Stavanger Bay reunion

He moved on from Ashari, huffing about it with every step. Fucking inbred kid, come all the way here to talk nonsense about the tribe at him. He had liked her, once, but now it seemed that they had gotten to her just like they got to everyone else. A shame, really. The Keils were batshit and unpredictable, but at least they weren't entrenched fundamentalists. God, could you imagine?

He was going to continue his merry way up the coast when, of course, he stumbled upon some scent markers that blocked his path. Either Zamael could go around, wasting time, or he could take matters into his own paws and cut through (and likely get the shit kicked out of him in the process). He ruled the latter out; the piss smelled strong. These guys and gals weren't fucking around.

So, instead, he heaved a long-suffering sigh and began to trek around, keeping several respectful paces away and hoping that these wolves weren't like the girl with the stick up her ass from Ikka-whatsit. He wasn't crossing the border, after all. What the fuck did they have to complain about?

The group had done exceptionally well to ensure that their borders were marked appropriately with their intent to claim. The more bodies that filled the bay, the more it would smell like someone had made it a home. That was, of course, their intention. The great warhound had been tirelessly trekking along the weaker edges of the terrain, marking where he could and making a good effort to display a show of claim where he could not mark. In many of the places where their defenses were not as strong, Ford could scent that one of his brothers had already passed by. At least they had managed to make good use of themselves.

Reaching the far outer edge of the pack, the skeletal titan caught sight of a shape that moved just outside. The stranger was keeping a wide space between himself and the markings on the border; it was appreciated. With a careful approach, the looming figure closed some of the space between them and when it was appropriate, he called out to the grey fellow, “hello there.” The titan drew his crown upward and placed a welcoming smile on his dark lips. He did not entirely expect them to have arrived directly at his doorstep so soon. Still, it was an opportunity that he did not wish to miss, if he could help it.

Turns out, they sent the creepiest looking motherfucker there ever was to guard their borders, and Zamael resisted a visible shiver as he walked up. What the actual shit? He looked like a skeleton, a walking fuckdamn skeleton. He swallowed, taking the barest step backward as he came to a stop, watching the man with wary eyes.

I'm not trespassing, he said in reflex, thinking of Takiyok. See? He nodded to their piss-line, then down at his paws. Not over the line. Cross my heart, dude. He thought about just carrying on, moving north. . .

But then again, was he really gonna pass up the chance to talk to the most goth wolf ever?

Hi, Zamael said slowly, nodding at a similar pace. I, uh-- What's this place called?

The stranger was quick to defend his distance from the border that they had created. It brought an expression of amusement to the calculated titan’s face. It was guessed that he had drawn to close to another in the past. While that might have been something to question, Ford could not find it within himself to berate the stranger for doing nothing wrong. It wasn’t needed, and he felt that there was a greater chance at play. 

The warhound would always protect his claim with his fangs and his iron strength. He cared more for this home than the one he’d been born in, and he had only known it a short while. There was something to be said for his attachment to it. It had always been intended for him - at least, that was what he’d been told. It had taken him that long to begin to believe it. For all the things he had learned while growing, defense was one of the heavier focuses. He had learned that finding allies in peculiar places was another paramount to his success. 

You’re alright, he assured the silver cloaked figure. There was a gentle nod of his crown as he drew closer. Still remaining on his side of the border marking, Ford offered a polite smile. His eyes roamed the figure of the other wolf without pausing. Once he had pulled in a good estimate of the abilities that belonged to the slender vagabond, he made his posture to be less brutish. The hollowness of his soul was all that could be seen in his mismatched gaze. 

The question presented was welcome. This is Stormrift. We’ve got a small bunch right now but we’re looking for more to stake a claim, he answered in a tone that seemed open and serene. The smokiness of his baritone lingered in the air for a moment before he inquired, are you seeking a home, or just passing through?

For such a scary-looking wolf, he seemed nice enough. The smile might have been spooky under other circumstances, but it came across genial here, which Zamael assumed he was going for. All well, at least for now. He shrugged at the question, pausing a little as he sorted himself out, internally.

God, I dunno, he sighed, blinking slowly at Skeleton Man. Originally I was just passing by on my way north, but with a name like Stormrift, I might have to stay. It was pretty dope. How many of you right now? What kind of stuff are you guys into? I won't do any freaky religious shit, Zamael added, narrowing his blood-orange gaze at the man.

Hell no. He had gotten enough of that with the tribes. Ashari's reappearance had rattled him enough to bring it to the forefront of his mind.