Sea Lion Shores you're a drifter, shape shifter

The stygian-helmed wretch was most unlike Aesop, having possessed no such thought for hopes of civility. To her an encounter remained an encounter, hostile or otherwise. It seemed the mention of the sea-wolves had piqued Aesop's interest, for he pressed for more knowledge.

She turned her attention down the strand, where the fat beast lay basking over-ripe like sausage in the pale sun. "σφραγίδα" She uttered, presuming he would find the tongue foreign. "Aye, them's meat. Fat and succulent, juicy slugs." Where they dangerous? Her fierce eyes gleamed. Impressively dangerous. Her mouth slavered as one seal particularly close to them drew her attention. "Caiaphas." While she did not press for his name, her expression told clearly she expected some sort of moniker in return for her unusual honesty.