Stavanger Bay splice the mainbrace

The crew that Raptor had been raised in was a coarse one that could be defined by every malignant pirate stereotype. Wenches therefore had been a normal part of life. These were slaves. Young females who had been captured from other crews or packs and held and made compliant by threat of death and worse. They subsided on minimal rations and served only as an outlet for the needs of the males. Their service, like a share of the rum, kept the men orderly, or so it was believed. Wenches were widely accepted by everyone except Raptor. But no one of his old crew knew that and he assumed it would be a charade he'd have to keep up here.

He was wrong.

To the sable wolf's surprise, Smokestep firmly stated that there would be no wenches. Raptor lifted his brows and assessed his companion's face for hint of a ruse... he could not detect one. He slowly nodded his head as his fellow thief explained, burying his relief behind a facade of acceptance and indifference. "Just wanted to know yer policies, Cap'n." Raptor answered with a toothy grin and a wink. It was a truthful answer even if he did not speak the real reason for asking. He did not really know what his new Captain's reign would entail.