Stavanger Bay Taking it’s Toll

Ironclan had, in a way, served as a new beginning. Wintersbane had given him a thorough tour of the territory—of which he was already quite familiar with. From then on, he’d dedicated his days to the monotonous repetition of marking borders and patrolling. For the most part, the man had chosen to keep to himself rather than becoming close with the others. Their scents had grown familiar to him, yet he didn’t have faces to pair with names. He was aware of his solitary habits; soon he’d attempt to break the pattern. Tahoe began the early morning like any other, patrolling, today upon the seashore; direction bound for the Sentinels.

Sorry for the short post, April!

Tagging for visibility @Lynford @Kingsley @Latoya @Vulcan @Hawkes

 

She had seen a bay on the shore, a bit far from where their current camp was, but far more protected. It was claimed, much to her chagrin, but the scents were fresh — not deeply imbedded into the earth just yet. As she sniffed the borders, she saw a wolf approaching in the distance, walking along the invisible border. She snorted to the patrolman, curious.

Upon her own duties, guarding and patrolling a similar fashion, she had picked up the scent of Tahoe. She was satisfied, enjoying the solitary man who remained by the borders through the morning. The Clan was diligent, as they were few of numbers, guarding was even more ferocious then need to be.

Out of simple curiosity did she follow his trail, but even further, did her stormy-eye catch the sight of someone unknown. The Sealord's fur bristled in hostility, but dare not attack as of yet. Patiently so, she followed behind Tahoe, who hopefully was going to the same path was the stranger was going. If not, Umbra would confront them alone.

Idly, he followed after Eartha's trail as she wound her way up the coast line, out of self interest, mostly. Trouble had a way of finding her, and the kind of trouble she was involved in almost always involved violence...and Kingsley wanted in on it. Besides, she, of all the crew, would most likely be the one who was most sure about young Alizarin's whereabouts.

He paused as he caught sight of her form up ahead, following her gaze to the other agouti-looking wolf who was heading in their direction. He almost made to call out before a tall shadow just beyond the other caught his eye. Ah, this would be interesting. Closing the distance between he and his Captain, Kingsley swaggered up to her side with his usual lopsided grin. "Greetings, mateys!" he hollered to them jovially.

His tail lifted as he espied a wolf lingering upon the border, it stuck out stiffly behind him as he strode toward the stranger—a visual indication of confidence. She—a wolf cloaked in hues of brown, grey and black—had already noticed him, plainly acknowledging him with a snort. A second wolf tailed the first, finally joining her at the hip. This fellow was paler in comparison—grey-cream grizzled with coffee tones and copious scars, scarring similar to himself. Unlike his counterpart, his greeting was an odd, but cheery,

"Greetings, mateys!"

Mateys? Implying Tahoe was not alone. In curiosity, he shot a quick glance behind him, finding a familiar dark shadow following his path. Umbra's presence came as a relief, their odds were much better as a pair, compared to him potentially getting jumped the two strangers—who were far too close for his liking. If not seeking to be recruited, they would have no choice but to leave. Ironclan would not serve as a doormat, he would not allow it. His eyes returned on the reddish-brown female who had acknowledged him initially, largely ignoring her partner.

What brings ya to the borders of Ironclan? He inquired in a rumble, guarded.

Sorry for the wait yall!

She wouldn't admit it to anyone, let alone recognize the emotion that fluttered through her within her own consciousness, but a pang of fear overtook her when one wolf became two on the border. It settled then when Kingsley's coarse, Tortugan accent graced her ears.

Greetings, indeed, she echoed her Master Gunner's words. Ironclan? You were not here the last time I came to this place. You are new, then? May I ask if you know of a pack called Rusalka? she went to business, knowing that lost time could increase tensions, especially with that wild-looking woman looming over the male's shoulders.

Friendly- reminded her of Sunhawk, but he seemed slick to the krakens eye. Especially has he travelled against this earth-tone wolf with but a warlords expression upon her. However they seemed to make no notice to pass beyond more, nor' pose a thread. She kept a guarded air, and a head held high in arrogance.

"We are building here," admitting not if they were fresh, nor' confirming, "but we do not know who Rusalka is." Alongside Tahoe did Umbra stand, while answering their questions.

"You ask of us, and we ask; who are you?"

An inquiry was put fourth by the tattered-eared male, and Eartha wasted no time in getting straight to the point. That's what he liked about his Captain; she was curt, blunt, polite formalities had no place in her life. A far cry from when she was but a young princess, he was sure.

The toothy grin remained on his face as Eartha replied, though his gaze was transfixed upon the shade who stood by her pack mate's side. He was instantly smitten, eyes tracing her tall, dark form with an approving glint. She was an utter leviathan, a true kraken of the seas. He wasn't sure if he wanted to fight her or fu—

The question snapped him from his trance. "Damn shame, that," he uttered with a shrug of his shoulders as they revealed they did not know of Rusalka. "But th'name's Kingsley," he introduced with a dip of his head, his attention unfalteringly upon the woman. "And this here's Eartha, me Captain." He left it to her whether she wanted to ask after Alizarin, too.

They seemed like a productive duo. If the second male—Kingsley, so he was called—hadn’t mentioned his companion as his Captain, he would’ve considered allowing them to join the ranks. Though, it appeared they had a little coalition of their own. Where the rest of their brood, or territory was, he did not know. He made a note to inquire about it later. The fact they had chosen to intrude upon the border had not been forgotten, however. He did not want to let them go without further discussion.

Why’re you seeking this.. Rusalka? He asks.

Building. Then they were fairly new. She wasn't sure if asking more of them would be the right move...no, she'd leave that for later.

Kingsley introduced her, to her annoyance. The man was too gregarious by half, but Eartha took it in stride, nodding as the gunner pronounced her name. They've wronged me in the past — protected a criminal and attacked me unjustly, she said. Criminal was too strong a word, but she could find no other that truly encompassed what Alizarin was in her eyes (though some would consider her one, as a pirate).

Disgusting. It felt like the man called Kingsley was slathering his eyes upon her body, and while she had confidence in her own looks and physique, it did not feel any better when a man that seemed like a rat in wolf's clothing, was staring directly at her so. She went closer to Tahoe as a comfort of sorts, knowing there was a companion beside her on the moment.

"Was it that unjust for revenge?" She asked questioningly, if they were asking around packs for these Rusalkians, surely they were looking for vengeance. Umbra had her own fair share as well, thinking of the pack near that cliff. She wondered if they still try to claim so, but at least she got the eye of one of them.

"Though we have no information to give on them." The sealord really did not know them.

He noted the shift in the dark woman's posture, the subtle move she made towards her packmate — or was he something more? The pirate's eyes flicked to the scarred male inquiringly, trying to work out the relationship between the two, though the man was a hard one to read.

Kingsley quirked an amused brow at Eartha's response to his question. A criminal? Is that what the lad was to her? Granted, he was a right young rascal, running off like that and disrespecting the very crew who had so generously taken him in, but a criminal? Perhaps Eartha's ego was far larger than he had thought.

Nevertheless, a bounty was still on Alizarin's head, as was one on each wolf of this Rusalka pack. Unfortunately, it seemed the two had no information for them. He turned back to the dark leviathan beauty with a roguish smile at her question.

"Eartha ain't one to take them sorta crimes lyin' down, miss," he explained with a hint of humour, all too happy to speak for his captain, whether she wanted him to or not. "And what good is holdin' a grudge if ye can't eventually get yer revenge, aye?"

Eartha’s mention of seeking a criminal intrigued him. The fact these two were going so out of their way to pursue the wrong-doer was rather impressive. Or, petty. It would be easier to just let the fellow go, wouldn’t it?

He noticed Umbra’s shift, paid a glance toward her, then refocused upon the two strangers. Kingsley looked toward him then, he met the fellow’s gaze with a blank, judgmental stare. The man then went on and answered Umbra’s question without offering exact specifics—obviously, they both knew more.

Well, what type’a crime? Your crim’nal got a name? Perhaps it was taboo to ask outright, but he wanted to know. They could keep the crimes a secret, it they so wished.