[center][h1][color=blue]Odin Ivarsson[/color][/h1][/center]

Odin grumbled to himself as he overheard the group's musings, either out of annoyance or to repeat his own thoughts to himself. Trailing behind the party, the frontiersman had elected to stay at the rear in order to ensure everyone else's safety. It was a proper place for him to be, as well, given that he wasn't the type of person to talk too much. In the past, Odin would have been one of the loudest of his allies, but times have since changed. Gone were the days of him aimlessly looting whoever stepped on his patch of grass with other ne'er-do-wells, men he once considered brothers. Instead, Odin was cursed to wander alone for a time, with a new path ahead of him, and with a new purpose in mind. Peeking ahead at the crude fencing which marked their entrance into the Greenbelt, Odin had decided to finally speak up for once.

[color=blue]"Almost there... keep your eyes and ears open,"[/color] the ranger remarked, catching up a bit more to the rest of the group, [color=blue]"just 'cause we see some gating doesn't mean we should expect some hospitality. The Riverfolk aren't known for their generosity. Once we pass that border, we'll be heading into untamed territory. Let's stick more closely together and watch each other's backs."[/color]

Whether it was for fame, wealth, or perhaps an escape, everyone in the party had their own reason to venture forth into these lawless lands, and Odin was no exception. With Erastil's guidance, Odin had hoped that he would be able to guide and protect his allies as they establish themselves within the Stolen Lands. To traverse into such wild lands without some sort of guidance would be a fool's errand, and Odin was no stranger to that fact. Instead, the ranger had hoped that his adherents to the Old Ways would prove well to protect his allies in whatever ambitions they wished to seek out.