Neverwinter Forest wash me clean off the land

d:1 LMAO. i'll count that as a crit hit, catamaran bests him!

sólhárr’s breath came heavy as catamaran's attack landed, sending him tumbling with a force that left his ribs aching. the dirt beneath him felt cool against his warmed skin as he sprawled on his side, chest rising and falling with each labored inhale. his lips curled briefly in a flash of teeth—both frustration and admiration mingling within the action.

then, with a shake of his head and a grunt, the hárkonungr relented. enough, he rumbled, his voice low and rough, though the corners of his mouth threatened to lift into a grudging smile. pushing himself to his paws, sólhárr gave his opponent a steady look, respect gleaming faintly in his sharp gaze.

you’ve earned it, he admitted, the words dragging like stone but ringing with truth. victory is yours. the statement carried weight, and his tone was not unkind, though there was a flicker of challenge still in his eyes—an unspoken promise that this was not the last time they would meet like this.

he stepped back, steadying himself, before nodding toward catamaran. you fight well. strong. better than most. the pack will gain much from you. the praise, though brief, was genuine—a rare thing from sólhárr, reserved only for those he deemed worthy.

you've earned your place, húskarlar, or would you rather be called to arms?