[b]Name:[/b] Gideon Zanhast

[b]Title:[/b] Captain

[b]Moniker:[/b] The Ruinous Captain

[b]Age:[/b] 38

[b]Race:[/b] Human

[b]Appearance:[/b]
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/17/0b/7b/170b7b9c2be20449dffcd037f694603c.jpg[/img]
Not a particularly flattering artist's depiction of the Ruinous Captain, but not necessarily one he'd disapprove of either.

[b]Primary Attribute:[/b] Dangerous

[b]Secondary Attribute:[/b] Shadowy

[b]Connections:[/b]
-[b]The Masters[/b]: Worthy Patrons and business partners, though most of my business with them is, or was, with Mr. Fires, and Mr. Irons. Have run odd jobs that likely benefited some of the others' schemes, knowing The Masters, but I wouldn't say I KNOW many of the others.
-[b]Bohemians[/b]: Bunch of arrogant and pompous artists who've hardly worked a day of real work in their lives. Leave them to their poetry, plays, and paintings.
-[b]Constables[/b]: They know me, whether I was on a Master's payroll or not they'd always look to come sniffing in my business. Sometimes we're able to reach a "mutual understanding", other times its a bit rougher. Now's one of those times with their Ministry of Public Decency.
-[b]Criminals[/b]: The Cheery Man and his boys are old running mates and we get along famously, and all respect is given to the Gracious Widow. The Topsy King can join the Drownies for all I care. 
-[b]Hell[/b]: Half of the source of my moniker and a couple of my current working partnerships. The Urbane Devil and his Embassy pay a fine price for souls, and those willing to smuggle them in and out of London. Even visited the Iron Republic a few times, one of the strangest places in all the Neath, and like as not to drive a man mad, but exhilarating nonetheless.  
-[b]Revolutionaries[/b]: Foolish dreamers with dynamite, led by arrogant fools who name themselves after the months. But if they pay nicely, I wouldn't turn them down. Just don't expect to see me waving their banners out of faith.
-[b]Rubbery Men[/b]: Seen a few in my time, always got along well enough with them. Stranger things than men with Octopi for heads.
-[b](High) Society[/b]: In their eyes, I wouldn't be fit to clean their boots, now. So unless one wants something exceptionally dirty done, they'd not see me, and certainly not in their Sunday best.
-[b]Church[/b]: Bunch of old men and cloistered women in rags who don't know the true Gods that rule here, Salt, Stone, and Storm are the only Gods I know. And my associates in the Embassy don't really lend myself well to men of God, they're as like to curse me as a Sinner as I'm to knock them in the street for peddling their false religion. 
-[b]Docks[/b]: Wolfstack's my home, and always will be. More real of a place as you'll ever find in the Neath, the perfect place to find a bunch of lads either fearless or foolhardy enough to take on the Zee, and the same place to help one forget or fondly remember everything you see out there. Though the more respectable captains turn away when I come, all zailors know me by reputation, with equal parts respect and fear to my name.
-[b]The Great Game[/b]: I know I'm a Pawn, and I don't rightly care. Let the Players play their game, I'll serve whoever gives me the best offer.
-[b]The Tomb Colonies[/b]: Decent folk, regularly delivered many to Venderbight in my time. Many possess more wisdom than most of High Society in London, and its a good thing our Mayor's one of them.
-[b]Urchins[/b]: They know not to touch me, lest they risk it be their last purse they try to grab with that hand. Not that I'm heartless, but more so that even I respect money earned rather than stolen or inherited. They stay out of my way, and I don't get in theirs.

[b]Background[/b]:

A Zailor of London, Gideon escaped down into the Neath from a past he'd rather forget when he was 24. A physically capable and daring man, he took work aboard a ship named The "Victoria", while being named after her Imperial Majesty it was hardly so majestic, merely a cutter with faded hints of glory, but he took a bunk aboard and for years earned wages as zailor. Seeing both wonders and horrors in the Unterzee, coming face to face with death and madness around him on several occasions. One of which changed his fortunes for the better, though it was a harrowing process.

He had ascended to First Mate by this time at the age of 32, and it had been a long voyage out to the Carnelian Coast to then take a turn to the Isle of Cats when the ship was set upon by Rat-Barges out of Ratsey, pouring out of a bank of fog as cover. The small flotilla of resourceful rodents battered the Victoria with fire, with the Zailors exchanging salvos and ultimately winning the fight, but the ship being in bad shape, and and a quarter of the crew dead or dying from shrapnel and wounds, the Captain had been thrown clear from the ship, and no cries had rang out, leading Gideon and the remaining crew to believe him dead in the water. Half of the remaining men descended into panic, being out in the middle of the open Zee with no captain, a wounded vessel, and dead and dying men aboard. But Gideon stood firm, and after dispensing with one of the more panic-struck zailors by shooting the man dead and therefore stilling any more dissenters, he forced the remaining crew to their posts, and set about steering a safe way home.

By the time the ship arrived in Wolfstack Docks, the crew were a sullen and silent bunch, but many were alive, and gave curt thanks to Gideon for taking command and control of the situation. Now they could drown their fears in the pubs and relive them in nightmares, Gideon was left to his own affairs, and with nobody to contest his position, Gideon assumed ownership of the Victoria. Though the vessel was not worth his time to repair, he sold the ship and its parts in exchange for a new vessel, putting in a good chunk of his own savings he'd made over the years into a new Corvette, which he named "Jackdaw". For the last 6 years he's zailed the Unterzee, his dour countenance making as many friends as enemies, and made his name known for taking less than savory business offers for the right price, no questions asked and with more subtlety than the average brute. His reputation as a Captain is one of brutal fairness, you'd work to earn every echo you got, and obey his commands, but you'd hardly find a more honest Captain. Some say the Zee made as much a monster out of him as any that lurked beneath the waves, but he'd say that such moral busy-bodies would never be successful Zee-Captains, much less Zailors. The Zee is a unforgiving mistress, and one cannot be weak if they're to actually make a living on it.

Though in recent months, the Ruinous Captain has been stuck ashore, the Ministry of Public Decency taking an abnormally long time to investigate him on another trumped up case, and having impounded The Jackdaw, he's currently unable to return to the Zee. He's busied himself with odd-jobs around London, and was thus surprised to find an invitation to a particularly unusual Masquerade Ball. Normally he'd not even bother with such affairs, but the Masquerade did not seem to be the usual High Society affair, and the potential offer of a job tempted him to at least give it an ear.