Dragoncrest Cliffs Retrograde

The violent attack was so vivid in the Njord’s mind that it hardly felt like a memory at all. The seaman’s teeth ground together as he turned to Quenell, pruning the worst details from the story he was about to craft.

“There will be tryin’ moments in yer life, lad. Testin’ ye,” the man cautioned as if he recited a forward in a book.

“Sapphique was new. T’was our first winter on these cliffs... late December. Tha air was frigid… a blizzard was brewin’. Ye could smell it.” Njord set an ominous stage.

“We didnae ken it, but a bad spirit ‘ad followed us from tha Moors. He appeared like a wight. I remember hearin’ ‘is devils cry roarin’ cross tha sky. Then, we ‘eard Chacal scream.

“T’was Shardik. A monstrous bear, the size of ten wolves, with fur dark as the Saltmarsh’s mire. Red blood was glistenin’ over ‘is mouth an’ throat.” Njord dragged a paw across his neck. “That’s when we saw ‘er – Shardik had taken the life of a dark-haired lass.”

Njord winced at the recollection. How terribly Raleska’s body had been mutilated! He decided against speaking of Quenell's older sister. It wasn't his chapter to tell.

“He was teasing us, ye ken? Sapphique was enraged! One after another we dove in tae fight,” Njord became animated and snapped at the air with his teeth. “I felt bear-flesh between my fangs and tore at it ‘ard as I could!!” His lips curled for effect. “Shardik struck me away. I looked up – we were all red as tha fur on yer back.”

Something akin to PTSD made the hair of Njord’s nape bristle reflexively. “I went in again, an’ again… Sapphique drained tha beasts’ blood till he moved no more.” A pause… Njord’s tone changed.

“T’was not without great sacrifice,” he reflected sadly. “Two of tha noblest men I ever knew gave their lives tae protect tha pack. I was lucky tae ken them. Call ‘em my mentors. Friends.” His eyes swept over to the cairns and the graves they watched over. “We buried tha three of ‘em here, lookin’ over tha sea so that they may forever ‘av peace.”