Sea Lion Shores copper and silver

Ragnar had grown up at the sea side, had joined Horizon Ridge only because it was along the shore and had then founded Stavanger Bay being sure to claim a stretch of beach, as well. He did not feel home anywhere else. He traveled to many lands, had climbed mountains and ran through forests and yet being surrounded by nothing but land created an alien-like claustrophobia that had became pressing upon the scarred Scandinavian during his brief travels of a lone wolf. They had been at the beckoning of the All-Father and he had no choice, no will to do anything but obey. He was no Priest nor Seer and therefore was not entirely capable of accurately deciphering the will of his claimed ancestor, still he interpreted as he saw fit and believed wholly in his interpretation without a second guess or even so much as a sliver of doubt. It had led him to this. To Stavanger Bay, to Thistle Cloud and back to Nerian. He had a strong core of members in the Bay, and a growing family, and friends that he could count on. He still missed Floki with ferocity but it could not be helped. So long as his friend was helping at trying to salvage Odinn's Cove and take down Vali then Ragnar understood.

The stranger broke the silence Ragnar had allowed to continue, alerting the Jarl that the other man was aware of his presence there. For a moment Ragnar considered just giving the other his infamous smirk, the coy tugging at the corner of his lips but tilted his head to observe the other with muted curiosity. Hello, Ragnar parroted, voice soft and heavy with his native accent. You are far from home, Ragnar observed, scenting Swiftcurrent Creek upon the other man's coat, being quite familiar with the scent of their pack. What brings a Swiftcurrent wolf this far South-West? Ragnar inquired.

TABLE CODE BY JOHN