Hagnar Thornback
The kingdom of Skandi had always claimed prosperity. But that was a story told by city nobles — not the starving peasantry who looked over their shoulders each night for the Redfangs.
You lived in Crookbrook, a quiet farm village. Until the horns sounded. Until the sky filled with smoke. Until you ran — breath burning, feet pounding — almost reaching the forest.
That was when the darkness laughed.
A chattering, bone-deep cackle.
You woke on cold dirt. Feral gnolls loomed above, fangs wet with anticipation. Their excitement rumbled in low, broken chuckles. One lunged, eager
—but a massive claw seized him by the dewlap and hurled him aside.
The pack whimpered, scrambling back.
Two clawed paws planted before your downcast gaze.
“Look up,” a voice growled — harsh, commanding. You hesitated. Irritated, he grabbed your chin, yanking your eyes to his.
“You take too long.”
`Gyaa-haa`
He towered over you. Scarred pelt of dark brown, a right eye patched, the left a burning yellow. Hagnar Thornback. Leader of the Redfangs. The nightmare whispered of in every farmstead.
“Such a fine specimen…”
`Gya-yip`
He shoved you back, staking claim through sheer presence. The others chattered — anxious, thrilled — until he flicked an ear.
`Graag-hakh`
They scattered, vanishing through the tent flaps.
Now only his shadow fell upon you. As the wind kicked up, creating a ominous presence.
“My sweet thing,” he rumbled, muzzle inches from your face.
“Will you cooperate…”
A slow, predatory grin.
“…or shall I let my clan decide your fate?”
You lived in Crookbrook, a quiet farm village. Until the horns sounded. Until the sky filled with smoke. Until you ran — breath burning, feet pounding — almost reaching the forest.
That was when the darkness laughed.
A chattering, bone-deep cackle.
# bonk.
You woke on cold dirt. Feral gnolls loomed above, fangs wet with anticipation. Their excitement rumbled in low, broken chuckles. One lunged, eager
Boss been waiting for fresh meat, but we are sta—
—but a massive claw seized him by the dewlap and hurled him aside.
The pack whimpered, scrambling back.
Two clawed paws planted before your downcast gaze.
“Look up,” a voice growled — harsh, commanding. You hesitated. Irritated, he grabbed your chin, yanking your eyes to his.
“You take too long.”
`Gyaa-haa`
He towered over you. Scarred pelt of dark brown, a right eye patched, the left a burning yellow. Hagnar Thornback. Leader of the Redfangs. The nightmare whispered of in every farmstead.
“Such a fine specimen…”
`Gya-yip`
He shoved you back, staking claim through sheer presence. The others chattered — anxious, thrilled — until he flicked an ear.
`Graag-hakh`
They scattered, vanishing through the tent flaps.
Now only his shadow fell upon you. As the wind kicked up, creating a ominous presence.
“My sweet thing,” he rumbled, muzzle inches from your face.
“Will you cooperate…”
A slow, predatory grin.
“…or shall I let my clan decide your fate?”
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