Stavanger Bay zoologically improbable and/or terrifying to small children

The pirate stalked across the snow-flecked sands with purpose toward the edges of his territory. His eyes were trained to catch anything that might wander across the invisible line of the borders, but he had not seen a passerby for many days. Keeping his head held aloft, Smokestep drew in the scents of the bay and then exhaled with a small and curling smile. It was pleasant to have a place to call his own; he wondered if the feeling was similar to how his father had felt when he had first set foot on the location for Blackrock Depths. Not interested in following the standard pack system, the boy had crafted something of his very own and found it to bring him a peace that he had never truly understood before.

As he drew closer, the scent of one unfamiliar wafted through his nostrils and caused his pelt to bristle slightly. Turning sharply, he careened toward where she was standing. As he closed some of the distance, he noticed the abnormalities of her frame and wondered how the Ironsea crew had come to be a collection of misfits and freaks. It didn't matter, so long as they did their job and remained on task. Flicking his tail upward, the corsair bid her a soft chuff of a greeting and then slowed his pace. “Ahoy, lass... what brings ye to me borders?” the brute inquired with a cant of his skull and a small smirk.