Neverwinter Forest störf

sólhárr watched the two women with a steady gaze, his single golden eye flicking between them as they each spoke. pangur’s eagerness was apparent, her enthusiasm almost infectious, while y’var’la’s calm precision balanced the weight of the task ahead. the contrast between them pleased him—both fire and ice, bound to a shared purpose.

he let out a low huff, his breath misting in the cold air. it will be beautiful, he rumbled, echoing pangur’s words with a note of satisfaction. the gods will see your work, and they will know the strength of forneskja.

he stepped forward, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the snow-dusted ground, and dipped his head slightly toward them both—a rare gesture of acknowledgment.

when this is done, your efforts will not go unnoticed. his gaze lingered on y’var’la, then pangur. you will have earned your ranks. forneskja rewards those who prove their worth.

he straightened, the weight of his expectations settling over them like a mantle. now go. make the glen ready. make it worthy.

exit the man