[OOC: Thread intended for those who wish to join the wolf clan/those who have been chosen. Kennocha, Takara, Fooker, Henjo. Others may seek to join WC as well, shoot me a message or find me on the chat.]
The sun kissed the horizon. Oranges flaring up and changing into purples and dark blue. The eastern sky was dark already, the full moon rising. The music had begun. Ocarinas and drums peirced the night as the fire the chosen had built. It was all that was instructed in the Tome of Rites. They all stood bare chested (within reason); Volrog, Dalagorn, and Ling stood with the war paint upon them. Ling stood upon a table and listened to the music as it rang out, looking at the soon to be nafnlauss before him.
All had been invited to watch and partake. This was a community thing. And as the night wore on, it wasnt long before the last light of the sun was gone. Only stars and their fire remained. He began, his foreign accent silencing the music.
"You stand before us now, bare. You wear no shirt nor armor, as a child would after they are born.
You carry no blades nor bows, your magics quelled. As a child, lost in the dark.
however,
You may have symbols of old commitments, anchors to your past, weighing down your future.
You may have grudges and resentments, things of a young one with nothing to gain.
You may have pain and torment, creeping thoughts that haunt your dreams.
You have a name that identifies you for your acomplishments and crimes."
He motioned for Volrog and Dalagorn to proceed with the next part.
Ling paused for volrog to return to his post, nodded at him before he turned around. He held up his hand and the music and drums softened.
"We take from you now your acomplishments. When the chaos comes and darkness threatens the land, they will mean nothing. We pardon you of all crimes and punishments, for when we will take responsiblilty of you now. We relieve you of your commitments, for those will only hold you back. We cast aside your grudges and resentments, they would only corrupt you. We take up your pain and torment, and we will help carry your burdens. We strip you of your name, for your destiny is anew, but it has not yet been laid out. In the seasons to come, you will be tested, and judged. Those who stand around you are those who came before. They have been tested, and found worthy. They have endured hardships and torments. Ask them how to proceed, and they will aid you. Take my arm now and become Nafnlauss, Nameless. Refuse, and we will return what we have taken, and you will not be judged."
He stepped down from the table, held out his arm to those who stood before him. "Rise" the beats of drums and music played louder again. He drew a blade across his own arm, his bright red blood glinting in the fire light.
Hen-Jo, left knee to the ground arms resting on the other, glances at the cut to his forearm. Another scar to join the myriad of others. Scars born from battle. Scars earned alone, and in the company of brothers and sisters in arms. His mind was briefly lit by a stream of faces, the fallen. Though his face remained emotionless, he aknowledged his debt to those faces and let them file past. It was Banekeril who said that every scar is earned and a collection enriches a survivor. This was a scar he intended to earn.
Rising, he reached out and grasped Ling's arm. He nodded gravely. "So shall it be then."
And to himself, "Lle merna aut farien, Draugrimye."
Ling nodded to each as they came to him then returned to their place. The music softened once more.
"Thaw, Bloom, Storm, Gale, Frost... these are the seasons of the far north.
Your First trial is the Trial of Fang and Claw. You must prove you are honorable and worthy combatant. This will be done over time, and those who have come before will decide your fate at the end of Gale. To top this you will need to speak to those who create, and secure yourself your symbol of the Wolves.
Your Second trial is the Trial of Hide and Fur, you will need to prepare yourselves with armor and cloth. For in the Far North the cold is unrelenting and the world stands still. You will need protection from the lands and your foes. Speak to those who fight beside you, ask them what you need. They will aid you.
Your Third Trial is the Trial of Mind and Heart. You will be given hard choices over the time of your trials, and those who came before will not always be there to guide your way. You must decide what is right and wrong sometimes, but beware... there are always those that are watching.
Your Fourth Trial is the Trial of the Long Night. Far to the North we will go, when the first Frost falls upon the land, and to the lands of Ice and Snow. This will be your final test, of mind and heart, of hide and fur, of fang and claw. All these put together will decide your fate. Weither you die alone, or join the pack. At this point, the other wolves will decide your fate.
Let it be known to all who witness this, you are now Blood of my Blood. But you are not part of the pack, you are Nafnlauss. When you complete the final trial, you will be a full fledged Wolf."
He slammed shut the tome of rites in his hand as and the music rose again. He rose back to the point were he had stood previously and looked at these Nafnlauss. They showed promise, if they survived.
Volrog stands there, eyes focused on something in the distance for a few long moments. His head suddenly snaps back into focus on Dalagorn, who he sees is letting his smaller Angori brethren do the honors. The scargrim shakes his horned head after a final warning glance in the distance and slowly strides up to the newcomers, one hand covered in paint, the other holding a thin razor. His voice thunders out in harmony with the drumbeat, as he moves from one nafnlauss individual to the next, applying warpaint to faces and slicing small cuts (1 sharp) into arms
"We takes your Name. we takes your Pain. we takes your Grudges, we takes your Commitments. Naufnlauss mean 'nameless' - we all become part of da pack. We will be faced wit' many situations dat would beat any single warrior to der knees; but da pack not only survives, but thrives."
Volrog flashes a tusked, toothy grin of pride at the recruits when he's finished, and plods back up beside Ling and Dalagorn