Mountain God

It was always cold on the mountain. Perhaps that's why Víðarr liked it so much. Cold, cold enough that the wet spring snow hadn't melted off near the top of the mountain. At the bottom, the ground remained damp, with runoff from higher up feeding down into the Polar Sound. Erik and Morganna had returned with him, from his trip to Tojo-kai. The weather this time of year did them no favors. The viking king now, swept down the mountain with his son at his side. Erik would come with him to greet the visitors. Their return call comes without delay. No need to keep them waiting, at least more than necessary as they came down from the expansive Maw.

Two large wolves stood at the foot of the mountain, garnering a gentle nod from the viking king. "I am Víðarr Trygg, my son, Erik." He gestures to the boy with his muzzle, letting the boy save his breath for now. He slides an appraising glance over both. The man first, then the woman. Strangers, though they seem too well kept to be entirely alone. The woman perhaps a bit more gaunt than he would like to see... were they well? No, he would allow the travelers to speak for themselves. His tone warm, a bit of mirth in his expression as well. Travelers were always welcome here, it's among the most important parts of their faith. "What brings you to Heiðinn?"

"Víðarr"