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.