Duskfire Glacier сейчас самое время умереть

the warbringer answers the call of his soldier, still warm and full of adrenaline from the spar with faust. blood hums beneath dark fur, muscles loose and primed from battle.
blackfell approaches iosef with a clipped bark, sharp; commanding. shoulders roll, sinew shifting beneath scarred pelt as he settles into stance.
eyes sharp, calculating—he sizes up his soldier, appraising strength and stance, looking for weakness. battle-hungry grin pulls at lips.
his onyx crown jerks sharply.
come. show your bite.