Stavanger Bay savegame

Tev was aware enough of the fact that the claim upon Stavanger Bay had ceased to be when Charon had made the decision to leave behind these sacred grounds. To leave behind Ragnar — to let their father's grave available for scavengers and pests who would have no qualms about defiling it for his bones or whatever decayed meat still remained. It sounded like something only the truly desperate would do yet winter was upon them and those whom did not have a place to call home would, perhaps, be pressured into becoming that desperate. Tev didn't know for sure, of course, for while he was sometimes disgruntled about it he belonged to a pack (and really it wasn't the pack he had issues with). The light colored stranger turned to face him head on, and for a wild moment Tev thought he would be met with equal hostility. In preparation the young Viking's upper lip curled back over his teeth, a ghost of a step taken forward. Yet, the other yielded to some degree, his tail tucking. He stood his ground but there was an acknowledgment of some sort; and Tev realized that while there was power in knowledge there was even more power in dominance. This was something he'd known as a young child, using it rather rudely upon his litter-mates as he had, but his domineering persona had been sunk after the initial bear incident.

Tev's lip lifted again in indignation when the stranger growled out a retort. “You make no demands here,” Tev responded coolly, eyes never leaving the other youth. Of course Tevinter thought he was the only one allowed to make demands. He had connections here. A purpose to be here beyond wandering. This Bay should have belonged to him as he was the son of it's late Jarl. One of the Jarl's true sons, born of the legend's own flesh and blood. “This is Stavanger Bay, it used to be my home,” He fell silent for a few seconds before he continued with, “And you are too close to my father's and this Bay's Jarl's grave for my liking.” Tev gestured to the mound with a sweep of his scarring muzzle.