Neverwinter Forest black leaf

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Standing stalwart in a raging storm of turmoil was never an easy thing. It weathered away at him like the sea weathered away rock: slowly but surely. Each reincarnation of himself that came out of the storms that the Gods threw at him was different than the last as he changed and learned. This storm was no easier than the others but Kjalarr was beginning to become adept at handling death of those that did not share the Norse culture with him. Kjalarr watched as October's gaze lifted once more to express that she would go to Donnelaith to bring them the ill-tidings, only to amend herself by adding that she would go if she had his permission. He had once ventured beside Caiaphas and Vlad to their borders. The details were foggy at best but he remembered that their patriarch and Caiaphas had not seen eye to eye on the topic of Maude's old crew. That was so long ago, though. It felt to Kjalarr like it had been in another lifetime.

“You may depart for Donnelaith when you are ready,” Kjalarr granted her his permission with a sage nod of his head before his scarred muzzle lifted. He was not sure if Scimitar's death would affect whatever terms of alliance that they had previously established or not and he saw the opportunity to decide if things had changed or not by allowing October to go. “Just...,” His salmon pink tongue drew across his jowls. “be careful.” There was no telling what she might be greeted with at Donnelaith (as he his first impression of them was not a very well defined one) and Kjalarr was not particularly keen on the idea of losing anyone else to a bear attack.

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