There was a stallion on Tinuvel that Garmr had heard whispers about. He was made of shadow and chaos, and just those two alone, was enough to cause Garmr to make the swim to the frozen island. He was equal parts curious as he was excited. Would someone truly give him the violence he so eagerly sought? Would they wrap him up in pain, fury and topped off with the heady scent of blood? He could care less for the heat scent of a mare, blood was the perfect perfume.


When Garmr emerged from the water to stand on the shore, he couldn’t help but peer off to the right and then to the left. The wind whipped against him, tugging his silvery mane around and lifting his thick tendrils of forelock from his face. Was this the right place? If so, Garmr found he was even more excited than before. Not only could his foe potentially fill his insatiable hunger, but the territory also itself might be a battle itself. Only further exploration could tell.


Ears forward now, Garmr traipsed further into the territory without a care who’s land he crossed. He didn’t know how many borders he crossed, feuds he might ensue from his lingering scent, only pressed forward in his search for the beast that called this home. Instead of a stallion’s scream, Garmr was eventually met with the howls of wolves mingled in the howling wind that had only grown stronger. Eventually, he tucks his ears into his thick knots of mane as he is forced to seek shelter. He couldn’t die in this frigid storm that was clearly rolling in. Then how would he have any fun picking a fight he already knew he couldn’t win?


GARMR