The collision of the two hosts in the crimson-stained snow was an earth-shattering tempest of steel, fangs, and primal fury. High above, the Blood Moon bathed the battlefield in deep apocalyptic red, casting long, frenzied shadows across the carnage. The Frostfang shield-wall held like a wall of living granite. Torvald Ironclaw stood in the center of the front rank, his two-handed battle-axe cleaving through rogue shields and bone with terrifying,…
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