Neverwinter Forest i'm beyond the archetype

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Cypress had certainly seen better days, which was understandable given what he'd been through recently. For a moment, Kjalarr wondered if that was how he'd looked to Scimitar when he had found him, on the precipice of death, starving and unkempt on the Sound. Granted, Cypress was not starving and he had the whole of Neverwinter Forest to take care of him. “I am Kjalarr ...but our father would have called me Jorunn,” Kjalarr was unsure if Scimitar had ever told his sons about him or not but figured it was worth giving the boy his christened name just in case. It was a name for a boy long dead and it felt foreign as it left the viking's lips. Shrike suggested they go mark the borders and Kjalarr offered a sage nod of agreement. He found that the task of border patrols and marking always helped him to think, and at times, forget when he sought to — even if it was only a temporary fix and thus did not always work at all. Kjalarr strode to the invisible scent line and scraped his paws against the earth, adding his scent to the mixture.

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