#wr ulfric

[mor-beck-more-problems]

@big-bad-ulf

[pm] This is a stupid question. Both order and chaos are equally natural.

[pm] So you think it’s both? Is that what balance is supposed to be?

[reacty]

Sin With Me and the Grey-and-Grey Morality and the Grey-and-Black Morality

As Yvette and Edelgard in the real world white and black morality are fictional ideology .

In an all-grey conflict, neither side is totally good nor completely evil. Both sides have a strong, justifiable reason for fighting, and contain a mixture of people of all kinds, from admirable, upstanding individuals to vicious, slimy scumbags.

In most cases, one side has better reasons and more good people than the other. The protagonists usually fight for this better side, and if they don't, they'll switch sides before the end. While the audience roots for the better side, they still have sympathy for the opposition, and often specific characters from the other side will be seen as Worthy Opponents.

Night of Sin circus vs Deadly Sin Circus(Grey vs Grey morality)

Deadly Sin Circus(Yvette) vs human scumbags,jerks,demons....

Grey morality vs Black morality

The result of such a conflict depends on where the story lies on the Sliding Scale of Idealism Versus Cynicism:

The Night of Sin troupe are the Idealist and accuses the Deadly Sin of breaking rules,working with demons and messing with civilians which I don't deny its bad but they're not exactly paragon on virtue:

On Darius they're quick to turn on him for being a demon and Nahara and Cal are the worst here despite Darius proofed time and again that he's not evil demon or not.

As Wrath stated that before the fatal incident in Vuzgamad burned down a cinema killing everything Yvette loved(her family aka the previous troupe) and it was caused by the fact that she used to work hard,play hard and gets distracted on the job instead to be focus and when she face no punishment and instead became the leader(one can argue that this is a punishment since she have to work to atone and guide the troupe) this destroyed all the Yvette idealism and decide that she will do anything to keep humanity safe and slay Vuzgamad,Anything!

While searching info on the whole Gluttony stuff i learn that....they are 3 brothers from 1 mother and 3 fathers according to Malakai’s route. Sefina Collins stated that a Gluttony Sin Assassin is supposed to fight demons,protect human have children with loveless one night stand, Gluttony assassins all carry pendant with a ring inside to remember their true love cause their true love always perishes. This is the only way to become Gluttony assassin ... THATS AWFUL, you ask this to your children this! No wonder Lazareth hate you will do anything to save his remaining brother....thanks to MC.

Essentially the sin assassin vs demon is a vicious cycle that will and still will kill innocent bystanders,assassin ad it will be for nothing ....

Despite this is still worthy fight for the humanity vicious cycle or not they're humanity defenders someone has to do this job they're other alternative to this method that have terrible and/or worst price to pay?

On the Deadly Sin troupe are the Cynical and accuses the Night of Sin troupe of following crippling rules,glorifying a vicious pointlessly cycle and not trying to found a better way to at least "handle" wr:

"No one involved was fully in the wrong, but no one was really right, either. That's how it felt to me."

—Sorey, after witnessing the destruction of Camlann, Tales of Zestiria

"Idealistic boy! The world is one big moral gray area. It just makes you feel safer to believe it can be carefully categorized into good and bad; that's not actually how it works!"

— Professor Stein, Soul Eater

General Tullius: We aren't the bad guys, you know.

Ulfric Stormcloak: Maybe not, but you certainly aren't the good guys.

Tullius: Perhaps you're right. But then what does that make you?

Ulfric: You just said it yourself.

— The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

"Right or wrong is not what separates us and our enemies. It's our different standpoints, our perspectives that set us apart. Both sides blame one another. There is no good or bad side. Just two sides with different views."

— Squall Leonheart, Final Fantasy VIII

VARIOUS GREY-AND-GREY MORALITY QUOTES

When will you fools learn that there are no battles fought by heroes?

— Talpa, Ronin Warriors

"The Choice between Good and Bad is not a matter of saying 'Good!' It is about deciding which is which."

— The Lord of Dark, The Sword of Good

Vladimir was one of those old-time bad guys with honor and morals, which made him almost one of the good guys. None of us was a saint.

— Max Payne, Max Payne

Megan: Wait! You're my hero!

Wade: No, no, no, no, no. That I ain't.

Wade (narrating): Nope, never will be. I'm just a bad guy who gets paid to fuck up worse guys.

— Deadpool

VARIOUS GRAY-AND-BLACK MORALITY

[mor-beck-more-problems]

@big-bad-ulf replied to your post: [pm] Do you know anything about magic, or is your...

[pm] A friend of mine was put under some kind of mystical mind control in order to perform a ritual. I’m trying to get to the bottom of if such a thing is possible, and maybe locate the person or persons responsible.

[pm] Okay. Mental magic wasn’t really my wheelhouse except for levitation, but mind control is big stuff. Your average townie witch isn’t going to be able to do anything like that, so this at least narrows possibilities. It is definitely possible, though. I’ve heard of at least one other incident like this from a friend of mine. Was there anyone else with them? Anyone who can talk about what kind of ritual it was? Or who was able to tell your friend was under mind control in the first place?

Is your friend Nic?

[mor-beck-more-problems]

@big-bad-ulf

[pm] No, It didn’t feel– It wasn’t– I’ve had better. We ran into some trouble with the local wildlife, likely riled up fireworks. The girls are both in one piece though and got to spend it together, that’s what really matters. 

[pm] Oh, stars. Was it bad? Do you guys need anything? And uh, no run ins with any hunters or rogue casters or anything, right? I’m glad the girls are in one piece. Are you, though?

[mor-beck-more-problems]

@big-bad-ulf replied to your post: Happy Pink Moon, White Crest! Everything is fine!...

Happy Pink Moon! Not many people know the names. Strong alcohol and something you don’t mind ripping up to make bandages

I know! It’s a shame, because they have the best names, I think I read somewhere that this is also called the Hare moon? It’s nice to remember how even if the cycles return, we’re still in a different place than we were before with each turn. 

Well, I guess that’s a good case for hanging onto the ‘to donate’ bag of clothes I never get around to dropping off. But is that really a good catch-all?

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Tactical Disadvantage || Morgan & Ulfric

Timing: Before the full moon

Parties: @big-bad-ulf & @mor-beck-more-problems

Summary: An unexpected guest crashes a sparring match. Morgan catches a lucky break.

When Ulfric had made arrangements with Morgan to start her combat training, he hadn’t expected to still be feeling the effects of the sudden fatigue that’d come over him, but that was all the more reason to brush up on his skills. Hunters wouldn’t wait until he was primed and ready to engage with them on his own, he had to be ready to face them at his weakest, and this was possibly the weakest he’d felt since he was a child, at least so close to the full moon. “Have you been practicing your approach?” He asked her as they arrived in the small wooded clearing on his property that would serve as their arena. “Care to show me?” He asked, walking to the centre of their makeshift ring. “Remember to trust your instincts. Go for the parts that tear easily, the guts, the eyes… the throat since most adversaries you’re likely to face will still need to draw breath. You have the advantage there, so use it. I’ll give you a three second head start.” His instructions finished, the wolf dug his feet firmly into the ground in a defensive stance and closed his eyes, awaiting her attack.  

Morgan was only too relieved to drive over to Ulfric’s for another combat training session. She hadn’t been attacked since that one time in the woods, but she couldn’t help but be aware how much of that was pure luck. She needed to be ready for the next time, and knowing White Crest, that would be sooner rather than later. She followed him to the clearing on the edge of his property, grinning. “I have, as a matter of fact,” she said, grinning. “Maybe not wolf-stealthy yet, but I think you’ll be impressed.”

The wolf man closed his eyes and Morgan took the chance to give her best crouch. One foot directly in front of the other, eyes ahead, stay silent. She didn’t even need to breathe. One foot, then the other, creeping slowly until she was in lunging distance. She waited, still as death, and shot out from Ulfric’s flank, aiming a blow right for his kidneys.

Silence settled over the clearing and Ulfric smiled, impressed at Morgan’s progress, though it was quickly obliterated by a groan as she struck his side. Faen, she was strong. Stronger than he’d anticipated. A valuable insight, but one that couldn’t have come at a worse time, not when he wanted to keep the extent to which he was ‘under the weather’ under wraps. Still, there was more to coming out on top of a skirmish than strength. Quick reflexes, for instance, could mean the difference between life and death. Or unlife, as it was in her case. As her blow landed, he pivoted taking advantage of her uncontrolled moment to grab her by the throat. “Remember to get your hands back up as fast as you can after a blow to protect your face and neck,” He advised, holding her at arm’s length and using his additional height to keep her out of striking distance. “Even if your opponent’s unsure of what you are, decapitation is widely considered a safe bet.” Any other time he might have lifted her off the ground, to illustrate the lesson that leaving openings like that could lead to getting your head ripped off a little more clearly, but for now he just let her go. Perhaps Morgan would think he was going easy on her, but better she believed his weakness was of the sentimental variety rather than the physical. “Square up,” Ulfric commanded, backing up a few paces and raising his fists to the level of his eyes in demonstration. “Try to hit me again.”

Morgan was off her balance and in Ulfric’s grasp. She was strong, but her body had all the finesse of a bludgeon. Ulfric hadn’t broken a sweat picking her up, and with his long, burly arms, she could only flail cartoonishly at him. She gave him a pouting grimace and nodded, lesson learned. “Thanks for at least saving me my pride,” she said dryly. She rolled her muscles and squared up again, fists raised. Between Remmy and Mina, she’d learned a lot (and hell, she might need it sooner than later if the plan to get Remmy out of that awful place worked the way it was supposed to), but she hadn’t gone up against anyone as big as Ulfric before. She raised her fists near her eyes and steadied herself with a breath. She could be sharp. She could be swift and calm. That was how it worked, right? Jaw set with determination, she struck out towards him, poised to snap back into place just as quickly.

Ulfric watched for the angle of her swing, and dodged out of the way of her fist just in time. See? He could remember how to do this if he focussed, remember how to evade and defend instead of just relying on his fortitude to allow him to take hits while he got up close enough to strike a finishing blow. He was just out of practice, having gotten away with slacking on the defensive front since the sudden growth spurt at 16 that had left him tallest and broadest of his siblings by a wide margin. The werewolf let loose a swing of his own, but she had already moved back into position to block, and his hand collided with hers with a resounding crack followed by a… rumble? Alright, he definitely wasn’t responsible for that part. Stumbling backwards as the ground of the clearing shifted and split open, Ulfric just managed to call out, “Behind you, Morgan, look out!” before a long, multi-jointed leg with a serrated edge and coarse covering of hair along it’s sleek black exoskeleton extended towards her.

Morgan leapt to the side and whirled on her new opponent. “These again?” She shrieked. The spider monster (its name was something that sounded like churro, right?) hissed and spat its venom. “Shit!” She tugged on Ulfric’s sleeve, trying to pull him back. “P-poison! I mean--venom! The thing--venom!” She put her arm in front of him, ready to block a shot from the spider’s mouth with her body if need be. But--shit, was she even immune to that stuff? The question came to Morgan just as the giant spider whirled on them, hissing at having missed its target. Morgan’s fingers itched to unleash her alchemy, but this was not going to be anything like last time. “Run!” She called. And sprinted off, hoping Ulfric would follow. They were near water, right?

Run?! The last time Ulfric had run away from a fight was… never. If the circumstances had been different, he might have held his ground to buy Morgan time. But without the necessary strength to snap off one of the spider’s limbs and beat it with it, staying was just likely to result in a face full of the poison or venom or whatever the correct term was for foul liquid oozing from the creature's mouthparts. Jumping back at Morgan’s yell just in time to miss a sprayed mouthful of said liquid, he let groan in frustration at being forced to turn his back on a foe and took off running after her. With his longer strides he soon caught up to her at the edge of the wide creek that split the forest of the outskirts in two. “Get across to the other side!” He yelled over the rush of the water as he started to ford his way across, sparing a glance at the spider behind. It gave chase with surprising speed, but its precarious, spindly legs would hold no traction against water’s flow.  

Morgan pounded her legs against the forest floor, running in zig zags to avoid getting smacked against the floor. Was she wasting time trying to breathe right? Was it even worth it with her stupid, short little legs? Moran tried to lift her legs higher, move faster. The air was roaring in her ears, she could barely hear Ulfric direct her. She barely heard the spider hiss and spit at them again. She turned back to look, hearing her mother’s voice in her head the whole while (never look back when you’re being chased!) and saw the spider click and hiss and ready another spray of venom just in time to leap onto a tree trunk just shy of the water. Morgan didn’t stop to think about the tactical merits of this. She scrambled up, tearing her hands and legs as she went, realizing when she’d reached a good heavy branch that the spider could also climb. “Fuck!” She screamed. “Uh, keep going!” She called to Ulfric, and prepared to fling herself as close to the water as she could. She really shouldn’t have chickened out of diving lessons.

Ulfric turned at the panic in Morgan’s voice, expecting to find her in the water behind him but instead seeing her half dangling out of the tree, with the spider scrambling up behind her. He considered turning back, but the rushing water battered against his threatening to knock his feet out from under him at any moment. Reluctantly, he pushed through the current to the other side, hauling himself up the opposite bank where the stable ground would allow him to be of more aid. “Let go, I’ll be here to pull you out!” The werewolf yelled back at her, sitting on the bank, and reaching out of the water towards her. The spider had scuttled up the branch Morgan had climbed onto, bending slightly downward towards the creek with their combined weight. Ulfric could just make out the wet clicking noise emanating from the overgrown arachnid that signalled another wave of venom was about to be unleashed. “Now, Morgan!” He pleaded with his words and his eyes, gesturing her urgently towards him in case the sound was lost among all the noise and the chaos.

Morgan leapt, screaming one more loud, drawn out “fuck!” with no sense of stealth or anything else. She heard the venom hiss through the air and pedaled her legs through the sky as she sank sudden and hard as a rock. Water flooded Morgan’s body and she flailed with a flurry of panic. Maybe she’d been hit. Maybe this was it. She would sink and be eaten slowly, and maybe she would regrow and be okay in a day or two but maybe she wouldn’t, shit, maybe-- Morgan’s feet hit the riverbed and she pushed herself up, kicking for dear life. She surfaced, coughing up water she’d swallowed. She reached for Ulfric’s waiting arm and scrambled to shore. Behind her, the spider monster was testing the waters, struggling on its feeble legs to follow her and still spitting and hissing with frustration. Morgan raised a hand to block any that crossed the distance and--nothing. She looked up at Ulfric, and then down at her body again. She hadn’t been hit once, but twice over. “Well…” she coughed. “Huh.”

‘Huh’ just about covered it, Ulfric thought, as he crouched, breathing heavily on the side of the creek. “Are you hurt?” He asked, looking her over in concern. It didn’t appear that any of the venom had touched her, but there was still the possibility that she’d been injured in the fall and subsequent struggle through the water. Staggering to his feet, he scooped up a rock at the creek’s edge and lobbed it in the spider’s direction, prompting the creature to scuttle backward to avoid it. “Let’s go, we’ll head a bit further into the trees on this side where that thing can’t see us, then we can cross back further downstream,” he suggested, offering his arm to her, to hoist her up or help her walk if needed. He wasn’t sure how long his strength would last if he had to carry her, but what he currently lacked in that he made up for in stubbornness, so he would try. “I wish I could say there was some sort of lesson to be learned here,” the werewolf continued as they made their way deeper into the forest out of view of the hissing overgrown pest. “But I can’t think of anything, other than that it’s best not to question it when the wheel of fate it spins your way, just take your lucky breaks where you can get them.”

Morgan staggered to her feet, brushing the river grime off her legs. “Ew…” She scraped a handful of something shiny and sticky from her calves. It was thin like mucus with a weird, tint that reminded her of the poison extracts her mother worked out of plants. “Uuh…” She rubbed it off her hands and onto the ground but Earth there was...a lot of it. If the substance was what she suspected, she was coated in at least a few sprays worth. She hadn’t been lucky, just...immune. Well, that put a whole other spin on her running and screaming like an idiot. She could’ve waltzed right into the water for all the harm that would’ve happened to her. She had wondered if it was possible, but it was different, feeling protected by her new body for a change. “Right,” she said. “I guess fate has a sense of humor sometimes after all. Gotta appreciate it when the punchline doesn’t kill you.”

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Wolf-Staken || Morgan & Ulfric

@big-bad-ulf

Morgan and Ulfric run into each other in the woods. Neither find exactly what they’re looking for.

The world had become a veil to float through. As Morgan ambled through the woods, she pressed her hand to every tree and branch that passed near her fingers. Testing to see if they would notice her, if her touch would matter in a way they couldn’t seem to matter to her. A freak snow was falling in from the west, but Morgan waded through the underbrush in her thin jeans and college hoodie as steadily as if it were a clear evening. She was almost at the clearing Deirdre had taken her to twice before. There had to be deer nearby, or a roost of chipmunks. The deer she’d killed had to have come from somewhere. She scanned the trees, searching for signs of life. A heartbeat. A rustle of leaves, something that even her new body would catch. And suddenly there was. A brown rabbit nosing out from the wet leaves, checking its surroundings. Poor thing. It was never going to be enough. Morgan crouched low into the ground. Hovering just over the grass. She tilted her head, imagining what it looked like to be that helpless at the bottom of the world, to understand how beyond your grasp the order of the earth was just by looking around. Morgan reached out for it. The end of her thought wasn’t clear, but the want was strong enough to propel her, fingers brushing over its fur--

The rabbit leapt away. Morgan dove, arms closing around air. She scrambled up to all fours, only feet above the rabbit’s height and launched herself again. For a moment it was around her and she had a sense, her face buried in its matted fur, its heart pounding in her ear as if was about to burst, as if it was about to die-- Morgan gasped and the rabbit wriggled out, kicking its haunches square into the side of her face. Morgan went splat, rolled onto her back, and willed a deep sigh though her body. The bottom of the world, she thought, staring up at the sky. Didn’t seem all that different from the view from death.

It was a flash of dark hair and pale skin deeper into the forest that had captured Ulfric’s attention first. All his nerves alighted at once from the glimpse of that family contrast, and he found he was as powerless to keep from following it as he was to keep from howling when the moon was clear and bright. But there was barely a silvery sliver in the sky this night, and his senses frustratingly muted. Unable to rely on scent and sound to identify her from a distance, he trailed the woman cautiously at a slightly higher elevation, keeping his face towards the snowfall to ensure he stayed upwind and undetected as he observed her. To his simultaneous relief and disappointment he quickly realized his quarry couldn’t be Diana Aquilla. On closer inspection she looked too young, and the way she scrambled for purchase through the trees didn’t fit with what he’d seen of hunters. They tended to drift detached from their surroundings, single-mindedly focussed on their targets like cruel mockeries of the angel of death. A lost hiker then? Ulfric pulled his body closer in line with one of the towering pines between them, concealing his silhouette. Maybe a few convincing growls from something lurking in the woods convince her to turn back? Then he could continue his patrol without distraction. Softly, he cleared his throat in preparation but it transformed into a surprised splutter as the woman pounced, or rather, made a very pitiable attempt to pounce on the rabbit. “It’s not polite to play with your food. Nor is it to trespass, for that matter,” the werewolf commented drly from his still concealed position. If she was spawn, or some other creature lacking the capacity for anything but mindless feasting, she’d attack at the sound of his voice and this detour would be dealt with quickly. If she didn’t, then deciding what to do next would get more complicated, but also certainly more interesting.

Morgan looked up from the ground, embarrassed. She was a miserable zombie, she knew that, but it was weirder and harder now that she had an audience. She picked herself up enough to dust off her hands and rub the dirt from her sleeves. The man looking over her was more or less what she would expect from a mountain man this far up north. Not enough weapons compared to the last two hunters she’d seen to be one, she hoped. “I-I wasn’t...playing,” she said. Although, for as ineffective as she was, she might as well have been. Maybe she should’ve lied. But trespassing, that was a lot less good than bad brain hunting. “I thought this was just...the woods?” Weren’t they just there? Had she gotten lost? Oh, shit, she had totally gotten lost. Morgan began to crawl back, grateful to not be able to sweat anymore. “But uh...obviously, they’re not. So, I can just...go be...somewhere else?” she said.

“The property line’s about a quarter-mile back the way you came,” Ulfric informed the woman, inclining his head slightly in that direction, squinting to see if he could make out any figures following her. Apart from the rabbit she’d let slip the forest appeared to be still. “You wouldn’t be the first to miss it.” Or to ignore it, as could still prove to be the case. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, the creature in front of him was in a wretched enough state that he couldn’t rule out the possibility that she’d been sent to scout ahead of the Aquilla hunting party in exchange for being spared their wrath. It would certainly fit the family’s odd history of trying to tame nonhuman creatures. “I wouldn’t go back the way you came. You might meet someone less forgiving than me.” The wolf stepped slowly towards the woman as he spoke, corralling her further into the clearing, where the denser snow would mean less secure footing if she did try to attack or flee. “Answer a few questions, and I’ll show you a shortcut back to the road,” he continued, not asking or bargaining but instructing. “What’s your name?”

Morgan slid her attention back behind her as the mountain man checked the horizon. The more she followed small game around the woods, waiting for them to die, the more she realized how much she spent her existence acting like prey. Was that why Constance had been so sure of herself and her curse? Could she see it in her, how small and ineffectual she was? There was nothing behind her that she could see, but his warning gave her little comfort. Morgan tensed, ready to run, but forced herself still. What could he really do to her? Kill her again? The knockers in the cave of voices had tried that. No luck there. “I was just walking,” she offered stupidly. And then she’d gotten a little rumbly and a little sad. And then the rabbit was just...there. She’d wanted to remember, and she’d liked the prospect of a meal after. But that wasn’t anything to explain to a stranger. “...I’m Morgan,” she said. Her name sounded strange in her own mouth as an introduction. She didn’t feel like Morgan, not as a matter of course, but there weren’t any other names she could offer in turn. “Morgan Beck,” she said again, shrugging. “If I’m following your advice, can I at least know who you are too?”

“I’m Ulfric. We’ve spoken before, Morgan,” Ulfric answered, the name jogging his memory of conversations he’d meant to follow on before he’d found himself spending all his free time playing guard dog. Morgan Beck; seller of rocks, lover of the outdoors and seemingly to be the only other person in town who knew the names of the full moons. The signals she’d been sending out online practically howled werewolf, and catching her midhunt in the middle of the woods would’ve confirmed his suspicions if it weren't for the fact that she was trying to catch her prey with her bare humanoid hands. Was this the influence of hunters then? She seemed rather under-responsive for someone who’d been cornered in the woods. Maybe they’d used wolfsbane to disorient her? Or maybe she was new enough to this to not believe what was happening was real? “Were you hoping to find something on your walk? Or is something looking for you?” He backed up, not taking his eyes on her, but motioning that she should follow as he continued to question her. “I can help you, Morgan, if you’re honest with me.”

“Ulfric…” Morgan had to dig back deep to remember that one. Everything before the crash, before Constance sent her into hyperdrive on a bullshit cursed errand. But she remembered him: the kind sounding man with the tattoo parlor, who drew and was away from his family and admired the moon and the flowers. Morgan relaxed her stance and followed behind him, casting one more look over her shoulder, just in case something was coming up behind them. No sign. “I remember you too, yeah,” she said. “You don’t seem like the kind to lead me into a murder pit or anything, but you can say if you are. Honesty’s the best policy,” she said, laughing dryly. “You seemed kind, is what I mean. And no, nothing is looking for me that I know of, though your warning about less forgiving people currently has me slightly spooked.” Not that anything would hurt even if she did find someone, but the sight of her bones reconstructing themselves and growing sinew still made her stomach turn. It didn’t feel cool or special. It felt wrong. She trotted a little closer to him. “I just need a way out of here. I don’t mean to be any trouble. I’m expected home soon.”

“Good, that’s what I intended.” Ulfric replied tersely when Morgan mentioned being spooked by his words of caution, but his posture relaxed slightly. With the new moon preventing him getting a read on her heart rate, he had to trust his gut on whether she was sincere but her earnest words seemed to suggest so. “I’ve got no intention of hurting anyone who doesn’t intend to hurt me,” he reassured her, not mentioning what he’d do to those intending to harm people he’d chosen to protect in order to keep from compromising the Bennetts’ safe haven. He also didn’t bother to press her on where exactly her ‘home’ was in case that tipped her evaluation of him more towards being the type who would have a murder pit, confident he could track her down by her business if he needed to. Instead the werewolf gestured with a finger to his lips that she should remain quiet, before turning to scan the trees ahead for threats, trusting that she wouldn’t be one as she trailed behind. The stoic silence continued until they reached a creek which he knew would lead them towards Torrance Street while giving the trailer where the young wolf and her sister were sheltering a wide berth. The flowing water deepened by melting snow also conveniently muffled his words as he spoke again. “Are you planning on hunting like this often? I wouldn’t recommend it in your… current state.” He said referring to her blunted teeth and nails and general dazed demeanour. “But I can give you some tips, if you really insist on it.”

Morgan didn’t mind the silence. In time, she fell in step with Ulfric’s pace and was able to lift up from herself, her own secret ghost, and float away to somewhere else like a runaway balloon. She barely noticed the terrain they passed and stopped only because Ulfric was too imposing a figure to miss even with her consciousness half missing. “O-oh,” she said. She hadn’t thought that far ahead, and she wasn’t sure what to make of Ulfric noticing how not-all-there she was. No one else felt compelled to comment on it, and the animals didn’t mind her. There were times when she felt invisible even to herself, the way she imagined ghosts felt all the time.  “I don’t know. Not if it’s gonna go like this,” she deadpanned. She realized, too late, that under the circumstances she ought to exercise a little more care. “I um...you know, it’s a weird story you probably don’t wanna know, but...I don’t have to, exactly. But in a pinch, well--if you did know how to do that without having to get, like, a gun or anything, that would be appreciated. For in a pinch.”

“No guns,” Ulfric agreed, scowling in distaste at the suggestion. “You’ll want to work on your approach. No offence, but you’re easy to hear coming”. As he picked up the pace to lead Morgan out of his domain, he rattled off the instructions that had been drilled into him a million times before his parents had deemed him ready for tracking prey in human form. “When you have locked on to your target, try moving towards it with one foot directly in front of the other, like you're walking on a tightrope. That’ll force you to focus on evenly distributing your weight.” He slowed for a moment demonstrating along the ridge of the creek’s edge for a few paces. “You don’t want to bring your whole foot down at once either. Just make contact heel and then roll it forward. If you feel something unstable, just shift it softly to the side.” He brought the toe of one worn boot gently down against a brittle branch on the forest floor but slid off it silently pushing it aside before it could break. That way you won’t snap every twig between here and Bangor.” Noticing a small cross carved into the trunk of a pine ahead, marking the outer boundary of his homestead proper, he turned back to Morgan and held his hand out for her to stop. “Wait here, and I call you ahead in a moment,” Ulfric ordered. “Or you could try and sneak up on me. You could use the practice.” His tone grew a touch more friendly at the amusing mental picture. “I wouldn’t go running off in any other direction though, don’t want to lose your way again.”

Morgan was pretty sure that general incompetence at anything outside her niche fields of expertise hadn’t been what Deirdre meant when she said the bones of herself remained. And it had been, Morgan wanted to petition the underworld for better bones to preserve. She followed Ulfric’s instructions as he gave them, recentering herself awkwardly as her center of gravity shifted. He wasn’t kidding about the focus part. She did her best with the placement of her feet, although it brought back shameful memories of her brief stint in ballet class. She wobbled in the leaves as her thoughts wandered into those dusty alive memories and snapped back to attention with a sheepish expression.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that,” Morgan deadpanned. She rolled her eyes ruefully and smirked at the suggestion she could successfully sneak, but as soon as Ulfric had put some distance from her, Morgan felt a pull to test him on his suggestion. Slowly, centering herself on her toes first, she began to creep, one foot directly in front of the other. Slow and mindful of the twigs. The wind rose around her and she winced, wondering how much of the rustling grass was her, and how much was the restless earth. She adjusted herself and continued until she was close enough to call, “Boo!”

Ulfric surged ahead of Morgan, breaking through the tree line. With a sigh of relief he saw that all the lights in his trailer were off, the silhouette of the structure that stood on the opposite side of the clearing barely distinguishable from the dense curtain of forest behind it. Even if her eyesight was as good as his in the dark, he was fairly certain she’d miss it without knowing where to look for it. Confident that the Bennets were safely concealed, he made to call back to the strange straggler he’d picked up in the woods, but picked on the soft swish of frost dampened grass a few feet behind him. Pivoting on the spot, he turned to face Morgan just as she’d uttered her triumphant exclamation. “Better,” He offered her gruff but sincere praise. She was a fast learner, and now he was relatively sure she wasn’t a threat, at least not to anyone but herself, that could be considered a positive. “You’ll need to practice until you can do it without really thinking. But for now, it’s a start. Come on,” he ushered her along at an unforgiving speed, keen to get her far away from where his unlikely wards were hiding. Before long they came to a fence, which he swiftly climbed over, extending a hand to help her do the same once he was on the other side. “The road’s just here, heading east will take you back towards town. Don’t linger too long. I was serious about there being things less friendly than me lurking in these woods,” Ulfric instructed her, glad to be able to return to his watch duty, but a little disappointed he hadn’t been able to figure her out; was she an inexperienced and admittedly very strange wolf as he suspected? Or something unknown and even stranger? “I would like to hear that long story though, when it’s a better time.”

Morgan deflated with a half-hearted huff as Ulfric turned, knowing exactly where she was behind him, perhaps even the whole time. Still, it was kind of him to smile and tell her she was getting better. If things got scarce at the butcher’s, she might be able to rely on his advice to actually help her catch something. She wobbled over the fence, strong but inexperienced in using her body this way. She held on tight to Ulfric’s sleeve the whole way down. “Thank you,” she told him. “I appreciate it, really.” He even seemed to mean it when he said he wanted to know what her story was. And his voice was so kind she wanted to believe him. She winced, knowing with her luck it wasn’t true. “Not sure I know how to tell it in a way you’d believe,” she said. “But you are someone I’d like to know. Maybe I’ll scrape enough dollars together to come into your shop sometime soon, if that’s, um, if that would be okay?” She began to inch towards the road. She was still learning how to be around people besides Deirdre; so far that was adding up to a lot of awkward and apology.

“You’re welcome,” Ulfric replied, easing her onto the ground, though he wasn’t sure how helpful he’d actually been. At best he’d reduced her chances of running into one vicious cabal of hunters for one night, but there were bound to be more out there and he doubted the way in which she seemed lost could be fixed by something as simple as directions back to town. At Morgan’s suggestion that he’d find her story far-fetched, he scoffed. “I think you’d be surprised what I’m capable of believing.” He was fairly certain the bar for what he’d considered unbelievable had dropped a few feet from its already low starting point since he’d lived in White Crest, the only thing he was skeptical of now was that there was anything left in the world that could shock him. “You would be welcome to stop by,” He insisted, hopeful that she would find him again despite the cautious reception and his eagerness to send her away for the time being. There would come a time when her disorientation would pose more of a threat to her than the chance of being caught in the crossfire of the Bennett’s bounty, and he would miss their chats if she fell victim to dangers she wasn’t aware of.  ���Don’t stray from the road,” the werewolf called out a final instruction, but he was already fading back into the forest, adopting again the familiar cloak of shadows and silence that would conceal him as he waited for signs of his intended quarry.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

[pm] Do you know anything about magic, or is your pagan practice purely spiritual?

@big-bad-ulf

[pm] I know quite a bit about magic, actually. I was a real witch when I was alive, and I still know everything I did then. How can I help, Ulfric?