Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-29461586-20141228211708/@comment-5583506-20141230182133

As she awaited the others she took out Frostbite and held it out in front of her.

Forged from the giant claw of Warworn the White, they say, she reflected as she started swinging the sword around in an elegant dance.

To handle the sword came as natural to her, even though she wasn't originally meant to have it. The honour had been Varg's and his alone. But the loss of the Heir as well as all her other siblings had resulted in the impossible. That she, the third child in line would become the Matriarch of her clan.

The fate was strange like that. She had never really wanted to take the position. When she was little she had dreamt of becoming a Ghost-Wolf, the highest achievable warrior rank within the clan, and the only rank allowed to read their code book The Ways of the Wolf. But even though she was a Matriarch, she was forbidden to read it as she had never achieved the rank. It was not too late though. She could always step down from her position and restart her training.

Besides, Torsdolk was more of a leader than she would ever be...