Dragoncrest Cliffs never cry again

Njord managed to keep his constituion together even as Meerkat held him sympathetically. He went on to explain how they coralled the Cortens like a herd of deer, but were split on what to actually do with the freshly usurped. Exile them? Simply demote them? Kill them? Like a dog chasing a car, Njord felt they were surprised they had actually succeded in their attempt to begin with. “Tha whole Isle was thrown inta chaos,” Njord observed, “an’ there I was, seethin’ somethin’ furious in tha middle of it.”

News of the ordeal eventually spread the other families. Some were sympathetic or loyal to their Laird and his family, and would not play a passive role in their imprisonment. It was only a matter of time before support for the other side dwindled to nothing. “The new Laird couldna keep the peace long,” Njord explained. “Me cousins an’ I knew an oppertunity to fight back would come.” And come it did.

Njord spared no detail as he painted the picture of the Cortens taking back their island with a ferocity of a hurricane. The brawling, howling, blood-spilling… “It felt as though Rosencrantz, Kaertok, an’ Kigipigak were at my side,” Njord said, proud at first. “But then a lad sunk ‘is fangs into my face. All I could think of was my father… lyin’ still next ta me.” His brows knit as his expression darkened, conflicted. “So I killed ‘im.” He winced - the memory of a red hot flash of pain and anger.

His gaze fell once more, ashamed, and he shook his head like an etch-a-sketch as if to rid himself of the bad memory. From there, the story fizzeled. The Cortens were able to take their place back, the usurpers were cast into the sea, and the Isle took time to heal and bury the dead. “I dinna remember much after,” Njord said to explain the biased narrative – perhaps, too ‘in his head’ at the time to take in much else.