2018-12-30 Theron's Spirit Quest

Sigryd takes Theron's hand and leads him out onto the moonbridge, a silver path leading into the mists.

Theron takes her hand, a gentle squeezes her hand in his and assures her, "It will be ok..." as they pass over the moonbridge.

Sigryd huffs, amused. It's a long walk, hours and hours. it feels like 20 miles but when they step on the threshold at the far end reality opens into night dark, and snow mixed with mist. "Welcome to Rakvag," she says. the caern is in deep forest, and the smell of the sea is plain. a fire burns not far ahead, and two huge vikings step into the light, though they're dressed in jeans and sweaters not chain mail and skins.

Theron takes in the air with a light inhale. He pauses then when he sees the modern Vikings, "Ill follow your lead here...Im just the guest." he reminds, being a good kin and deferring. He is however /Get/ kin so he lacks that subserviance some others may have. Still looking on, head high and confident.

"Sigryd," the nearest rubles. sounding pleased. He engulfs her in a hug which she returns. The big man turns to Theron. "I'm Erik, Snowblind, Elder Theurge and alpha of the Sept. Welcome." He looks at Sigryd, "What brings you back so soon girl? You already dealt with the hunter?" Sigryd just shakes her head.

"Theron here needs to speak with you, " Sigryd says.

Theron glances to Sigryd, "Uncle?" he murmurs softly. He then steps forward, "Hello. I am Theron Santorini, kinfolk of the Get of Fenris and adopted son of Thorvald Bane-Ripper." he offers as introduction, a brief pause and then he continues, "I wanted to come to offer introduction and ask that I be given the chance to prove myself worthy of Sigryd."

The viking rocks on his heels. "Didn't catch a hunter, caught a man, "he grins at Sigryd who's a bit pink cheeked. maybe it's just the cold. "Come in out of the cold and we'll talk," Erik says. "Your mother will want to see you too, and would make my life hell if i didn't take you to her." He leads the way off through the woods, about a 30 minute walk, to a snug farmhouse. Erik walks in, leaving the door open behind him, letting out light and warmth and the smell of dinner.

Theron flashes a smile to Sigryd, oo he gets to meet mom. He doesnt say a word, but so far so good. He follows on his way after her uncle, deciding for now, until more familiar he wont speak unless spoken to first.

There's a small crowd, a woman in her 40s who looks a lot like Sigryd, a man a little older, two young men about sigryds age, and finally an older man, scarred and fierce looking. "I said they'd come,"the fierce old man says seizing Theron up like a cow for the slaughter.

Theron smiles, "Hello..." he gives his introduction once more, "Honored to meet each of you." he adds after a moment. He tries not to look at Sigryd, he tries to keep this from being awkward.

Sigryd is busy greeting her family. She misses the nod and flick of fingers Erik gives to her mother. 'Keep her busy somewhe' that gesture said. Erik pulls up a chair and sits down facing Theron. "You've courage lad, I'll give you that. Not sure about the common sense though." His voice is a rumble as befits the big viking. "You did say they would, Heriolf," Erik nods to the scarred old man in the corner. They're speaking english for Theron's benefit. "You realize, lad, you've essentially just challenged me?"

Theron nods quietly, "By rule of litany I have no right to challenge you. I am too far beneath your station." he admits. A glance to Heriolf and then back to the elder with deference, "But yes. I know what I have done. I think she is worth it and that you would respect my courage over just...avoiding the elder uncle."

Erik grins briefly behind a bushy mustache. "Challenge accepted," he growls softly. "Heriolf will see to the first part of it. Survive that and I'll see to you." Erik leans back in his chair, ceding the floor by his body language to the old man. Heriolf grins at Theron, a feral expression worthy of a wolf.

"It's spirit quest time, young padawan." Heriolf grumbles at Theron.

Theron arches a brow, bows to Erik and then turns to Heriolf. "Spirit Quest....?" he murmurs but quickly his confidence is back as any kin that believed he was garou born, "Bring it on."

Erik laughs and tags Theron, hard but not unkindly, on the shoulder. "I like this one Sigryd," he calls across the room, ruining his own request to the kinfolk to 'keep her busy.' The Caern Alpha gets up and pushes the chair in, graceful especially for such a big man.

"I do too, Uncle,' Sigryd says.

Erik laughs, gives his sister in law and neice hugs and disappears into the night and the snow.

Heriolf looks across the table at Theron. "We travel to the Umbra when the new moon is at Zenith," he says. "About an hour from now. Rest. Eat if you will. You'll need your energy."

Theron blinks slowly, he has never been to the umbra. Kinfolk dont do that, right? He nods, "Ill be ready." he replies to Heriolf and then he turns to Sigryd and her mother, maybe waiting to be introduced.

Heriolf grins and leans back in his seat, reaching for his tankard.

Sigryd is watching, and when Theron comes over, makes the introductions. "My Mama, Anneette. Mama, this is Theron." She stands shoulder to shoulder with Theron. "And my brothers.Geirolf, for my father," the older of the two, a young man about 24 offers Theron a hand. "And Arvid," a late teenager, 17 maybe.

He shakes all of their hands as they are intorduced. "Honored to meet you..." he glances to Sigryd, "You didn't warn me you had brothers..." he jokes lightly. He does a brief glance back to Heriolf but then back to the family, trying not to focus on the challenge ahead before he does the appropriate pleasantries.

Sigryd smirks. "You didn't ask," she murmurs back. "I did warn you I had an uncle." Heriolf just watches and drinks his mead."

"I had readied myself for that." Theron says with a smile. He doesn't ask about her father, he can probably guess, worst case scenarios. He turns to her mother, "Sorry for the surprise visit...I...well, am perhaps overzealous...but, what sort of Get kin would I be if I avoided this path?" he suggests, maybe still steeling his own courage for what is to come.

"You are welcome," Annette says. "You'll have to visit for a while once the challenges are complete, we'll want to get to know you. This is sudden even for Sigryd." Mom's willing to roll with it but she clearly has her doubts. "Let me get you some dinner. That man," she waves at Heriolf, "You'll need your strength" She goes about getting a plate for Theron, filling it with food. Farm food, fresh bread, peas, carrots, a beef stew.

Sigryd whispers so only Theron can hear. "We've shocked them. But they'll get over it. Get and family...but you know how it is."

Theron nods to Sigryd and then smiles to Annette as she gathers a plate for him. "Thankyou. Rest assured, if it is too sudden, and if I'm wrong...the challenges I'm sure will reveal that. So have confidence." he offers as he moves to sit down to eat his meal. He will glance to Heriolf, wanting to speak to him, ask questions but for some reason he thinks better of it.

Heriolf waits, drinking mead, while Theron eats. He doesn't talk, just watches the younger man. Mead finished, the older man stands. "I don't promise to bring him back girl," he tells Sigryd. "Just that I mean him well." Sigryd glowers at the man but anything she thought to say she rethinks and leaves unsaid. Instead she kisses Theron's cheek. "I'd say be brave but I don't need to."

Theron smiles at the kiss on the cheek and then he nods to Heriolf, "You can't make a promise you can't keep." the kin seems to understand, "But I promise, I won't be an easy one to lose. I dont give up easily." he explains with an added nod of conviction. "I dont need to explain to you though, do I? The fierceness of a kin of the Get of Fenris..." he hazards. "Come back with your shield or on it," Sigryd tells him. Heriolf doesn't wait at the door, just keeps going into the night.

"See you soon." A smile glancing back to Sigryd, the Spartan saying is familiar to the Greek kinfolk. Afterall, he wasn't born Get. He is on his way after Heriolf, a quick jog to catch up.

The old man walks fast but it seems like he's not putting any effort in. "Better focus your mind on what you're doing from here out lad, not getting pretty girls to kiss you." He stops and looks at Theron, eyes wierd, gleaming blue in the night, not wolf gold but reflecting what light there is, blue. He reaches out and like Sigryd did before peels back reality. "The Umbra," he says. "And a spirit quest. You want the girl, but you're smart enough to know you're not her equal. Only way you'll find that is to find your true spirit here."

"Not her equal." Theron agrees, "But I have the spirit of warrior any Get of Fenris can be proud of." he promises Heriolf, "I will not shame you." he says to the other man as he then moves towards the umbra, slowly, cautiously. He has no idea what to expect.

Heriolf bahs. "I don't know you boy. You could dance naked in the street and paint yourself green and there'd be no shame to me." He steps through into the umbra and waits for Theron. "You talk like Ahroun, all brave this and fierce that...and not two thoughts for what's really important." Once Theron is with him he lets go of the cutrain of reality and it falls, leaving them....in teh forest and the snow and the dark. It's different though. Bigger, older. Somehow more real. "Which way do we go," Heriolf asks.

"Funny. They thought I would be Ahroun." the kinfolk mentions as if that explains everything. He is all courage and brawn, has been his entire life, but any good warrior is wise enough to have tactics and listen to others. He considers the umbral forest around him. The poor kin doesn't know the spirit world, he never did change, but he does know survival, he does know the woods. "Water and warmth." he mentions as he takes a couple steps forward, "If the forest is like any other, I need shelter and I need access to water...snow provides water, so shelter. Trees that way seem large, branches a canopy?" he starts to walk that way slowly.

Heriolf doesn't say anything. Just walks with Theron. The forest slowly changes from birch to firs as they walk. The snow stops falling and the night stills. No breath of wind, just the cold.

He stops as the night stills, suspicious of everything, he exhales slowly. He finds a tree that is large and has a groove in one trunk and massive roots. He then looks around to find some other branches, a familar survival knife is pulled out from where it is hooked at his back and he begins to make a lean to shelter using the branches near by as a means to do so. "I don't suppose you will let me know how long I may be here." he asks of Heriolf.

Except Heriolf isn't there. When Theron looks up to ask his question, the old man is gone.

"Of course." Theron says with an exhale. He then begins to chant off a light little melody, a germanic tune that was used in his training to help stay focused and pass time when the body wanted to quit. Something his father taught him no doubt. "When I get back, he's sharing his meade." he grumps to himself.

In the distance a wolf howls. The sound carries through the cold still air. The song it sings is lonely.

"Friend or foe." Theron asks himself as he looks up to where the wolf howl came from. He pauses his shelter, checking how the branches of the roof have settled into place and then he picks up another large branch, perhaps three foot in length, not full spear length. He considers, "Friend or foe." he pauses again and then says, "Lonely. This is either right, or incredibly stupid." he then leans back and yells out, "SKOL!!!!!!!!!" and then follows it up with an all too human howl.

The forest swallows the sound. There's nothing to indicate but there's a feeling that the sounds Theron made, loud as they were, didn't carry beyond the little camp he's made.

"Hm. No?" Theron considers for a moment as he lets out a low exhale. He /is/ human afterall. "Fenris. I was not born to you, but you are as much my spirit and blood as any Fury." he says a soft little prayer, "Let your spirit help me here so I can return to our people, warrior and successful in my quest." he then leans his head back and unleashes another howl, doing his best to greet the wolf.

This time the howl carries, sounding more wolfish. Another howl answers, still far distant, but this time there's a sense of direction to the sound, off to the northwest.

"Alright then." Theron decides and he heads towards the Howl this time. He uses his knife now and again, to create a slash across a tree now and again, marking the way back to his shelter, you never know. After a bit of walking, he howls out again, trying to guage his progress.

There's a trail that Theron's starting to pick up, mis-shapen prints, large ones like a deer but there's something wrong with it.

"Come on." Theron says, "Come on." he remarks as he circles forward carefully, moving so as to keep a large tree on one side of him whenever he can to help avoid being flanked, giving him the ability to have a defensive position if necessary. He catches sight of the prints and begins to head after them, "Prey." he says with an almost wolfish smile.

The prints lead after some time to oddly, a cabin. It's the image of a norwegian cabin, well made, snug, carefully tended, a home. Fenced, sheds for tools and pens for livestock. IT's also under attack. There are three 'deer' or things leaving deer prints in the snow. They have ram's horns and are roughly the size of small elephants...a few thousand pounds each. They charge the house, ramming it. Again, and again. though at one point they stop to fight with each other, the clash of their horns echoing through the woods.

"You got to be kidding me." Theron thinks to himself, not willing to speak just yet. Observing the attack on the home, considering it for a moment. A cabin like that, fenced, a home. The deer, not right, not normal. He decides, a home like that it likely needs protecting not the deer things. He moves so he has a tree at his back, a quick moment to steady the long branch he was holding against the roots to knock it so it wont move. Should work well enough to spear something if it charges him. He then howls again as much a wolf as he can.

The deer stop. Turn. The nearest one growls and its eyes glow a lambent, sickly green as it shows a meat eater's fangs. //Puny human// the other two resume their attacks on the house, battering at it while the one charges Theron, lowering its head to bash at him.

The 'deer' charges and slams into the makeshift spear, splintering it and incidentally plowing into Theron. The spear gouges into the thing's hide but does no real damage.

Moving forward, Theron is a fool, thats what they would say. The training he had when they thought he would be garou coming through. He attacks when any smart kin would run, survive. Combat knife spun in his palm he slashes quick, he was taught well to use the blade, ABC his father would say, Always be cutting...you draw back to wind up to strike, even the draw is a slash and it works, slashing across the Deer.

The 'deer' whirls and kicks at Theron, landing a solid blow of its hoof on him and sending him crashing into a tree. As he hits he hears a rumbling growl from behind him. something in that growl lights the fury that's in him. The pain is gone the probably cracked ribs feel whole. There's ony wrath, and the enemy before him.

He growls out, not unlike a garou this time, just short, but the blood is true. He readies his knife once more and he is screaming out in that same fury. "You will not harm those in that house." why do we fight...we fight for our families. Some would say madness has taken him, but the Fenris know better. He is again attacking the Deer.

He charges forward, a hand grabbing hold of one ram antler and uses it to add leverage as he stabs forward hard and true through the throat. He lets the blood fill the air and wash down on him without regard. As the deer begins to slump to the ground he howls out in victory again as he looks back to the house.

The other two deer are dead...torn to pieces, blood sprayed across the yard, and splashed on the door to the house. Standing before the house is a wolf, bigger than the deer, over ten feet at the shoulder. Blood drips from his jaws. The wolf's golden eyes watch THeron, and the muzzle dips in what looks like a human nod. The wolf takes two steps, and is gone, vanished into the Umbra.