Stavanger Bay fancy thinking the beast was something you could hunt and kill

ignore my horrible interpretation of what a lowborn idiot sounds like - i'll work on it.

murgash's murkgrey gaze fell on szymon's frame, studying his threadbare constitution and marring of black that peppered his barrel. the mongrel was sizing him up, consuming him -- and idly, murgash wondered what type of fight szymon was capable of conjuring in the name of defense.

but the stutter -- murgash's eyes widened with wicked delight to behold such a crippling dysfuction; a crinkle in the corner of his heavily laden jowls announced his dissolute amusement. he would have devised a cutting verbal blow marked to strike szymon down then and there for his deficit, if he was the clever sort. thankfully, he was not.

"three 'ours then, wouldent you saey?" his blocky muzzle canted as he motioned for the headlands that marked the bay's borders. "response toime." the plague-riddled wolf elaborated, as if szymon's stuter was also responsible for afflicting his mental capacity. "it's food'un shelter i be waunting, tho' food mos'ly -- youse got food, 'avent you?" he sniffed the air inquiringly, accentuating how hungry he was with a simpering, drool-ridden grin. his grin dissipated when he heard something, and abruptly the male pressed both mange-torn ears forward in alarm.

murgash just about leapt back as he saw the form of the wolf that held back; a carnal and rough-shod wolf such as himself -- but much handsomer. something about the animus that swirled about skellige made murgash strongly associate feelings of predatory darkness -- he shifted his clouded, mossgrey gaze to the wraith carefully. "by sithis, that'sun big bloke!" murgash's voice cast loudly, as if cheerful -- meanwhile he shouldered the air between szymon and him as if they were old comrades. "say, youse brothers?" he had just noticed the rippling markings that both bore; markings that the recreant had never witnessed before.