Blackwater Islands collywobbles

Ruin stood motionless atop the rise, his hulking figure silhouetted against the churning gray of the sea and sky. The rain fell in steady sheets, running down his bedraggled pelt in rivulets.

Just silence.

And then, something shifted.

A scent hit him, faint at first but unmistakable. Ruin’s ears twitched, his single eye narrowing as he squinted through the haze.

He sniffed again, the scent growing clearer. It wasn’t Visala, nor Nayavanti. Not Kerosene either.

Morokei.