Neverwinter Forest call to arms; pack meeting [11.21.2024]

a call from the king.

one that sounded from mánilundur, of which he was close by. the guardian was quick to heed the howl, dark paws venturing forwards, navigating nimbly, confidently through the weave of thick pines. pushing through the treeline, then, he saw them: the leaders, the foundations of forneskja, standing upon the moonheart. he aimed a low nod at them, a bow that was deep with respect, with loyalty, almost reverant.

moonflowers would ebb and lilt beneath the stone, and he would find his place within the glen, moving to sit a few ways away from the boulder. one of the first to attend, though not the last. one number within the swiftly growing pack. the sögumaðr.

lorekeeper of the pack. faithful. scarlet eyes wandered over ginger and white pelts, watching them, observing, awaiting their words and their wisdom. ears perked and anticipating the footsteps of other forneskjans.

his people, his pride, his ættin.