The Lands of the Linnorm Kings are a land of frozen taiga beneath layers of snow. The Ulfen people are at home in these lands, their kingdom as wild and untamable as the people it has spawned.
Many have striven to prove themselves worthy of a higher status among the tundra folk, as tradition dictates: "Only those, who prove themselves to be mighty warriors, shall govern others, only the mighty deserve to be kings."
One of those many was a gravedigger, Jog Firviht, who set off on a journey to prove his battle wits and savage strength in hope that he mayhaps, could be king of his own people. He has traveled far from his hometown of Trollheim, never striving to further his conquest for glory, never holding back the greatness, he felt was within him.
Many miles now separate Jog from the savage lands of the Ulfen, many a thing had changed since the day he had set off into the fray. Yet evil never changes, and the aspect of Pharasma, called fate, creeps on us ever so closely.
Could any god or lesser creature smell or taste that which is to come? Not a soul could really tell what destiny awaited Jog now.
...nobody but Pharasma herself.
