
It was the south that he seemed to be avoid as he trekked north, a welcome distraction that he was tipped off to by Lilja. She seemed shaken but she didn't hesitate to let slip that someone had appeared while they were gone, a man cast into the raging waters in the middle of the night. Lilja had said he was a man of red, going by the name...
Tyr could hear shouting in a familiar yet ghostly language. If his eyes didn't deceive him, that was also the body of a man coated in red.
Thorvald.he interrupted the walking man.
He couldn't deny his luck, but this man was hulking, his voice as angry as his body was red. Tyr sported a neutral expression, unsure of what he was about to meet, be it a brother in blood or a rival he needed to see off. With Sovereign looking after the pack, he wasn't exactly backed up like he wished he could be.
What angers you, brother?The Norwegian of his accent slipped through, thickened by the Scandinavian before him. They may both be Norse, but they were cut from different cloth.







