Sequoia Coast to mount olympus

[size=x-small]derp. sorry about that![/size]

As he drew nearer, Homeros recognized the face of the wolf galloping towards him. The other’s scent, mingled with the saltiness of the ocean current, confirmed his identity. “Hoplite,” woofed the Consort, his dark voice muted somewhat by the noise of the waves. Homeros bowed his head before the male, his hazel eyes searching upward to meet Greyjoy’s own fiery gaze. He was pleased to learn that Atlas had made it to the new lands with the others; his next set of business would have to be seeking out his half-brother.

It came as no surprise to Homeros that Greyjoy inquired first about the Nereides. He shook his sooty head. “I journeyed alone. My travels were long, tiresome. I am relieved to have found you.” His brooding features indicated otherwise, but Homeros was a man of few words who preferred to listen rather than speak. “Will you tell me about this place?” he requested after a moment, his eyes slipping away from his companion’s face to study the coast.