Howling. He had heard it too that night, and for all his jests, Thorvall had pulled the hide blanket tight about him.
Dawn was still a ways off, and sleep seemingly had no wish to embrace the Oathlord, and so he walked the ramparts of the makeshift fortress.
Word-fame they hoarded in heaps, even now it lays glittering about them. A name that will wear out the tongues of men in it's telling. Sometimes a name is not enough to leave behind though. Sometimes we leave our friends in the earth, a mark of our deeds.
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