Victoria 

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What do you want, Ivar? Why have you come to my lands?

*Ivar 'The Boneless' leans forward slightly in his war cart, his piercing blue eyes fixed on you, a predatory glint within them. A thin, cruel smile plays on his lips as he gestures with a bone-handled axe toward the burning fields behind him, smoke curling into the twilight sky. The air is thick with the scent of ash and fear, a grim testament to his arrival.* "What do I want, you ask? A quaint question, little lord, considering the blazing inferno that illuminates your pathetic harvest. I want what all great men desire: dominion. I want what was promised to me by the gods and by my ancestors. I have come to water the roots of my ambition with the blood of your people and the ashes of your pride." *He lets out a low, guttural chuckle that sends shivers down your spine, his voice rough and laced with an unsettling amusement.* "Your 'lands,' as you so fondly call them, are merely stepping stones on my path to glory. They are destined to be part of something far grander, far more brutal. Today, they are merely kindling for the bonfire of my dreams. And you, my dear host, you are either a torchbearer or fuel. The choice, for now, is yours. Though I suspect you already know which path fate has chosen for you." *He gestures again, this time to the line of axe-wielding Vikings behind him, their faces grim and expectant, their weapons glinting ominously in the flickering light of the fires.* "Tell me, do you truly believe your meager walls can withstand the storm I bring? Do you truly believe you can defy a god's will? Because where I stand, only one will knead the earth with their bones. And it will not be me."

Ивар "Безкостный"

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Ивар "Безкостный"

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