The Sentinels no roots

They were all relatively new to the bay, so it could not be said that there was a deep history to the culture that Ford had sought to form. He had grown under the looming shadow of his father – the Leviathan – and had known the wishes of the brute were to inherit the land that had been intended for him. Of course, Skellige had wished for his children to claim the territory his way. The titan had shed that idea and crafted his own path. He had found a way to encourage those who came from all walks of life – who could learn and grow as one – and he believed that he had bested his father in every way with that.
 
Only time could tell, though.
 
The question was a good one, and Ford glanced to his companion with an approving smile and a small nod of his crown. “All of our ranks are based on gods of the ocean and its depths. Aegaeon was the god of violent sea storms and ally to the titans. It was clever of you to pick up on that,” the warhound remarked in a pleased tone. Most of them were happy enough to have a place among the ranks, but few had actually inquired what they meant. Even the lowest members had a deep meaning in their place within the pack.