Wheeling Gull Isle The Key to My Castle

It was not long before a figure appeared from between the coastal conifers. A male in his prime, with an impressive stature coated in chestnut and sand agouti, approached Njord. His demeanor was calm like placid water. Voice low and words diplomatic. A strong guardian for this island paradise; just like Rosencrantz had been.

“Ahoy!” Njord said charismatically. “Yuelong, eh?” The name sounded foreign and exotic. “I was jus’ passin’ though an’ thought I’d come say ‘ello,” Njord explained. “I met two of yer company a few moons ago. Sand colored girls, one ‘ad fire eyes an’ the other blue. She was named Aimi…” Njord paused, but then continued on to give the man some context.

“I grew up on an island, me’self… but now I run wit’ Sapphique. We live in Dragoncrest cliffs… you can barely see ‘em from ‘ere.” Njord turned his muzzle Northbound to point towards the dramatic shoreside cliffs of his home. Atmospheric perspective largely shrouded the territory. “Since we’re both wolves of tha sea, I figured we should meet. M’names Njord Sveijarn-Corten.” His ears leaned towards the other man, prompting to listen for his name.