The Wolves in Others Clothing (MM Characters Backstory

Meeting of The Council of the BladeCoast Clans

“So this is the result? This is really what we’re doing?”

An old Vargr man, well past his prime, with graying hair that flowed down into a thick pelt that seemed more a part of him than not, laid down the last black stone on the dais before him.

“Eight votes Aye, Five votes Nay, two abstaining. It is by the wisdom of this council, the guidance of the gods, and the spirit of every Vargr that flows through these assembled alphas… that we are doing this dangerous fey-brained scheme of yours, Haula.” The old Vargr tipped his ram horn back and drank down the rich amber liquid within. The fourteen other Vargr alphas whooped as they pounded their mugs on the long-table before him and once he tipped the horn away from his lips and held it in the air, the rest drank down their ale and watched as one of the women among them stood up from her seat.

“You know I never would have chosen this if the far-hawk hadn’t crossed the pass or The Black hadn’t been seen off our shores. I know plenty of you don’t believe the omens I see, but when our bravest ships sail past the horizon and never come home, and old roots tell of changing times in the Realm of Men, then we need to find new ways of scouting beyond our perimeter and taking stock of what might reach us before we reach them.”

Suddenly a younger alpha rose up from his seat suddenly; the wooden chair yowled as if a cat had been beneath it and all amber eyes turned up to his. “And do your omens say we are weak to let foreigners cross our shores? Cross The BladeCoast? If there is a rot, then we can deal with it as we always have, with the forces in our claws and the wisdom of the wilds we can’t lose.”

“This isn’t about proving you’ve earned your sigils^1, Vorng^2 Veric. Whether there is a rot or not, clawing at it won’t heal the root of the problem.” Haula shot daggers at him with eyes only a bear could meet and in return the man, a good foot taller and with shoulders twice as broad, snarled as his ears pulled back in a rage.

“How dare you! How dare you think so lowly of me, what did my clan do for yours when the eels sunk your ships and dashed your people against the shore? Did we not help you bury the bodies? And supply new ones for the next expedition? Did I not earn a chance to be heard by your old, fur-filled ears?”

“Enough!” While the two were daring the other to bow first, a heavy palm settled on Veric’s shoulders belonging to another alpha and the oldest Vargr gave a low chuff, urging the alphas to sit.

“As Haula was going to say, before she was interrupted -“ at the words the female alpha drank again from her refilled mug. -“the times are changing and the wind is calling us to act as it calls the birds to fly south. And while other clans may be looking west, south is where we shall go.

As agreed, and as the roots foretold^3, instead of a whole pack of scouts, two shall go, with a seelie^4 accompanying them later when the pack handling the negotiations gets a good mage for the job.” The speaker paused and waited for another alpha, this one wearing the flower-adorned bone-helmet of the Gossamer Winds Pack, solemnly bowed her head. Not many packs dealt with the fey, and fewer still knew how to stay on their good side and speak their common language.

——

What followed is not particularly riveting dialogue, but at the end of a very long night, the details of a plan were ironed out. It was agreed that only two vargr should go - three is a crowd, but two can protect each other - and they would be younger adults but the most skilled youths. Older vargr would be less open to the world at large and more likely to piss off their fairy guide - the Gossamer pack would handle negotiations with the fey folk but refused to send one of their own on the mission.

The mission itself would involve disguising the two vargr, one warrior, one mage, and then sending them out to an Aelbic port to get a ride to a foreign one eventually. From there, they would complete several tasks:

-“see the world” at least their somewhat local area of it - however far that was

-get the most updated maps of the world they can find

-learn what strange foreign creatures live in this world and what they think of other strange foreign creatures and how they’d treat them

-and see what simple to carry goods others might covet or be interested in trading and what they might have to offer in return.

To help complete this task, a Seelie “Ring Mage” would accompany them to send reports back to Eradûn through whatever strange and mysterious ways the Seelie do. Meanwhile the alphas back home would have to find a way to pay back the debt for all of that.

——

As the hearth fires in the grand hall burned down to smoldering embers and the keening howls of wolf-bats echoed in the night, each alpha, adorned in their fur cloaks and many bone-armor accoutrements, filed out of the hall beneath the roots of an Elder-Tree and walked toward their separate camps.

Except when one alpha grabbed the arm of another.

“Veric.”

“Haula.”

“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry for my rashness. This all just doesn’t sit well with me and I’m still trying to find the words to tell my clan that this is an idea worth supporting. That it won’t be another doomed longboat expedition…” he stopped when her fist hit his chest.

“You bastard.”

“Garvorng, how much did you drink-“

“Not enough to put up with this Grak-shit.^5”

“Oh, hey there-“ Veric steadied her as she swayed to take a better hit at his well armored chest. He stood there, arms supporting her, while she beat against her chest a couple more times before sinking into his embrace and letting a few persistent tears stain it. “I didn’t realize how much this meant to you-“

“Of course it does - when your own daughter is going!”

Veric let the words hang in the air until they soaked all the night ambiance into them and left the pair in this moment alone from the world.

“They need it to be a beast druid to fix the spell if it fails them and she is the youngest shifter we have that isn’t Beast-Touched^6. The other druids wanted her to go…”

“I’m so sorry…” And after the words came forth, Haula moved back and pushed herself out of his grip. She wavered again for a moment and turned her back toward him, but Veric wouldn’t let her go. With a hand on her shoulder more steadying that stopping, he took two steps after her and together they stood in silence under the Elder Tree.

“My eldest son is a strong man. Let him go with her. He’s my pack’s best warrior and a has a Graren^7 soul at heart.” He continued until she gave him a low keening sigh.

“Why did your father have to leave our pack?” Her hand came over his and felt the tough calluses of age on his knuckles that she hadn’t gotten the chance to see grow.

“Because the Black Harbor called and if he didn’t, then I wouldn’t have a son to send to pay back the debt.” His free hand rested on her other shoulder.

“This is no debt an unseelie^8 can pay. Don’t do this, at least let the man come from a pack that wants to go.”

“We’ll see what the clans decide after their best warriors break when mine come to shore. I’ll make sure of it.”

And so that night the two Vargr were chosen who would go on a scouting mission beyond the Eradûn woods.

a month or so later, in a small hut half submerged in topsoil and building-earth, outside The Shore’s Glen Pack.

As slender hooves morphed into softer flesh and feet, and dappled brown fur gave way to green skin and silvery grey and brown hair, the groan of wood and ringing of a small chime welcomed the home’s youngest inhabitant. In the drawer her hands instinctively reached for her master’s favorite; a finely sculpted mug made as a gift by an old student before his talents drew him away to the school of den shaping. Once on the single round wooden table that filled the room, the girl returned to the outside realm where a select few flowers from the garden would be coaxed into blooming by the urging of her aetheric breath and taken inside to fill the centerpiece

Down in a side room she dragged out another chair. In the closet a stool was found, but one leg was shorter than the others because of a family of wood mice that scurried out after it. Mice feel no remorse. The young woman bit the edge of her lip while adjusting the first chair to fit among the two that always sat with the old table.

Should I get a shawl to put over it? Maybe there’s a few cushions somewhere…

Restless hands searched through drawers, chests, and cupboards, searching for cloth, then changing to the task of setting tableware, then to sweeping the dirt scattered across the floor and then back to finding a fourth and fifth seat if one existed at all. By the time a stoop-shouldered and wisened old woman shuffled out to the room, heralded by the rhythmic beating of her oak staff, her apprentice’s fur was all on end and a bead of sweat was forming on her brow.

“Look at you child.. forget the chairs, take these and set them up around the fire pit. The sun is bright and the weather is clear.” Dutifully the girl took the plates and mugs handed to her and set to work making trips to the circle of ash dusted logs behind their little home.

While she was focused on the task of meal making, another figure crouched low and crept through the brush. Silent as a snake, with every step measured and precise, the girl remained blissfully unaware until it was upon her.

“Aha!”

“Mom!”

The visiting woman, clothed in fire-scented furs, leather armor, and the bones of many hunts, wrapped her well tattooed arms around the girl and nearly lifted her off the ground in her embrace. Wet kisses peppered her neck as the girl laughed and wriggled around her see her eye to eye.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” The hug was warm and long with gentle pets along the younger Vargr’s silver and brown hair. They stayed this way in silence for a few moments until a raven cawed and the old woman stepped outside.

“Garvorng Huala, it’s good to see you. And who might these two gentlemen be?”

“BeastMaster Sibbe, this is Garvorng Veric and his son, Hallgrin, and Garvorng and Hallgrin, this is my daughter, Vrona.”

The two Vargr men walked up the path and parted away a few branches before nodding politely and taking off their bone helmets. Vrona, who now stood beside but not enveloped by her mother, nodded at them and took her time studying the young man as they all sat around the now crackling fire and shared breakfast.

He was a strapping man, in his own way. A beard too young to receive knots, but a few scars on his brow already… a giant ferret cloak on his back that only made his warrior’s frame pronounced… and the scent of salt and sea on his clothes. A Black Harbor Pack Vargr through and through.

While the two alphas made light conversation, their eyes occasionally flitted to the youths beside them, who were very unsubtly making assumptions about each other. With a furrowed brow and a few bits of egg on his beard, Hallgrin took stock of Vrona as well. She was tall for her pack, but not by much, but certainly a bit more well muscled than the rest. The old Druid certainly had the build of a fighter back in her time, perhaps it’s the magic that makes them all so well muscled? She wore simple silk and leather without many furs or bones yet, unusual for a beast-druid, but she did have a fair number of rune-sigils and a necklace of animal teeth around her neck: Deer, elk, verge bear, boar tusk, gopher, rabbit, and a few odd teeth he couldn’t put a name to and gave up trying. Vrona scowled and shifted slightly toward her mother as Hallgrin’s roving eyes scanned along the tattoos that covered most of her arms and legs.

“If you’d all excuse me, I have a few more preparations to make, but don’t stop on my account.” Somewhat abruptly, Sibbe rose and walked away, patting Vrona on the back as she passed by.

More talking followed, more “how’s the hunting been”s and simple stifled pleasantries, though the alphas did try.

“So Hallgrin, I heard you killed your first predator recently. Your parents must be very proud of you.” He gave a shy smile to Haula with an encouraging glance from his father, raised his arm to reveal a hunter’s sigil tattoo ringed around his bicep. It had a row of wave marks and a thick black wave ending in a jagged maw over its downward leaning tail.

“It was an eel-skink, but just a small one. It wasn’t any longer than my boat but was pretty eager anyway… Uh, Vrona, what was your father’s first predator?” As the words left his lips the alphas went silent and Vrona felt like all the forest’s eyes were on her.

“...I wouldn’t know. My mothers firsts were a wolf-stag and well, everyone knows the story of the Garvorng’s tusked bear fight.”

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Don’t be. You learn and move forward.” Haula spoke. “My wife and I were den mothers for years until another pack our clan brought her to us after they suffered a terrible storm. They knew she was gifted but had no druids to train her, so did what they thought was best. You should know better that a Druid almost never has a Druid child of their own.” And now all was silent.

As if on cue the old woman, Sibbe returned with a wrapped bundle in her hands and an indiscernible expression on her face. Before she had a chance to sit a long heavy horn call rang out through the forest and sent a flock of birds scattering.

“It’s time. We better get moving or we’ll have to wait to do the ritual at the next cycle.” Sibbe led the way as the rest quickly picked themselves up dumped their food into the village’s fermentation pit on the way out.

“The ritual must be done early in the morning, as the full moon fades away in the presence of the sun, because that’s when shifting magic is most blessed by the gods.” Vrona whispered to Hallgrin as he walked up beside her. The alphas and the Druid kept themselves further up ahead, talking to each other with words to hushed for them to hear.

——

Two BeastMaster Druids stood before a wide circle of loosened soil and mulch, each with glowing runes painted on their hands and their bodies facing each other as they stood in the path of the Great Cardinal Directions, North and South. The two youths glanced at each other and then away, both naked and red cheeked. Vrona stood at the West direction, where the all-powerful wilds split two mountains and spread to infinity^9, while Hallgrin stood at the East, a man of the sea, where crashing waves roar in the language of the unknown.

Sibbe stepped up behind Hallgrin and placed over his head the skull mask of a human man. “Under the eyes of the All-Father, the Horned God, we ask that Hallgrin Vericsson of the Black Harbor Pack take on the form of an Aelbic man, so that we may see His and Era’ani’s great creation with hidden hunter’s eyes! This skull belonged to a warrior before, a knight who the trees of our realm, guided by our druids, crushed when they threatened our forebearers. Give him the guise and strength of this man, but let him keep his Vargr wisdom above all else.”

And with the mask on, Hallgrin knelt down and let himself be buried in the soil until not a trace of him was seen, except a faint glow around his body as the southern druid began her spell.

Around them Sibbe walked, sprinkling pyre ash and mana mushroom powder until she stood behind Vrona. In her hands the cloth fell away and raised in the air was a strange skull the likes of which she had never seen before. It was black as pitch with horns on the sides that curved forwards and upwards. Never before had any of the Vargr present seen a Molazim skull before, and not one of them recognized it.

”By the grace of the Wild Mother I found this skull in the bog belonging to a people that once lived in these lands but have been unknown to us for as long as time can tell. Under the eyes of the All-Father, the Horned God of all, we ask that Vrona Glendötter of the Shore’s Glen Pack take on the form of your daughter, this horned one, so that we may see His and Era’nai’s great creation through a fellow stranger’s eyes, where man is common, but those of the wilds are not! And let us learn if men and not-alike can stand side by side in the wider world! Our Fate Sifter and the leader of our clan cannot find who this skull once belonged to, but we know she was a mage once, long ago when the trees were small. Give her this mage’s strength and power but let her keep our clan close to her heart at all times!”

Vrona wanted to turn around, wanted to protest, anything - why was she only learning of this now? Her mentor placed the skull over her face, she felt the weight of it and it’s strange horns heavy on her brow, but as she put her hands against it, a faint whisper brushed against her ear.

”I’m sorry, we can talk more after.”

And with that Vrona laid down in the soil and let herself be buried alive.

The pain she expected - with any new and unfamiliar transformation the pain was intense. Her head felt like it was splitting and stretching as it took on its new shape. Electrifying energy coursed down her spine as the fur in her tail sloughed off and the end morphed into something unfamiliar and unexpected. She cried out in pain as her skin burned black until dirt filled her mouth… soon however merciful darkness overtook her and she did not wake up until later that evening.

After waking up, Vrona washed her face and into the water for several minutes, studying the new shapes, new contours, and new peculiarities no one expected. Everyone had questions, from the mundane to the personal. The pair stayed for several days, mostly indoors, while Sibbe and the other beastmasters made sure Vrona and Hallgrin were still the same inside. Meanwhile their bags were packed with goods coming in from across Eradûn; mushrooms, crystals, a considerable amount of silk cloth, and countless other things they only had heard of before.

Each one had received before the ritual a small Vargr runic sigil on the name of their necks that was meant to make it easier for Vrona to recast the spell should either of them become undisguised. It was the only tattoo she now wore and often found herself absentmindedly touching it during those next few days.

The day they were set to leave, in the presence of the whole council of clan leaders, a large cloak was draped over Hallgrin’s shoulders that crackled with energy. It was a real spirit moose cloak^ 10 from a well known hunter deeper in Eradûn who wanted them to have it. I’m the final departing “ceremony” Garvorng Veric draped the cloak around his eldest son’s shoulders and gave him very solemn instructions;

“Save this cloak for as long as you can and wear it with the whole forest’s pride. Only offer it to the greatest and most trustworthy mage you can find. If there is a blessed person in the world worthy enough to wear this cloak, take them back to Eradûn and this cloak will let us know that their people may be good, and worthy of our welcome.”

Next Haula stepped forward and hugged both of them, and no one bat an eye as she lingered on her daughter.

“I’ve read every leaf and root and prayed to every passing bird to take the spirit of my clan and send it with you, but even the greatest among us can’t see every turn you may find on the path before you.” Reverently, she stood before each of them and took a necklace with a Vargr fang off herself and placed it over each of them.

”Wherever this road may take you, may it always lead you back home.”

FIN

——

Footnotes:

1.Tattoos, which are often earned by Warriors, mages, and so on and for some are even enchanted.

2.Vorng means alpha, or pack leader. Garvorng means clan leader. In this particular context calling the guy a pack leader rather than a clan leader is calling him short sighted and “only thinking for his pack, not his whole clan. It’s a very sick burn in Vargr trust me.

3.Onion divination is one of the most reliable forms of bio-divination in Eradûn. They say the roots are too bitter and spiteful to give anything but the cold hard unsweetened truth.

4.Seelie are my fairy race,I’ll post about him later, so for now this fairy is “on its way” so to speak.

5.Kind of like a cross between a dragon and a ferret. Eats a lot of glow bugs, can’t digest glow bug bioluminescent chemicals, makes very runny glowing turds.

6.A werewolf. Cuz I ain’t spreading lycanthropy in MMs that easily.

7.Graran deer are a big species of deer with stags that are very tough and stubborn but also super protective of their herds. They fight bears and win.

8.Non-fey / not-horrible-being

9.As far as the Vargr know, the forests to the west go on until they meet wherever the next shore is.

10.Will post cervids later. Spirit Moose are just giant white moose, some magical ones can become incorporeal at will. Cloaks have cool powers for that too.

11.Here’s what they all look like