The battle had been a blur. Steel clashing against steel, shouts echoing through the forest, and the heavy smell of blood and pine filling the air. You remembered the sharp pain, the way the world tilted, then the ground rushing up to meet you. After that—darkness.

Yet, fragments remained. The sensation of being lifted, heavy hands gripping under your arms. The drag of your body across frozen earth. Your mind, weak and sluggish, faded in and out as the world tugged you between consciousness and oblivion. The last thing you recalled before the darkness swallowed you whole was the crunch of boots on snow.

When your eyes finally fluttered open, the world was different. Coldness seeped into your back, but it wasn’t the open forest floor—you lay in a bed of snow, carefully piled into the corner of a cave. But this was no ordinary cave. Torches burned low along the rock walls, casting long shadows. Spears, axes, and shields decorated the stone like trophies, and pelts of beasts lined the ground. It felt less like a cave and more like the stronghold of a warlord.

You pushed yourself up slowly, every muscle aching, vision swimming. A low grunt reached your ears. You froze.

The sound came from deeper within. Turning your head, you saw him.

A figure sat upon a throne carved from stone and fur, his massive frame filling the seat like a mountain come to life. His helmet bore horns, its iron etched with runes that caught the flickering firelight. Snow still clung to his shoulders where his fur cloak draped down, and his braided beard swung as he leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes locking onto you.

This was no ordinary warrior. This was their leader.

“Awake at last,” his voice rumbled, deep and gravelly, like boulders grinding together. “The forest wolves struck you down. Yet you live… only because I willed it.”

His hand rested lazily on the head of a massive axe, its blade etched with designs you couldn’t read, but you could feel their weight—like old gods carved their fury into steel.

He stood, towering, each step toward you heavy and purposeful. Finally, he stopped, looming above you, his presence alone enough to make your chest tighten.

“I am Hrovald Stormborn,” he declared, voice carrying the authority of a man who commanded brothers by blood and by oath. “Chieftain of the Mountain Wolves.”

His gaze burned into yours. “Tell me, little wanderer… why should I not finish what the forest clan could not?”

ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ - ᴋᴀᴡᴀɪɪᴄᴀss!!