Stavanger Bay fancy thinking the beast was something you could hunt and kill

The titan listened as the mangy creature spoke with a peculiar twist about his words. Following the movements of his tongue with his eyes, Skellige realized that he did not know where the wild-furred beast hailed from or if he would be much good to them. He had uttered the name of Sithis in a sentence that could only have been constructed as a form of worship. The wraith did not know of this being, or God, but he was firm on the idea that he would not share such a belief. The sea had many great beings to watch over her, and many of them had names, but it was blasphemous to speak of them directly. The true callings of the spirits that had settled over his ocean would never be uttered by his lips.
 
The haggard wolf was quick enough to surmise the relation between Szymon and Skellige, which many had failed to do. The leviathan still held his silence and allowed for his youngest sibling to take the helm. The pallid Cairn was stoic and stiff-limbed in his approach with the ragged stranger, but Szymon had taken on a façade of a brute with their claiming. It was not to be reprimanded; for all of the times that Skellige had torn his fangs across his brother’s body, it would not happen because he was growing out of his shell. The boy had not yet stepped on any toes, so he was left to shrink and grow as he needed.
 
The dark patch-work wolf on the border, though… he was something else entirely. Skellige felt almost as though the great ones had sent him to his borders with the intent of offering him a great and savage being. He was interested in their offer and knew that he would need only to hear the mangy mutt pledge his loyalty before he would allow him in.