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The idea of the Mersey Sintin had been bothering Pizarro for several days. He'd been losing sleep over it, in fact, though it didn't really show since he was allowed to take naps during the day. Laziness wasn't exactly discouraged by the corsairs who had the care of him while Makena was out being fierce and piratical. But he had taken to staying up late to listen to the stories and gossip of the corsairs and then stayed up even later, unable to sleep because of what he'd heard.

Today he was resolved to remedy that, however, and so he decided it was time to talk to the source of all knowledge about everything, at least according to some people. Pirato. The red-eyed cub had never spoken to the commodore before, so he was both excited and nervous to be doing so now. At least he had something to say, rather than just an awkward greeting and introduction. He was in search of knowledge, and that was something respectable, right?

If there was one thing that Pirato failed at for the most part, it was knowledge. He feinged intelligence in most situations. But he really was smarter in terms of survival. If it dealt with living or dying, Pirato could help. There WAS a reason he had been nominated Commadore after all. He was on his back, paws kicking into the air, letting the sun warm his belly. The sand was warm around him, and he felt as if he had the most luxurious of pelts draped over himself.

Pelts, something that the pirates had taken to stealing. Sure it was off the backs of others, but the pelts were warm, and they were very valuable around the area. A pelt was a symbol of power, and if you killed at took the furs, then you earned yourself the right to keep them..No crew member could take them from you. But Pirato was without a pelt this morning, and was quite happy. His 'ship' had done their pirating earlier yesterday evening.

They had brought back fruits and treasures galore. Little trinkets that would mean nothing except to them, it was everything. He closed his red eyes, letting the sun warm him as he sat thinking about the night before. It had been alot of fun, tormenting and stealing things away. He missed doing that more often. As a commadore though, he usually kept to the pridelands in order to be there for consult. But every now and again, he'd get to relive his youth.

Pizarro wasn't very impressed by the display as Pirato stretched, but he did file it away as something that looked sort of impressive. He was constantly on the lookout for things he could do to make himself seem bigger or scarier or more impressive. Not being particularly brave, it seemed prudent to learn as much as he could about posturing and posing, and generally seeming scarier than he really was, thus preventing him from ever having to actually prove how ferocious he was (or wasn't).

"I overheard some o' the corsairs talking and they mentioned a pride called the Mersey Sintin or sommat like that. What I want to know is, are they real?"

It was a little silly, perhaps, for him to ask that sort of question, but since the terrifying lions from the stories had been disturbing his sleep, Pizarro felt justified in seeking confirmation that there was actually something to be afraid of, rather than just the stories told by corsairs. He was coming to learn that not everything they said was true, after all.

Pirato lifted his gaze to the cubs face, and looked at the emotions whenever he brought up the Stormborn. Pirato was good at ignoring the existence of the vikings, but still.. It did nothing to dissuade the others from gossiping or conversing with each other about them. He bristled a little. He didnt want the cubs to know of the Stormborn. He wanted them to find out when they were old enough to be able to do something about it, should they run across one.

But this cub was obviously a little older than the younger of the cubs. He supposed with Pizarro being a juvenile, he was old enough to learn what a Stormborn was. Though preferably, he would have learned from someone that wasnt the Pirate King. He took a deep breath, and prepared himself. He was about to have a conversation about a group of others that he truly despised.

"Aye, lad. They're very real. You'd do best not to bother your head with the notion of them, though. Not the most.. trustworthy or likeable characters." He said, nodding, hoping that would be enough to satisfy the curiosity of the youngster. The way he spoke of them though, it was obvious he had a huge dislike of them, as did the rest of the pride.

Pizarro so far didn't think it sounded so bad to be born out of the ocean. Maybe that meant they could hold their breath for a really long time, or even breathe under water. That would be really amazing. But he'd never heard any stories like that. He'd only heard about them coming by land. But if they could breathe water...that would be even worse!

"What's a demonie? Where do they live?" Zarro asked, his eyes wide with fascination. It hadn't occurred to him that there were so many groups of lions out there who hated pirates. "Why would they want to make lions just fer killin' pirates?"

He stopped his questions when Pirato began telling his own tale of his own experiences meeting the things. The commodore was acquiring a bit more respect from the cub with this story. It must have beey really scary to meet one of them in person. When Pirato nodded Pizarro took it as a signal that he could speak again and he had more questions:

"When did you meet one? What did he look like? How did you get away?"

He did remember meeting the Stormborn as a younger adult. The male hadnt really been too aggressive, but they had given each other a round of verbal insults that had decided their dislike of each other. That, and the Stormborn hated everything they did.. Being lazy, and enjoying life, wasnt really the way they liked to live. Or thats how Pirato saw it. But he still gave the stories like he would eat fermented fruit. Frequently, and in numerous quantity at a time.

"I met the actual Stormborn King. 'e wasnt the friendliest of blokes. He had a problem wif our way a'life. 'e was big. Huge. Maybe the size of a waterbuffalo.." He looked at the cub with a chuckle, and then shook his head. He couldnt imagine someone not enjoying taking what you wanted, when you wanted it, and enjoying being able to do nothing. That had been his way of life for forever.. Or at least as long as he could remember..

"A herd of gazelle, came out of nowhere. They came straight for us, in a large stampede. We both thought we were dead. He came at me still, an missed me by inches.. A zebra caught him mid stride, kicking him away from yours truly. I was able to escape, but many arent so lucky, lad." He said, nodding as he watched the cubs reactions.

Pizarro turned around, feeling a little stupid for not having introduced himself before. What a stupid thing to do. But then, he reminded himself, was his name really that important? Was Pirato even likely to remember it in a few hours? And even if he did, would Pirato be able to tell him apart from his brother. They did look a lot alike.

"Me name's Pizarro," he said, adding politely, "Commodore."