Neverwinter Forest You soon find you have few choices

@Luhtar

sólhárr kept close to the den he had dug for his songbird, his presence a steadfast guard in the quiet night. his ears remained alert, tuned to the subtle shifts in the forest around him. above, bats flitted silently, their wings creating faint whispers through the branches. the wind pressed against his fur, carrying the sharp bite of the season’s change, yet he stood undeterred, rooted to his vigil.

it was a quiet solitude, one he had learned to find peace in—until the sudden snap of a branch cracked through the stillness. his muscles tightened, and he rose immediately, his frame rigid as he scanned the shadows. his gaze swept over the darkness, eyes sharp, senses on high alert as he readied himself for whatever presence had disturbed the night.

the forest had grown silent, holding its breath as he stood there, poised and ready, the calm but unyielding protector.

Luhtar stirred, blinking against the dim light filtering through the trees above. He lay still for a moment, the cold earth pressing against his back, the faint smell of moss and loam filling his senses. He had no memory of how he’d come to be here, sprawled out on the forest floor with dew clinging to his fur. Yet, as he pushed himself up, he felt no need to question it; perhaps he'd slept walk. His parents had always spoke of him doing that as a youngling.

His large paws sank slightly into the wet earth with each step. To wake in the mid of night was odd, but to feel completely rested was uncharacteristic for the wolf. He enjoyed his winks; if allowed, he could easily hibernate akin to a great grizzly in need of a season's worth of rest. Luhtar kept his head low, eyes sharp, ears swiveling to catch the smallest sounds. There was nothing but the chirp of crickets and the droning lull of an owl, an eerie call that seemed to be following him.

He pushed past the brush, throwing spatial awareness to the wind. His head was too foggy for him to be caring about what may lurk behind the gnarled trees and roots of the woodland he occupied. When he let his eyes adjust to the light, he found himself staring face to face with a bristling ginger wolf. Lips curled, teeth bared, his offense stance immediately had Luhtar taking several bracing steps backwards. He huffed a warning call, a plume of breath dissipating from his ringed nostrils and mouth.

Something about this stranger was... familiar. Luhtar's lowered head pushed back through the brushes he used to shield himself with, ignoring the briars that tore at his thick neck fur. The wolf before him stirred something deep in his memory. A memory of jovial laughter and feasting, the arrival of a hailed leader from the north with fur as warm as the sun's wrath. His name had been... Sólhárr . But -- Luhtar's eyes swirled with confusion as he looked upon the stranger.

"Sólhárr?"

his gaze sharpened as the stranger emerged from the undergrowth, a presence uninvited and unsettling. the bristling of his own ginger fur, the low growl thrumming in his chest, spoke volumes—he was a wolf who trusted little, and even less so when faced with unknowns in the dead of night. his hazeled eyes narrowed as he took in the stranger’s disoriented expression, the hesitant steps as though pulled by some faint thread of recognition.

he held his ground, ears pinned slightly back, his stance unyielding. the scent of this wolf was unfamiliar, his movements cautious yet with an odd certainty, as if he recognized something that sólhárr could not see. he had stepped closer. stay away from his songbird. she slept peacefully, don't touch.

then, the stranger spoke his name. the sound of it, uttered by a voice that shouldn’t have known it, sent a prickling through sólhárr’s spine. his skepticism deepened, but curiosity flickered beneath it, a cautious willingness to listen—if only for a moment.

luhtar? he repeated, voice low and wary, testing the name as if it held answers.

His own name falling from the lips of the then stranger was all the confirmation that the wolf needed. A ripple of recognition passed through him; it started with his eyes that slowly unglazed, his stance that unstiffened, and his fur that no longer bristled with alarm. He spoke again, this time, almost sounding relieved. Perhaps he had forgotten just how alone he'd felt before. "How?" Visibly confused, he looked to the other for answers he didn't have himself, his shoulders rising and falling with his hurried breaths.

Being exiled from Huldfall felt like a distant, but painful thing. He remembered all of it. The shame, the ridicule. Being outcasted from his own family. "You are no Svarthjalm." They had taunted. His own mother and father refused to look him in the eye. The girl he had been sweet on buried her face into the chest of another. But none of that mattered anymore -- not in comparison to the molten hot embarassment that spread across his skin.

Did Sólhárr know? Had news of his shame reached even Vetrfjörðr? If he did know, it didn't show in the way he looked at Luhtar. He took a steadying breath, before his gaze hesitantly tore from the jarl to the den he guarded. "Where... are we? Am I in Vetrfjörðr?"

sólhárr’s eyes softened, the flicker of a memory tracing his gaze as it swept over luhtar, lingering momentarily on the hardened lines of the wolf’s face. he didn’t speak right away; he hardly needed to. instead, his form shifted as if the air around them were a familiar blanket, as though he had always belonged here—in this new, unclaimed land he envisioned for his own. his own past, his own losses… they didn't matter now.

he stood taller, the strength in his stance quiet but unyielding, like a rock cleaving through ice. his eyes flitted briefly toward the den nearby, where the soft breaths of his songbird could almost be heard on the wind. a strange peace settled over him. this was not vetrfjörðr, and yet it held pieces of it in his resolve, his purpose to build anew, somewhere his own. no, his gaze returned to luhtar, a slight shake of his head answering the wolf’s question. no, they were far from what once was.

in the silence, sólhárr’s stare held the promise of something untouched, his intentions imprinted in every breath he took. the old lives they’d left behind—those scars could fade here, if they were willing. there was nothing more he needed to say. only the unspoken understanding that, whatever luhtar had once faced, it was nothing to sólhárr now. here, in this place that he would forge from wilderness, they both might find what had eluded them for too long.

this is forneskja. a new world. join me, berserkr.

Luhtar’s gaze was quiet, flittering between Sólhárr and his words and the world around them with measure. He let the weight of them settle in his chest, Sólhárr's promise of something new stirring an ache he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since he was outcast. Forneskja. A world untouched, a place capable of becoming something greater.

Luhtar's heavy head turned slightly to let his eyes sweep across the forest. Nothing about the forest spoke of any familiar, and yet... there was something about it… comforting, like the embrace of a warm friend. Maybe a sense of family lurking behind the dark canopies of night. It was nothing like Huldfall, and maybe that was a good thing.

Tales of a resolute, unyielding leader had reached even Huldfall, stories of a wolf with strength unchallenged. A Jarl unseen before. Thor come again. Sólhárr’s name had been spoken with a respect many questioned, for, how could it be true? A wolf capable of commanding armies with his mere words. Luhtar's eyes flashed with recognition as they flicked back to the ginger brute.

“I will stand with you,” Luhtar's vow was hesitant -- only at first -- before resolute. There was a sense of belonging in his chest. Here, with his Dróttinn. Here, in Forneskja. He would be all that he was meant to be. 

The people would know the name Svarthjalm.

sólhárr watched as the quiet resolve settled into luhtar’s gaze, seeing in him the echoes of a shared purpose, of kin not by blood but by fate. as the younger wolf stepped closer, sólhárr pressed his forehead to luhtar’s, feeling the weight of the vow hang between them like the ancient roots of their homeland.

bundinn af blóði, reyndur af jörð, he murmured, his voice a reverent whisper that drifted through the trees, ancient words binding them together. the mantra fell from his lips like a promise, a vow spoken to the earth itself. sólhárr lingered for a moment, allowing the strength of their connection to take hold.

he pulled back, his gaze warm but fierce. then stand with me, luhtar, he said, voice steady and resolute. here in forneskja, you will find what you’ve been seeking. the land remembers, and it welcomes you, as do i.

your legacy will rise. just as mine.