Character Name: Galen Blackmoore

Race/Species: Human (Borderlander)

Gender: Male

Age: 26

Role: Quartermaster

Skills/Traits:

• Duelist: Galen is a capable fighter with his sword, honing his skills over various campaigns and voyages. He knows how to wield his blade with a deadly finesse, as well as the more rough style of true melees.
• Charismatic Minded: Galen is unbiased and filled with the rarest of abilities, common sense. He's a fair leader and knows how to treat people, whether by reward or punishment.
• Fit Physique: A capable combatant, and able to leap and duck and dodge with his youthful and well preserved body.
• Able Sailor: Has been on the water for many years, and he knows how to read the waves, when to pull/tie what ropes, and knows the way around other people's jobs as well.
• Noble Looks: He's a sexy man, and he knows it. However, he doesn't let fraternizing get in the way of his job. Still, he'll use his good looks to aid himself in some form or fashion.

Weapons:

• Sidesword
• Knightly Dagger
• Dirk

Physical Description: A lean, fit, but refined man with brown hair and dark eyes, with a navy frock coat over chainmail (covering leather) and loose fitting dark brown trousers. He has a fair face, albeit with a scar at the left of his chin and running down his jawline. His hair is wavy, loose and tousled. Not entirely groomed as he was raised, he still looks more or less presentable, and charming when he feels the need to present himself as such. He has the look of a youth that has been refined like silver through various trials by fire.

Armor: Chainmail shirt.

Equipment/Other

• Flask
• Fline & Steel
• Waterskin
• Whetstone

Mental Description/Personality:
He has a good mind about him when it comes to common sense, though he can be a bit rash if he lets his anger get the better of him. Generally he has a friendly, if wary demeanor. He will sometimes spout wisdom he has learned on his travels. He's a steadfast Quartermaster, and takes his responsibilities very seriously. He'll not be afraid to use his high position in the crew to keep others in line if need be. He's often casual however, and has a love of women.

Relationships:
Your character's thoughts on the other crew members. Fill this part out when I say, not before.

Character Name: Sketti Hammerhand

Race/Species: Dwarf

Gender: Male

Age: 256

Role: Shipwright/Engineer

Skills/Traits:

• Craftsman and Tinkerer: Knows how to fix ships, weapons, design contraptions of destructive skill, you name it. Has an innate ability to sense when something is wrong with items.
• Dwarf Constitution: Hardy and able to take blows and attacks that would leave Man and Elf broken. He's also damn near immune to disease.
• Stout Strength: Coupled with his toughness, he's also stronger than he looks, and he looks intensely strong.
• Long Memory: Over his centuries, he's gained a lot of knowledge and memories, making him far wiser than you might think and very knowledgable about sailing and his crafts. He'll not forget a slight, but he'll also not forget a boon to him.
• Combat Engineer: Knows how to get through a scrap, with the barrel of a gun, the butt of it, or with his melee weapons. Hell, one punch from him might send you flying off your ship!

Weapons:

• 4 Capslock Pistols of his own design.
• Broad-Headed Axe
• Mechanical stump on his right arm that he can screw various things on. So far, he just has a wrench, a screw, and a hammer head to his repertoire.
• Broad Rifle he keeps on the ship.

Physical Description: Broad and supremely muscled, Sketti stands chest height to a man (except for his huge crest of hair). His upper body is covered in blue tattoos written in runes. His right forearm and hand has been replaced with a bronze stump. Sketti sports scars crisscrossing along his chest and waist, and one along his right eye (though his eye is workable). His upper body naked, he wears a belt that's sturdy and well made, clad in links of bronze over its linen body to keep it together. The Dwarf wears hardy leather trousers and Enginner work boots below. He has two golden circlets that frames his beard at both sides, and one golden molar in his mouth.

Armor: None

Equipment/Other

• Pack of various parts and gunpowder to tinker with and create bombs or other utensils with.
• Flask
• Beef Jerky
• Waterskin
• 1 pipe and a pound of pipeweed.

Mental Description/Personality:
As most Dwarf's are taciturn, grim, and often bound by tradition, Sketti steps out into his own category. He has a respect for his people and their ways, but among his kin he is seen as an eccentric and a maverick. The engineer loves creating weapons and vehicles, thoroughly enjoying the satisfying sound of a bullet punching through a goblin's chest, or an explosive bomb tearing through an Ogre. He'll often get very reckless in combat. He gets quite the satisfied joy of when he kills someone in just the right way.

Sketti is talkative and often sly for his people, though he won't shy from being the voice of reason if need be, and talking down to the lesser races like an old veteran. Akin to most Dwarfs, he loves good beer and a good brawl, and a fine sheet of metal to shape into what he sees fit. And after a good fight (and explosion or two), he'll enjoy a nice pipe by a good fire or a mug of ale.

Character Sheet

Character Name: Eladar

Race/Species: 1/2 Shi'Ranese, 1/2 Praelian

Gender: M

Age: Unknown, looks 26

Role: Sailor, Warrior

Skills/Traits:

• Master Swordsman: Unrivaled in the art of swordplay and battlecraft. Extremely skilled in both dueling and furious melees. Though he is merely a sailor, he commands tremendous respect for his fighting prowess. While he is best with the sword, he knows how to wield many weapons like second nature.
• Intimidation: A mere grave look from him can halt anyone in their tracks, if but for a brief moment.
• Able Sailor: Knows his sailing craft well.
• Peak Condition: Is about as fit and healthy as one can be, with very little in the way of fat on his body, muscled honed to maximum effectiveness.
• Mysterious Past: None know his true history, and he often comes forth with knowledge one wouldn't expect. Galen does well to listen to his council when he chooses to speak.

Weapons:

• Ronin Style Backsword
• Wakizashi
• Throwing Knives

Physical Description: His hair is black and worn in an unruly fashion, pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. His skin is fair, close to olive colored. He has a noticeable fit and trim body, with practiced, hard muscle. He is slim though, and he relies more on speed than strength. His face is not unhandsome, if not for his very dark, severe eyes. Even feeling a bit displeased, a dangerous look comes upon him with those eyes. He has a small scar on his left cheek, as well as 4 scars along his back, 2 criss crossing on his right bicep and one on the back of his left hand. He wears a torn wool vest over a grey-tan shirt. He wears Hakama pants, tied by a blue sash belt. He wears a sarashi over both of his hands and forearms, leaving his fingers unwrapped. His feet are covered in open toed sandals, though he is not above wearing sturdy traveling shoes (kutsu) when donning his armor.

Armor: He usually wears none. But when on land... His armor is a sleeveless breastplate of very sturdy burgundy scale mail with a matching Haidate. He wears kote Gauntlets and Suneate.

Character Name: Jax

Race/Species: Elven(?)

Gender: Male

Age: Unknown

Role: Sailor/Lookout

Skills/Traits:

• Acrobatics: Jax can swing upon the ropes or flip onto the deck as if he was taking the next step down the stairs. Often he'll slide down just to say hi, before zipping back up.
• Eagle Eyes and Feint Hands: He can see further than anyone on the crew, and he's got fine hearing as well. This, coupled with his good hand-eye coordination makes him an able lookout, thief, and ranged attacker should he get a ranged weapon.
• Bardic Music: He plays his flute beautifully, using such skills to bring merriment to the crew or to pick up a fair maiden.
• Hardy: Despite his Elven heritage, he's tougher than he looks and can also hold down his liquor.
• Sailing: Can substitute for the average sailor if need be. He's been on the sea for many a year.

Weapons:

• Hand Axe
• Long Dirk

Physical Description: Jax is about as tall as Eladar, with stoutly muscled arms and legs and a lean, chiseled abdomen. He has a fiery and wavy red mane of hair, contrasting his stark blue eyes and framed by his pointed ears. Blue and Green woad patterns snake and coil around his body in flowing elven script. He tends to wear baggy pants but no shirt, save an open vest. He speaks in a Kaelic accent.

Armor: None

Equipment/Other

• Flute
• Flask
• Apples
• Waterskin

Mental Description/Personality: Jax is jovial and friendly, with an addictive smile. He's quick to laugh, quick to drink, sly when he needs to be and overall forward and outgoing. He doesn't know the meaning of aloof. Though this makes him popular, he's not above mischief, slipping people's coins out of their pockets or giving a good looking lady a once over with his eyes (though he'll not touch unless given permission).

Character Name:
Sage Naifeh

Race/Species:
Human- Andred/Khalahar

Gender:
Female

Age:
26

Role:
TBD

Skills/Traits:

• Healing Magic- She has studied and trained over half of her life on the subject, anything from simple wounds to curses. This isn`t to say she has fully mastered the field, but some would consider her as such in what she can do. To her some things are brought straight down to luck.
• Surgery- In her studies she often worked alongside her master in stitching wounds on battlefields. There were some operations that had to be done on site and as such she has experience in those as well. The use of magic in these instances wasn`t always required but sometimes necessary in her training. One must be able to connect themselves to another person in order to heal them. It is dangerous at times but when studying the field of healing magic she had to know how.
• Cooking- The majority of her travels were with a group of magic users, some of them only with her master. The art of cooking wasn`t exactly foreign to her as most of them had no idea how to make something edible, kind of funny for a group of mages. It was often her job to cook meals for everyone. Not to mention that making poultices, pulps, and medication was a skill that she also studied extensively.
• Knife fighting- Magic is almost like a drug to whoever casts it. The hunger for it can engulf a person. Therefore Sage fights with a knife, her magic is typically not used in battle at all, although she does have her personal grimoire on her person at all times. This skill has been refined for over a solid decade of her life.
• Alluring- As she grew Sage understood more and more that the world we all know isn`t always kind. In her late teens and onward she also started noticing the looks people would give her. In Andred a woman like her isn`t commonly missed. Once this was taken notice of she started using her pleasing to the eye appearance to do anything from beguiling people for lower prices or smooth talking her way out of a situation. This trait of hers has also aided her in her personal life. In any case if you need a persuader she`s probably your woman.

Weapons:

• A Janbiya Blade- This is the dagger she fights with, it has a crescent blade and a silver handle. The handle is engraved with different marks that represent signs of hope and valor.
• A Grimoire- Used to cast spells and incantations. This item can be used on and off the battlefield depending on the circumstance.

Physical Description:
The woman was pretty much genetically bred to be so fair that she appears almost transparent. The Khalahar blood running through her veins is most notable through her wavy crimson locks that run to below her shoulder blades. The not so noticeable muscle definition that she`d gained through years of hard travel is also thanks to her father. The appearance of it stops there for the most part as she stands at a sad 5'3 in height. The height was in part with genetics given to her by her mother, an Andred with grey eyes, in which she also received from her. The tiny woman isn`t dainty however, she has a curvy figure, of which she is quite proud of.

Armor:
Sage wears little armor, a light chest plate and gauntlets for battle at most. The clothing she wears is usually light weight and flows around her body when she moves. The amount of supplies she carries is heavy enough, adding armor on top of it would only make her slower and less agile. The only thing she wears on top of her clothing is a simple cloak.

Equipment/Other

• A mortar for making different types of medicine.
• Herbs of different varieties from cooking to medical.
• Bottles that store stuff she`s already made.
• This is all stored in her satchel.

Mental Description/Personality:
Always the observant one she often does not speak unless she feels that she should. This can sometimes lead to her being very quiet when it is not the time for talking. When she does speak it can be anything from wise to straight up sarcasm. The reason she chooses to observe verse talk needlessly is because her entire life from a young age has been built off her observations. In a few moments of meeting someone she can tell a lot about them. If they have always had money, if they talk more than listen, if they`re hiding something. Most would call it a gut feeling and sometimes it actually is. For the most part she isn`t wrong in some shape or form. This doesn`t automatically mean she is narcissistic however. On the contrary she wants to help other people deeply. This leads to a kind and understanding nature about her. In all honesty she`s the last to judge anyone as she also is quite out there. The idea of marriage is beyond her, she would rather have a life companion. The way she views love and relationships is casual and very open to discussion.

Background/History:
The family she was born into wasn`t a peaceful one. Her Khalahar father wasn`t a good man in any respect. From what she can remember at the lively age of four he was a huge drunkard that beat her mother. He was unhappy with what his life had become and loved to take it out on his family. This being said her parents were not bound together in any respect but her. They were not married. In a bad moment in time they had been together somewhat peacefully until she came around. In the past her father had felt in control of his life and with her being born there was something that bound him to Andred, a place he loathed in his very soul.

At the age of four he just disappeared with no warning nor trace. It was speculated he may have gotten himself killed, others believe he just fled from the only thing tying him down. In any respect her family life got a bit better there on out, while her mother struggled to raise her the next few years she always tried her best. The debt accumulated however and they couldn`t pay it. A man came to collect the money from their home by busting down the door. Sage`s mother hid her among crates so she wouldn`t be caught in anything. This hadn`t stopped the seven year old when her mother was attacked. The man sliced at her with a knife demanding payment or her life. A final blow that would kill the only person she loved, Sage ran in front of her.

She was stabbed through a major artery connected to her heart.

The man in all his fear fled, the act of killing an innocent child was far more serious than a woman drowning in debt that was wanted for stealing. In those moments Sage knew at the age of seven she was possibly going to die. There was a miracle on this though, while her mother yelled and tried to understand what to do a surgeon came into the house and performed surgery on her. He repaired the cut to the artery and covered the organ in a metal to keep it in place. In a week she woke up alive, but now her life wasn`t her own.

As payment for his services he demanded that she would now be a slave to him. There was no room to argue either, as the metal around her heart was poisonous. He`d saved her life and forced her to be forever in his debt by making it so she was forever dying. Being as poor as they were they`d never be able to buy what was needed to keep her alive. He had the advantage, he knew how to make the medicine she needed.

For four years she was his slave, constantly doing everything that was asked of her. Just so she could live. When she started to reach her teen years she finally gave up on such an awful existence. Stealing as much of the medicine as she could she fled. The town she`d spent her entire life in, the one that still had her mother, she vowed to never return to again. The plan Sage had for herself wasn`t fool proof, it was all too foolish. The second miracle in her life happened shortly after fleeing. In a lone house in the middle of a forest she found a mage named Dhamir, he took her in and recreated the medicine she needed.

Once he had heard her story he told her something she didn`t know about herself. The type of medicine given to her was only aiding in curing her. Sage was being kept alive with her own arcane soul. It was undeveloped and unstable, but the medicine was making it keep the poison at bay. If she was trained to control her magic she`d be able to not be solely dependent on it, instead it would only aid in making her stronger against it.

This began the start of her training for the next 14 years in the arcane arts, more directly with healing magic. She learned to use her own magic to save herself from the poison. The obsession over magic and medical knowledge only increased as she grew older. It became her passion. The thing that was originally only supposed to keep her alive became something she wanted to do the rest of her life.

The magic constantly running through her body comes at a toll though. The art of magic comes quite easily to her but she`s constantly more limited. The amount of magic she uses to keep her alive makes casting other spells of huge proportions increasingly difficult. Some day she understands that the growing instability of it will cause her to become almost useless in terms of magic. A mage who can`t cast spells.

In the current time of her life she`s mastered magic and medicine to a point that she wants to finally venture off on her own. Dhamir has taught her all he can and she knows that even if he won`t admit it. Whenever he needs help she`s always on it before he can even tell her what to do, it`s time. The two of them alone traveled to Seacliffe coincidentally. The closer they got to the city the more they heard about a ship looking to find a crew. Just hearing this brought ideas into her head. Ideas involving more danger and adventure than a battlefield medic would ever have.

When Sage saw those two sitting at that table, it clicked. This was what she needed to do, her actual steps into being on her own. Being on board a ship would take her to places she`s never been, places she could further her education and experience. Dhamir didn`t seem to like the idea of her being practically a pirate, if not just plain and simple a pirate, but the moment she saw him look at her she knew he understood this was it. He had to let her go as an apprentice. Let her finally be the healing mage Sage had come to be. There was nothing more he could teach her, not to mention he`d never been able to change her mind in the past when she was set on something anyway.

This is why she wasn`t reluctant at all when she walked up ready to apply herself to their ship and the people that would be on it.

Goals/Aspirations:
The constant instability in her life makes her crave stability, not in the way most people assume it though. Stability for her is being able to live as freely as she can for as long as she can. She is not bound by a social clock to settle down. In actuality Sage wants to always live life by her rules. This lust for some control in her life is why she loves medicine and magic. They are things the she can keep stable, for the most part. The thing she strives for is to be able to help in any way she can while living the best she can.

Relationships:
TBA

Character Name:
Vaia Alti'shen

Race/Species:
Human - Ra'sheek

Gender:
Female

Age:
28

Role:
TBD

Skills/Traits:

• Unarmed Combat
  Even before the age of 6 Vaia had a tendency toward violence. Often she would brawl and fight, practicing the moves learned from watching blood sports, to better improve her technique. She was enrolled into a "training program" at the age of eight and is adept at a style that focuses on kicks and grappling, with her own brutality and willingness to kill added to her technique. Vaia is more dangerous unarmed or with striking gloves.
• Sword and Shield
  Vaia was taught to use a sword and shield by her father at the age of 12. While her skills with both have improved since then, Vaia still has much to learn, especially when it comes to using the shield in conjunction with a blade. More often than not, Vaia resorts to using the sword alone.
• Crossbows
  Taught to Vaia alongside the sword and shield training was the use of a crossbow. While her accuracy is decent and her ability to reload without fumbling is well trained, Vaia does not use the weapon often. Sometimes she uses it as another object to bludgeon foes with.
• Savage Endurance
  Training under harsh conditions, often unwillingly, has bred in Vaia the useful skill of pushing past the limits where others would stop, even if it means injuring herself. It's not a high pain tolerance, it's simply the ability to ignore it, to the point where Vaia can function as if she's not hurt at all. Regret sets in quickly after pushing so far, however.
• Cooking
  Cooking in the household often took a bit of strain off of her mother's workload. Vaia was taught by her grandmother and mother to cook but didn't pay much attention. Things are edible, of course, but certainly not memorable.

Weapons:

• Scimitar
  Basic, unremarkable, made of sturdy steel.
• Shield
  A basic Hoplon style shield. Oddly painted with a red X on its center.
• Studded Gloves
  Tough leather studded with bits of iron. They protect the hands while adding an extra hardness to the knuckles. Stained slightly from... use.

Physical Description:
Vaia stands around 5ft9in and has a thick and stocky build. Her skin is dark brown and her sharp eyes are hazel colored. She keeps her tightly coiled black hair cut close to her scalp, simply so that it's not easily grabbed in combat. While she has no piercings and wears no jewelry, Vaia has chosen to decorate herself with black ink tattoos of intricate maze-like designs.

All of her clothing is functional, appearing to be "ready for combat" even when dressed down. Her garments are suited for the desert climate-- long sleeves and baggy pants-- and she wears a headdress, with the occasional face covering, that often hides all but her eyes. All of her clothing is well worn, non-decorative in nature, and fitting for a desert warrior.

Armor:
Medium-weight armor, consisting of a single iron chest plate with padded leather backing, studded leather shin guards, thick leather boots, heavy leather gloves, and studded leather forearm bracers.

Equipment/Other

• Disassembled Crossbow
  Basic crossbow. Taken apart for carrying convience.
• Crossbow Bolts (10)
  Iron tipped bolts with wood shafts. Cheap.
• Small Knife
  Oddly nothing more than a sharpened bit of metal and a cloth wrapped "handle".
• Sack of Dried "Meat" (1lb)
• Burlap Sack
• Whetstone

Mental Description/Personality:
She is nearly humorless. Vaia is quite rigid in her ways and that stubbornness translates to powerful relentlessness. Unfortunately, she does not know how to give up, which can often turn into utter foolishness on her part. Still, she does posess an unsettling quietness and calm that disguises her inward emotions very well. She is angered and annoyed quite easily despite the outward calm. Her acts of revenge are either carefully planned or passive agressive. Vaia is quick to question her peers but she knows how to hold her tongue when around someone "higher". Still, her sense of duty and hard earned loyalty are not to be underestimated if one can get past her prickly nature.

Goals/Aspirations:
Being born into the Rhemora caste left Vaia no room to pursue anything more than duty, fighting, or marrying into a higher caste. While she is still uncertain as to what she wants, she does know that great wealth has to be a part of her future. Large quantities of money, simply put, is all she wants.

Background/History:


Relationships:
TBD

Race/Species: Great clan Elf
Gender: Female
Age: 45 (Appears around mid 20's)
Role:
TBA
Skills/Traits:

• Shield and Axe
  From a young age, Vaeri was trained as a warrior. While most Elves of the Great Clan around herself used swords, she used an axe as she felt the brutality of such a weapon felt powerful. Time and time again, she proved her worth during sparring practice; besting her peers more than enough times to impress them as well as the seasoned warriors of her clan.
• Roaring Tides
  Her strength was something to be reckoned with. But her movements were like the tides. Flowing with power and grace. With this kind of fighting style, Vaeri tends to sidestep and deflect attacks rather than block them squarely, following it up with a heavy blow from her shield or axe like a crashing wave.
• Spirits of the Deep
  Like many of her kin, Vaeri can call upon the spirits to aid her. Due to her heritage, she is more attuned to the spirits of water. The voice of which is more clear to her than any other element even if it's still just an emotion or a murmur. With the power of these spirits, her style of fighting is much more formidable.
• Surefooted
  Her time spent with the Woad elves has made her quite difficult to stumble.
• Seafaring
  From her parents, she learned the way of seafaring. Reading the movements of the wind and water around a vessel. However she is still inexperienced with larger ships, being more used to smaller vessels such as Cogs, Caravels, it's Elven variants and Northman Warships when it comes to maneuvering. She has a good sense of direction and often knows which way she is headed in terms of bearing.

Weapons:

• Bearded Axe
• Viking Shield _{(See image)}
• Seax

Physical Description:
Vaeri is a somewhat tall Elven woman, standing at 6ft with the usual muscular build you'd see on any female Great Clan elf. She has long blond hair that she usually ties into a ponytail, and a pair of icy blue eyes. Her oddly fair skin is often painted in blue (As shown in the image) like a kind of war paint, but it would seem that she applies it much like a woman does makeup. Habitually. Because of this she is often mistaken for a 'Woad' elf at first glance. Vaeri has a few scars that litter her body; some cuts on her back and torso, such things are inevitable as a warrior.

Armor:
Like many Great Clan Elves, she wears dull coloured clothing outside her blue painted equipment. She wears simple leather armor to stay lightweight, and furs to keep herself warm against the ocean breeze.

Equipment/Other

• Whetstone
• Compass
• Waterskin

Mental Description/Personality:
Vaeri is a blunt, yet humble person. While she isn't afraid to speak her mind, she does not openly boast of her exploits or personal strength, however she does like to tell stories every so often. Due to her stature, race, and height, she can often seem quite imposing to most who are unfamiliar with her or her clan. While she is mostly a loyal warrior, it doesn't mean that she is gullible. Although some may say otherwise because of her lack of understanding of subtle social suggestions. Ironically she is quite proud of her heritage and will come off as aggressive towards those who mock her clan. Like all elves, Vaeri is very spiritual and will often get upset at those who mistreat what nature provides for them. Having grown up quite secluded from the rest of the world, Vaeri doesn't have much of an opinion on other races outside their outer appearances. She tends to reserve judgement of other people as she chooses to get to know them before making any.

Goals/Aspirations:
Unlike many of her peers in her clan, Vaeri became interested in the cultures of others after training under the Woad Elves. Before training under them, she always thought it was just Elves and Human pirates, as those were the only races that she encountered, however she slowly learned that there were different kinds of elf, and that there was also a plethora of other races. People who lived differently from her, perhaps even someone who lived like her but lived on the other side of the great oceans. While Vaeri was trained to become a great warrior, she also held an interest in story telling. She had always loved listening to the old stories that the elders used to tell her by the campfires.

While learning of others is strange aspiration to have, she has a few other 'goals' that she wishes to fulfill in her life. Surprisingly (Well, surprising to most) she wants to have a family of her own, wanting to teach them as her family had taught her. She wants to be able to regale many stories with them and teach them about the world they live in.

She also wishes to learn how to connect more with the spirits as the elders do.

Background/History:
Vaeri was born into a commune of Great Clan Elves. Although many of her kin lived in the southern jungles, this commune lived in the Northern Isles in close proximity to the Wood elves, spread out across a stretch of forest-covered archipelago. Her parents were amongst some of the few seafarers of this commune, moving between the villages to transport and trade goods. Of course, where there is trade there are pirates. While pirates were few and far between, their existence was still a hindrance to the people; thus the Ernala family trained themselves in order to fight off such scum.

Vaeri began her training as a warrior from a very young age, practicing with her peers from each of the villages that she routinely visited with her parents. Those that have seen Vaeri in battle may have assumed that she was gifted in the art of violence from the day she began training, but interestingly this wasn't the case. In her early years, Vaeri was a crybaby. Enthusiastic about training, but had unguided ferocity and a low pain threshold that would bring shame to any warrior family. During one of Vaeri's bouts of anger, she encountered a patrol of Wood elves after she had run away from one of the villages during training. Still consumed in rage she attempted to attack them with her training weapon, but was quickly subdued. The patrol brought Vaeri back to her parents at the docks, albeit a little battered and bruised. Surprisingly they praised her fearless nature and offered to help train her to become the warrior she had the potential to be.

At first her parents were hesitant, as these elves were different from them but they soon decided to accept the offer. They asked the Woad elves to give her shelter while she trained, as time spent on the sea was time spent away from training. A mutual agreement was struck and Vaeri was taken under the wings of the Woad elves in exchange for some trading between her family and them. For many years, she trained under the Wood elves tutelage becoming the formidable fighter that she is today. Around the age of 40, Vaeri decided to make her own way in life, seeking to fulfill her goals and travel the world. Becoming a pirate was not only ironic, but was also probably the best course of action for her as they usually have a safer passage around the oceans compared to anyone else.

During her journey toward the Sea of Swords, Vaeri traveled through Vrettonia, staying there for a moon or so to 'soak in' the new culture. For the most part she didn't understand the concept of 'Knights' and lavish indulgence, but on the same coin, they didn't really understand her either; seeing her as barbaric and unrefined. She eventually got along with some people, particularly the dualists of Vrettonia. They seemed fascinated by her fighting style and trained with her for a short time before she decided it was time to move on.

The Borderlands was both an interesting place as well as a little depressing. It would seem that human strife was common in this place, yet as always, people seemed to get on with their life or waste away. She wasn't of the mind to help them, nor did she have the means to. To put it simply, Vaeri left it as soon as possible.

Vaeri found herself in the port city of Seacliffe, searching for another crew to join. She'd been using the last few crews as mere transport to go down south. She hoped to start something new now that she had arrived here.

Relationships:
N/A

Character Name: Zahir "The Red Jackal" Kadmizari

Race/Species: Human - Ra'Sheek

Gender: Male

Age: 31

Role: TBD

Skills/Traits:

• Rashamat-kachar -The Formless Step
  
  Mikhail, Divine God of the Fist, watches over Zahir with ardent pride. Baptized in the Pit Arenas of Arad Luin at the age of 9, he has since harnessed the fight craft with only mind and body as his primary weapons. The Crucible of Combat has exposed him to a world of seasoned fighters and weapon wielders, offering a wealth of experience from many different styles and techniques. Rashamat-kachar is a select practice from a fraternity of practitioners, bound only by their imagination and their devotion to Mikhail. There are no masters, no scrolls, or set edicts and principles. The path is guided by ones own experience toward enlightenment, adjudicated by the trade of knowledge with other Rashamat-kachar.
• Shulatgoram - The Willful Soul
  
  Zahir's overall constitution has been refined through questionable methods of rigorous training. A well-conditioned Pit Fighter demands the disciplinarian lifestyle between spartan and cultist. While Rashamat-kachar are not demon worshiping fanatics, their tireless tribute to achieve optimal perfection in the face of Mikhail is often seen as the same thing. Shulatgoram is a Crucible of Mind and Body, an arduous process that breaks down the physical shell, as well as the psychological barriers of ones limits. The Willful Soul approaches the Rashamat-kachar with the firm belief that they've achieved the pinnacle of their strength, only to find that they've only skimmed the surface of their potential once the trials commence. The end result is an athletically durable vassal, able to sustain life needing very little. Much like the path to enlightenment, a Rashamat-kachar's Shulatgoram is ongoing. Many have died trying to reach ultimate congruence due to losing awareness of their own limitations.
• Ujat-Torga - The Shadow's Coin
  
  In a quest to achieve ultimate nirvana, many Rashamat-kachar abstain from the pleasures of flesh and wealth. Zahir is not one of them. He walks the path of Ujat-Torga since a boy, common for many of his ilk due to a harsh upbringing in Arad Luin. The skill of thieves and stealthy dungeoneering was honed by his mentor, Iron Jadepyre, Dwarven Captain of a Carrack vessel and small rogue's guild. Pick-pocketing, lock-picking, and treasure hunting offers many thrills for Zahir. He refuses to stop -- even if his Shulatgoram demands it.
• Luzat-Fahir - Liquid Magic
  
  Zahir dabbles in low-tier alchemy. He learned this skill from a fellow Rashamat-kachar seeking to reach the next pillar of achievement in his Shulatgoram. By combining herbs with enchanted chemicals and powders, Zahir can make formulas that temporarily increase strength, awareness, and stamina. He can also concoct mind-altering psychotropic drugs to heighten meditations, or epinephrine enhancers to increase combat effectiveness.
  -Enriched Fervor: A potion designed to ramp up adrenaline and heighten environmental and combat awareness.
  -The Effortless Will: A potion with phytochemicals taken from enchanted plants to work as special vasodilators to aid stamina and endurance.
  -The Natural Shield: The most dangerous brew of his collection. The desired reward temporarily grants increased muscle density, making Zahir become a durable meat shield. Fatal blows and weak points can still be targeted with success but will require much more force to inflict damage. That is not to say no damage is dealt during the ingestion period. After the Natural Shield wears off, the pain receptors reactivate in a sudden rush that can force his body into shock.
  -Vital Hymn: Constant ingestion of any of the three potions above can cause the mind and body to break down. A special blend of magical herbs with recuperative properties have amplified affects when Zahir is put in a meditative state.
• Cuerdasm - The Rigging of Ropes, Wires, and Chains
  
  Rigging sails to mast and yardarm was acquired during his days aboard Captain Jadepyre's Carrack. His overall constitution as a fit Rashamat-kachar made him a durable deckhand. Thunderstorms and gale winds did little to thwart his efforts. Maintaining buoyancy in rough waters during intense manual labor enhanced his balance as a fighter, making him a formidable threat in almost any environment. Knowledge of the ropes, wires, and chains that keep the sails of a ship together has also made him proficient in boarding enemy vessels.
• Golo-varj-in - The Sand Shark
  
  With ships come large expanses of water, and swimming was a perfect way for Zahir to maintain his Shulatgoram. As a sand dweller from Arad Luin, he was intimidated by the vastness of the ocean, but over time learned how to glide through water with relative ease. He also enjoys deep sea diving, and performs meditations underwater for however long his lungs will permit.

Weapons:

• Jadepyre's Tooth: A gift from Captain Jadepyre, which was really a hand-me-down the moment the Dwarf obtained a better weapon. Zahir rarely unsheaths the ornate short sword for combat. He prefers to use it as a cutting tool, skinning raw hides, or for shaving his head.
• Wraps of Kadesa: Strips of enchanted cloth blessed by an Elvish Combat Priest. They are imbued with scripts of healing wards that help preserve the body from blunt force trauma.
• Vials of Alchemy: While most potions are used for self-enhancement, there are flammable oils, poisons, and hallucinogenic powders he can inflict onto his enemies as well.

Physical Description:

Zahir is a prime Ra'Sheek specimen of Arad Luin. He towers over most at 6'4", but does not have the bulkiness of an Iona savage, or even the musculature of a Khalahar man. His bronze-skinned sheen is accentuated by a wiry frame, toned by the strict physical regiment of his Shulatgoram. Zahir prefers the simplicity of a shaved head, bringing his hawk-like facial features and dark brown eyes to the forefront. He wears sandals, armguards, and a scarlet loin-cloth held together by an ornamented, leather girdle. Attached is the Jadepyre Tooth sheathed at his side. The backside of the girdle has stitched pouches and compartments, each containing alchemy vials and other small accessories. Larger items are kept in a separate purse, slung on his shoulder and tied securely around the torso. Zahir compensates for his modest attire with gold jewelry. Earrings, necklace, and armbands make the Ra'Sheek Rashamat-kachar look like a mountain hermit that stumbled upon an exotic treasure chest, which really isn't too far off from the truth.

Armor:

The only piece of armor Zahir wears are armguards. He considers regular garments as a needless hindrance, and anything heavier than that will feel unnatural or restricting.

Equipment/Other:

• Ornamented Girdle - A championship belt awarded to him for besting one of Khalahar's elite fighters, re-purposed for utility.
• Eshan's Guard - These armguards belonged to the only Pit Fighter Zahir could never beat in the arena. When Eshan retired, he gave them to Zahir as a token of appreciation for all of the great duels they had together.
• Healing kit - A pouch stitched onto his girdle dedicated to splints, salves, and bandages.
• Alchemy Supplies - Premade vials of alchemy are kept separated from the limited materials Zahir keeps on his person. Most ingredients can be found while adventuring, and he rarely takes more than what's required to craft his potions.

Mental Description/Personality:

The pride of a brash Champion has been tamed by age and experience. His temperament as a disciplined Rashamat-kachar is softened by the jollies as a seaward plunderer. Yet there's a silent intensity about him, an aura that suggests danger if prodded too carelessly. The virtue of patience is ever present in Zahir, and the open-ended ways of his practice has lead him to become culturally tolerant to other races, religions, and creeds. However, the young Ra'Sheek rat of Arad Luin is known to bare his fangs every now and then. Though Eshan's guards serve as reminders of humility, he secretly views them with shame for never besting his rival. This has stunted his confidence in some respects, especially when dealing with difficult challenges, causing him to lash out if ever backed to a corner.

Goals/Aspirations:

Zahir sees himself growing old with a loving wife and many children. The land will know of his noble house as a Champion's hall from Arad Luin, and the sea will know of his merchant enterprise under the Emerald Merit name. He will impart his wisdom as Rashamat-kachar to those willing to learn, and will train their Shulatgoram to the ultimate pinnacle. Zahir does not know if he can ever fully reach that state himself, but will continue to attempt its greatness until his dying days.

Though before such graceful endings are inked dry, he must avenge his fallen crew, steal back his Carrack, and conquer the ghost of Eshan by defeating his prized pupil...

While the latter is a personal goal Zahir wishes to achieve on his own, the former can only be accomplished with a competent crew. The assassins that claimed his mentors and ship are untraceable, and Zahir hopes the Sea Reaver can steer him in the right direction. Whether they partake on his vendetta or not is entirely up to the crew. Either way, swift vengeance awaits his wrongdoers.

Background/History:

Zahir was loved by his parents. They could not provide for him in the same way the high castes could, so when hunger overcame their better judgement, he was sold for two bags of rice and one wheel of half-spoiled goat's cheese. He is not bitter about this fact. Their souls demanded sustenance, therefore, they traded the only thing of value in order to survive. Such is the way of life. The merchant that bought him was an abusive drunk, but Zahir was not bitter of that fact either. The man was clearly troubled by his own demons, but the one good thing he did was call the boy by his true name. Zahir Kadmizari. In common tongue it means Truth Finder, and just like that, the Kadmizari legacy was able to carry on in a world full of grandiose myth and wonder.

Ownership changed quite frequently as Zahir was used to pay off gambling debts. If he was not bartered, he was pitted against other slave children in underground scrappers. Sometimes they would pit him against animals too. Many of his merchant owners made him pickpocket their customers, or loot rival vendors. Coming home empty-handed was never an option, lest he was prepared to face whatever cruel repercussions that awaited him. It was a rough life, but a life nonetheless, and Zahir never lost hope for better days. It took a foreign rogue merchant to see Zahir for something more than a slaver's muse. Captain Iron Jadepyre, a Dwarven entrepreneur of the sea, claimed the boy in a one-sided card game.

This was Hayasham's first true blessing. Iron Jadepyre was a Dwarven outcast, whose clan name was not recognized by his own people. He sailed the oceans under The Emerald Merit Co. banner with a small crew of six. They were his teachers, family even, all who taught him the worldly ways beyond the sands of Arad Luin. It was here where he befriended fellow Ra'Sheek, Abdas Mojar, the youngest member of the crew, and Jadepyre's best pit fighter. He learned everything he could from Abdas, trained as he did, rigged the sails as he would. When night came, they all drank with merry fervor, filling the young boy's head with tales, myths, and legends.

Zahir vaguely remembers his calling to become a Rashamat-kachar. He was approached at a port town not far from Arad Luin by a beggar in red.

"Truth Finders are the ardent souls of Hayasham. You will seek and seek, but never find what you are looking for. I give you purpose. Shulatgoram. With this, no matter where you look, you will always find treasure." The beggar said.

His finger pressed against Zahir's forehead, igniting an ethos from within. This was Hayasham's second blessing. Zahir told the crew what transpired, and Abdas Mojar bowed as low as he could. Abdas was trained by a Rashamat-kachar himself. They were fighters of a different breed, with styles and techniques weaved from worldly champions of the past. The Shulatgoram was a Crucible of the Mind and Body, a trial that could only be awakened by a selected few. While Abdas learned a great deal, his potential was limited, his Shulatgoram unworthy. His Rashamat-kachar master had done the same gesture the beggar did to Zahir, but nothing unlocked within Abdas. It was soon decided that Abdas could not become a Rashamat-kachar, but he vowed to light the way for those who could. Zahir Kadmizari would be his first and only pupil.

The Emerald Merit Company shaped Zahir into a fine young man. He was one of them now, and they loved him like a brother. On land, he was fast becoming a terror in the unsanctioned Pit Fighting arenas. He bested great adversaries as The Red Jackal, dispatching foe after foe with unparalleled skill, save one man: Eshan "Son of Arad" Ojari. Zahir lost one out of their three bouts, and the last two matches ended in a controversial draw. The Ra'Sheek sailor demanded for a fourth fight. Zahir trained like never before, adopting the use of alchemy learned from a fellow Rashatmat-kachar to take his Shulatgoram to the limit.

However, the bout never came. Eshan had an affair with a noblewoman, costing his arm and forcing him into retirement. As a token of appreciation for the tough battles they fought, Eshan gave him his fighting armguards. It struck a nerve in Zahir. Now, he will never avenge his loss against the man that got the better of him. Zahir set his sights on Eshan's pupil named, Bektor. He was heralded by many as a fighting prodigy, but Bektor was still far too young. Zahir would have to wait until Bektor became a champion, but how long would that take, and could he even achieve such glory? Such harsh truths made Zahir want to step away from prizefighting, so he retired soon after Eshan did. For the next couple of years, he braved the open sea with The Emerald Merit crew, focusing on becoming a better Rashamat-kachar.

Times as a commercially independent sea merchant were becoming grim. So much so that the crew resorted to pirating and looting, more than ever before. Captain Jadepyre always fancied himself an earnest Dwarf, but in order to keep his operation running, desperate times called for desperate measures. To achieve some sort of moral high ground, he justified his piracy by looting only the shadiest of merchants and swashbucklers.

Unfortunately, fate would have them plunder the wrong ship, one tied to a very powerful nobleman. The night they were boarded by assassins is still fresh in his mind. The crew was drugged somehow, and the assassins lined them up on deck and began slitting their throats. Zahir knew each of them ever since he was a young powder monkey, scrubbing a ship that was his only true home, now soaked in the blood of his adopted family. Captain Jadepyre was the first to go. His stoic face gazed boldly at his crew, and it never faltered, even after the knife cut through him. His sword teacher,Onru, the gallant Boatswain from Praelior, was next, followed by Lockswift, the Banian Elf that navigated the stars like an oracle.

By the time Strativa of The Kaels and Yuzan of Vretonnia were killed, Abdas could wait no more. He gathered all the strength he could muster, using all of his willpower to combat his drug induced state, and threw Zahir overboard.

This was Hayasham's third blessing. Abdas fought with a Shulatgoram of a Rashamat-kachar, an honor he was denied long ago. The assassins eventually dispatched of Abdas, but by the time they looked overboard, Zahir was nowhere to be found. By the grace of Mikhail, who worked through Abdas Mojar as a Divine Fist, and the guidance of Hayasham's daughter, Sarika, Zahir was carried through dark waters. A fisherman found him afloat along the northern shores of Seacliffe. He took Zahir in and nursed him back to full health. In this moment he was allowed a small respite. He used this time to help the fisherman with his daily catches, and find balance with his Shulatgoram.

Try as he might, the psychological blocks of his trauma could not be avoided any longer. His heart demanded vengeance, and the ocean called for his name. No, not for Zahir Kadmizari, but for The Red Jackal. It wasn't long until he answered its call, submerging himself back into the realm of piracy. The murderers of his crew will be found and dealt with, he will retrieve his former Captain's ship, and he will bring honor back to The Emerald Merit Company once more. For now, Zahir must start anew. The path to finding the assassins is a slippery slope, one he intends to tread carefully as he joins Blackwell's crew aboard the Sea Reaver.

Relationships: TBD

Ava ‘Ed’ Stockett

Character Name: Ava Stockett/’Ed’

Race/Species:Human - Originally from Praelior

Gender:Female, masquerading as a male - ‘Ed’

Age:26

Role:

Skills/Traits:

• Deception - Being a woman dressed and acting as a man means that Ava’s skill to deceive is quite high. She is able to act and pass for male amongst the pirates on the ship and avoid most suspicion. This has given her further confidence to deceive others, both verbally and through action. She finds it easy to lie and to be ambiguous with the truth, something that has worked in her favour on her short journey so far.
• Acrobatics - Ava has trained since she was a child in all things acrobatic. She can backflip, cartwheel, tumble, and perform other stunts easily. Her most impressive particular skill under this umbrella is her ability to pole vault long distances with the use of her Long Pole. Such skills in acrobatics make her evasive in a fight, which is for the best as she has no real combat experience, and if she were cornered by armed enemies she would surely be at a huge disadvantage.
• Athleticism - One cannot perform body-breaking stunts without first being at an utmost level of fitness. Ava has been training since she was a child to journey the seas; even at a young age she pushed her body to it’s limits. She would practice cliff diving, swimming against the current, running uphill with weights. Her whole early life was spent training with her twin brother to reach peak fitness. She can climb, run, and swim with little difficulty.
• Short Sword Combat - Ava is used to the cut-and-thrust style of fighting which she and her brother trained in. She has never taken up arms against a real opponent, so her skill level in this combat style is low and she knows it - so will do all she can to avoid it if possible. Of course, she is not afraid to unsheath it to intimidate someone and show it off where necessary.
• Cooking - Raised to be a baker and general kitchen-hand at her parent’s business, in this occupation she was able to learn a lot. She can skin, gut, and carve a carcass into sections before baking it into the most delicious pie you can imagine. This skill may not just serve her well on the ship, but her fellow hungry pirates too.

Weapons:

• Oliver’s Short Sword
• Dagger

~ As a fighter, Ava is much better suited to being out of direct action. She has not mastered any weapon, and while her muscular build and natural strength mean that she can probably land an epic punch, if confronted by someone armed with a sword (or other) she is at a severe disadvantage. She does better by providing support to peers, and taking a more tactical and thought out approach. Of course she has her brother’s short sword on her person, but the only person she ever trained in sword fighting with was Oliver who was not a real opponent.~

Physical Description: She stands at 5’8” which is less than average for a woman of Praelior, and considerably shorter for a man. Her intense physical activity over the years has given her a muscular frame which gives more weight to her disguise as for the most part her lean and muscular figure conceals what could be a feminine shape were she ever to let the muscle soften.

Ava has muddy brown and shaggy shoulder length hair (she cut it herself!). With this new cut, she looks more like Oliver than herself, it brings her a comfort to look like him. She still bears a girlish face - beautiful bright green eyes set against a paler olive skin with full lips and high cheekbones. Luckily, her strong square jaw makes her face appear far more ambiguous and androgynous.

She binds her breasts flat with bandages at all times in disguise - this causes her discomfort at times but the sensation is a constant reminder to her to maintain a masculine posture, although she sometimes will slip in the heat of the moment. Finally, she is able to change the pitch of her voice to match that of a mans. Granted, it’s no baritone, but it’s certainly not girly. This practice does take it’s toll on her and so sometimes she will try to go a day or two avoiding speaking in order to rest her voice.

Armor:None

Equipment/Other

• She keeps a locket gifted to her by Oliver.
• Long Pole

Mental Description/Personality: The single most accurate word to describe Ava at this point in her life would be naive. Yes, she is very deceptive, intuitive, and has a lot of book smarts - but she inexperienced with traveling, inexperienced with people other than the regular townsfolk she would see everyday. She is arrogant at all times. She is weighed under with the gigantic chip on her shoulder. Rightfully so, she is angry and out for revenge for the death of her twin brother, but her sole goal to kill Oliver’s killer is a tale as old as time. This burning rage gives her tunnel vision.

This one act of retribution leaves her little time to do anything that is truly for herself - like forming friendships, discovering her own identity, and enjoying her travels. It is the first thing she thinks about when she wakes up and the last she thinks about before she sleeps. She sees every step she takes as one that brings her closer to revenge. This grudge has built a fortress around a once witty, sharp, and adventurous young woman. She has been living in grief and trauma for close to a year. Like a stray dog, if approached the wrong way she is likely to act out and snap - unafraid of consequences.

As Ed, she overacts in a masculine way, often making jokes at the expense of women in order to get other men on her side. She is a caricature of what she typically believes men to be like. While in the disguise, she finds it hard to be around so many men without occasionally feeling lustful - she will often cast a pervy side-eye to those around her. She has not spent too much time with other man, and has had very little romantic experience.

A very typical woman from Praelior. She is dedicated to whatever it is she is doing - when she was a child she worked hard at the Academy and built her skills to an exceptional level. This mindset has carried over into her adult years.

Goals/Aspirations: Her major goal is to kill whomever killed her brother and she does not ever really dare dream of anything else. Part of her wants to live out their shared dream of sailing the seas too. While she is full of anger and grief now, the call to the sea has never been so strong as now. She is doing this as a way to feel close to him again, and to finally take action and slip away from her father.

~ She may not know it, but all Ava wants is acceptance to be who she is. She lived her life fighting for a dream which her father protected and shielded her from. She has no real clue who she is, nor does she realise that part of life and adventure is learning that. Dressing and disguising as another character just detaches her further from herself who deep down she deems unworthy.

To be accepted for who she is - and to be able to release herself from disguise would empower her to make different life choices. ~

Background/History: Ava was born just a few minutes after her twin brother, Oliver. The two were raised not far from the sea, and as children they would often race from their home to see the ships coming in to dock and thus they both fell in love with the open water and dreamed of one day owning their own ship and exploring together.

Ava was the absolute apple of her father’s eye. Oliver - not so much.

Mr Stockett doted on his daughter so deeply and had such a love for her, that when Oliver received his first sword to train with - Ava was given dolls and dresses. He wouldn’t have his daughter put herself at risk of harm with swordplay and dreams of being a sailor. For her whole life her father encouraged her to take other hobbies that would keep her safe and caged. He wanted to keep her from those who would harm her, and keep her from harming herself.

Little did Mr Stockett know, but as the twins got older, they began to train together, with Oliver sharing his swordplay lessons with his sister and pushing her physically to keep up with him. Ava found that she had to work twice as hard as Oliver to get the result. When he started to become a force of brute strength, she became much more nimble and able to bend her body into stunts. Together, with their differences to balance out the other, they were a force to be reckoned with. They managed, somehow, to do this behind their father's back.

At the same time, the two were enrolled in the Praelian academies. Ava, to study history, literature, and skills best suited to women (at the encouragement of her father). Despite longing to be taken seriously enough by him to be taught combat, Ava thoroughly enjoyed her studies and was considered one of the smartest in her classes.

Eventually, she came of age to enroll as a Sailor. Both she and Oliver were in their best physical condition, and ready to take on the seas at last. But only Oliver was allowed to leave, and Ava’s father forbade her from leaving (as expected) and demanded that she stay and put her learnings from the Academies to good use and help in their bakery.

Oliver left, and Ava stayed.

Over the next 5 years Oliver would come back to the town to visit every 6 or 7 months, bringing gifts for Ava from all of the places he had visited. Despite resenting that he was allowed to live their shared dream while she was trapped, she still deeply loved her brother and they shared the same strong connection. On many an occasion, for no reason at all, Ava would awake in the night feeling what she could only describe as being sea-sickness…

One day while kneading bread during work, she felt a pain she had never felt, a pain in her heart - and each panicked breath she took seemed to exhale something from her. She knew that something had happened to Oliver. Oliver was dead and she had been unable to help him.

The report came not long after, that his ship had been attacked and the entire crew had washed up dead on shore.
___

Half of her was gone after Oliver’s death. She was no longer who she was, she had nothing to make her whole. They had been inseparable in spirit and now his spirit was gone. Not long after the incident something in her snapped into place and she stopped what she was doing and left her home without care for her family, and for her father. She had only one thing to do - to find whoever who had killed Oliver.

And so, she became ‘Ed’. Leaving Ava behind in the pile of hair she had cut from her head. Ed travelled mostly by land to Seacliffe. Being out in the wild and beautiful nature was exhilarating in a way. Most people might find the journey from Praelior to a place like Seacliffe boring. Those people hadn't been locked away in their home for most of their life. She had heard there was a festival in Seacliffe so instead of travelling on with the same bunch, she chose to stay to see it.

Ava had seen festivals before, but not like this. It was something that most might take for granted or shrug it off as being a bit stupid - to Ava it was a representation of freedom. During the festival, she caught the tail end of a conversation between two drunkards... "Yerrr... 'at Galen Blackmoore ish looking fer a new crew. I woulds do it mysell but the wife you know she don't approve of me avin' that lifestye anymoore..."

Now, she is ready to join a band of pirates on their ship. Her reasons for this are that she fully believes that travelling as a pirate will allow her to explore every inch of the world in it’s glory. Not behind the banners of army ships, but truly free... Now, ‘Ed’ must prove himself useful...

Relationships: None yet!

Character Name: 'Captain' Lorenzo “Loren” Fiorenti

Race/Species: Human - Praelior

Gender: Male

Age: 43

Role: TBD

Skills/Traits:

• Wordsmith: A good Captain has to be able to persuade others without relying on brute strength or blackmail. Loren has always had a cunning – and often alluring - tongue, but years of practice has turned him into an expert at honeyed-words. He can usually get his own way in negotiations before he’s even made a promise to his opponent.
• Basic First-Aid: Although hardly a Doctor, Loren has picked up a good few skills over the years from various shipmates and healers. He’ll do well for you in a pinch if you’re injured, and can usually keep people alive until better aid arrives.
• Sailing & Sealegs: You don’t become Captain of a ship without working hard for it, and Loren worked his way up from the bottom. Starting off as a powder-monkey, Loren soon developed his skills in how to help run a ship. Navigation, rigging, tying ropes and pulling sails – the only skill he never learnt was that of cookery. One instance of nearly setting the ship on fire ensured he was to stay out of the kitchen at all times.
• Swords: He wouldn’t be a very good pirate if he couldn’t fight now, would he? Picking up the skill as a young whelp, the basics were taught to him on dry land. It was only when he was press-ganged that the skill was finessed, and he began to learn the art of sword-fighting, rather than just waving his weapon around in hopes it would stab something. Joining a pirate crew in his late teens gave him a new form of fighting, and so his skill in using the sword grew.
• Swimming: A skill he learnt as a child, before even stepping foot on a ship. The mercenary group he ran with had decided that the lads needed to learn how to swim to do a certain job, and so he and his friends were tossed into rivers daily just to try and learn. A tad brutal, but it worked. Over the years he’s practiced more, and with his knowledge of how the sea currents work now, Loren has become a skilled swimmer out in the ocean.
• Hand to Hand: While no specific expert in brawling, Loren knows enough to keep him on his feet for a bar fight or boxing match. He much prefers his sword, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared in this world.

Weapons:

• Sabre: Long, thin, but made of a durable steel.
• Daggers: Has several of varying sizes pocketed around his person.
• Gladius: One of his older and more battered of possessions, it’s served him well over the years and always remains at his hip.

Physical Description:
Standing at 6’2” with a broad pair of shoulders and chest, Lorenzo’s height and colouring is telling of his Praelian roots; and, his colourful life both on land and sea. While his is figure is more athletic and lithe than that of a body-builder, he still has enough muscle showing to prove he likes to look after his body. In the sense of exercise and maintenance, that is - when it comes to matters of scarring, he hasn’t quite been as careful.

His olive-toned skin typical of his homeland has been tanned, weathered and freckled from years of toiling under the often harsh conditions out at sea. The palms of his hands are calloused and rough from continuous manual labour and handling weapons, and his enemies in the past have left more than a few marks on his body and faces. Old wounds and scars range from minor scratches from lucky jabs by swords, to fresher bullets wounds peppering his torso after he tangled with the wrong group of Dwarves and a yellow-bellied Quartermaster. Some are deeper and more unsightly than others, but he isn’t perturbed by them, nor has anyone who’s shared his bed in the past. Either way, those individuals who made most of those marks were left much worse off than Lorenzo. He made sure of that.

As for his facial features, it’s fair to say he has a handsome, if weathered, face. A strong jawline that’s kept clean shaved as often as possible is paired with a narrow nose, long sideburns, thick eyebrows, and blue eyes framed with surprisingly dark eyelashes. Surprising when compared to his hair, which originally was a light brown. Years of working under the sun has all but bleached his roots, leaving it a coppery blonde, with streaks of darker blonds and gray running throughout. It’s fairly straight, but cut rather choppily; left shorter at the sides and longer on top, Lorenzo usually has it swept backwards over his head – depending on how long it takes for him to take shears to it, he keeps a leather tie handy to ensure it doesn’t become meddlesome.

Loren’s style is typical of that of a Captain; leather duster, weathered tricorne hat, leather boots and lightweight – but durable – shirt and pants.

Armor:
None; he doesn’t like to be weighed down.

Equipment/Other

• Various lucky charms from around the world
• Hip Flask
• Tinderbox
• Waterskin
• Whetstone
• Compass
• Telescope

Mental Description/Personality:
Loren can sometimes seem a bit paradoxical. In some ways, he’s a laidback sort of fellow. Easy-going, warm-hearted, joking; however, in certain areas he can be quite serious, especially in terms of doing his job well. The latter comes from a strong work-ethic instilled in him from a young age – if you don’t work, you don’t get anywhere except a coffin, and that’s if you’re lucky. However, he also learnt rather quickly that you need to be liked in a lot of places to climb up the ranks. He had always been naturally charismatic and friendly, so he always uses this to his advantage – be it to make friends, de-escalate dangerous situations, or to just get some free drinks at a pub somewhere. This trait has proven invaluable to him as a Captain, and he has struck some strong bonds in the past thanks to it. For newer folk, Loren is generally polite to them until he gets a better look at what the individual is like. If he deems them good, he’ll treat them warmly. If not, he’ll be cold to them. However, it would take for the person to do something particularly bad for Loren to start actively disliking them.

Over the past few years, Loren has developed a darker, more cynical streak. The betrayal of his crew-mates that led to the deaths of his loyal friends have made Loren more distrusting of others. It has also drained him of mercy in most cases, preferring to end lives needlessly to ensure his enemies won’t come back for revenge in the future. He’s driven by his own need for vengeance, and while he will refuse to let that get in the way of his future crewmates, it won’t be forgotten any time soon. In regards to the new crew aboard the Sea Reaver, Loren would appreciate any help they’d willingly give to his own goals. But he would sooner die by himself than endanger any of them for his own failings.

Goals/Apirations:
To find his wretched former crew and make them regret their betrayal; not just for their mutiny, but for the deaths of his loyal comrades who fell to protect their Captain. Also, to perhaps move on from his old shipmates deaths with a new crew – a hopefully more trustworthy one, this time.

Background/History:
Lorenzo had a humble and common beginning to his life – born to a prostitute in a typical Praelian whorehouse, Loren was the fifth bastard child of a woman who couldn’t afford to look after him properly. His care was handed over to his eldest brother, Marco, as soon as he had been weaned and could toddle about by himself. Marco had looked after several of the children born at the whorehouse, even though he was only at the young age of thirteen. Early on in Loren’s life he was tasked with committing petty crimes, simply to make the job of being raised easier for his brother. Stealing a loaf of bread here, pinching a coinpurse there; anything that would make life a bit better for him and the other urchin bastards scattered around the underbelly of Praelior. When he turned 8, however, he was able to join the local mercenary gang: The Jackals. It was an unimaginative name, but they weren’t a particularly creative group of people – many of them young, homeless, and all of them bastards or runaways. The only difference for Loren now was that he had a larger group of people looking out for him – and of course, other perks came with the job. Larger crimes meant more loot, and the older boys began teaching him how to use a weapon. Nothing too fancy, but he soon learnt how to duel well enough to either run away or kill someone much larger than himself.

For three years, Loren worked with this gang of street urchins. Their crimes were petty enough to keep them out of the limelight, meaning the guards and larger, more prominent groups didn’t pay them much heed. Still, it was better than how he was doing before. Loren would have been quite happy to continue living with his group of friends for the rest of his life, but fate had other plans for him. After a night of wandering down dark alleys on his own close by the docks, he found himself quite groggy the next day onboard a ship. A ship belonging to the Praelian Navy had decided it needed a new powder-monkey, so he had been snatched and press-ganged.

His newer life had a disappointing lack of freedom to it. Not only did he suddenly have a lot of ridiculous rules to abide by, the Officer responsible for press-ganging him seemed to have taken an interest in the young lad. Perhaps he appreciated Loren’s fire despite the unfair situation he’d be thrust into, or simply admired his enthusiasm for fighting. Either way, the Officer wanted to ensure that Loren could one day move up from the rank of powder monkey, and began to task him with even more jobs. Loren was taught how to read and write, manners, politeness, how to speak like a gentleman and basic etiquette – not everything stuck, but the one thing that did were his lessons in sword fighting. Every spare moment of his time (Not that he had much to begin with) was spent sparring and going through endless exercises with this Officer. Loren certainly resented his mentor; not just for the over-working, but the harsh words, lack of praise, and beatings for not doing something right. Still, he had a grudging respect for the man. In no time at all, Loren had become an expert with his blade, and could win sparring sessions with most onboard the ship. His manners also improved, enough so that it became shocking for most to find out about his actual start in life on the street.

After staying with the navy ship for five years, and putting up with five years’ worth of beatings and tireless training, Loren finally got a break in the middle of the Sea of Swords, under the guise of a pirate ship. The Silent Nomad.

Although the navy ship put up a good fight, it was clear they were to be overwhelmed. One by one, the sailors fell to the pirates, while Loren watched on from the crow’s nest. He watched the scene unfold quite brazenly; not wanting to be mistaken as a coward for not fighting, but simply because he owed nothing to the ship or the crew. After the last man was cut down – his mentor, ironically enough – Loren descended the mast, hoping that the pirates below would be somewhat sympathetic to his reasons. Luckily for him, the Captain of the crew was rather understanding. After some deliberation, it was decided amongst the crew that they would take Loren in as a crewmember, as long as he was happy to do so. Some distrust was there amongst the others to being with, but that was only expected after having slaughtered the boy’s entire crew. Eager to be living a slightly more fun-filled life with pirates, Loren joined them. And it didn’t take long for him to become a valued member of The Silent Nomad.

For 15 years Loren worked his way up the ranks of the pirate ship, getting involved with most roles onboard to get a larger understanding of what everyone did, how the ship worked, and how everyone worked together. The pirates had a larger sense of comradery than the navy men did, and that was something Loren appreciated. It felt more like a family, than just a bunch of loud-mouthed killers people usually saw pirates as. It was a hard day for all when their Captain passed away – not in the glory of battle, but consumption. By this point, Loren had been made Quartermaster, and it didn’t take long for the crew to vote on who their new Captain should be. After giving the old captain’s body back to the sea, Loren was given his new job. And there he stayed for another ten years, thriving under his new role, and most of his crew doing well following his lead. However, a rather unexpected event occurred that changed everything for the worst. A mutiny, that not only cost Loren his ship, but the lives of those he considered family.

After a raid on a rich man’s seaside manor, something had gone awry in the plan. A sailor, not following his orders properly, had ended up shot and fatally wounded. The ship’s healer could do nothing to save him, and he ended up dying. Most were unsympathetic, as the man had acted like an idiot that could have got even more people injured and killed. Still, Loren spoke well of the man at his wake, and gave his share of the loot to his brother Jarid, who happened to be Loren’s quartermaster at the time. Jarid didn’t want the loot – instead he wanted vengeance, and as the guard’s had already been killed at the manor, he held only one person responsible: Loren. Wanting to instigate a coup, Jarid began sowing dissent amongst the others, convincing some of the more greedy and shady members that the raid had been too risky, and the Captain wasn’t worthy of his job anymore when he got his crewmates killed so easily. As The Silent Nomad slowly approached the coast of Praelior, a vote was called on the deck about relieving Loren of his duty. Those who had sided with Jarid obviously stood against Loren, but he still had a large number of his crew still stand for him. The ship was divided, and a fight to the death begun. Jarid’s people had never wanted to win this the fair way anyway, and many of Loren’s loyal friends were slain in cowardly ways. Loren himself, after cutting down several of his traitorous crewmates, was blown backwards of the ship after being shot several times by Jarid. Deciding that he was probably dead as his body sank below the waves, they took the ship and sailed away. Little did they know, that it would take more than a few wounds to take Captain Lorenzo down.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he made it to dry land, but Loren managed it somehow – perhaps out of pure stubbornness on not wanting to die. Licking his wounds and taking odd-jobs here and there across the country, Loren bided his time, eyes constantly drifting back towards the horizon. While he ached for revenge, he bitterly missed the sea and her ways. Dry land was tiresome after a while, and far too static. He took to travelling as much as he could just to try and sate some of his wanderlust.

This happened three years ago, and now, he has arrived at Seacliffe. The thought of being on a ship once again is a tempting one, but the possibility of regaining his Captainship made the decision for him. Loren would make his way onboard The Sea Reaver, no matter how much he had to prove.

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