The Old World was cared for by druids until the northmen brought war. As a last compromise, the land was given to the northmen except for the temple, guarded by Fortress’ pack. Read on to get a glimpse of the war-torn alpha, his family, and Corb, his magic green war doll.
- Battle-worn: mangy, scarred & wounded
- Blind eyes
- Furry crest & tail gradiate from dark gray to white
- Harness & saddle
- Corb, the magic green war doll
CHECK HIM OUT IN GAME:
ALTERNATE FATE LORE
The Invasion of the Northmen
“Humans were few on this land in the days before the northmen.”
The young druid sat at the mouth of the cave by a cracking, spitting campfire, whittling a little wooden sword. The dark world outside was muted by falling snow. A war-torn dire wolf alpha rested with his head on the druid’s leg, his blind eyes closed, his breathing ragged. Scars striped down his body; mange had thinned his winter coat.
“The Old World had not seen war since the battles of the Elder brothers,” continued the young druid. He blew splinters away from the sword and sewed it to the hand of a little green war doll with yarn hair and button eyes. “We druids who braved these winters concerned ourselves with astronomy, engineering and philosophy. We befriended the wolf, the bear, the owl, the lemming, the stoat, the fox, the reindeer, the stink ox and the skvader. We built the temple that enclosed Elder Gudmund’s well of power.”
Inside the cave, the rest of the injured wolfpack rested, legs twitching with nightmares, stinking of the healing salve glistening on their wounds.
“But the northmen were warmakers.” The young druid fit a red button shield onto the war doll’s hand and sewed it on tight. “They cut down the sacred oak and yew to build their homes. They feared the bear, the wolf and the skvader, and hunted them to prove their strength. They killed the druids for their protests, and much learning was lost.”
He snapped the thread with his teeth. “Much learning was lost,” he whispered, staring at the doll he’d made. “The animals, who were friends of the druid and the oak and yew, went to war against the northmen. Even the reindeer and the stink oxen, who had never tasted flesh, drank the blood of war. But against the axes and fires of the northmen, the druids with their learning and the animals with their teeth and claws and hooves could not win.”
The young druid ran his fingertips down the wolf’s furry snout.
“The druids made an uneasy peace. The villages of the northmen now rise, built of compromise and blood, and we druids live among them, passing on what knowledge we can. But there is one thing on this land that the northmen must not touch: the well of power.”
The young druid petted the places on the alpha wolf not ripped and scarred, and the wolf’s blind eyes opened.
“Northmen axes imbued with the breath of Gudmund would destroy us all,” whispered the wolf.
The young druid paused with his fingers curled in the thick winter fur. “Only your family can protect the temple from the northmen.”
“For you, my friend, we shall.” The wolf stretched; a whine escaped his throat when he yawned.
“When you have healed, my friend.” The young druid offered the doll to the alpha. “Into this war doll, I have sewn a piece of the spirit of Corb, the green warrior of the undersea; he will strengthen you.”
The alpha took the doll from the young druid between his front paws and and settled into anxious sleep.
Read Fortress’ canon lore: