Dawnlark Plains blinding light raging down from the sky

The older male let out a heavy sigh that moments later Jorunn mimicked. There was a certain relief to the action, though the wave was quickly chased away by the slight pang of pain in his stomach. Partially rotten scraps didn't settle well with the legend's tender stomach. Not when he was used to eating fresh meat and never wanting. Life had been in Stavanger Bay had been exceptionally good, and he hadn't realized what he had until he lost it. He was alive, though, at the hands of those mysterious beings his mother had called 'Gods' and his own sheer determination of will. If it had gotten him this far, surely his purpose was not over. There was too much life for him to live and live it he would even if he had to suffer pathetic and rotting scraps of meat until he could effectively learn to hunt for himself. Jorunn focused his eyes once more — having left Scimitar to peer at the plains around them with unabashed contempt — back upon Scimitar's monochrome features, easier for Jorunn to pick out subtle details being closer to him. 

The question caused Jorunn to tilt his head ever so slightly as he thought about it. “Ummm,” He couldn't have pronounced it even if he would have remembered it correctly, which he didn't. “The sea tooked mes.” As to where it dumped him: he had no idea. He didn't realize that he was in the same Valley as Stavanger Bay, though he realized a moment later that he hadn't actually answered Scimitar's question. “I dunno knows.” He'd heard it said before, surely, in passing but had he paid attention to it? Nope. His concerns were always more self centered, which was extremely unfortunate for Jorunn, he was beginning to realize.