Stavanger Bay and miles to go before i sleep

all welcome though if blackrock depths wolves wanna pop in for some den scouting/cache making, that would be splendid

The great wraith made his way along the edges of the tree line that sat to the far end of the bay. The small foliage that littered the terrain there was close enough to Donnelaith that, should one of their wolves come sniffing, they would have been able to sight Skellige from their pack. Though the dark tangle of wood did nothing to appeal to the inky brute. Were it not for the pale witch who called those lands her home, he would have sought a different land to claim as his own.
 
They still had a lot of work to do. Though he had gathered himself a good following, the wolves would need to begin laying down their roots. He had started by marking the terrain as his own, and already they had begun digging caches in the sands. The Doctor had done well to tend to the things she needed, and though she was an odd sort, Skellige had found her somewhat pleasant to have around. He had never been particularly fond of the Witch Doctors of his homeland, but there were few who seemed to breathe the mystic air, and he was drawn to them for this reason.
 
Stepping through the sends, the sea king drew his ears forward on his crown and studied the area with a scrutinizing expression on his dark face. They had a lot of work ahead of them, and he was growing weary with the work it took. Still, the determination burned in his gut like a wildfire. He was prepared to take whatever steps were necessary.

Shink lay basking in the sun beside her while she worked, just close enough to keep an eye on without him getting in the way, though she mostly watched her Leviathan when her sand-covered head poked up out of the hole she'd been digging. It was mostly to make sure he was still there - the salty air took some getting used to, and sometimes it made her nose so confused she could hardly smell anything but the sea. That was why she'd chosen to dig her cache here, just over the ridge of sand that maked the high tide. Waves might still wash this way, but only rarely, and probably not enough to pull their meat from its place.

Worrying again that Skellige had left her, Doctor poked her nose out of her hole and looked around. This was the back of the tunnel she'd dug underneath the clumps of tall grasses, and her vision was mostly obscured by the res tof the grove. Not seeing her alpha, she took a deep whiff to see if she could smell him on the outside of her hole - and promplty let out a piping alarm call, having not expected the cloud of sand that now inhabited her throat and nostrils.

Some furious sneezing took care of that problem, though, and Doctor decided that her cache was long enough, but that she really ought to make it wider.

The Witch Doctor that had been sent to him was a peculiar little creature. Skellige had watched her as she worked for a short time before he’d grown tired and had stepped to mark the terrain that he aimed to take. She seemed to bustle about with a good mindset; keeping to the work of creating caches in intelligent locations on the beachside. She had made them far enough into their territory that – should someone happen across their borders – it would not be easily accessible to prying noses.
 
A series of sneezes erupted from the small hole that she had been diligently working to improve. Cupping his ears, the Leviathan turned his head to meet her own as it popped from the cover of the sand. Skellige did not regret pulling her from the plateau and leading her to the bay. Should she continue the work that she was doing, the doctor would make for a successful recruit into the ranks of the Depths.
 
“How are your caches coming, Witch Doctor?” he called to her in a rumbling voice. It would not be long before they would be ready to make their claim official. Still, he was bothered by the idea of the Donnelaith wolves rejecting him, but he had numbers on his side… and the blessing of the mystics to keep him strong.

Breathless, eyes watering, Doctor emerged from the tunnel and saw that Skellige had definitely not left, he was right here, stop worrying, you belong to him again, he will take care of - "Almost done with this one! I will make it wider, and then we can drag seaweed across the top to hide the holes and the scent of meat."

She looked back at the hole, her tail wagging as she did. Doctor was rather pleased with herself for having thought of that, though she was sure it wasn't an novel idea. It would be useful nevertheless, so she didn't worry too much about originality. Not when there were holes to be dug.

Doctor dove back into her haunt, thinking that she might dig herself a nice den this way, too, when the work was over.

The girl was not wrong in her thoughts; Skellige would take care of her and provide a home for her. He was raising her up and placing her into a role that was quite remarkable, and though she may have had some daunting tasks ahead of her, the great inky titan believed that she would mold well into her role. Already she was showing her intelligence in her crafting of the caches; covering them with seaweed would be a wise decision. The Leviathan nodded his head and for a moment, a ghost of a smile tugged at the very edges of his lips. “Very good,” he remarked to her in a solemn voice. Casting his vision out to the sea, he thought to take to the waves for a short while and see if he could catch some fish for them. The waters would be nice and would soothe his troubled mind.
 
“Perhaps you and I should discuss the blessing,” Skellige drawled, taking a few steps towards the hole she was working so diligently on. He would not think it wise to settle there without the blessing of the mystics. The lands of Warsaw had been blessed by the most capable of shamans. They had not entered into a single battle that they did not emerge victorious. The wraith would wish the same for their new home. Fixing the girl with the dark of his gaze, the titan drew his salmon-tongue across his lips. “Do you need assistance in collecting materials?” he asked of her.

Her whole body wiggled in delight at his praise, but she was quickly stilled by his next words. Though she'd begged it for answers, the sea was reticient on such matters. Not quite silent, but certainly tight-lipped.

"Skellige," she sighed, scooting a little closer to him and sitting down at his paws. "I have been speaking to the sea, but I can't figure out exactly what he wants. I have asked and asked again, but there is no clear answer. I have an idea of what we need to do, but I don't quite understand it - can you tell me more about how your homeland was blessed?"

She did not dare to look at him, afraid that she would see disappointment in his tangy gaze. She'd tried and tried to weasel the secret of the whispering sea, but he never quite spoke loud enough for her to hear. There were words, she knew - words that needed to be spoken, and the blood of the sea needed to run in their veins. The sea had spoken of many things, but his mutterings were too low even for her ears. She wished he would speak of such things with the volume he spoke of others - she knew the feirceness of his joy at the feel of the morning sun, and the sweetness of his serenades that he sang to the moon at night - but not the secret of the blessing. Not that.

"I'm sorry. I know you shouldn't have to worry about this - I know it's very important," she said softly, bringing herself low and touching her nose to his paw.

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The golden-hearted angler kept to himself as he worked, searching out particular objects that would be useful to the fledging Witch Doctor. Having borne the brunt of his siblings’ abuse, Szymon was more familiar with the Witch Doctors than most — he had suffered their healing rituals more often than he wished to remember, particularly after The Drop when he had injured his eye. Several days before, he had managed to kill two seabirds — one brown, one grey — and had saved their feathers and skulls. Although he did not know exactly what was to be done with such things, he remembered the Witch Doctors keeping a variety of skulls, feathers, skins, and other such odd items for purposes that he was not privy to. Among the things he’d hoarded away were three odd pieces of driftwood that seemed to resemble certain shapes: a bowl, a twisted and warped thing that from some angles may have resembled a wolf, and a knotted, gnarled piece that looked like a staff.

While Doe and Skellige worked on digging caches, Szymon worked to widen their perimeter, marking what items he could with visual cues as well as scent marks. He rubbed himself against a fallen log near the eastern perimeter, leaving tufts of his fur within the rotting wood — and spun, lashing at it with his blunt claws. The white wood beneath the brown bark was eye-catching, and he lifted his leg to mark the area with his scent. When faced with an object that could not be physically marked in such a way — a large boulder or something to that effect — he left the territory proper to snare a marmot, fangs crushing the creature’s spine and killing it instantly. The flesh he would give to Doe and to Skellige, but he would keep the skin for himself and use the blood to mark the Depths’ borders with garish smears that would catch both the eye and the nose.

Trotting back toward his brother and the Witch Doctor, Szymon held his body low as was his wont, tail twitching incessantly as usual. His shoulders arched above the slope of his neck as he made several trips — with him he brought the warm corpse of the marmot, nosing it toward the Leviathan with a low, sonorous rumble of greeting; the bowl, staff, and tiny driftwood wolf; the two seabird skulls; and a mouthful of feathers that he spat out rather unceremoniously with a low, guttural chuff toward Doe.

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The words that he had spoken seemed to bring life to her small frame, and the woman wiggled excitedly in response. He watched her with a curious glint to his dark gaze before deciding not to remark on the happy nature that surrounded the woman. She was a peculiar companion, but welcome in his mind. The sea had taken her and birthed her… it had washed her of her previous life and sent her to live underneath his care and his command. The Witch Doctor – though he did not know her true name – was something of a prized possession for the leviathan. The mystics had answered his call and had given him what he needed to meet his tireless efforts.
 
At the mention of the blessing, the wiry female seemed to draw herself close to him and made herself small. When she spoke to him, her voice was level and there was a rationality there that he had not seen before. Though she seemed disappointed in her lack of direction, he listened to all that she had to offer, and then frowned thoughtfully as she drew to a conclusion. The sea had not given her answers for their blessing, and she was inquiring to him the nature in which Warsaw had been touched. He could recall the ceremony in great detail, but it did not push him to answer right away.
 
The sight of Szymon drew his attention and he lifted his crown upward to glance at his pale brother’s form. A small nod of attention was directed to the pallid Cairn before Skellige fixed his gaze back on the sea witch. She had apologized to him and stressed the importance of the ritual. He did not dispute this, nor did he instruct her to cease her apologetic nature. By that same token, however, the sea king did not blame her in the slightest.
 
“The ceremony is difficult, I have heard. We must gather herbs that reek of the waters. Sprinkle their holy water on the edges of our terrain. There will be other herbs to give each of us the sight so that we might witness the spirits that come to aid us. Blood will be laid out in the least protected areas of the pack so that it is blessed by the crimson of the ocean life. Once we have marked our land, you must commune with the mystics and they will bring a feast to us,” he told her, motioning with his muzzle towards the waters. When Warsaw had been blessed by the mystics, the Cairns had feasted on the body of a dolphin. This time, he prayed they would bring him a shark. “It is tasking, I know, but you will be able to do this.”

Sy's appearance helped to put the fledgling doctor at ease, but she kept her attention trained solely on Skellige, her ear hardly twitching as the pale wolf approached. She listened carefully to his description of what she had to do, and certain words and actions settled into the idea she'd already had like wax into a mould. And his words - they bolstered her resolve, made her feel capable and important, just as they had in their other life - the one without water.

Skellige was not the Riverbone she'd known. Perhaps nothing to do with him at all - but he was slowly filling up the void that Doctor Doe had felt since leaving her home. These two brothers were becoming her family, and she already felt the stirrings of her love for them in the depths of her heart. He believes in me, she thought with joy that seemed to grow lighter and lighter in her heart, as though it would float up out of her, or else cause her to be carried away.

"Thank you, Skellige. I understand, now," she said, trying to force herself to speak calmly, but ending up with a near-shout. Her paws tapped the ground in an excited dance, and she pasued only to lick thankfully at his chin and to dart feintingly toward Sy before she ran off, shouting over her shoulder - "There is much to prepare! I will call when we are ready!"

Exit Doe

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Szymon continued to strengthen the territory borders, streaking the blood of his kill on the outermost rocks; using his fangs and claws to rip bark from trees to reveal the white, garish flesh beneath; scent marking and rubbing wherever he could. He threw the whole of his body into his work, burying what food he could and covering it with seaweed he dragged from the shore — the idea inspired by Doe and relayed by Skellige. The golden-eyed and golden-hearted youngest Cairn would work until he could go no longer or until the job was done. Within the back of his mind, he kept the cache of items he had stored for Doe and any rituals she might need to perform in the future.

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And just like that, the wild woman seemed to understand and was ready to prepare. There was a vibrant excitement in the flash of her eyes and the quick bounce of her paws against the sand. Skellige could not help but to feel… happy that she was so willing and ready to do what was necessary for their pack to become what it needed to be. The blessing would take place only when the other wolves had joined them. The invitations had been issued to those who had answered the calling of the sea, and if they were to come, then they would be considered worthy in the eyes of the great leviathan. Until that time, they would continue to prepare their new home for what it would be in the near future.
 
Glancing to Szymon with a firm nod, the wraith did not doubt that his youngest brother was doing everything in his power to make sure their lands were marked well and that their scent would be known on the shores of the bay. Already in his trekking, Skellige had noted the sweet tang of blood on their borders. It was a soft reminder of his home, and he was – though wild to his very core – beginning to feel at peace near the ocean once more. Without speaking to his younger brother, the leviathan stepped forward and drew his nose into the tuft of ivory fur on Szymon’s cheek before the youngest Cairn had set out to finish what he needed, and the sea king could continue his own work.

Thank you both!