Stavanger Bay you are the night-time terror

Even with the words that he had spoken, the alabaster stranger did not seem as though she was entirely ruffled. The warhound felt his chest swell with a heavy breath that was released into the air like a great stormcloud. It was then that she opened her mouth to request something of him. The pride of the Cairn burned like a fire in his belly and forced the hairs along his neck and back to rise like jagged peaks of an indomitable mountain. How could she find the gall to ask anything of him when she stood on his shore like a lost degenerate? The titan did not understand how strangers could have grown so bold.

A quick snort was released from his flared nostrils. The wraith stiffened himself and looked down the length of his muzzle at her features. Though there was nothing there to suggest malice, Ford did not trust the likes of her. As he had grown closer, the brute had picked up on the scent of other wolves that lingered in her cloak. The scent was familiar, and he was reminded of the woman who had been searching for Saarthal. For a moment, he imagined that the albino stranger's request would be to help her find the missing wolf. He would have denied her, if it was.

“I am not foolish enough to agree to such terms without knowing what it is that you want,” the warhound uttered in a guttural tone. Then, he crafted an expectant look that was cast to her without pause. The mismatched colors of his eyes bore into her features like empty fires; there was nothing there but a hollow beast of war. It was nearly an unfortunate thing that he had found the intelligence he had. It had crafted him into a dangerous weapon, capable of devastation.