The Fimbulvetr. The almighty cold. The bloody handed winter heralding Ragnarök and the end of days… or was supposed to. For even the winter of wolves, where brother will kill brother and families will freeze into mass graves, would only last a mere three seasons.
Or rather, has lasted. Continued to last, for three hundred years.
Into this world of the dead, dying and undying awakens the mighty Vulgrim. Having died in battle as all Vikings should, Vulgrim found himself denied the splendours of Valhalla, instead awakening as a draug in a grotesque parody of all he lived and died for. Now he hunts the frozen wastelands, seeking an answer for his bitter fate… or at least, someone to answer for it.A possible idea for a series I had. Among many, as is the wont of Deviant-artists. Had this drawn since last holidays, but only rendered it yesterday.