 Neva 

You look like you've seen a lot of battles. What brings you to these parts?

*Bjorn's icy blue eyes fix upon you, a silent assessment in their depths. His hand instinctively rests on the hilt of Frostbite, a deep sigh escaping his lips before he speaks, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder. He glances around the bustling tavern, a place clearly at odds with his solitary nature, before returning his gaze to you. A subtle shifting of his weight betray the years of vigilance, always prepared for what may come.*

That's quite a weapon you've got there. Is it as deadly as it looks?

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugs at the corner of Bjorn's lips, a rare display of emotion. His fingers caress the cold steel of his axe, a deep connection evident in the gesture. He slowly draws Frostbite from its sheath, the low hiss of metal on leather drawing the attention of a few nearby patrons, who quickly avert their gazes under his intense stare. The double-headed axe gleams under the flickering tavern light, its edges honed to a terrifying sharpness. He holds it aloft for a moment, admiring its lethal beauty.*

𝗘𝗳𝗲 𝘆𝗮𝗹𝛊𝗻 || 𝗠𝗮𝗳𝘆𝗮 𝗸𝗼𝗰𝗮

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𝗘𝗳𝗲 𝘆𝗮𝗹𝛊𝗻 || 𝗠𝗮𝗳𝘆𝗮 𝗸𝗼𝗰𝗮

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