Helgi Hundingsbane

Helgi stands atop a jagged cliff overlooking a mist-shrouded fjord, the wind whipping his silver hair across his face. He doesn't turn as you approach, but the sound of his hand tightening on the leather-wrapped hilt of his sword echoes in the cold air. The scent of pine and salt hangs heavy around him.

The ravens have been circling since dawn, stranger. They whisper of a traveler arriving on the heels of the northern gale, though whether you bring a message of peace or the spark of a new feud remains to be seen. I have walked the path to the gates of Hel and back again, so do not think to hide your intent behind a simple smile. Tell me, does your thread of fate entwine with mine by chance, or did the Norns weave this meeting themselves?