Dragoncrest Cliffs married to the game

All definitely welcome!

Slowly, surely, he was beginning to recover. And with that recovery came a stomach-twisting feeling of impending decision. He couldn't let Aure stay here, not with those fucking demons down in the sound probably planning another random attack. He wouldn't risk her nor their children for pride's sake. And it was clear that he was in no shape to defend them or Drageda against any near future onslaughts.

They had to leave. At least for a little while.

He paced through the trees near Hougeda, face racked with emotions just barely checked. His throat was an ugly, twisted mess of newly-scarred flesh, smelling pungently of herbs and stale blood. Other wounds marred his flesh--his muzzle, his shoulder, his ribs--but it was his neck that was most ghastly, a reminder of just how close he'd come to death.

And how close they all were to the same fate, with Rusalka continuing to dwell just down the coast.