The Shamanic clan Skallfingar

Men wearing antlers of deer, cloaks of vines, and armor of oak dancing with dryad women around a bonfire, their feet bare and faces painted. Men beat drums rhythmically, bones rattle against one another, others sing from the bottoms of their throats in whispers and bass filled hums of hymns, and yet more mock and imitate the sounds of nature such as birds and elk. One man breaks from the outer circle and throws himself to his knees in front of the blaze of the bonfire before throwing his head and arms up, shouting from his chest. The language he speaks is rhythmic as if it flows with nature itself, but harsh and grating against the beat of drums as he sings a chant.
I dreamt a dream last night of silk and soft furs, of a pillow so deep and smooth, of peace without disturbance.
And in that dream I saw like through a dirty window the whole ill-omened humanity, each wearing fear on their face
Their fears grow in number and solutions with them but often the answer is heavier, though the question hurts to bear
I could sleep just as well, I thought it for the best to rest upon this good fur and forget everyone else
Peace, if it exists, is where one is furthest from human disturbance, and wander about, dreaming of silk and soft furs.
The man throws himself back up to his feet and begins to dance once more, throwing himself around wildly as a spirit flows from the flames and into the mans body, and suddenly, he wild shapes into the form of a wolf, who bows before the fire as if to pay respects.
Next, a woman throws herself down to the fire as well and pulls her head back, continuing the chant from before.
Mother of lust and haunt Beautiful as the night In ironwood dwells Three giants she births Three giants she raises
Another spirit leaves the flames again and enters this woman, she steps back and wild shapes into an Elk, that bows before the fire along with the wolf.
Once again, the circle is broken as another man throws himself at the fire onto his knees, shouting until his lungs give in a raspy worn voice.
Of the runes of the gods and the giants' race The truth indeed can I tell, For to every world have I won To All worlds came I, to Niflhel beneath, The home where dead men dwell.
Much have I fared, much have I found, Much have I got of the gods: What shall live of mankind when at last there comes The mighty winter to men?
The last man throws himself from his knees to his back on the ground before wildshaping into a giant serpent that lowers his head at the flame in front of them.
the outer circle parts and makes way for a dryad who is escorting a boy who looks to be a young adult, barely 17 years old. He has runes and patterns painted on his face, and the dryad brings him to the flames. The boy kneels down at the flames and gives them a hesitant bow, unsure of it out of nervousness, but at the soothing touch of the dryad he is calmed. He raises his head and looks up into the flames that tower above him, and the spirit of a bear looks down upon him, before it gives a roar that somehow adds to the rhythm of the music and the people dancing. The boy, now determined, stands tall and faces the bear spirit at eye level, looking into one another's souls, the bear gives off an ursine groan before it enters the body of the boy. He puts his hand on his chest for a moment before looking back to the dryad, and she gives him a look of reassurance.
The boy then begins to scream from the bottom of his chest a war cry, as loudly as he can before his flesh forms and shapes into that of the bear given physical form, continuing his cry into a roar that deafens all sound around them with one long breath.
After the music ceases and all is quiet, the animals wildshape back into their human forms. All 4 of the humans now have the pupil of one of their eyes replaced with that of the animal imbued into them, and the other one remains their own human eye.
Shortly later, the 4 of them are being escorted by several warrior men in rune carved oak armor wielding greatswords and axes of steel with runes carved into them as well. They are brought up the steps of some stone fortress built into the side of a small rocky mountain that dominates this island, and at the top they are kneeled in front of the King from before, who rises from his throne and steps forward to them all. The runes on his crown begin to glow as the spirit of a storm giant rises behind him, and the spirits of the animals rise behind each of their respective humans. The king says some prayer over the people, and then kneels down to be at face level with each of them. One by one, he grasps their hands and draws a rune of some kind onto each of their palms, each one unique. He goes back to sit on his throne and waves them away, saying "Go now, Clan Skallfingar has you as their champions, the strongest warriors of their clan. Defend your people with your lives, they are all you have, and if you can not do this then your spirits will be given to the profaned flame. Your paths in life and in death are set." and with that, the four of them marched down the steps, and as they crossed back into the forest to their clans territory, the very bark of the trees and stone of the earth formed armor around each of them in the fashion of plate mail.