Stavanger Bay wild and water take us both

Fate or fortune seemed to have smiled on the both of them, for Brig claimed that he was rather talented at fishing. Offering a toothy smile, Smokestep felt that he would be pleased with the newest recruit. If he was anything like the wolves of Warsaw, he would fit in well on the crew. Really, the biggest test of character would have been to present him to Sandpiper to have her way with. If the brute could walk free from her, he would have been a very capable creature. While he was interested to see an end result to such an encounter, Smokestep opted to help the marred wolf settle in and comfortable. “That's good that ye've got that under ye,” he said confidently. “Ye'll do well to help wit the caches.”

The question that followed was in regards to how much of the land was theirs. The pirate peered in toward the trees and then nodded in that direction with a bob of his skull. “Well, that's tricky that is. Fire took out the nearby forest, but we've got most o' what's left save fer a lil speck that's burnt to bits,” he answered, sporting a thoughtful frown and a squinted crimson eye. Brig would have been safe regardless, as Donnelaith had departed from the woodland long before Smoke's arrival. With no neighbors, it made it easy to expand their hunting grounds to the nearby terrain and unclaimed territory.

The bird seemed eager to make an effort as well, to which the Captain grinned. “Good on ye, mate. Yer welcome 'ere so long as yer helpin' this fella,” the pale corsair mentioned in a teasing tone and nodded toward the wolf with the mangled rear leg. Smokestep didn't see much of an issue with the one-eyed creature keeping an extra pair of optics around the pack; certainly not if the bird was willing to assist. With a small sigh, the marauder fixed his companion with a wily expression and swiveled his ears forward. “Right then, wot do ye know 'bout bein' a pirate?”