The mists clung low to the meadows this morn, as if the spirits of the fallen still whispered warnings. My axe bit deep into the gnarled pines, their sap staining my hands like blood. The longhouse stands stronger now, its timbers bound tight against the winds that howl from the Black Forest.
Last eve, Greydwarves crept close, their eyes glinting like cursed embers. I drove them back with fire and iron, but not before one shattered my shield. The forge hums tonight, hungry for copper to mend my gear. Surtling cores burn low—must brave the swamps soon, though the thought of those wretched draugr sets my teeth on edge.
The hearthfire crackles, and my belly’s full of boar meat and honey mead. Odin watches, I know it. Tomorrow, I sail for the mountains. The wolf pelts will be mine, or I’ll feast in Valhalla.
smskcntr
•4/28/25 12:38
MythicBuilds
4/21/25 4:55
• posted 12/22/23 1:06
AstridSinjesdottir
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Aodi