Ankyra Sound do these effectively hide my thunder?

As it turned out, according to Whittier he hadn't done anything grand and didn't have much to tell. It would be a lie to claim that he wasn't a little disappointed to learn this. Kjalarr enjoyed a good story, probably the Norse in him, which were known for their infamous and wild saga's. His own Saga had quite the beginning and that was without him adding fictional beasts to it. “That's a starting point,” Kjalarr concurred with a sage nod. “'I survived the famine' ...sounds heroic, I like it.” He offered Whittier a self assured grin. Kjalarr had never fancied himself a chronicler but he supposed in self proclaimed hindsight he might not be all that bad at it. Whittier's following questions did not necessarily come as any sort of surprise to Kjalarr who glimpsed tersely out at the free territories beyond Saltwinter, scarred muzzle angled down ever so slightly. “That's a long story,” Kjalarr began and then added after a moment of thought. “but I suppose we've got the time.”

“You know how I chose to stay behind when you all left the Wilds for a time?” It was a rhetorical question since, obviously, Whittier was aware Kjalarr had not followed the Frostfurs from his lack of presence to...where ever they'd went. “It was because I found my biological family but that went about as well as shaking a hornet's nest,” A roll of iced silver and caribbean blue eyes was given. “My adopted older brother, Charon, he's the Alpha of Moonspear he said that I was brainwashed and that our parents had stolen me from them. He's a real dick and things had just...never been good between us from that first meeting. We never agreed and that created big problems. He better hope I never see him again or I'm going to kill him,” and after I kill him, I'm going to eat him. Might as well add the gruesome truth to it though the action, would that ever happen and Kjalarr ever succeed, would be done purely out of nothing but hatred and spite. Assholes like Charon didn't deserve to be buried nor did they deserve respect, even in death.

“Anyway, I'd met Caiaphas once before and I decided to join up with her and left Moonspear. That didn't go over well with Charon, either, but I don't care what he thinks or wants. I'm a lot happier here, although Dad and Aunt Kaskara told me I was always welcome in Neverwinter Forest if I decided that I wanted to join up with them,” He spoke softly, affectionate smoothing out the harsh timber his voice had taken when he spoke of his issues with his biological family. “I think Aunt Kaskara probably gave birth by now, we should go see her and the babes,” Or at least, Whittier. Kjalarr was not so sure he could just go on a scouting trip ...at least not without clearing it with Caiaphas before hand. “Caiaphas is a mystery to me,” A soft chuckle left the Viking's lips though his words were not meant in any way other than admiration for the Salt Queen. “I suppose the short and low of it is that she found me worthy to lead with her as her Beta.” And because she'd given him something he'd wanted for a very long time he hadn't been about to question her decision. The weight of his duties as second command had been one that he bore proudly and was all to eager to dedicate his time to them.

“I'm glad you're here, Whit,” Kjalarr admitted softly to his brother, offering the Frostfur teen a rough nudge to his shoulder in brotherly affection. “but I'm curious why you didn't join Neverwinter Forest, unless you didn't know they'd returned?” Though, Kjalarr himself hadn't; and even if he'd have known the Frostfurs had returned before he joined up with Saltwinter the truth was he still probably wouldn't have, if in an effort to keep the heat of Charon's ire off of them. It was not fair that they should have to bear the brunt of a feud that belonged solely between the Ostrega and the Loðbrok.