Shimmering Sands let me be your killer king

The monotonous response again reminded Skellige of his brother. All of this and the way in which the silver beast spoke of happening upon the sands; it was a soft reminder for the leviathan to remember his roots and the mystics who had brought him to those lands. Though the wraith did not know if this strange man had many strong beliefs in the great ones who watched over them, or the power of the ocean’s tide, but he did not need to. The familiarity was sign enough for the silver-ribbed sea king.
 
While he traveled to that end of the shore on his own, there would be others at the bay who would be capable of making sure this man was tended to. Whether it was the Witch Doctor or Deirdre who came to his aid, the slate-cloaked wolf of the sands would have someone to tend to his wounds. Fixing him with the same lackluster expression, Skellige waited to see what he would have to say to the matter of finding his purpose by sheer serendipity. While he was concussed and could not recall his true meaning for having approached the shore, it mattered very little to Skellige. The leviathan wanted only to know what this man’s plans were; what he intended to do with the new life that had been struck into his skull by a creature from nowhere… a creature that had since disappeared from sight.
 
When at last the long silence seemed to fade, and the canary-eyed male had made a decision, he closed the distance that was stretched before the wraith and lowered his skull toward the inky feet of Skellige. He had been seeking a master to serve, he said in a quiet and rumbling voice. The dark gaze of the sea wolf fell on the silver of his back and spine and noted the sharp rippling of his muscles as he lowered his frame. The brute would make for a handsome dredge. Once introduced, he fancied himself a warrior and wanderer and then pledged himself to the wraith of the water.
 
Blinking once, the great sea king nodded his head. “Tetsubō,” the man repeated with a careful flick of his tongue. “I am Skellige Cairn. My claim is not here, but further down the shoreline. Travel with me and the witch doctor will tend to your wounds,” he remarked to the man. Doe would be a suitable woman to see if this man was fit to begin helping their claim on the bay. If she could not do it on her own, Skellige knew that he could rely on the knowledge that Deirdre had. She had proficiently tended to the wound on his shoulder and neck. She could do the same to this wolf.

"You stated that you are a warrior. In my culture, we will call you a dredge, but I see no reason why you should not do well in this role," he informed the man. The inky brute was slowly making his way back toward the bay and hoping that he might find the Doctor along the way. She had been frantic in her attempts to gather things for the blessing of the sea. Her treks had taken her all across the shore, just as Skellige had traveled it well.