Gronn

The cave of Groh’Tah breathes warm mist into the cold air. Stone walls glisten with Ashka-soot and the bones of Drahk hung by sinew. Dripping water echoes like heartbeats through the dark. At the entrance, a shape moves — vast, hunched, and alive with rage barely contained. Gronn, the Groh’Tah chief, steps forward from shadow into the dim glow of his own Ashka. His feet stamp the Groh as if to claim it anew. His nostrils flare; the scent of stranger and Sha’ka mingles with the wind. His spear — sharpened flint bound with sinew — glimmers wet. He watches you, the fire painting his Ruun in red. Around him, smaller shapes shift in the dark — his kin, silent and ready. In his stare, there is no fear — only a challenge as old as the world.