The Wolves of Vinland are Building a Tribe Outside the System
"Brothers will battle to bloody end, and sisters’ sons their sib betray;
woe’s in the world, much wantonness;
axe-age, sword-age—sundered are shields—wind-age, wolf-age, ere the world crumbled;
will the spear of no man spare the other.
~ “Völuspá”
Grimnir moved barefoot through the dirt at Ulfheim like he didn’t know he wasn’t wearing cowboy boots.
He rolled his shoulders, shook out his neck, and called out to Frejulf. This would be Grimnir’s third match of the day, and it wouldn’t be his last.
Frejulf seemed chipper for a kid who knew was about to get his face fucked up. He was a junior patch member of the Wolves, and this was going to be a disciplinary beatdown. Grimnir, leader of the Lynchburg chapter, had promised that if Frejulf didn’t get some extracurricular mixed martial arts training within a few months, he would show him why he needed it. Frejulf knew his time was up.
