A man of slightly less than average height, and a lean, muscled build. He wears a black, flowing greatcoat; a wide-brimmed black hat; and a leather patch that, from time to time, he switches from eye to eye.

His greatcoat is lined with a vast multitude of pockets and hidden pockets within pockets, within which resides an even greater variety of odds and ends.

On his belt he wears a plain black pouch, a rapier, and a great pewter mug. In his hand he keeps his flask, from which he drinks heartily and often. And across his chest he wears two overlapping bandoliers of very interesting throwing knives (sharpened on each end, dangerous to throw , but deadly even should the pommel of the blade strike before the point.)


He is a man of few, very few, scruples. Instead of pledging allegiance to any singular god, discipline, or moral code; he prefers to fight, whore, drink, and gamble his way wherever he goes.

Until recently he had been the captain of a rather well-reknowned pirate band within the astral sea, however, due to a recent mutiny he found himself stranded on an isle in Vidam Kert. Since then he has been causing no small number of problems and headaches for the Navy as they hunt him doggedly.

All in all though, aside from the loss of his ship, he would undoubtedly report that he is having a wonderful time. The ale, or mead, or rum, or whatever happens to be available whenever he decides to drink (which is near constantly) is more good than bad, and often not too warm. The brothels of Vidam Kert’s southern coast and islands are hospitable and to his liking, and he thoroughly enjoys confounding the poor Naval captains who so badly wish to see him hanged.

He is a liar, a cheat, a brigand, a thief, a murderer, a cutthroat, a cutpurse, and great fun to have at parties.


A calling to honor Starbuck