Quoted By:
Huffud's defense is down to herself and her last, limping warmammoth, the beasts struggling steps leaving dents in the frost covered and porcelain filled valley as Huffud, the great cow-beast, limply grips the great war-cleaver, fingers numb and weak from days of constant clashes. Eyes narrow and nostrils flare as the scent of strange stone is felt again and as she looks to the east, yet another horde, perhaps her last, comes forwards to her for deadly combat.
