Boartusk Heights when we meet

@Karpos

Qvasir moved through the dense underbrush of La Muerte’s territory, his steps purposeful but unhurried. The early morning light barely filtered through the thick canopy above, casting the forest floor in shifting shadows. It was quiet here, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of a bird, but Qvasir’s sharp eyes and ears missed nothing.

He was seeking company—not idle chatter, but the presence of other men, warriors, brothers who might share the same sense of purpose he carried. La Muerte was a pack forged in resilience, its members bound by necessity as much as by loyalty. To Qvasir, this was an opportunity: to find allies, to learn their strengths, and to see where he might carve a place for himself among them.

His mind was a steady stream of calculation as he moved. Where might they gather? A patrol? A hunt? He turned his nose to the air, catching faint traces of movement further ahead. His instincts pulled him toward the scent of others, the trail sharp and deliberate.

tag for thoughts

on his lips, the taste of a berry from earlier.

in his mind, the lingering of @Agrippina.

he had drawn himself to the entrance of la muerte. uncertain if he wished to push beyond the claim they had made here. he could walk far and wide, he could follow trails and return with riches for royals and servants alike.

instead it was the beast of a man that draws his attention. strong and healthy.

it is a shame you missed the great hunting beyond the mountains. some started conversations with hello. he apparently started them with obvious observations. your might would have been a boon. lucky are we to have it now, though.

Qvasir’s gaze flicked to the large, dark wolf with brown accents, his expression composed, though his sharp amber eyes carried a subtle gleam of intrigue. He wondered what a beast, such as his own stature, did here. Although, one could ask the same about him.

He dipped his head slightly in acknowledgment, his demeanor unhurried as he regarded the towering figure before him.

Beyond the mountains, you say? Qvasir began, his voice smooth and carrying a faint, wry undertone. A shame indeed that I missed such a hunt. I can only imagine the kind of beasts you must have faced to call it great.

i believe it is great for how many gathered.

he explained now with a small smile, a ghost of thing that threatened to vanish at any moment.

i believe every group in a reachable area attended to hunt the gathering elk. many traders too, riches as far as one could see.

every desire might have been tended to. he knew his own certainly had been. now he stood here among the kingdom of la muerte and worked his way to carve out a place among it. something more than simple huntsman. not that he minded but...

Qvasir's gaze flicked to the man before him, his dark coat and formidable stature commanding attention. A faint smile touched his lips, more polite than warm, though there was no malice in his expression.

You speak of a gathering well done, he remarked, his tone smooth and measured. Though, I admit, I have not yet had the pleasure of hearing your name.

He inclined his head slightly, a gesture both respectful and curious. I am Qvasir, a mercenary by nature, though my hands are not unfamiliar with other work. His amber eyes searched the other's face, as though seeking the layers beneath the surface.

Tell me, he added, his voice light with intrigue, what brings you here, to this place, to these lands?