Stavanger Bay the dead horse shanty

While it was true to say that Smokestep was a fiercely proud individual, it was not in his ability to have others cow before him. He was proud of the foundation he had built for his future, and for the culture he had shared with those within his crew. So, when Arturo bent his head and afforded the young Captain the acceptable display of his body, the pallid young pirate was quick to dismiss the need for rigid hierarchy with a quiet huff and an inviting smile.
 
“Ahoy mate,” he greeted the coywolf, allowing his dark lips to stretch so that the tips of his ivory canines glistened beneath the ink of his mouth. “How’ve ye settled in?” he then asked the former Witchdoctor. It was curious to think that the melanistic male had ever been part of the savage home Skellige had created on those same shores. Even more surprising was that he was willing to follow alongside the light-coated Smokestep in a new stead. Regardless of the curiosities, the young pirate was pleased that he had gathered such an impressive line of capable sea dogs.