Walking off the gangway Vilmund notices the people moving about, loading and unloading the wares from the ship he's been on these last several days, when as he nears a stand of crates and barrels. The young fellow catches Vilmunds eye as he speaks,
new comer:
Hey!... Welocme to ironman, Me hardy !... I know a good, safe in to go to... warm fire, cold ale and hot food?..an' mabbe..a chance ta earn some coin, if ye don't mind swing a sword fer it?
Vilmund hefts the Warhammer in his hand, spinning in it so the head swivels before he stops it in a grip strong from years of carrying it.
Not sure you should call this a sword mate, might hurt it's feelin's, and we wouldn't want that now would we? He smiles friendly and continues
But if you've got a spot fer me to sit and fill me stomach, and possible talk of places fer me to do the work of the Cold Ones, lead on.
He gathers a firm grip on his hammer, settles his pack and other items over his shoulder, taking the time to make the adjustments as well as looking around to make sure he wasn't probably being set up for an ambush, he prepares to follow the lad.