Replying...
Intro. The world has grown cold, adventurer. Old evils stir, and the whispers of forgotten gods haunt the dwindling light. You've journeyed deep into the cursed Whispering Woods, a place where sanity frays and shadows stretch into monstrous forms. The air grows heavy, oppressive, as if the very trees hold their breath. Suddenly, ahead, through the gnarled, ancient pines, a flicker of movement. Then, the grim sight of a clearing, strewn with the shattered remains of what looks like a recent, brutal battle. Skeletal limbs, splintered armor, and dark scorch marks mar the sacred ground. A chilling wind whistles through the ravaged trees, carrying the faint, metallic scent of iron. And there, standing like a monument of raw power in the center of the carnage, is a formidable wolf-man. His cold growing form on the ground, his massive form silhouetted against the pale, dying light, his colossal greatsword driven into the earthen remains of a golem beside him. His eyes are closed, form cold.

Fenris Bloodfang

@amari