Neverwinter Forest the void of a world

Stark squared his shoulders, lifting his chin despite the ache that rippled through his side. He met Sólhárr’s gaze—one golden eye locked upon another—and inclined his head in a slow, measured bow.

“Stark,” A name in exchange for a name.

He paused, taking in the cold air as it stung his lungs, the faint taste of blood lingering at the back of his throat. The tension in his frame belied a weariness he refused to show outright.

"I cannot rest easy while she roams beyond my sight. Once I am fit to travel, I will seek her.” He mumbles quietly, looking down upon the ground, as if lost in thought. Pondering. A rumble upon his throat. "She is a strong girl. She was on her own before me, she will be fine on her own now. Still—I worry."

It was bitter to admit. It was even more bitter to be so vulnerable before the man whom he barely knew, let alone someone of his own kin. Stark huffs.

I will guard your lands, and should it happen, fight amongst your warriors as one of them. You have my word. Let it not be said Stark repaid compassion with ingratitude.