Dragoncrest Cliffs thursday night began much like the others, but ended much less happily.

The behemoth had been ordered away from Warsaw, to which he was hardly pleased, but it was his duty to obey his masters and the bloodline had since grown — no longer encompassed by Skellige alone, but by many half-breeds to the name. The orders sent him far and wide, and when he came upon the landscape of these wilds Tetsubō was not one to reminisce. He bludgeoned his way north on his hunt, then moved west with the coast, drawn to the seaside like any beast worthy of the islands. The cliffs rose as an impenetrable wall before him and he grew flustered, frustrated; but then he found a tender scent in the air of flesh and fur. He moves with a lethargic persistence, heavy-handed with each stride, and pauses where the trees begin to thin to watch the stranger lounging in the sun. He thinks of what use she could provide to him — but wishes, above all else, to taste her in between his teeth.