Stavanger Bay We'll sing the song of the sea,

-forgot what his username was
@O'Mally @Kynareth Deagon

The sealord prowled the borders, giving a wary glare outwards to their territory. Ironclan was steadily growing, and so was the claim- but their numbers were still rather thin. She could smell others wandering around the beach as the mixture of Wintersbane was with them, and decided not to seek out and attack, rather wait for them.

So, Umbra continued her nightly patrol.

As wide, white paws sink into the sand, his sky blue eyes get used to the dark. Pupils growing wide to let in more light in an attempt to see in the dark, he wanders aimlessly down the coastline he’s found himself so enraptured with. Muscles bunching beneath his pale coat, the moon paints him a sickly blue from its casting light high in the sky. 

Though as he walks, he prays absentmindedly. He has but naut to do but pray. So his lips mouth words of reverence as each paw takes a step. Though only a fair distance away his eyes catch on the frame of the shewolf hellhound in the distance. A slight pause in his prayer, but he continues nonetheless. He will continue to do so until she comes closer. Until then he watches, stark still. Eerily white form presented to her like a ghost in the night.

Unlike the darkened figures she is used to, a white figure approached. Tail raised and head held high, she approached the white priest, "This is Ironclan's territory," the kraken warned, "we do not allow outsiders." It was but a simple threat, more of a demand he must leave. Though she also knew..

"Unless you are willing to lay down for us." 

Umbra did not easily trust many, but she also knew that the Clan needed power; they needed warriors, they needed numbers! The more they gather, the easier it was to officially claim this bay. At time, those who joined will prove themselves, and if not, she would personally see to their grieving's.

This beastly creature before him has him in his sights and he halts when her eyes meet his own. A small smile then — a knowing one — as she opens her mouth and stakes her territorial claim on this beach. To which his bright, baby blues rake over her darkened form, for a moment just taking in her hellhound characteristics. Though he is often sexualized, he is nothing of the such. His horribly handsome face an often misleading thing, even though he truly has no interest in any type of sexual behavior. He’s often accused with it just due to his appearance — very unfortunate really.

So he cants his head to her. “I will not lay down per say, but if you so wish it, I will leave.” A light pause and his smile grows, eyelids half mast over his cerulean orbs. “Although I am interested in what your pack is called, if I may ask.” His voice is calm and intrigued, one of intense curiosity but not fear.

as said in discord, marking this after O'Mally met Wintersbane and joined

Upon inching closer, only then did the Sealord smell that familiar scent of Wintersbane. If the man was not chased out, and instead had stayed within the shores of the bay, she could only conclude that the Saltking had allowed this man to possibly join. Her more malice nature eased, but her arrogance did not. She kept a high head and a tail wildly in the air, continuing to look down on the white figure.

"You have met the Saltking and smell of him, you are a new recruit?"

O’Mally is unbothered by her slight attitude. Rather he’s entertained by it. He is surprised when she graciously tunes it down just a notch, but when she mentions the Saltking and another’s scent on him he is confused at first. Settling for a quirk of a brow at the interesting woman. Her posture is still one of dominance and it seems she demands respect as she looks upon him. 

He will give her what she desires because it seems that she too works with the man he realizes she references as Wintersbane. He keeps his body stature neutral and his tail relaxed at his hocks.

“I am. I spoke to him about your pack. I told him I wished to join since I am new to these lands and he let me.” Comes his calm and informative response. He tilts his head just a pinch. “You are a part of the pack as well it seems. What rank do you hold?”

"I am the Sealord of Ironclan, equal to the Saltking." She made her claim known, that she was on the same line as Wintersbane, and the title that demanded respect. Umbra was an arrogant wolf, proud in her name, and the claim she would stake with the man. As so, her very nature demanded the respect of underlings, and if not, she was petty enough to go after them so.

Though naturally untrusting, she wouldn't look at him for support until proven otherwise. Only Sunhawk and Wintersbane, had gained this loyalty from the kraken.

"I am Umbra."

Ah, so she is his alphess. He thinks uselessly connecting two and two together. She seems much more devious than the noble Wintersbane, but he has yet to see their true colors. For all he knows they could be pleasant on the outside and ugly on the inside — murderers, sinners, irrational, disgusting wolves tainted by the devil himself. But he’s not one to judge so quickly. 

So he nods curtly to her. “Ah, I see.” A quick pause. “Then it’s a pleasure. I’m O’Mally Valentine. I hope to be an asset to the two of you and to this pack as a whole. Call on me at anytime, I insist.” Comes his own thoughtful reply.

Umbra did not see herself as evil, though nor' was she any close to being good. She was a selfish creature, a kraken by the sea that only wanted her own achievements, her own power, and her own destiny. She care not, to who is harmed in the way, or the enemies to be made. A word of snap, was easy for the short-tempered wolf, but she wasn't blindly stupid, especially since her leg was broken from but a whimsical visit to the cliff.

She wouldn't make that mistake again.

"O'Mally, it is a interesting name," she said, "do you normally live by the sea?" As the Sealord, was one of the waves and the darkness that came with the abyssal waters, she was all too familiar with the ocean beside them. However, not everyone was the same, as some were not used to the taste of the saltwater, or the comfort of warm sand by the summer light. 

He did not seem like a seafang.

She repeats his name and he smiles, eyes flicking to her mouth briefly to watch it curl around the syllables. He’s horribly obsessed with himself. What can he say? His name is an interesting one. The girl who found him named him as such. His last name coming from the day she found him on she had said. A holiday humans celebrate to honor their significant other. He doesn’t share the backstory of it with her, not this day. But perhaps latter if he finds himself in the pleasant company of his Sealord once more.

He doesn’t miss her question though and he smiles at it. “I was. The place I lived was on the coast as well. My fur curls horribly from the saltwater and I always ended up looking like a newborn lamb.” He jests with a laugh at the memory of his human girl laughing at him for the curls the sea gave him. “I had fond memories on the shore of that powerful ocean.”

He tilts his head. “What about you? Where did you come from?” 

"Where I am from is not important." She brushed his question off. While it was quite clear she came from a rather storm-hardening place, Umbra had no desire to share of it anytime soon. It was just but a mark of her past, something that shouldn't be paid to mind. 

"Can you swim with that fur?" Discarding any further discussion of what her previous whereabouts were, she continued interrogating the religious man. He said his fur curled, yet he still remained by the waves. Was he able to swim?

He is both surprised and not surprised when she carelessly shoots down his question to instead try her luck at interrogating him. Her question almost makes him laugh, but of course he doesn’t want to show any disrespect.

“Of course I can.” Is his easy response. “Why would I not be able to? I’ve been swimming a majority of my life, as I said, I lived in the coast after all.” He smiles to her and dips his head conversationally. “You need not worry about my ability to fight the sea, for not one of us are strong enough to survive it if it really wants to take us.” His baby blues look at her own. “That is the will of God is it not?”

"I do not believe in a God." She said with a disdained snort. If all else, she believes in what but the sea can give, and its power that God has never delivered. Only the unfairness in life, and the curse that brought her but a misery in the past times. The kraken held more disdain for the God then all else.

"How are you in hunting then?" Umbra did value warriors of the sea, that much was for sure. Anyone who could prove themselves able to fight in water would be given her respect- but she also wanted to know if not only can fight, but survive in them so. Hunting was crucial, especially with winter ahead

The snowy pelted wolf doesn’t even blink when she snorts disrespectfully about his god. Rather he smiles. “And why is that? Has he betrayed you?” He asks then, genuinely curious but sure she will be cryptic and not tell.

Yet she’s quickly meeting him with another question. He doesn’t back down from her challenge of wit. She’s testing him. Is he strong enough to join Ironclan? He’s much stronger than she thinks. His mental fortitude is uncanny and his physical strength is just as fair — even though he prefers other methods over fighting. 

So he nods once. “I’m fair at catching fish. Probably could use a bit more work, but practice is always an option no? I can catch any land animal you give me though. With enough encouragement of course.” 

"I do not put much thought to him to think he betrayed me." While she said so, there was a time she did believe in a God. Perhaps not the same God that O'Mally so spoke about, but something of the liken. Gods and Goddess's, but in the end they did nothing to lend a paw to the mortals of the land, and watch them all but suffer at the paws of another. She could not follow such whishy-washy one's who only did what they so desire.. Not to mention; she didn't want to believe they were real, and scorned her presence so.

"Catch something right now." Rather offhandedly said, her stormy eyes took a look toward the ocean, and wavered her nose toward the direction.

He hums thoughtfully at her answer. “That’s unfortunate. I cannot stop thinking about God. I can’t and will never be able to escape him.” He say to her easily, a hint of something in his voice that might be slightly off. As if God has kidnapped him and unwilling to release him from his clutches.

Yet he doesn’t dwell on it long and he’s tilting his head at the sound of her next words. “Ah, you want proof then.” Comes a monotone reply. Then his smile is tilting up teasingly and his deep voice sounds playful, much different from his previous tone. “Then you will get it.” Is is closing sentence.

He nods to her and begins languidly padding to the shore, wading into up up to his chest. The fish are used to these rough waters, so his first few steps are unlikely to spook them for long. O’Mally stands just looking down into the water patiently. Then he sees a streak of silver and he’s launching down, head and shoulders diving into the water. When he comes up with clenched teeth, he realizes that he has nothing in his maw. 

How fucking embarrassing.

He laughs at himself with a brief look back to Umbra. “Like I said: practice makes perfect.” He sighs. “Again then.”

Rinse and repeat except the second time he’s emerging with a smaller medium size fish. Smiling around it he trots over to the dark temptress and drops its body before her. Looking to her with a shrug and a winning smile that makes his handsome face glow. “Could’ve been better, but it’s honest work.” He chuckles.

Umbra wasn't sure how to feel about a religious man joining the ranks. Even her homeland thought of Gods and Priests of the like, she avoided them. Her job aligned with warriors of the sea rather then believing in something that wasn't certain, and even when she thought of him; he betrayed her. Such a God did not deserve her prayers, and only could be sent to herself.

She stopped replying to such, making it clear that the Sealord grew dull of the conversations amongst God. She would tolerate it, and let him do as he want, as long as it didn't bother her. Umbra wasn't going to suppress someone over such a weak excuse.

"Practice makes perfect." She watched with a judgmental gaze as he failed over and over, but she would give him props; he didn't give up. That was a key trait to making Umbra like any, she enjoyed soldiers who was relentless in their pursuits, and did not enjoy cowards who gave up at the first sign of a struggle.

"Fish a few times a weak, and come back with a bigger fish." Somewhat of a 'task' was given, but she wouldn't care too much if he followed through or not.

He could feel her gaze on him as he tried many times to catch a reasonable fish — or really any fish at all. It’s quite hilarious but when he does it finally all she says is Fish a few times a week and come back with a bigger one. Something he can’t quite deny the alphess. So of course he smiles to her with a curt nod of his head. 

“Will do.” Is what he says, confirming her words. He’d get better and he’d show her. Like a little pup showing his mom how good they’re getting at hunting and the such. It’s not demeaning as some would think, she is only trying to make him better. He sees this and recognizes it for what it is. 

Handsome face smiling softly to her he cocks his head. “I will meet you by the end of the week with a fish to blow you away then.” He jests, voice sickeningly smooth, deep. He turns to look down the long line of the beach, his lightening struck back facing her now. “A shark. Yeah, I’ll catch a shark. Easy.” He hums almost to himself.

"Perhaps another time, for a spar." While she wanted the man to practice hunting, he also did not look like one where it was a specialty. Rather, structure gave off more of the warrior path then one of the holy man, but nontheless he took the latter much to her annoyance, and could only hope he picked more merc. techniques then scriptures.

There would be a day she would like to spar with each and one of them, but at the moment Umbra thought the focus would better be toward the pack itself and it's structure. Gain a worthy border where others won't enter and enough forces to survive for the winter, and it seems along the way without her knowing, Wintersbane was also gaining a few allies and doing a few pacts.

"I will be impressed if you do." Sharks were tricky depending on size, and she knew not even in a group could they successfully land for the biggest one. They were tricky in water, and as creatures who could not breathe in the sea, barely sea by the salt that stained their eyes, before they would know it, the waves would be stained by her blood. If the man could truly grab a shark, she would be quite shocked.

"I will leave you to your prayers." With that being said, Umbra nodded to the man as she gave a weekly task for him to do, and if not mentioning anything else, she would return to the borders.

O’Mally eyes her down, clearly humored by her desire for a spar with him. “Yes, I’d love one.” He hums to her with his usual smile. 

When she mentioned being impressed if he manages to catch a shark, he sets it as a personal goal to do just that. Then just as quickly she’s taking her leave. Speaking of leaving him to his prayers he can’t help but offers a polite, “Thank you.” Before he watches her saunter off back to their borders. He decides he doesn’t have a problem with her, rather he likes her.