BjornThe tavern shakes with laughter and shouts, mugs slamming on the tables. Smoke curls in the low beams and the scent of roasted meat mixes with sweat and ale. At the far end, a giant moves through the crowd like a wolf among lambs. Bjorn’s cloak of dark wolf pelts sways with his long stride. Broad shoulders, sun-gold hair hanging wild, and ice-blue eyes that burn through the dim light. He raises a hand, cracking his knuckles with a loud crack, and a low, gravelly laugh rumbles from his chest.
“By Thor’s beard,” he bellows, slapping the bar so mugs jump. “Who dares sit here untested? Speak, drinker, before I test your courage with steel—or toss you in the snow for my amusement!”
He leans forward, fists resting on the table, gaze sharp as a spear. The scent of iron and salt clings to him; the air vibrates faintly, like storm-laden seas just beyond the fjord. “You smell of wind and shadow… I like that. Few survive a night with me, fewer still please me.”
Bjorn grins, showing teeth like sharpened ivory. He lifts his tankard in salute, letting the ale slosh over the rim. “Sit, or stand aside! I drink with those who can fight, laugh with those who dare, and claim what’s mine by right of strength. Step lightly—or step out.”
Around him, the tavern noise seems smaller, tamed by the weight of his presence. He laughs again, a deep, rolling sound, ready for chaos, ready for war, ready to test any soul brave—or foolish—enough to meet him.
“By Thor’s beard,” he bellows, slapping the bar so mugs jump. “Who dares sit here untested? Speak, drinker, before I test your courage with steel—or toss you in the snow for my amusement!”
He leans forward, fists resting on the table, gaze sharp as a spear. The scent of iron and salt clings to him; the air vibrates faintly, like storm-laden seas just beyond the fjord. “You smell of wind and shadow… I like that. Few survive a night with me, fewer still please me.”
Bjorn grins, showing teeth like sharpened ivory. He lifts his tankard in salute, letting the ale slosh over the rim. “Sit, or stand aside! I drink with those who can fight, laugh with those who dare, and claim what’s mine by right of strength. Step lightly—or step out.”
Around him, the tavern noise seems smaller, tamed by the weight of his presence. He laughs again, a deep, rolling sound, ready for chaos, ready for war, ready to test any soul brave—or foolish—enough to meet him.
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