ardent

i'll be immortal

bismuth/fighting seasonal <3



Víðarr

Loner

Master Fighter (245)

Master Hunter (245)

An icon representing the specialty Cooperative Cooperative

age
7 Years
gender
Male
gems
113
size
Dire wolf
build
Heavy
posts
465
player
wicked

OverachieverUnderachieverRapid Poster - BronzePride - PansexualDouble MasterSamhain 2022
Statue 1 Worship1K
01-13-2022, 04:15 AM (This post was last modified: 01-13-2022, 04:16 AM by Víðarr. Edited 1 time in total.)

Predators. In an area with this many resources, it only seemed correct that there was an abundance of predators. While not necessarily on high alert, he was still distinctly uncomfortable. Víðarr thought of the lynx that had attacked his sister, and he could only wonder if there were more like it. The crystals that riddled the thing… it wasn’t okay. The predator hadn’t been okay. Even if whatever was out there wasn’t infected, it was maybe the wakeup call he needed. They needed to be prepared, come what may.

So he would prepare. The best defense is a good offense. Víðarr had spent the morning cleaning away the remnants of their last meal, some sort of goat that he’d managed to catch… not bad, really. He’d set about scraping the hide as well, but this one needed to set for… well, it needed to set for fuck if he knew how long. His sister knew better. He swapped the hide of the goat for the one that she’d set to tanning a few days ago. There would still be plenty of this one when he was done.

Víðarr hunkered down in the shade beside the wall, considering for a long moment. His people were berserkers, armored with nothing more than their faith (and a whole lot of drugs, but that was beside the point.) There were the axes, but Víðarr considered the fact that he had no way to fashion the head of such a weapon. Still, in considering what he could easily wear, came the idea of gauntlets. If he could fashion, find, or trade for spikes that would be even better. The shadow could even go looking for the antlers that the reindeer had dropped, and carve spikes from those.

Carefully, he began measuring the sheet of leather to fit his paws, and considered how he’d piece it together in scales. Víðarr marked the boundaries with a bit of spit as he went… good enough.













VÍÐARR
Ragnarök awaits.


WC: 327