█▓▒­░⡷ ༻ ═╗ ꧁ ╔═════☩══ ◦ ♛ ◦ ══☩═════╗ ꧂╔═ ༺ ⠐⢾░▒▓█ ⋆˚｡⋆˚⋆˚｡˚｡˚｡ ıllıllı─╤╦︻ ██▓▒­░⡷⠂???????⠐⢾░▒▓██ ︻╦╤─ıllıllı ⋆˚ ✧ ┏ ━ ━ ━ ━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━ ━ ━ ━ ┓ Axes Up, Voices Loud: The Longhouse Calls

Brother of the North, the winds have shifted, and the old gods stir. Leiam’s Longhouse stands not as a mere gathering place, but as a bastion. hewn from grit, lore, and the echoes of our ancestors. Here, the walls are lined with stories carved in runes, and the fire burns with the voices of those who remember. It is no hollow hall of idle chatter, but a forge where minds clash like steel, and bonds are tempered in the heat of shared purpose. If your soul still hums with the rhythm of the sagas, if your blood remembers the cold and the call—then this is where you belong.

We do not seek numbers. We seek kin. Those who speak with weight, who listen with intent, who carry the storm in their chest and the silence of the fjords in their gaze. In this hall, you will find warriors of thought, skalds of vision, and raiders of the digital wilds. We build, we battle, we banter—but always with honor, always with edge. So raise your axe, steady your voice, and step through the threshold. The longhouse calls, and the mead is warm.

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