Stavanger Bay Warpless
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Ooc — Jennifer
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#1
All Welcome 
Since that meeting in the forest a few days back, Godot had made her way to the ocean and was now following the water south.  She'd been wound up and ready to chew on some faces for several hours before the adrenaline high finally wore off and she was back to normal.  Well, as normal as Godot got.

As it were, she was actually fairly far inland, barely within the confines of Stavanger Bay.  She'd already tripped into what she was pretty sure was an old den, so Godot was pretty sure this was an old packland -- but then again, the earth was old and that could be said about much of the world. Maybe she should stick around here for a while?  Winter was kind of harsh and it would be starting to show on her soon.  For now, though, she scratched out a divot in the snow at the base of a tree, curling up there to rest for a bit.  She wasn't going to sleep, at least not yet, but merely rest her paws while wondering what would be around to hunt.
what would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark?
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Ooc — Cactus
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#2
The pirate had taken to making his rounds along the borders of the bay. He had paced dutifully along the edges. Some still contained the dark black stones that had been placed there to guard his father's land. There was a strange sensation to seeing what remained of the former pack. The ghostly figure wondered what had happened after he and Sandpiper were pulled away. He often thought his life would be entirely different if they had all stayed and built a family. Skellige had spoken of alliances and the prospect of war; he had told the two children of the black rock every night. But what if the pallid seafarer had never been pulled from the bay? Would he still feel such discomfort at being there or would he have reigned over the depths as his father had intended? He would never know, so he could not dwell.

Trekking through the cold sand, Kingfisher spotted an unfamiliar shape. It appeared to be a lump of russet fur that had tucked itself into the snow-flecked sands. She did not seem to be sleeping, so he approached her with a brazen swagger and lifted his skull upward. “Ahoy, lass,” he barked; his voice was gruff against his throat. “What brings ye to me bay?”
calling to join them the wretched and joyful
shaking the wings of their terrible youths
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#3
Her maw parted in a yawn.  When her teeth clicked together and her eyes opened again, she spotted the pale guy heading her way.  Huh.  Godot wondered if he'd be like the one she'd chased off.  From his pose, it seemed unlikely -- this guy seems more like the ones she'd met in the past.  It made it far less likely that her saying a few weird words and pretending to be a cannibal would give her the upper hand.  For now, she stayed put, perhaps a bit overconfident thanks to Engle, but she became much more uncertain when she heard his words.  His bay?  Er? she started, her nose desperately searching for a moment while her mind tried to process what she might have stepped in to.  There wasn't a pack here, right?  Unless all the wolves smelled exactly the same.  This was just some dude who decided to live here, right? Those dens were abandoned!  If only she knew about clones.

Your bay? Her voice wavered a moment.  Um.  Stopped for a break?  There are necromancers inland.  I wanted to get farther away from them.  Though she was fairly certain in her words, she was doing her damnedest to control her unease, but that was more over the fact she'd maybe missed something rather than him outright frightening her.  However, what she didn't know was what pirates were.  Godot had been an inland wolf her whole life -- her stories of magic and mystery didn't include the giant void that was the sea.  That might very well have freaked her out too.
what would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark?
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#4
The russet female appeared confused at his initial remark. She repeated it in a quiet voice and then strung together an excuse that made very little sense to the pallid seafarer. He could understand that she had required a break from her travels, but the slew of words that followed fell on incompetent ears. Trying to piece together what he could, the pirate fell to assume that she had been chased by some bilge rats and had found herself in a lick of trouble. Still, he could not allow others to pass through the bay with little care; he certainly could not allow for them to park themselves to sleep for a short while without his permission. Crooking a brow upward, Kingfisher eyed her with his silver optic and then nodded shortly.

“Aye, the bay belongs to Ironsea,” he remarked with a gruff tone. “Now, lass... what do ye mean necromancers were inland, eh? Sounds like a fit of nonsense to me.” Lowering the brow, he cast her a crooked grin and drew himself a little closer. Though the young wayfarer was lean and tall, he knew well enough how to handle himself around others. “Now, I reckon ye start explanin' yerself and this old pirate might let ye off.” Depending on her answers, he might have very well tried to recruit her to the crew. She'd sneaked in well enough without any of the others noticing; seemed to Smokestep that she would make a suitable thief.
calling to join them the wretched and joyful
shaking the wings of their terrible youths
freshly disowned in some frozen devotion
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Ooc — Jennifer
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#5
There really couldn't be many wolves in his pack, could there?  Obviously whatever she'd come across hadn't seemed like much of a border to her.  Maybe she'd just found a thin spot.  Whatever.  More the issue, how odd that this guy didn't understand what was obviously such an ordinary, obvious thing as necromancers!

The first thing she had to comment on actually caused her to respond with a bit of humor, 'Old,' uh huh.  She still wasn't quite sure what a pirate was, but she was definitely sure this dude couldn't be too much older than her, if that.  Godot pulled herself to her feet, gently shaking what snow stuck to her pelt, as if this dude really was treating it like a pack land, Godot was going to shortly see if she could subtly sashay on back to whatever "borders" there were before he decided to try and eat her.  So, she'd try to be a little bit playful or friendly or something -- at least until the next subject.

You haven't been by their pack then?  Her ears flicked forward, as if in awe that he'd not managed to see that blight.  I came from the east, and one of the packs I went by was just... Ugh.  Who else would decorate their borders with the dead other than people who worship death?  I bet if you walked around their territory they'd be trying to bring some old god back from the dead or revive dead packmates or something.  She shivered a bit at the thought.  Definitely not her thing.  You didn't mess with death like that.  It'd be too easy for it to turn around and bite you, at least from her eyes.  Either way, they are certainly not normal, she sniffed.  Quite silly considering Godot was the one saying it.  Despite the possibility she might just come off as being some innocent girl freaked out by the weirdos in the world, but Godot was definitely living in her own reality.
what would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark?
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#6
If only Smokestep could hear the thoughts that played through the female's mind; he would have been quick to take offense to the thought that there were only a few of them in the territory. Though he was working hard to establish borders and mark them sufficiently, he still had a great deal of recruiting to manage. Regardless, it was fortunate for her that the pale corsair held no telepathic capabilities. Instead, he felt a tug of pride at the splash of humor that she dared to show in regards to his age. Not long after, she took to addressing his inquiry. Smokestep had certainly not anticipated the tale that she was weaving.

It seemed that the red woman had encountered a witchdoctor pack; at least, in regards to where Smokestep had been raised, that is what it seemed to be. The borders had been marked in blood and remains. It should have been a vile thing to listen to, but the pirate was entertained by her recounting of the tale. There was a vast majority of what she said that went well over the boy's head. His ears still remained trained on her every word until she had finished and left him feeling quite peculiar inside. The white-furred hound had begun to mull over the final statement that she had given.

“Well, it does sound like ye've been through the ringer,” he remarked with a thoughtful frown. “I don't know if there are many normal lads or lasses out there, though.” Something did tickle at the back of his mind. The pirate drew his skull upward and watched her with a curious expression for a short minute before he released a sigh and loosened the muscles in his haunches. His mind was full of dangerous possibilities that had driven him to a strange mixture of excitement and fear.

“Say, how did ye get away not bein' caught an' all?”
calling to join them the wretched and joyful
shaking the wings of their terrible youths
freshly disowned in some frozen devotion
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Ooc — Jennifer
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#7
So far so good.  Not eaten, not a chew toy.  She'd keep being friendly and see how that continued to treat her -- she was rather agreeable that way, at least; be nice, she'd be nice.  Nothing had set her off into weirdo land yet.  And about being normal?  She shrugged.  To her, most fell securely into normal.  She wasn't normal.  Many had told her that.  This guy was probably normal -- unless he did something that qualified otherwise.  Sometimes it was like a D&D alignment -- Engel qualified as a normal easily-terrified-jerk. 

Her next expression, though, was along the lines of someone looking over the top of their glasses.  As if it'd stick around there unprepared!  Made sure I didn't walk into any traps and got the hell out of there.  Paranoia had its advantages -- she definitely wouldn't have been happy being captured by the Blackfeather wolves, even though she still didn't know who the residents were beyond her assumptions. I'm not heading back over there without backup.  Lots of it.   An army would do nicely.  She didn't know they already were gonna have one thrown at them.  Convenient, that.

Kinda seems like I'm out of room to head away from them this way though, huh? She nodded towards the sea.  Trying to verbally excuse herself from a territory seemed like it was far more dangerous than it was worth, so she was kind of hoping that her relatively neutral, almost playful inquiry would maybe offer her a way out.  Godot had figured that wandering in, apparently obliviously, would nix her out of favor.  Perhaps he was just toying with her?  Was she going to be a snack anyway?
what would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark?
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Ooc — Cactus
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#8
Youth had afforded Smokestep a great number of things. He had, of course, endured the iron fist of his father and the ways of the Cairn brood. He knew, better than most, that life was not easy for any who passed through it. He was determined to ensure that he had used all the time he was granted, though. Still, Smokestep had turned out nothing like his father. Skellige would have surely tossed this wench to the sharks and waited for them to feast on her as an offering to the ocean. The young pirate instead was rather intrigued by what she was saying about the witchdoctors in the wood. He had only known those who lived on the Warsaw Islands, and their ways had been about as unfamiliar to him as a downtown intersection would have been.

“I s'pose not, then,” he remarked to her statement about going in unprepared. The corsair was still royally confused when it came to the matters in which she spoke. He equated them to his own personal memories, but knew that he could have been entirely wrong. There was a chance that she was speaking about something far more sinister in those woods. The fiery woman then mentioned that she would not return to the wood without plenty of backup, to which he scoffed a bit more openly than he should have. Still, it could have been misinterpreted as him scoffing at the absolute gall of the 'necromancers' that she had mentioned before.

The conversation shifted a bit as she mentioned that she had run out of room to run. The girl motioned toward the water and Smokestep cast the waves a sidelong glance before returning his vision to her. “Yer not wrong, lass, unless yer a grand swimmer,” he then agreed with a firm bow of his head. “As much as I'd like ta be rescuin' a damsel in distress, you'd best be scootin' along unless yer aimin' to join me crew,” he remarked after several long moments. Smokestep then fixed her with an expectant expression that suggested she start walking away from the bay or express some interest in being a part of Ironsea.
calling to join them the wretched and joyful
shaking the wings of their terrible youths
freshly disowned in some frozen devotion
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Ooc — Jennifer
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#9
Her eyes had fixated on the distant waters for a moment, and still were that way until he responded.  Wait.  What.  Her head flicked back to him, perhaps a little bit visibly surprised that the option was even on the table.  It was off script for her and she wasn't entirely sure how to flex the whole thing to fit the scenario as of yet.  She was far too used to stumbling across some random pack, howling, and being in control of the way words went.  I... she started, but didn't finish promptly.  It hung in the air a moment before she'd eventually continue.

She still found it rather silly that it seemed like nobody here knew what a necromancer was or just how dangerous they could be!  Perhaps that's how that pack was existing in the first place.  All she knew was she wasn't keen on joining that one.  Godot, though, was used to bouncing from pack to pack.  Why not this one too?  It'd probably be just another entry on the list of places she'd eventually be kicked out of, but it'd be safety for a while.  Godot didn't exactly expect them to like her.  She didn't think anyone did or ever would.

I wouldn't mind the chance?  Godot sounded perhaps even more uncertain and shy than she had upon first being discovered, tinged with that little bit of wonder that her wandering on in on her own hadn't just put a flamethrower to the whole idea.  She almost spoke again, but paused, cleared her throat, and bowed her head.  I'm Godot -- Adelaide Godot.  She sure as hell had no idea what her next line was supposed to be at this point.  The white fellow was the boss, so she was gonna let him lead.
what would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark?
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Ooc — Cactus
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#10
The red woman started to speak but then caught her tongue and the pale wolf watched her with an expectant expression. He thought, for a moment, that she was missing a few marbles. It had been proven, so far, that she was relatively harmless save for the remarks made about necromancers. Smokestep still did not believe that there were such things hiding in the woods; he had been witness to numerous frightening beings, but they had always been explained by the mystics of the sea or the vile heart that rested within. He had a sneaking suspicion that her necromancers were one of the two, and he was interested in if he would be granted the chance to find out.

“Ye've got all the chance in the world, miss. Real question is whether ye've got the guts,” he said to her comment finally. The Ironsea wolves were a ragtag crew, and they were young, but Smokestep had great plans for them and he intended to see his members stayed fit with him until they died. “Once a pirate, always a pirate, so ye don't come along an' then leave without facin' the consequences,” he then added with a serious furrowing of his brows and a splaying of his ears.

“Have ye got what it takes, Godot?”
calling to join them the wretched and joyful
shaking the wings of their terrible youths
freshly disowned in some frozen devotion
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Ooc — Jennifer
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#11
She wasn't sure she'd stick around, but she was never one to admit it.  Why would she?  That would be dangerous.  What was more likely was the reason she wouldn't stick around was because she'd do something wrong according to whatever moral code a pack had.  This was part of the routine.  Yeah, sure she was totally gonna stick around forever.  Yup.

Needless to say, she wasn't afraid of any consequences.  They weren't going to be any worse than any of the others she faced thus far in her life, as far as she believed.  Godot saw herself as somewhat immortal.  She would always be victorious, one way or another, even if she had to do mental gymnastics for that to be the case.

Her attitude had slightly shifted again, this time towards a sort of catlike, playful state.  She flicked her tail.  I've got guts. Just not about necromancers.  And technically she did have guts, she assumed.  They were somewhere underneath her skin and muscle in her belly area, duh.  So unless there's something special...?  That was the only concerning part to her.  She did have her limits on hazing to enter.  As long as it wasn't anything stupid.  Or too gross.
what would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark?
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Ooc — Cactus
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#12
Thinkin this would be a good spot to fade and we can have an updated one if you'd like.
 
That she opted to hold her tongue was probably wisest. If the red woman had attempted to state her doubts about remaining in the pack, Smokestep would have walked her to the borders and told her to watch her step on the way out. Even still, he would not have been quite as lenient when the pack was fully formed. She seemed as though she accepted the code and this brought him to a pleasant relief. Her feigned mask of concern was strong enough that his daft mind could not see through it, even if he had tried.

Godot affirmed that she had guts and then asked if there was anything special that would be required. Smokestep chuckled loudly at the request and shook his head. “Ye'll be fine, lass. The special will come later on when yer earnin' yer sea legs,” he told her with a smile. Motioning toward the pack terrain, he made it clear that she was free to come and go as she pleased. “I'll give ye the grand tour if ye'd like, but what ye see is what ye get fer the most part. Got a few tucked away treasures in there,” he then stated and motioned for her to follow him further into the bay.
calling to join them the wretched and joyful
shaking the wings of their terrible youths
freshly disowned in some frozen devotion
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Ooc — Jennifer
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#13
Woo! Sounds good to me! Guess I shall go add her to ze pledged group too. :D


So here was another chance for her.  Another chance to learn, to make friends (as if), to learn to maybe trust people for once (probably not gonna happen).  It was highly unlikely that Godot would ever be the perfect little lady who ended up with a loving family and tons of friends.  At her core, Godot was probably a little too broken for such an idyllic future.  But Ironsea would be a chance.  Who knew what she'd make of it.

So there was gonna be something.  Hopefully someone else would go first so she could figure out the best way to approach stuff while they made all the mistakes. She nodded, filing the information away for now.

Sure.  A tour would be kinda nice I think.  I mean.. You don't have to go through eeeverything if you've got other stuff to do, but --   Godot wasn't sure where she was going with that.  She did think it was a good idea to try and get to know the alpha if you wanted to live, though, especially in her case.  Godot was ready to follow where he lead.  But first, as the usually really damn low ranked subordinate she was used to being, she tiptoed forward, making her small form even more politely tiny as she cautiously tried to give him a submissive lick to his chin before whatever voyage she was going to be lead on.
what would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark?
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#14
The girl made a point to be polite about his offer and Smokestep tossed his head back to chuckle at it. “There's no need fer niceties, lass,” he assured her with a swift wink. Without bothering to see if she would follow, he began to trek in through the terrain to point out substantial landmarks that would be of note. The two spent their next little while getting Godot familiar with the bay and the scents of the various crew members that had wafted through. Once they had finished, Smokestep allowed her to be free of his great company and mentioned that she would do best to make herself a home. After this, he had trotted off to the small batch of caves and found a quiet place to nap.
calling to join them the wretched and joyful
shaking the wings of their terrible youths
freshly disowned in some frozen devotion