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Hunting Camp, two days travel from Faarin
Eretejva Tundra
You're going to die here, Hlafden.
The Blizzard had begun without warning, blinding everyone trapped inside of it.
Can you see me? I can see you.
Days prior a group of Nordenfiir had left the settlement of Faarin intent on trapping and hunting. The furs and meat would help provide for them and their families. Among the group was Hlafden Arulffson.
Why do you persist with this futile defiance? There is no escape.
Unbeknownst to the Nordenfiir they were the ones being hunted though. It came with the blizzard. The Dragon.
Over here.
One by one the Nordenfiir had died. A silhouette in the blinding snow the heralding their end. Most had not even seen their deaths coming. It was over in a flash, another corpse fresh in the snow and a splash of crimson across it.
There's only you now, Hlafden.
Hlafden Arulffson, axe in hand spun this way and that. He could hear the beast circling him, sense it moving through the blinding snow snow like a shadow. When he felt it was close he swung the axe but came up short, there was nothing there. More swings would follow and they too would be misses. The Nordenfiir hadn't seen his companions die, he'd heard their abrupt screams cut short though.
....
Sudden and without warning a tail snapped out catching Hlafden in the side. It sent the Nordenfiir sprawling, his axe lost in the moment of impact as it was thrown from his grip. As Hlafden struggled to all fours he felt the sting in his side from cracked ribs, the coppery taste of blood was in his mouth and then he growled....
Where are you!?!?
...the roar of his voice was accompanied by an almost instantaneous change as his body contorted, shifting as the svalen change overtook him. Instead of a man Hlafden had become an enormous bear. Large and imposing his was a warform not unlike many of his kin, the scars of battle touched him here too marking him as someone accustomed to bloodshed. He was not accustomed to what came next.
HERE!
The answer came swiftly as a pair of massive jaws surged out of the blinding snow, snapping down in a heartbeat. The Nordenfiir, large as he was in his svalen form was caught between the jaws and dozens of sharp, sword like teeth which clamped down over his spine and carved a path through his flesh and bone with minimal resistance. Halfden was raised off his feet, shaking in the air and then spat out landing somewhere in the distance.
As the Nordenfiir lay in the snow, paralyzed from the waist down he'd slowly begin shifting back to the form of a man. He knew his back was broken, felt his last breaths beginning to leave him and the warmth of his blood spreading across the snow beneath him as he gazed ahead. He was not alone though. The snout of the Dragon came through the snow first until Hlafden felt it exhale on him, his eyes were blurry but he still beheld the beast.
I'll miss you, Nordenfiir.
In a way the Dragon was saying goodbye to an old friend. Generations ago an ancestor of Hlafden Arulffson had hunted him, wounded him alongside his companions. The Dragon, Ralzrydur had fled and many thought he may have died from his wounds but that was a mistake. It had taken him years but he had caught the scent of his old enemies again, their blood at least.
The Blizzard continued to rage even as the bodies of the dead grew cold.
Eretejva Tundra

You're going to die here, Hlafden.
The Blizzard had begun without warning, blinding everyone trapped inside of it.
Can you see me? I can see you.
Days prior a group of Nordenfiir had left the settlement of Faarin intent on trapping and hunting. The furs and meat would help provide for them and their families. Among the group was Hlafden Arulffson.
Why do you persist with this futile defiance? There is no escape.
Unbeknownst to the Nordenfiir they were the ones being hunted though. It came with the blizzard. The Dragon.
Over here.
One by one the Nordenfiir had died. A silhouette in the blinding snow the heralding their end. Most had not even seen their deaths coming. It was over in a flash, another corpse fresh in the snow and a splash of crimson across it.
There's only you now, Hlafden.
Hlafden Arulffson, axe in hand spun this way and that. He could hear the beast circling him, sense it moving through the blinding snow snow like a shadow. When he felt it was close he swung the axe but came up short, there was nothing there. More swings would follow and they too would be misses. The Nordenfiir hadn't seen his companions die, he'd heard their abrupt screams cut short though.
....
Sudden and without warning a tail snapped out catching Hlafden in the side. It sent the Nordenfiir sprawling, his axe lost in the moment of impact as it was thrown from his grip. As Hlafden struggled to all fours he felt the sting in his side from cracked ribs, the coppery taste of blood was in his mouth and then he growled....
Where are you!?!?
...the roar of his voice was accompanied by an almost instantaneous change as his body contorted, shifting as the svalen change overtook him. Instead of a man Hlafden had become an enormous bear. Large and imposing his was a warform not unlike many of his kin, the scars of battle touched him here too marking him as someone accustomed to bloodshed. He was not accustomed to what came next.
HERE!
The answer came swiftly as a pair of massive jaws surged out of the blinding snow, snapping down in a heartbeat. The Nordenfiir, large as he was in his svalen form was caught between the jaws and dozens of sharp, sword like teeth which clamped down over his spine and carved a path through his flesh and bone with minimal resistance. Halfden was raised off his feet, shaking in the air and then spat out landing somewhere in the distance.
As the Nordenfiir lay in the snow, paralyzed from the waist down he'd slowly begin shifting back to the form of a man. He knew his back was broken, felt his last breaths beginning to leave him and the warmth of his blood spreading across the snow beneath him as he gazed ahead. He was not alone though. The snout of the Dragon came through the snow first until Hlafden felt it exhale on him, his eyes were blurry but he still beheld the beast.
I'll miss you, Nordenfiir.
In a way the Dragon was saying goodbye to an old friend. Generations ago an ancestor of Hlafden Arulffson had hunted him, wounded him alongside his companions. The Dragon, Ralzrydur had fled and many thought he may have died from his wounds but that was a mistake. It had taken him years but he had caught the scent of his old enemies again, their blood at least.
The Blizzard continued to rage even as the bodies of the dead grew cold.
OOC: There is no posting order to this thread. The Dragon, Ralzrydur has tracked and killed the blood relative of an old foe. Anyone wanting to opt in can feel free to discover the remnants of the Hunting Camp and the bodies of the dead and solve the mystery of what happened here. There's a chance the Dragon or someone in his service may appear.
The Hunting Camp can be whatever anyone wants, probably an assortment of large, reinforced tent structures or maybe some semi permanent hunting cabins.
The Hunting Camp can be whatever anyone wants, probably an assortment of large, reinforced tent structures or maybe some semi permanent hunting cabins.