It was time.

The earthen stone rose, and limber trees swayed with the shift between their branches. Twin lights blinked from within a face masked by its own shadows, and painted by those cast by the glowing set of dusk. He had wandered, watched, and waited; he had done so long enough. Albatross circled overhead, low enough for their calls to find their way down to the expanse of loamy soil shifting to sand. Gallows slipped between the sentinels and stopped short of crossing the divide.

Distant, his ears picked up the familiar rise of shanties and laughter, and he closed his eyes. The shoreline swam with the scent of wolfkind and fermentation amidst the saltwater sting. It all brought his lips to quiver with the slightest perk. How he had missed this, and Gallows exhaled in a settled breath and brought his head to tip toward the seabirds. There were no second thoughts nor hesitation to give. His deep voice slid forth to glide across the sands, to summon these pirates and beckon out the pallid captain at their helm.

He waited, but these pirates proved a fleet-footed bunch. The echoes of his call hadn't even eroded by the time he saw a silhouette cut through the dimness of night. Gallows bowed to meet them, and tipped his head until his nose nearly brushed the ground. There was neither time nor favour to gather his wits about the wolf before him, but from the stature of their approach, he knew enough. They were part of the crew, and saw themselves with enough authority to meet him here, stranger as he was upon their shores.

He waited for a voice, but nothing came, even when he cupped his ears forward. Whether or not this was usual procedure, Gallows couldn't tell. Strange lots, these pirates were, every crew a little bit different than the next. It made life difficult - but curious, and he pressed a silence, long and ample for the other to speak before he slid his name through the dark expanse, "Gallows."

His family name was usually enough to herald at least a vague sense of recognition and respect. They'd held renown for decades as a clan proficient in botanical arts, and as a ready supply of healers to a vast many crews along the coast. But if this pirate hailed from a region unaccustomed to their name, he added with equal brevity, and for their sake, "Botanist, toxicologist, physician."

A smile curled his lips and he turned his bowed head to glance at the pirate with a mischievous glint. "Aye, an' the irony's not lost on me, either."

She turned to inquire a good breath more of him, yet where another's words might've razed him, her query rolled off his shoulders. "A crew, if there's a rung in your ladder for the likes of me." Gallows quite liked the spirit of this one, and if he'd met her in any other instance, he'd've found a good many quips to parry back. But he restrained; for the heartbeat, business took priority.

"I might've hoped to find a certain captain livin amongst these sands. Tall, pale fellow," with this, he drew himself from his prone position and settled at a more comfortable height, in part to get a better glimpse of the pirate he spoke with, and in part, to watch what thoughts she might let flood through her face. The shadows obscured her finer details, but the moonlight revealed a ruddy wolf, well-maintained, with a glint of gold set narrow on either side of her muzzle. She struck no semblance of recognition, but that hardly dampened his prospects. His mouth remained piqued with the slightest curve, "Smokestep. Patched him up a few moons ago. Rumoured a want to start a crew round these shores, and this here's the first crew I've found."

His slender smile held - the tides be on his side today. Yet even if this hadn't been Smokestep's crew, the russet ambassador charmed him well, and her charisma would've been enough to at least make him pause and reconsider if he should even cast any further than this. Good pickings in crews were worth a fortune, he knew, and to be treasured if found, and he bargained between Smoke and this pirate, he'd found a bloody good one here.

It seemed the crew held a simple overarching rule, and Gallows lent a slight and thoughtful tip of his head. A lifetime oath was no barking matter - but he'd dealt with them before. He nodded. "So's long as the captain proves something of worth, I've no qualms with that." And if the agreement went south - well, there were always ways to fix that.

"But let me ask ye first, from one seafarer to another - now, I know Smokestep, but aye, I reckon not nearly as long or as intimate as you. So if you were in my position, but you knew all about this crew an' it's captain, everything that you do right now, would you still find yerself scrawling yer name along the dotted line?"

He sensed nothing but conviction in that one simple word, unwavering and resolved. To commit oneself, whole body and life, to a captain and crew - it held an air of uncertainty as thick the fog rolling off the sea. But if he'd wanted safe, he wouldn't've chosen the life of a pirate. Diving headlong into a dark and hungry sea was part of the deal - deadly, if you leapt blind without eye or care for the rocks to dash you, but if you looked first, you could well land yourself in the richest bounty you'd ever find. 

And in this, the decision wasn't hard. "Then count me a part 'a this, mate." He stood to his height now, and grinned through his words. The most prized treasure was often the riskiest to find, but this here seemed a treasure worth chasing.