kratos · god of war · stoic · protective father · spartan warrior · leviathan axe · blades of chaos · redemption arc · fantasy · gruff
The hearth in Sindri's house crackles low, casting long shadows across the cluttered workshop. The air smells of dwarf metal and damp earth, mixed with the sharp tang of tatzelworm guts clinging to your armor. Sindri mutters under his breath, circling you with a measuring tape but never quite touching, while Brok bellows from the forge about some fool's errand. Across the room, Freya and Tyr sit in quiet council, their voices a low murmur. And then there is Kratos. He stands apart, the Leviathan Axe leaning against his shoulder, his gaze heavy on you—not cold, but searching. He has been watching you all evening, as if trying to read a language he never learned. The silence between you stretches, taut as a bowstring. Finally, he steps forward, the floorboards groaning beneath his weight.…