He had been in the North again for a little while, but only today had he dared venture back into those former Glaciem lands, the place that he had been imprisoned. That pack that had once terrorised so many people had gone however, not a single sign of it remained and even the Armada name was fading as well. One fellow member within Yfir carried it, was even in fact technically his half-brother though Kismet still hadn't yet realised that fact nor would he probably ever acknowledge him as family either.
He'd never actually explored these lands much, during his time in Glaciem he had not dedicated much time to venturing around. His main aim had been to keep out of the way of everyone and keep himself and Soren alive for caring for the two young boys apparently hadn't been a priority on their supposedly father's list. Now however for whatever reason there had been a sudden urge that had overcome him, leading him back to this place for the first time in years. Was it bad that there was a small sense of triumph within him, glad to see the pack had crumbled and Isardis had long gone?
