Neverwinter Forest there was a thousand storms in his eyes

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Kjalarr’s ears cupped forth, attentive when Cypress spoke about them being family, that they were brothers and then asked for a Viking name. “I don’t know, I didn’t know Kieran well enough to be able to say.” The what little Kjalarr could recall of the man from his childhood memories was that he appeared to be a capable fighter but so had Ragnar and his father had fallen like all men do. Even his Gods were not invincible. Even Gods could bleed and die. Kjalarr did not want Cypress to assume Kieran, too, was dead but he didn’t want to give any sort of false hope, either. The world was too harsh and unforgiving to run around thinking that everyone that was gone was still alive out there. Perhaps he was and perhaps he wasn’t. It was likely that they would never know. “You’ll never be alone Cypress, I promise.” He would not leave Cypress to face the cruelties of the world alone. Already so many had left Cypress, either by will or against it but they left all the same. Kjalarr did not deign to follow (he’d never been a very good follower anyway).

Despite the severity of their conversation Kjalarr managed a genuine smile for his younger brother. “The language is called Norse. It is the native tongue of my father, Ragnar.” Kjalarr explained giving pause to draw his tongue against his jowls, his tail swaying gently against his hocks. “I know some of the language, as much as I could learn at any rate.” Before he had left Moonspear and Thistle had left the Wilds all together having never met him at the Bay where he had asked her too. He supposed his mother’s failure to arrive was a pretty big statement on where she stood with him. “From this day on I will call you Torgeir. It means Spear of Thor. Thor is the god of thunder, commander of storms; whose mighty anvil Mjolnir strikes in his forge the sound is thunder and the sparks each strike creates are lightning. He is strong and brave: just like you.” Kjalarr named Cypress feeling a warmth blossom in his chest for the lost boy, a deep rooted affection.

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