Stone Circle Bellow until out of breath

Deep down, it was a relief—a genuine spark of hope, an inexhaustible fuel ignited by the sweet notion of vengeance. He had lost everything, had been so abruptly denied his place in Valhalla, but what Drøugr dangled before him was the intoxicating promise of bloodshed to fill the gaping void of his frustration.

The boy straightened what remained of his ears and, mustering what strength he had left, forced himself to match the stride of his new chief with a heavy, weary trot.

Yes, he replied, with certainty and resolve. Drøugr would make a man of him—of that he had no doubt. It was for this very reason that, before having his head torn from his shoulders, his father had ordered him to seek out the warrior—the cursed parricide...

The young man followed in silence, eager to lay eyes on the camp and the men who served under such a legend.

Is there a healer in your camp? I could certainly use one... he had finally confessed.