Dragoncrest Cliffs I was snared by a sickness, some fever in my lungs

A blart-mall-cop stupefied look cast over Njord’s expression when Rosalyn chuckled at his gaffe. Fuuuckkkkkk, the man thought internally, realizing his blunder, and followed up with his own sheepish laugh. He was lucky that Rusalka’s leader had a good sense of humor… at least for today.

He followed her away from the borders towards Dragoncrest’s rise, its namesake cliffs in the distance. The ever-present sound of crashing waves was like white noise in the background. It truly was a grand expanse. Rosalyn queried his intentions, but Njord replied with a boyish shrug of his shoulders, alluding to his capacious path in life.

“This summer, I left my home island and swam across the sea. Landed on a beach south of the Moors. Most my family is the… stoically harsh and unforgiving type,” he smiled, thinking of Aegir’s predatory glare. What a bully. “I think I overstayed my welcome. Didn’t follow their rules.” He frowned, thinking of the few redeeming qualities of his pack, missing his parents a bit. “I was headed towards a great glacier in the North my Aunt told my about… a family place. But it turned out mainland prey is hard to catch by yourself.” Njord had turned to scavenging, but it scarcely supported the male’s two year old frame. “Before I knew it, winter was a-knockin’ and I hadn’t made much progress. That’s when I met Erzulie. She was nice and said Rusalka needed hunters. Seemed like a good opportunity. Didn’t have anything holding me back and I wanted to get as far away from Meares island as possible. I'm happy I found your lot. You all seem like good people," he added, wanting Rosalyn to know that even though he had happened upon Rusalka by chance, that he was happy to be here.