Omurtak had been wandering since his pride fell on hard times. The sickness had weakened them, and he'd seen good fighters fall in their fight of the invisible enemy. Some days he wondered if it had been better to die, but he chased away those thoughts. He'd rather die in battle, in a way that was more honorable than to waste away. When the pride was scattered by hunting two-leggers he started wandering, and he was yet to find a reason to stop.
Lately he had more of a purpose, however. Hunting to feed himself and the two birds that still followed him wasn't enough anymore. Lately he'd started to wonder about the only relative he had that might still be alive. His father. Omurtak knew very little about his father. When his mother went out in the roguelands to seek a strong male and bring in new blood to Burkuteshti, she knew that it meant she could never take another mate. Omurtak respected that decision.
The splotches of blue must have come from his father's side, even if his mother had never talked about how his father looked. She'd told him he was a skilled fighter, and that was more important than looks. He also knew his father's name "Narfi".
From his travels he now knew that it was probably a name of norse origins, and he'd been told of a warrior pride that favored such names. Most of the people he'd talked to had proceeded to warn him not to go there, but Omurtak wasn't one to back down from a potential fight. His plan was simple: Go there and ask for Narfi the warrior.
