Stavanger Bay barnacle bill

arturo had fallen into the routine of patrolling ironsea's borders. the gesture was a welcoming familiarity. he was still a man that favored the weapon of words over tooth and claw but it was an old habit of the once ceannasach and it was true what they said: old habits truly died hard. he was patrolling their eastern border when smokestep's summons rose through the morning atmosphere. it catches the coywolf's attention with an ear pivoting towards the west, towards the sea as the pallid, young captain's voice fades. he marks his spot in the borders so he might return to finish the patrol and makes his way towards where his leader's call had risen with haste. he is not the first to arrive upon the scene he notes with an assessing sweep of his hellfire gaze. it touches first upon smokestep, then moves to sandpiper and two females whose names he is not aware of and has yet to officially meet. the swab takes a seat in the general meeting area but a little bit away from the others — not with the intention to isolate himself but because he is unsure where he falls in line with the others who have, presumably, been apart of ironsea much longer than he and are, likely ( if he had to guess ) more accustomed to their seating arrangements than he; and because he doesn't know many others besides sandpiper and smokestep.