The Captain had done his rounds at the bay and had made sure that the borders were carefully marked for passersby. He did not want travelers wandering through while he was attempting to reestablish his home. After having done so, he'd left Sandpiper to Raptor and wandered down the coast a ways. He wanted to ensure that he would know the edges of the waters as well as he had come to know those of Warsaw. Still, as the shores stretched on, Kingfisher felt that he had plenty to take in.

Along the edge of the beach, he caught sight of two sea lions who were beating their torsos against the sands as they headed toward the water. Smokestep watched with moderate interest, wondering if he would be able to manage a hunt of his own against one of the creatures. Typically, he had only ever caught a sea lion with Sandpiper and one of the others in Skellige's home pack. Still, he knew that their meat with rife with fat and would surely feed the wolves in the bay for a short while. The pirate stood, debating on turning back to retrieve Raptor before he opted against it and moved closer to the animal.

The body of one became three. Before long, another pale figure came along with a few svelte steps. She seemed to be struggling slightly with carrying the weight of her own body. Smokestep watched her curiously for a moment or two before she caught sight of what he was attempting to do and mouthed her vow to assist. He could not read the words from where he stood, but the seafarer imagined that she was just as hungry as he. Another showed up not too long after, coated in charcoals and dull browns. This was smelled distinctly male. The pirate watched him for another moment, wondering if he was paired with the white female or traveling alone. His protective and cautionary stance seemed as though he was tied to the woman. Either way, they appeared eager enough for a hunt.

Moving with leonine steps, each lengthy stride pulled him closer to the flapping sea lion. Both eyes watched the beast with tact, making sure not to alert it back to the waters. If he was swift enough, he would be able to swing himself around so that he had positioned his body in front of the water, blocking all passage back home for their prey. As long as the other two were hasty, they would surely catch their desired meal and sate their hunger for a while longer. As harsh as the winter was, it was unbearable without the ability to catch your own food. The pirate would not mind sharing as long as they contributed to the capture.

Pulling himself in a wide arc, the pirate plunged his feet and legs into the frigid waters so that he had gained an appropriate position to block the nearest route to the waves. Once he had found himself in a ready stance, he looked up toward the woman and her companion with an expectant expression. It was time to go and if they wasted their time, the food would slip back to the waters and they would go hungry once again.

The trio moved fluidly, and it took only a moment for the pale woman to take an advantageous strike. She dove onto the back of the sea lion with a snarl. Smokestep held his ground for a moment, watching her struggle with the weight of the sea beast. He would have gone to her aid, but the corsair did not want the beast to retreat back to the water, and his limber frame and snarling expression were all that stood in the way. The woman did well to hold her claim on the sea lion's back, and Smokestep released a bark of some encouragement for her to keep strong with the beast. It would not take too much more to bring it down, though the pirate knew how difficult it was to dig through the blubber that surrounded it.

The other male took a shot at their prey's throat. Smokestep watched how the dusty-coated brute recoiled at the sight of the lion's fangs. A small chuckle escaped his throat, but the pale wanderer was keen on eating, so he did not let them flounder for long. With a few careful strides, the pirate closed the space that was between them and darted toward the sea lion with a precise aim for the top of the animal's skull. He would hope to close his fangs around it and crush it, rendering the large flapping beast useless.

As his fangs had sunk into the beast's skull, Kingfisher could feel the life as it was drained from the beast. He held his locked jaw to the crown of the sea lion until it had fallen completely limp in his grasp. When he did remove his fangs from within the animal's head, he cast a blood-soaked look to his party members. They stood with their lungs filling with air. Smokestep too felt the weight of having brought the creature to the ground, but he had known from the start that they were difficult to fall and if he hadn't had the present company, he would not have been able to endure it on his own. Even more than this, he was pleased he had not been forced to turn and search for Raptor before his hunt. Instead he could eat and help supply the caches in the bay.

“Good on ye, both,” he remarked to them with a firm nod of his skull. The pale woman inquired what they were hunting, and her companion echoed the sentiment in a few words. Smokestep glanced to their fallen prey and then back to the two others with a bit of a humored expression. He had imagined they were joking about not knowing what the beast was. Their features told him otherwise after a few moments and he blinked away the surprise as quickly as he could. “Oi! That's a sea lion, there,” he explained to them with a small nod of his crown. “Nasty brutes when ye fight 'em on yer own, but they're full o' fat an' they'll keep ye healthy through winter if ye can get 'em,” he then explained.

The pale corsair stood awkwardly for a moment before motioning with his muzzle at the sea lion in question and then back to the two travelers. “Go on, then. Fill up.” Of course, they had both shared the same inward fear that Smokestep would turn against them in favor of the meat, but he was as proficient as they came in the water. His father had taught him that those who starved in winter were never meant to have survived.

The two were a noticeably strange duo. Smokestep knew that he had come across much stranger wolves in his time, but they were kind enough and he wondered what had shuffled them toward the coast in the first place. It seemed that they had been searching for food, at first, but after not having known what a sea lion was... well, the pirate was not entirely sure himself. Still, he watched while they fed on their share, and the male wandered a bit to explore the territory on his own, leaving the pale woman behind to fend for herself in front of the great and mighty sea captain. Smokestep cast her a smirk and nodded his head at her remark on wanting to stay by the sea; he would not have had the cut to live anywhere else in the world. The water was deeply sewn into his very making, and he imagined it would remain this way for as long as he was to live.

“Y'know I've got meself a crew that's formin' down there,” he mentioned with a tossing of his muzzle toward the neighboring bay. Drawing his gaze back to her own, he canted his head to the left and cast an inquisitive look. “Yer welcome to join, lass, if yer willin' to commit yerself to a life o' piracy. Once yer a member of me crew, yer always a member. We don't take kindly to deserters,” he then cast the typical warning for the Ironsea requirements. The rest could be learned at a later date, but that rule had proved to be most important.

Smokestep had not been interested in fighting with pretty young girls; he always viewed them as an untouchable specimen; there for him to woo, but not to mark with his teeth. If the pale wolfess had attempted an attack first, he would have no qualms with meeting her fangs with his own, but it had never been his intention. Now, the quiet and awkward male was a different subject. Wilhelm caused the pirate to feel less than comfortable in his own skin, if only for the judgmental stares that he seemed to be collecting from the stranger. The two wolves were guarded and careful, so he remained at a short distance and put a great effort into keeping himself friendly.

The pale waif inquired about the likes of what pirates did and the corsair chuckled at the question. “Well, ye see, lass... pirates do damn well what they please,” he stated simply and shrugged his broad shoulders. “Take wot ye like an' die fer each other. Yer crew is the most important thing ye've got, so they'll always come first, y'hear,” he then elaborated some, but it was difficult to sum up just what piracy entailed. It would have been easier for her to experience it first hand. Every member of the crew was different in their own right. She would have been bound to get a taste of everything in their midst.

“Awinita, the pleasure is mine,” he then said with a dramatic flair and small bowing of his crown. “Me name's Smokestep, an' I'm the captain o' the Ironsea crew.” Rudely enough, the pale marauder did not make an effort to even acknowledge the wolf called Wirt; other males tended to get in his way and he was doing his best to work the charm.

The pale young lass seemed as though she was interested and after a short time she accepted his terms and conditions with a vow that she would do whatever she could to assist the crew. The willingness was all he really sought, as he believed he could shape nearly anyone into a pirate if they were willing. So, with a nod of his head and a quick swish of his tail, the pallid marauder smiled at her. “Right then, o' course yer friend is welcome too, so long as he can keep the same promise,” the pirate added with a gesture in the direction of where Wilhelm had wandered. To be fair, the yearling wasn't exactly fond of her mostly-silent counterpart, but he understood her need to feel protected and could not blame her for hiring a guard.

“If ye'd like I'll take ye there an' give ye the grand tour. That's special, mind ye... not everyone gets the Smokestep treatment,” he told her with a flashing wink and a dip of his muzzle toward the sands. He had wanted to let the rest of his crew know that they had fallen a sea lion that still had plenty of meat and fat on its body. It would feed those wolves well and he was mindful of their well being. As long as the crew was happy, they would thrive.

Of course, Smokestep had offered grand tours to almost each one of his crew members, but she didn't need to know such things. All she needed to think was that she was getting treated just right by the big man in charge and she would be smitten. Of course, these were all the things that a yearling would imagine if he thought as highly of himself as Smokestep did. “O' course just the pretty young sea wenches,” he assured her with a grin and a sweeping of his tail. At that rate, the salty hound thought that he would be getting laid without fail. He could have only imagined that she was eating out of his hand, but he was almost addicted to the emotion. The young wolf's eyes had fallen on many a pretty young woman, but he had only intimately been with a small handful at his age. The more, the merrier.