My name is Carric. I'm the teller of my son's tale.

I came to do trade in Bellem near the arctic wasteland. A large clould of smoke came from the wasteland. The mayor called for volunteers. It is here I meet my stepson for the first time. I came to a small village burned to ash. In a small hut I near crying from the hut. It is Beowolf. I take him home to my wife, where we raised him as our own. But nineteen years later, he looks to the northwest as if someone or something calls for him.