Stavanger Bay a pirates return

The greeting was one that was entirely unfamiliar to him, but he provided the stranger with a ghostly curling of his dark lips that did not reach the mismatched glimmer of his gaze. He pulled his head upward and regarded her carefully down the length of his muzzle. There was something about her that reminded him of Rannveig first, and so he assumed that she knew about them from his slate-colored brother. Regardless of who had given her the name of their group, she had discovered it, and it seemed she had arrived on their doorstep with inquiries. It was good that he had found her, he supposed. Best for them to get the more direct return of information that could be provided.

“I am. My name is Ford, and I intend to lead Stormrift once we have gathered enough members,” the warhound responded in a tone that was gruff but not unkind. A slight quirking of his brow and a tilt of his head was the expression that met her. The hollow light of his mismatched gaze was latched to her features with no emotion but an underlying breath of confidence. “Are you seeking a home?”