Stavanger Bay I have no home; I make awareness my dwelling.

Smokestep's last post.

Flustered, Smokestep regarded the male he knew little about with a pointed stare that lasted far longer than it should have. His eyes roamed the figure of the Bushido with interest and a modicum of fear for the prospect that he brought to the edges of the Ironsea territory. It was not what he had imagined. An unwanted gift from his father that had already caused a great deal of trouble and had cast his First Mate to the earth without so much as a second thought. The young Captain knew enough to be aware that the grizzled slate warrior would not likely take no for an answer. With an exaggerated sigh, the Cairn boy tossed his muzzle toward the pack as though he had reached a moment of resolve.
 
“Right ye best not be roughin’ me crew up, or yer gonna go right back to me pa,” the pirate warned. It was not as though he believed that the Bushido would be bested in a test of physicality, but that he would listen to the parameters that were set out for him. For all that Tetsubo was, he was a brilliant fighter and an excellent resource, but he took his orders and he followed them closely. It was all that he had learned growing up with the slate brute at his father’s side. “An’ when she’s back up, ye best give ‘er an apology, right? She wos protectin’ this land, Subo. She don’t deserve the manhandlin’,” he then added, motioning toward Roz with a worried expression. Not wanting to allow the male to linger for much longer, Smokestep motioned for the warrior to follow him into the bay and find a place to make his home.