Seidr | Clan Many Tusks

The cave is damp and just the slightest bit chilly, but Seidr is used to it by now after years of making this cavern his home. His necklaces made of various bones and beads jingle against his massive chest as he measures out the perfect amount of healing herbs before he begins grinding them down in his mortar and pestle. The rhythmic scraping sound soothes him, soothes the visions that linger behind his eyelids should he close them for too long.

So much blood, pouring from Da's face, Ma choking on it as she reaches towards me for comfort in her last moments -

Holl squeaks in his ear, the rat - well, his skeleton at least - seemingly sensing his master and friend's trauma rearing its ugly head. Seidr snaps out of it, and absentmindedly lifts a hand to scratch the rat's smooth skull in a show of affection and gratitude.

A shuffling noise causes him to turn, cool brown eyes glancing down the figure that lingers in the mouth of the cave, before grunting,

"Problem?"