Dragoncrest Cliffs bonders' enclave

Prob’ly a good story to scare the kids with, Svalinn snorted, crossing his fishy paws and giving them a good lick. The bear story had never come up, but that wasn’t surprising given how traumatizing the subject of bears was around here.

Val went on to summarize his ventures – the bit about bear cult worshipers drawing up the quirk of a golden brow. Pitiful. I don’t know what self-respecting wolf would worship a fuckin’ bear, but I’m glad I’ve never met one. Never met a witch, either, if you don’t count my ex-wife. He might’ve laughed if he wasn’t too busy shuddering at the mere thought of Drusilla.

I ran with some Vikings, for a while. That’s where I got most of these, he gestured towards his scarred forelegs. Rowdy crew, I miss ‘em sometimes. And I once tangled with the mistress of a pleasure pack, which I hope you’ve never heard of and I don’t recommend. I also met a group of dandelion-brains that ate mushrooms every full moon. Bunch’a weirdos, he drawled.