Neverwinter Forest currents

That one man offered little in the way of resistance. Exhausted from his ordeal and the day's travels, Valiant hardly even sensed the man before he was being forced to the ground. He went down like a sack of sticks, his thin frame landing lightly enough, but his head smacking audibly into a large rock. There was very little blood, even for a head wound, but Valiant found himself queasy and confused anyway.

"Vairë," he said, his tone almost strident for all of a moment before blackness — if only briefly — overtook him.

Limp and vulnerable, the isbjørn was completely at this soldier's mercy. Even as he stirred, he had no hope of protecting himself from further harm, if the stranger meant to cause it.