Neverwinter Forest white beak

it had been hard to walk away, harder than the drengr expected. this filled eivor with equal parts shame and intrigue, and when she went away from moonglow it was to explore these scents more thickly twisted together in a fragrant marriage.

paths moved to a deep forest of rich green, its wildness beautiful beneath the falling of gentle snow which had begun that morning and not abated.

something else had come over the selltooth, and a wry smirk swathed her face when she at last realized that the flames licked too beyond whatever shield she had lifted against it.

a body's betrayal. shimmering, she kept far from the forest's edge and called out in a friendly, booming voice. heil og sæl. i am a traveler from a settlement camped over the mountains. i seek warriors. long has it been since i battled and sang and drank with those who fight. for a time i will hunt. i will tell you of kvarsheim. listen well! it is eivor ranvulf who calls!

and perhaps if answered, she might find among their number suitable sires for a round belly carried back to brattahlíð.

luhtar steps forward from the shadows of the forest, one pawstep after another, heavy against the soft snow of the neverwinter floor. his yellow eyes burn with quiet question as they settle on the stranger. he stops a few paces from her, his breath fogging in the cold air. his eyes poke and prod at her frame.

the pungent smell she carries is not lost on the dregnr.

hail. why you come? his voice comes in a rough, strong chuff; head low amongst muscles of pudgy muscle.

you seek warrior? one stands before you.