Stavanger Bay the drink of the Gods

Her grin widened, "Why thank ya, ya a nice lass, ain't ya?" Norsamu caught on the words of praise, and of course, had an ego-boost. She of course never knew of her own accent, and grew up with wolves of similarities, but due to this, everyone had an accent for the pirate. It was similar to an American hearing the British, everyone to her sounded sophisticated, and noble! It sounded nice to the ears, but even though they sounded nice, she treated everyone in a similar matter. All mates until proven otherwise, if they're being a dick, then they're seafood for another. It's black and white, really, just like her pelt.

"Nay!" Her large paw slapped the ground, "aint leaves, it's the drink!" Her voice almost seemed offended if it wasn't followed with a chortle, "ya rotten fruits, the juices mixed with honey give ya the taste of dreams." Ah she dreams of the taste of dreams! Norsamu was patient to wait, but she couldn't help but feel her mouth water on remembering the taste of rum.