Stavanger Bay i prayed heaven today would bring its hammer down on me

"OI!" murgash roared over the frolicking of the waves, his expression pulled into a sour frown as he regarded the dismal view that greeted him. he had been looking forward to his part his entire sojourn; much the way a weary traveler jovially swings for home. or perhaps his anticipation was more akin to what a traveler feels visiting a tavern full of warm food and good looking women. he expected a grand fuckin' welcome, what with him being skellige's kids favorite handsome man - but there was nothing grand or exciting about the grey shore that met him.

that grey shore sucked back over gloomy rocks; murgash was convinced it was even more depressing than he had left it. after all, he did have a way of brightening up a room - when he had left stavanger, he had surely taken all of its good cheer with him. he supposed the stone-clad shore that scowled back at him couldn't be faulted for looking so miserable - he had been gone a long time and was surely missed.

murgash's broad features worked into a scowl, and he squinted over the mist-rimmed surf. "oi sed, OOOIIII!!!" he bellowed again. no response save the ostensible chatter of seagulls. he stared at them disapprovingly and cursed their stupid webbed feet and honking beaks.

after what seemed an interminable amount of time, murgash found his one good eye trailing off in the direction of doe's den. he wondered if that old bag was still around - or more importantly, if she kept her cache as well stocked as he recalled it. he resolved to visit her cache first, whether he was allowed to or not. impatiently the man started to hum his own croaking tune, his paws drumming against the sand as he hungrily peered into stavanger's keep.

Rosalyn was taking a brief nap, but it was rudely interrupted when some loon started goin off down the beach. The hell was he on about?

She stretched with a light groan, feelin the pull in muscles from the swims she'd taken yesterday; likely this winter would be an unpleasant one, though she'd snap the nose off any wolf who claimed she was gettin old.  

"What's the OIIIin about?" She yelled back, mildly irritably.  She'd shake it in a few, but that nap had been one she'd been lookin forward to, and she wasn't too pleased to have it interrupted without good reason.  She was off in the direction she'd heard it from, though, so if he was still in range, could hopefully answer and let her know exactly where to go.

murgash waited; neither patient nor still. at last a siren hailed him and he rose immediately, head bobbing with a garish string of drool about his lips.

he smiled, a gushed and obscene thing -- for the creature that approached him was a most leathered virago; he did not hide the appreciating wander of his eye. she looked tough, and perhaps a bit cross - he thought recent sleep might have hung off the corner of her eyes.

"OI!" he returned in a crooning cajole, his demeanor completely shifted into one of delightful obesiance. "hullo moi lay-dee -- " he paused and drew his scraggly form up to its full height, a flourish of a bow given respectfully. "oi'm ole murgash -- murgy if ya loikes -- now, kindly beaut-ee, whares m'boi smokey et? oim to see him and his pritty sister, skellidog's orders."

She wasn't expecting what she heard, and as a result, had to stand there silently for the thickly accented words to sink in.  Even then, she caught only the last half, about smoke and his sister.  The rest was unintelligible.  

"You've an interesting way with words, there, mate."  She responded, though she was unsure if she appreciated it solely for the fact that her mind was low on sleep and unable to follow.  "Smoke and Piper are gone, her before, him to look for her.  So you might need to look south."  What was with their father?  Constantly sendin these wolves to interfere with a crew that wasn't his.  She'd thought maybe at least that'd leave with Smokestep, but apparently not. "Why's he so caught up in sendin babysitters? Smokestep might've welcomed ye all but I got no reason to."  She eyed him warily.

Feel free to skip me when needed! Redshank's just lurking >_> I couldn't resist!

Unlike Rosalyn, the stranger hadn't woken him from a nap with his screeching, yet the noise was unwelcome all the same. Redshank had been brooding, as usual, down near the shoreline and turned with an irritated huff as he heard the guttural demands for an audience come from the borders. The fuck was he thinking, being so close anyway? The boy had half the mind to ignore it and let another crew member deal with whatever feral had decided to grace Ironsea's presence, but he had nothing better to do today. Or any day, really.

By the time he arrived at the scene, Rosalyn was already confronting the stranger, who the Cairn nearly mistook for a rabid, overgrown wolverine. Guy was messed up. He was displaying the proper respect and so was in his right mind, it seemed, but Redshank hung back regardless. Though even from a distance he could smell the rot that hung about his scraggly coat. The boy screwed up his nose and watched in displeasure (not an entirely unusual expression for him), though not without a hint of curiosity. He listened silently, glancing at Rosalyn as she queried him.

old murgash was careful to keep a doting mein of magnamity about him; this lady was important, or so his clouded eye said -- and every upfront word that came sharply out of her mouth simply cemented murgash' impression that she was, in short, a Top Tier Babe.

he fluttered his eyelashes and grinned - both at her and her sulky shadow that hung back with a scowl not even a shark could rival. the news smokestep and piper were gone was taken in, digested, and then discarded all in a flat second; he didn't like the news, naturally, but murgash was ostensibly hard to deflate.

"hm hm hm hm!" he muttered, genuinely saddened by the news he would not see either of skellige's salty-furred children today. it was not enough to keep him perturbed for long; ever brightfully, murgash bounced back. "oi'm genuwinely sorry to 'ear that." he flicked a tattered ear, as if that was enough to indicate how woefully sad he was to receive such news. onwards! "but lookee 'ere, miss --" he flicked his one eye up and down her frame, having no recollection of a name being offered: "miss pritty friendpal. skelli-dog just loikes to make sure his kin is kept after, is oll  - we always stick t'gether. not so bad a flaw, izzit?

....'soides, if 'e never sent noice wulfs such as meself to check after ye, whoi, you'd never 'ave met good ol' murgy. that's quoite a trade, innit? 'en what about yer friend, there? big grumpy? 'e 'ave a name for us poor fools?" at this point, murgash was looking quite pointedly at redshank - his one good eye flinty yet full of good cheer.

His mannerisms brought a recollection, one that was going to be hard to shake once she noticed it.  He reminded her of Vlad.  'Miss pritty friendpal'.  She smiled at that despite herself, but was still grateful for Redshank's presence as she wasn't willing to trust just yet.

It wasn't so bad, but it wasn't exactly normal either, and she wasn't sure she bought it.  Now it was her turn to give a slight "mhmm", skeptically.

She waited until whatever response (or not) Redshank gave, them continued off. "Well, Murgy, lucky as it is to meet you; if your lookin to catch them, I'd head off south soon.  They got a nice head start." There was something about this wolf she liked, but she had a sense he was spoken for loyalty-wise, and maybe it was better to let him join his doubtless old buddy Tetsubo.

it was a shame murgash had missed the opportunity to hound smokestep, or heckle his tawny sister -- but somehow, he felt perhaps whatever interaction he had with this stern auburn she-wolf would more than make up for it. he assumed he could always catch up to smokestep and sandpiper later, right?

all the same, he had a job to do -- with a graceful bow to the very pretty lady he was sorry he wouldn't get to know better (and also to her lurking shadow, who he was not sorry he wouldn't get to know better, judging by the disapproving glances the scurvy looking male delivered), murgash readied to make his leave.

oh, except for one thing.

"south it is, then, eh?" he seemed solemn for a moment as he looked down the southern curve of the shore. "sey, afore oi go -- wot kinduv grub would ye spare a 'ansome man loike meself?" cue inapproriately wide grin.

Grub, for him? "Nay, friend.  I'd suggest takin it up with ol Smokestep once you find him," she said, her grin affable, but tone pretty plain that he'd be finding no handouts here.  Crew and crew alone, and way she saw it, Smoke gave up rights to his own men seein food when he hightailed it.