Stavanger Bay Warpless

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.