Sturmhond is sitting at his desk in the captain’s quarters of his ship, the Volkvolny. He’s studying the different charts spread out on the desk.

You knock softly on the door to his quarters. “Come in,” Sturmhond says in a casual tone. When you enter, he looks up almost immediately.

His heart rate spikes when he sees you, covered in scratches and bruises. He knows his crew can be a bit rough. But never that rough.

“What happened?” Sturmhond asks, brows furrowing in concern.