Dragoncrest Cliffs Lo-Fi Listening

Despite Njord’s abrupt companionship, Grímnismál did not turn him away. She was a small thing and spoke meekly, but with with a kind voice, and denied Rusalkans to be prone to illness, though she did not extrapolate. “Oohh,” he replied to denote his imagined competence.

She had a long and complicated name, much like Kigipigak, of a different tongue. “Grim!” Njord parroted, “though you don’t look that grim to me,” he added with a smirk… thinking himself hilarious for tacking on a dad joke. Queue eye roll.

She described what she was looking for, and Njord thought he recalled something like that from his recent patrol of the territory. “Salt water is good for healing wounds,” he acknowledged… Njord did not truly know the art of medicine but he had a good grip on surviving island life and using the coast to one's advantage. “Let’s check down by the cliffs, then?” he suggested, thinking on the same wave as Grim.