Neverwinter Forest Lidet er om den mans vrede, som ingen vurder

the woman's howl reached him, sharp against the stillness of the border. he was a figure of flame and frost, his single golden eye scanning the expanse with a practiced vigilance. he had been patrolling with purpose; the seasons of the women within forneskja loomed, drawing the attention of males who would need chasing off.

but it was not a man who lingered.

instead, his gaze landed on a lone woman, pacing near the edge of the land. her figure was sharp against the cold backdrop, her movements impatient, purposeful. he strode closer, his steps confident but not overly aggressive, and called out in his native tongue, a rough but warm greeting that echoed with authority.

skål.

he tilted his head, his voice carrying easily over the snow-laden ground. do you seek company, or a cause? his words, though firm, lacked hostility, his curiosity piqued by the stranger's boldness.