thu Sep 30, 2010 7:39 am
Emeka shook his head slightly and his tail flicked once, landing in a curl around his haunches. Perhaps it would have been more proper to stand fully, but quite frankly his arse hurt and his shoulder would have protested the extra weight, and he didn’t want to favor it in front of this nameless male. “I thought I was affirming your last claim.” He was in no temper to abase himself before this lion that had yet to claim his title, but he was without doubt as to the Warlord’s rank now. “And you’ve yet to claim your status. You might have been the most prepossessing fool I’ve ever come across, though by now-” he shook his head and snorted derisively at the notion. “I think not.” He paused, regarding the Warlord’s figure with a critical eye, as if assuring himself of more than just the lion’s rank. “I suppose I must ask for some leniency if this is chastisement. I’ve been a wanderer and mercenary the greatest portion of my life, and there’s little to that role but skill and pride. With my skill stuffed with herbs and those strange mint leaves, I likely have a visage of conceit.”
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Posted: Mon Oct 04, 2010 4:31 pm
One thing Aesir had no intention of ever requiring of his Stormborn was that they stand to address him while injured. Yes, he would ask them to fight to their dying breath at his command, but he would not ask them to risk self-injury needlessly just to stroke his ego. His ego didn't actually need the bolstering. He had very few doubts of himself, and those he did have would not be assuaged by one injured Freeborn standing up to greet him when he had not even - as had been pointed out - claimed his status.
"I am not a fool," he said simply. There was no self-effacement in his words, though there was a hint of good humor. "I am the Warlord, Aesir. As you seem to have guessed. Good job."
He didn't remark on how obvious it had been. The other lion knew, and that was enough. He didn't have to rub his rank in others' faces. Not yet, anyway. If it came to it, and there was too much dissension, he had no objections to making it very clear who was in charge, but he wasn't going to go about beating lions black and blue for failing to genuflect to him. There were so many other reasons to get into fights, and better fights to be had than with injured opponents.
"I know how the mint affects a cat's mind," he said. "And while in this pride a lion is expected to stand behind his words, the difference between words spoken when sober and words spoken after chewing or breathing the mint is known, and a lion is rarely held to them by sober company."
To remove the issue of showing respect by standing, Aesir lowered himself to a comfortable crouch. "So, you've been a wanderer and a mercenary. What brings you here, and what is your name?"
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Posted: Thu Oct 14, 2010 9:21 am
His ear twitched slightly. “Emeka,” he answered, giving answers out of order. The first was a more difficult question. “You say you’re no fool, so I’ll keep in honesty as I’m a poor liar. If the truth offends, recall you asked for it…” His tone was not admonishing as his words and he glanced down with some submissiveness. He was tired of dancing about with rank. His heart had its own worries to sort out. “In truth, I was looking for my charges. A pride to the south requested me to guard a pair of healers being sent north. They disappeared one night though, I assume to make better time and avoid payment.” His ears flicked back at memory of the insult. “I came here at first to see if they’d been captured, but it doesn’t seem so. Now… I’m not inclined to leave. Besides this debilitating thing,” and he glanced at his shoulder, “and your pride having quite subdued any local factions that might otherwise take me in for work, I think I mean to stay, at least if I’ll be had.”
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Posted: Thu Oct 14, 2010 10:17 am
"Emeka," Aesir repeated, making an effort to lock the name into his mind along with a memory of the lion's appearance. He knew almost every member of the pride by name, even the Thralls and Freeborn, and it was a practice he wanted to keep up. It would be more difficult when he began to send Captains out to dwell outside of the stronghold itself, but he would manage to keep tabs on them somehow, he was certain.
"You've already been accepted as one of us," Aesir said. "By issuing a challenge and succeeding in your fight, you have earned the right to call yourself one of the Stormborn. At the moment, you're what the pride calls Freeborn, and you may choose to remain at that rank, but we are best known for our Reavers, and many who challenge with the intent to join desire to become Reavers and eventually Captains."
He didn't say anything more. If Emeka needed further explanation, he would give it, but if he already knew these things, Aesir would rather not repeat what was already known. Though so many outsiders had the wrong idea about the Stormborn, and didn't truly comprehend what it meant to be one of them, Aesir wouldn't be much surprised if Emeka was operating under one or more misapprehensions about the pride. Still, he would leave it up to the pale lion to inquire further.
"In any event, I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that your charges are not with us. I'm in a position to know what the Reavers bring back from their vikings, and no one has brought back anything so useful as a pair of healer Thralls."
"I hope our healers have been making you comfortable." He glanced at Emeka's wound. He wouldn't have called it debilitating, but he had been a Stormborn longer than the pale lion had, and among the Stormborn anything less than a lost limb would not be properly considered debilitating. It was all a matter of conditioning.
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Posted: Fri Oct 15, 2010 2:50 pm
Emeka nodded at the description. He’d overhead much by listening to gossiping among the healers the previous day, but having it affirmed now was something of a relief. He knew the lion he’d fought was a Reaver, and the pair he’d been escorting prior to arriving had spoken worriedly enough about their exploits outside the Stormborn’s private lands.
At the news that his escorted pair were not present, he twitched an ear in some disappointment. He’d lost interest in helping them since they’d run off, but he would have found it very apt to find them slaves in this place, while he took the rank of Reaver…. Well nothing would have come from that besides prideful satisfaction, and he had better things to be concerned with.
“They know their art,” he complimented. “I expect to be well soon under their care, and I would then enlist myself as a Reaver then. I need…” His words, for the first time, came with less flowing ease. “I want to take on this pride’s purpose.”
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Posted: Sat Oct 16, 2010 6:32 am
Aesir grinned, baring entirely too many teeth somehow managing not to look threatening. Dangerous, surely, but with a lion like Aesir, when he wanted to threaten or menace, a person had no doubts about it. In this case, he was merely expressing pleasure. He liked when lions professed to be interested in being useful, though he liked it better when they actually were useful.
"Once you've recovered, I have no doubt one of our Captains will choose you to go viking. New Freeborn are not often allowed to sit idle early in their stay."
That much was certainly true. Aesir's own rise to authority had been remarkably rapid, but partly because he'd been granted a great deal of opportunity. It had seemed that as soon as he came back with one crew, another was having him out again. He now understood it was how the Captains decided where new Reavers best fit, but at the time it had been brutally exhausting. It had also been one of the most exciting times in Aesir's life, and he still looked back on it fondly. So much opportunity for plunder and mayhem.
Aesir knew his purpose, and because he was Warlord, that made it the pride's purpose, but he didn't really think that was what Emeka meant. "At the sending-off for your first viking, you'll probably hear your fill of the pride's great deeds and noble lineage, which should give you some idea as to its purpose, though I suppose if you have any actual questions as far as that goes, you'd do better to direct then toward a Priestess or Lawspeaker. For now, just rest and recover. We prefer our Reavers whole."
He didn't intend to stay too much longer. There were other things he had to do, not the least of which was get in a bit of practice fighting. Aesir refused to be one of those Warlords who became fat and inactive. He would rather die. And the possibility was definitely there, for such a Warlord.
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Posted: Sat Oct 16, 2010 1:27 pm
Well, that was some bit of good news. Emeka had about all the sitting and loafing he could stand in the name of healing. He didn’t want to tear his wound by looking for a sparring partner, but basic exercises and stretches would serve to pass his time until he was well enough for a Captain’s attention. He would wait until he was alone though. He didn’t want to deal with ridicule for his old dancer’s stretches until he was better known here.
He gave a slight returning smile for the Warloard’s larger one. How strange for a lion in such a strict role to have an infectious smile. Or perhaps that sort of infectiousness was empowering. He was an easy sort to respect – a value since Emeka was not typically inclined to give it. “I’ll seek out a Priestess or Lawspeaker then while I’m ‘recovering’ then,” he said with a slight incline of the head. He was in no position to dismiss the Warlord of course, but he sensed the dark lion’s wish to move on.
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Posted: Sun Oct 17, 2010 7:05 am
Aesir nodded. There wasn't too much else to be said, in truth, and he had other things to do. A lion who was better versed in the actual laws of the pride and its history would be far better-suited to tell Emeka the things the Warlord guessed he would want to know. Aesir, like most Stormborn, knew enough to get by, maybe a little more as it related to the succession of warlords than most, but for extraordinary situations and philosophical questions he was not your lion.
At heart he was still a bully who knew for a certainty that might made right. Anything else people saw in him was a learned behavior adopted to make his way in life easier. He took no particular join in politicking. He recognized the need for a thinking Warlord, and he knew he could fill the role, but he would be unutterably relieved when his authority was accepted enough that he could relax and leave the pretty speech-spinning to others who actually had the inclination.
Aesir stood up. It was time to end this interview. "As you will. I look forward to hearing the tales told at your first sending-off and your homecoming. You might also spend some time practicing telling your life story. People will want to know."
That was certainly true. The Stormborn had a great love for a tale well-told, and a yen to know more about their new members. Anything they could turn into more of the mythos of their magnificence.
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