Dragoncrest Cliffs the world's grave. not ours.

Like a cur on a boar, Njord cinched the bear’s thick hide between his teeth as he used all his might to shake and rend the skin away from muscle. Shardik shook and swatted but Njord held fast as blood drained from the bear. Eventually the Ursus’ movements became inebriated until, finally, their adversary fell – the life drained from him.

Njord’s head was just about as red as his tail as hot steam puffed from his gaping jaws, panting from the exertion. His sides heaved as he watched the bear closely, half-expecting it to spring back to life. Adrenaline made the islander jumpy, his blue eyes big as saucer plates. He looked around at the carnage, coming down from a warrior high. Like Rosalyn, he had not seen the mighty Kaertok fallen… but there he was, the great white wolf lying lifeless on the ground, his throat slit by the bear’s talons.

“Kaertok!” Njord exclaimed, voice hoarse, as he rushed to the Tartok’s side… but there was no retrieving his soul. The man wasn’t even warm anymore. Njord felt his chest constrict – so tight, he might have a heart attack.

I need to go wid him, he heard the lilt of Erzulie’s voice from behind. Njord turn to see the stoic Rosencrantz begin to slink away, grievously injured. The Sveijarn’s blue eyes connected with the queen’s two-tone gaze as a silent, wordless conversation passed between them. They were powerless to change fate, but perhaps the healer could put a stopper in death. The gold-spun queen brushed against her mate, who stood petrified except for the quaking underneath her tattered pelt.

It was if she had been turned to stone by a medusa – shocked by the violent horrors of today. As Rosencrantz and Erzulie exited towards the healing den, Njord came up besides his superior. “Let’s go find tha kids,” he asked Rosalyn with a gentle nudge to her shoulder. He felt an urgency to regroup before sorrow and grief incapacitated him, too.