Stone Circle Bellow until out of breath

So it was true, it truly was him. Drøugr stood as a living testament to his reputation, a titanic warrior whose mere presence commanded both reverence and fear. Relieved that he would not have to offer himself as a sacrifice to his arrogance, Àskell exhaled deeply before following the warrior.

Men... men from the East... he declared. Vicious fighters, countless in number, savages bent on our decimation. Expansionist warriors, ruthless colonizers, far less imposing than the northern berserkers, yet far more cunning.

It was my first battle... he confessed. I had hoped to see it through with my brothers and my father... I should be by their side, in Valhalla! Regret gnawed at him, but he shook it off with a firm jerk of his head. He could not indulge in self-pity; he bore his father’s name and would ensure his own would be passed on.

The clans fell one by one. We mocked those little men... he confessed. My father, he thought that some Jarls had betrayed us. After sharing this with the other clans, we were attacked. A low growl escaped his throat.

Those fucking traitors! Eirik Havardsson, Ljot Eilifsson, Svalfi Hranisson... those bastards who paraded their Eastern whores in their beds, flaunting their exotic pelts!