Neverwinter Forest bound for tennessee

he felt that catamaran may be slow when it came to the does death, but perhaps they just did things differently. the wolves of tunglbörn had been quick with their prey, their deaths a rite of passage to take place in the sky with the máni. and he knew that this deer, too, would join the lady of the moon, another star in her navy sky.

he sunk his fangs deeper, as deep as possible into the ungulates neck, until a thick vein was hit. he could feel it, rubbery beneath his teeth, and pierced it. her eyes went wide, watery, as she bellowed, crying out. her beady, dark gaze flicked up to his own, and a pang of sorrow shot through his heart like an arrow. but she would find peace.

when her breathing slowed, and she grew still, he released his grip upon her. standing, panting, flicking his tongue against his lips and his nose as to clean any blood that may be upon her maw. a quick murmur was spoken: börn tunglanna, þakka þér fyrir fórn þitt. við flytjum þig til gyðju vorrar, þar sem þú getur orðið ein af henni í líf eftir dauða. hædd fyrir ævinlega. and he dipped his head. honour embodied.

rökkur looked up, then. we should bring this to the cache, after we eat. he said, nodding at the man, gesturing for him to eat. and the shadow would watch carefully to ensure he did before he begun. perhaps he would offer some to the king and his bride-to-be. a gift, a sign of loyalty. furrowed brows a sign of thought.