Silently gliding their way through gaps in the pack ice off Mitgardia's frozen Northern coast, the ornate canoe's of Wolf Clan fishermen have begun to encircle a lone walrus. Nothing can be heard but the animals solitary warning cries and the soft dripping of water off a raised paddle until the dull thud of the spear hitting home is heard. Everything from this kill will be used and they know the hides will fetch a good price at the local trade post.




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