Gilded Bay up on the sun, lookin' sad and beautiful

The titan had taken to trekking down the coast in search of joiners, or at least those who did not feel as though they had a place in that world. The warhound was not a savior by any means, but he knew that numbers would be a great decider in how successful they turned out to be. If he could fill his ranks, there was a chance that they could expand and grow beyond anything he had ever dreamed of. Ford only wished that the forest beside the bay had returned to life. For all the magic that it had supposedly held in the roots of the trees and the creatures that roamed it, it hadn't had enough to save it from destruction.

Thick prints were left in the sand as the brute continued further down to the other bay. His eyes scoured the stretch of sea that seemed to go on forever into the distance. There were days that he wished he had the strength to swim the very length of it. His mother had often spoke of magic, but he had only ever felt such things when he had been in the thick of the crashing waves and the swell of the sea had threatened to pull him under. Ford could only imagine what was beyond that – what happened when the last glimpse of land faded from sight and the only thing that remained was the rocking water.

There was a stranger not far ahead of him. The titan drew his crown upward and created a smile that curled his features. With a careful approach, he closed some of the space that had stretched between them and then nodded his head in greeting to the small fellow. “Nice view, isn't it?” he inquired in a smoky baritone.