Sven Wulfson

Year: 10 AU (After Unification.)

Sven Wulfson's boots echoed through the dimly lit halls of the council building. The hallway was filled with shining monuments on either side, each containing some important figure in its history, at least, that is what Sven assumed. He passed another statue of Idriel, the first and last king of Iriel. The heroic man stood two heads taller than himself. Gazing up into the king's eyes, Sven let a thought pass his mind; If he was that tall, maybe he was a Northman. The thought gave Sven a chuckle. When turning to continue his journey his eyes were suddenly burned by holy light as sunlight shone through the rainbow dyed patterned glass, where angels and demons began to imprint the room. Two opposite species danced together, depicting wars long past. This mural was of Michael's personal war host, blazoned in golds and reds with wings of pure clouds, and of the Galor's own knights, crowned in obsidian armor with fire eating at their skinned wings. Holy symbols that weren't brought down when the war king Idriel took the grand city all those years ago.

Images of the very enslavement humans fought to escape.

The marble flooring beneath him giving a dull shine from the bright stained-glass windows above, as if to distract Sven and allow him to continue his quest. This was a gaudy, pompous, and decadent place, where the so called "high" class spat on the poor. These were not honorable people. No different than the angels who ruled all those years ago.

Sven felt great shame that the Council of the Mother had sent him here.

"You will be our Grand Chieftain, you will join those at the Council of Iriel, to speak for the Great Wolf, and the Den Mother" He toiled the words in his mind.

The Council of Iriel. A grand collection of the many races of this continent. It was the war kings' goal; everyone knew it and didn't want to say it. To unite every species under one banner, so that we were no longer waging pointless war. He wanted a world where nobody lost their homes in fire and blood. In pillage and slaughter. A human strove to defy the natural law placed upon world, thinking human could unite all the war torn, bitter hatred of the lands of Uvatha. These were ideas he defied. Ideas that he accomplished.

And now, he was dead.

It was out of respect for him that the Grand Chieftain even dared step his boots here, which were sullied by the floors he stepped on. Even if Sven wanted nothing more than to tend to his lodge and train with his children and be with his wife, to care for his and his alone, he knew his duty was here. I guess mine and mine alone is the North, now. Sven didn't like those thoughts.

He heard voices getting louder as he finally returned to reality and faced the council chambers that lie ahead. A single voice echoed inside the council room. It chimed inside his head, causing a chill to run down his spine. It sounded devoid of any life.

Whoever it was, they were discussing the elves. From what he could make of their words, the "Empire" had to change their own representative. Placing a scarred hand on the door, Sven pushed inside, letting one question slip through his mind.

What had the Great Wolf wished of him this time?

Year: 7 Before Unification

The frost bit at his bare skin as the wind blew through the trees like a soft kiss. Sven felt it, even through his ginger hair, and carefully braided beard. His raiders ran in a loud, rambunctious silence. Each carried their weapons tightly so that only the sound of snowfall followed their tracks. The silence was broken by the war horn, a bellowing gasp of rage that caused a howl through the warriors, and the bright full moon lit their soon to be blood soaked path.