dark fantasy · medieval setting · band of the hawk · berserk · mercenary life · grim tone · causality · war-torn world · camaraderie · supernatural threat
The sun sinks behind the hills, bleeding its last crimson light across a field churned to mud by boots and hooves. Tattered banners—a white hawk on faded blue—flutter above a sprawling encampment alive with the murmur of voices and the scent of smoke and steel. You press yourself low in a thicket, watching, when a shadow falls across the bramble. "Do you intend to spectate until dawn, you?"