Neverwinter Forest About how all her bones are broken

Íruna awoke to the scent of pine, sharp and unfamiliar. Her lavender eyes opened to find herself surrounded by towering evergreens, their boughs woven together to form a canopy that blocked out most of the light. Faint rays of sun pierced through the branches, illuminating patches of soft moss and scattered needles on the forest floor.

The air was cool, still, and carried no trace of her sea.

She rose to her paws, her thick coat brushing against the rough bark of a nearby tree. The forest stretched endlessly in all directions, shadowed and quiet, save for the distant rustle of movement—a herd of deer, perhaps. This place, so unlike the rocky shores of Drákensvágr, felt untamed and ancient.

Her jaw tightened as she took a step forward.

"New lands," She murmured, blinking against the backdrop of morning. "The Gods have brought me far from home."

for @Solharr

the scent of her was foreign—salt, unfamiliar earth, and something else, something untamed. sólhárr stepped into the clearing where the stranger stood, his towering form casting a shadow across the mossy forest floor. his amber eyes, bright as flame, fixed upon her with measured intensity.

farandi, he called to her in his deep, steady voice. the norse word for wanderer rolled off his tongue, weighty and deliberate. he paused, his posture unyielding, though not overtly hostile. what do you seek?

his gaze swept over her, noting the thick coat and the distant look in her lavender eyes. this woman was out of place in forneskja’s heart. his words carried neither scorn nor welcome, only the firm curiosity of a hárkonungr protecting his land. he awaited her answer, the silence between them filled only by the rustling of leaves above.

Íruna turned her head slowly, the faint rustling of moss beneath her paws the only sound as her lavender eyes fixed on the wolf who had spoken. He was resolute, standing with the aura of a King. She, likewise, stood firm, her own posture steady, neither defensive nor submissive.

It seemed they shared the same tongue, something Íruna found no less comforting. “I seek answers.”

Her gaze did not waver as she regarded him. “This is not the place I fell asleep. The gods have brought me far from my home, and I would know why.”

She paused, the thick fur along her neck shifting slightly as the wind moved through the clearing. “Your lands… they are unfamiliar, but they are not mine to tread without reason. If I have trespassed, it is not by choice.”

Íruna’s voice carried no trace of apology, only the weight of truth. She did not ask for permission to stay, nor did she demand it.

sólhárr’s eyes narrowed, though there was no hostility in their gleaming depths, only curiosity. the weight of her words stirred something in him, though he kept his expression composed, regal.

answers, he echoed, his voice low and steady. the gods lead us all, but they rarely explain themselves. he shifted slightly, his towering form cutting an imposing silhouette against the forest's shadows. tell me, seer, the word rolled off his tongue like distant thunder, which gods do you pray to, that they would bring you so far from your home?

his gaze lingered on her, sharp and probing, waiting for her answer. the weight of the máni hung above them, its pale light filtering through the dense canopy. it felt almost fitting for such a question, here in his woods, beneath the watchful eye of his gods.

“I pray to the gods of my people,” she replied, her voice steady, carrying the quiet strength of conviction. “Óðinn, for wisdom. Þórr, for protection. Freyja, for the hearth.” Her gaze flicked upward briefly, taking in the ethereal glow of the moonlight cutting through the pines. “But the gods do not always answer when we call.”

She stepped forward slightly, her movements deliberate, her presence unwavering even in the face of his towering form. “Your woods bear the mark of gods, though they are not mine. Still, their will may yet guide me. Perhaps it is their hand that brought me here.”

Íruna’s tone carried neither defiance nor submission, only an unshakable faith in the path laid before her.

sólhárr studied the grey woman before him, her words steeped in faith and reverence. the sunlight bathed her in its pale glow, casting shadows that danced across her form, as if even the forest conspired to listen.

your gods, he began, his voice low, carrying the weight of the ancient woods around them, they are strong. their will echoes through your words. his gaze followed hers briefly upward, to the máni that hung watchful above them. and here, beneath the máni, i think they see you still.

he took a deliberate step closer, his own presence a blend of calm and command. my gods, he murmured, they do not speak often with words. they guide through the trees, the rivers, the wind. perhaps they, and yours, have whispered together to lead you here. his eyes narrowed slightly, not in malice, but in contemplation. we are not so different, you and i.

sólhárr tilted his head, his voice softening though it retained its deep timbre. will you devote yourself, wanderer? to prayer? to mending? his gaze was steady, seeking something in hers—faith, resolve, or perhaps a glimmer of shared purpose. these woods are sacred, but they are also a sanctuary for those who seek balance. will you walk this path with us?

Íruna stood still, her lavender eyes meeting his with calm resolve. His question lingered between them, weighted but not unwelcome. She took a breath, steady and sure, before speaking.

“I have always devoted myself to prayer,” she said plainly. “To mending what is broken and protecting what must endure. My gods have guided me, as they always will.”

Her gaze shifted briefly upward, to where faint beams of sunlight broke through the canopy above. “If this is where they wish me to be, then I will follow. Balance is found in action, not hesitation.”

She looked back at him, stepping forward just enough to close some of the distance between them. “I will walk with you, Sólhárr. If your forest will have me, I will offer my strength and my faith.”

Her words were direct, spoken without flourish, but her intent was clear. She had been brought here for a reason, and Íruna was not one to question the purpose set before her.

sólhárr regarded the woman for a moment longer, his amber-blue eyes narrowing with thought. her conviction was clear, steady as the earth beneath their paws. the gods had whispered her name into his woods, and now she stood before him, resolute.

then you will walk with us, he said, his deep voice steady, carrying the weight of his acceptance. this forest welcomes those who know the gods and who serve them with purpose.

he inclined his head slightly, a gesture of respect and acknowledgment. i am sólhárr, hárkonungr of this place. tell me, what do the gods call you in return?

his gaze held hers, steady and searching, as though seeking the truth of her answer not only in her words but in the way she carried herself. he was a man of faith, but also of judgment, and every new soul in his woods was a thread to weave into the greater tapestry of forneskja.

Íruna stood tall under his guiding gaze. She let his words settle, the weight of his acceptance grounding her in this unfamiliar place. At his question, she inclined her head slightly, a gesture both respectful and deliberate.

“I am Íruna,” she said, vox steady and clear. “Of Drákensvágr, where the sea and stone shape those who call it home. I am a shieldmaiden, trained to protect, and a healer, called to mend. The gods have guided my hands through both battle and care.”

Her gaze softened, though her tone remained firm. “You say your forest welcomes those with purpose. My purpose is this: I tend to the broken, provide council to the strong, and fight when my hymn commands it.”

Her head dips, a vow of solemn respect. With that movement, Íruna placed her faith in this Hárkonungr. "My Gods and I will serve you and your people's, Sólhárr."

solhárr listened intently, the weight of her words sinking deep into the marrow of his understanding. her voice carried conviction, a steady drumbeat of purpose that resonated with his own vision for forneskja. he stood silent for a moment, as if to honor the oath she had laid before him.

your gods chose well, he said finally, his voice a low rumble that softened at the edges. drákensvágr has forged a strong hand and a steady heart in you. forneskja will be better for it.

amber eyes met lavender as he dipped his head, an acknowledgment of her pledge and the trust placed between them. we are bound by purpose, írúna. may the gods guide us both.

he shifted slightly, his posture signaling the end of their meeting but leaving no doubt of his approval. come, he said, his voice a quiet invitation as he turned toward the path that led deeper into forneskja's domain. your steps are ours now.