Boartusk Heights Corpus Craggus

The real question was — did he really need those bodies? Was this an inevitability, pairing Tulimaq and the mountain? He had never been urged to take control by Tartok, always the underling (but a warrior all the same). He had come to these wilds to seek a name, not to correct the flaws he found along the way, but he was here and he was capable so, why not? Why not linger here, out of reach of the unworthy, and build himself an empire?

He was getting ahead of himself; all Tulimaq had right now was an unruly mountain that even he didn't want to waste time upon. There were no wolves in the surrounding valleys that were worthy of this terrible place. But to tame it — to master something as volatile as this mountain, with its oddities and its dangers, that did intrigue him. It wasn't so different from his original purpose, he mused. He had come for a name — and would the wolves here stop him? Would this mountain? He was greater than both of them, and he knew it. Tartok had birthed him and Tulimaq knew no limits.

Strangely, Tulimaq felt emboldened by this casual conversation. His thoughts were fleeting and swift, but when the stranger's words found his ears he felt a calm descend across him. The stranger was right; if there were able bodies, truly able bodies, Tulimaq would find them. That brought another thought - and a question - to mind: You seem able, he offered with a raise of his brow, finally studying the stranger's physique and demeanor. They didn't seem bothered by the harrowing cliffs, narrow paths, or dying trees. Where did you come from? For he was quite unlike the weak-willed beasts Tulimaq had found so far.