Dragoncrest Cliffs Let me in, for loud the linn

As soon as the woman spoke, Njord knew he was in the presence of a kindred spirit. The brogue of her voice was like his, the lilt even thicker, and made the man wonder from which land she hailed.

It appeared she felt a similar way.

Njord’s red tail curled and wagged – a sign of inquisitivity.

“I cannae recall,” Njord said, his speech long and drawling as he filed through his rolladex memory. If they had met, it would have been a long time ago. “I was born on Meares Island, me family name is Sveijarn-Corten. Do ye ken it?” Perhaps these breadcrumbs would be enough to connect the dots.