Notes

The pirate's hair hung in thick black dreadlocks about his face. His skin was warm and sun-kissed from long days out on the deck, watching over the crew. His loose cotton shirt was tucked into baggy black pants, hiding his muscular features. At his side was a fine sword, and the hilt gleamed in the low light of the tavern. There was no better swordsman in the west seas than he and if he felt you had disrespect in your tone you would pay with your life or a limb. He was beholden to no man nor woman. He was the captain. But even the other pirates feared him. His reputation preceded him. He would make his men richer than their wildest dreams, but if they questioned an order they would die a painful and public death. His men would describe him as sadistic and ruthless, but in the pirate world these were compliments. The man wore a loose black silk shirt with leather cuffs and black trousers. A multitude of leather straps held two of his flintlock pistols in place along his chest and two swords at his sides. His face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite. He had dark eye brows, which sloped downwards in a serious expression. Knocking back a few drinks with his Quartermaster and Anchormen. In the corner as he watched the tavern with a bored look.