Stavanger Bay First Step

The titan had learned from his minor mistakes. He knew that he could not simply allow anyone into the ranks of his beautiful creation. Skellige had realized that he needed those who possessed great talents – those who could bring him what he needed. It was not enough to be willing. Those who entered his reign had to be devoted to the great and powerful ancient ones. If they were not, they would find themselves quickly transitioning into a stage of disposal. The leviathan would not stand by and allow the beliefs of his land and his people to be diminished to nothing. He had already found himself so greatly disgusted by the fleeing of the golden child – Sharkbait. She had abandoned everything that he had attempted to provide for her. She had caused Deirdre to wade into the dark of the forest, and had the pale Donnelaith wolf not been there…
 
A foul thought crossed his mind at the memory of the bear attack. It had left a sour taste in his mouth and the potential of a permanent limp in his limb. The jagged claw marks were a constant reminder of what he had lost on that day. Still, the woodland healer had apologized and treated him with the same love and devotion that she did to everyone. Perhaps that was the reason for his sour ways. Skellige was beginning to think that her actions were not unique. It was unfair of him to pin that to her, but his injury had driven him into a state of madness. His goal was to keep a watchful eye on the coast, as he knew it was rightfully his.
 
That was where the scout came in. As the brute had swaggered forward, his brows furrowed into a stiff line above his dark eyes; he drew in the scent of the newcomer with a peculiar relishing of her novelty. “Greetings, scout… do you believe yourself to be ready for your first order?” he inquired of her without warning or proper formality.