Stavanger Bay Joining Thread

Ragnar got a quick glimpse of her scar but he thought nothing of it. Scars were only impressive to him when they outnumbered and out shown his own, these days. Though the scars that marred the left half of his face did give the appearance of someone once having tried to rip it off it was a little known fact that instead of carrying a war story they, instead, held a holier message. In reality, they were just random scratches that were claimed to be a symbol of Odinn and had been of Ragnar's own desire. In a way, he had earned them but not by fighting for his life as the story of most scars seemed to generally go. A derisive snort left the scarred Scandinavian as she spoke, making her spiel that she was too tired to travel further and that she only wanted to use Stavanger Bay to rest up before she continued on. Nicked muzzle wrinkled in distaste. He wasn't in the business of sheltering and feeding lone wolves who had no interest in staying. “Then find a tree in one of the many free territories and sleep under it. Your woes aren't my problem. My pack is not a charity.” Even if he wasn't keeping a close eye on the caches and things for the upcoming winter — after all they had four new helpless mouths to feed — he still would have been dead set against it, and the audacity in which she had to ask it made the Jarl sneer morphing the handsome half of his face. “You will find no pack in these Wilds willing to shelter and feed you at your convenience only.” He warned, lest she go to another pack hoping they might be more hospitable than the Viking of the Bay. “If that is all you have to ask me, then I suggest you get lost.”