Warden Blackhelm

Beneath black stone and older sins, Grothnar walks the halls of Ironfang Bastion—warden, executioner, judge. Once a fortress of armies, now a prison of unspeakable torment. Where banners flew, shackles now rattle. Grothnar’s hammer echoes like judgment, his hounds—Hellmaw and Bloodclaw—trail behind, sniffing out fear. He does not blink. He does not sleep. He listens to the Helm of Thorns, forged from the skull of his predecessor, and delivers pain not as punishment, but permanence. In Ironfang,…

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