“I was attacked by a great beast. There has been signs of them living near Avarosa and I did not want them near but–”
He paused and looked around for his sword. The Barbaian King did not feel secure without it in his grasp.
“—-I was only wrestling with a babe. When the mother and it’s herd approached, they were the size of mountains.”
Tryndamere scratched at his nose. “The Freljord could be in great danger.————–
————————– “And, if it is not too much trouble, I’d like my sword back.”
Like a faun learning to walk, Tryndamere stood holding on to frost covered rocks for support
Emilia blinked in shock, nodding after recollecting herself.
“Of course! It’s over here.”
She quickly ran over to grab it, severely underestimating how heavy it was. She tried her best to at least pull it over, deciding it would be faster to simply help Tryndamere grab it himself. She moved back over to him, offering support to stand up.
“It’s uh, a bit heavier than I thought.”
T r y n d a m e r e smirked. It is not uncommon for him to receive flattery on his strength but his favorite form is the indirectness.
“Warriors,”
He began.
“are reflected on the weight of their sword– like burdens.”
He looked at Emilia, the blue markings on her cheeks unfamiliar to him.
“Are you among a family of fighters? Where are you housed?”
If she happens to be apart of the Winter’s Claw- ——————–
He used his sword as a crutch before being able to gain his strength back with a grunt.
