Myra harbor. It is said to be the most orderly port in the world, but as anyone who has actually been there can tell you, that doesn't make it seem any less crowded. If you're not careful, you can get lost in a sea of people long before you ever reach the shoreline. Here, ships arrive and depart as frequently as the winds change direction. With each tide comes a flood of new tourists, traders, and refugees seeking enjoyment, employment, or simply a place to make their beds. If this truly is the most organized port in the world, then it's certainly the busiest as well. Myra harbor, which marks the end of a million journeys, and more importantly, where ours begins.

"That's it?"

A group of people had gathered at dock seven and were now standing before a particularly small and shabby-looking galleon. The hull was full of cracks, the planks chipped and splintered. The rigging was little more than a tangled mess of rope, and more than one of the sails had rips and tears. Several of those who had congregated were now grumbling audibly.

"That pile o' lumber wouldn't last a week on the waves!" One man spat.

"I'm surprised it can float." Said another.

"Is this piece of driftwood even seaworthy?"

"Fools!" The entire group immediately fell silent. On the deck of the galleon appeared a gruff-looking man. He wore cuffed, black leather boots and white breeches. A white poet shirt, worn under a bright red coat with gold trim, covered his upper body. From the base of his neck hung a ruffled cravat, and a plumed tricorne rested on his head. He didn't look happy.

"This vessel may not look much, but she'll brave the sea as well as any other." He barked as he descended the gangplank that connected the main deck of the ship to the dock below. "If ye don't have the nerve to set sail with her, ye best be taking yer leave now."

The man's expression shifted from prideful to crestfallen as most of the gathering dispersed, leaving only ten remaining.

"Oh, lords have mercy." He mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger. "Alright then. Names and occupations, left to right." He commanded, sizing up the ten who had stayed.

Came here chasing after a job offer, could easily get a place on another merchant's ship, and I'm staying and putting my faith in this... wreck.

Jonathan stood firm as the less faithful crowd left the dock, wincing a little as he realized he all but agreed with what they were saying. He coughed lightly behind his fist and gave the others still standing there with him a cursory glance. Not that many still have the same state of mind after seeing the ship, huh?

Hearing someone speaking, Jonathan turned to the captain (He must be the captain, right?). Looked like a real sailor.

"Names and occupations, left to right."

Jonathan jumped a little as he realized he was the farthest to the left. Clearing his throat, he spoke as confidently as he could.

"Name's Jonathan Daley, I've worked as a carpenter all my life; more on sea than on land nowadays." His voice was firm until he added: "Er, you're the captain of this ship, am I correct?"

(OOC: I don't want to post first D: also you bastard you didn't tell us about the ship's condition beforehand)

((Didn't want your character to get bored))

The man's eyes were boring holes into Jonathan from under his bushy eyebrows. After an uneasy moment of silence, he spoke.
"Of course! Please, excuse my rudeness. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Seymour Winslow, the best damn sea captain you'll ever see!" He bellowed. "Your talents will be, erm... much appreciated on this particular vessel, Jonathan."
He paused for a moment to collect himself.
"Now that you all know my name," He continued, "no more questions until I know all of yours. Next!"

Amelia looked back from where she had come, she could just barely see the tops of the outer walls protecting the inner city of Myra behind her. She was really going to do this. Not that there was ever a question of doubt that she wouldn't, her father depended on it. She had worn a brown hooded cloak that day to make herself more conspicuous as she walked through the city, with the hood worn low over her face, hiding it in the shadows. Not that she would have been recognized anyways, she had made sure that her appearance was quite different.

She smiled as she saw the docks. Her quest finally beginning, she walked confidently by each dock that held a magnificent ship at its side, though when she finally reached dock number seven, she looked at the tiny ship and saw her hopes stretch out a bit farther from her grasp than she had originally imagined. She shook her head, dispelling any ill thoughts from gathering in her mind. No, she trusted the captain, as did her father. So what if the ship looked like it would sink at the slightest sneeze? The crowd that had gathered around her seemed to think otherwise, as most of them had left after seeing the ship that the captain owned.

One of the remainders stepped forward and introduced himself. He was a carpenter, that was surely good news, for it definitely looked like they would need one. She then stepped forward, taking the hood off of her head while pulling her ponytail onto her shoulder as she twisted the tip and smiled up at the captain. Captain Seymour was a family friend; her father had befriended him during his time in the Royal Navy during his youth and the two remained in correspondence even after her father's departure. Seymour became a close friend to the family, almost an uncle to young Amelia, and he often brought back trinkets and stories from his travels. That is why she went to him with her troubles, having corresponded through letters with each other as the date approached.

"Ahoy there Captain Seymour!" she said with a wave, "Amelia, reporting for duty"

Gal made no sound as those around either laughed or looked on in shock at the ship. He had seen vessels so poorly constructed and ill-maintained that they made this particular ship appear as if it was god himself. The captain himself looked experienced enough to handle her, which pleased him. Around half the time Gal found himself dealing with captains who did not understand their ship, and when he caught wind of their skills he would usually jump ship at the next port and find a new flag to sail under.

What bothered Gal was the possible inexperience of the crew the captain was given. The only people left standing at dock seven were either those too green to realize the lackluster quality of the ship or those too insane to give a damn.

Holding his cat, Bleu-Nial, him his old, coarse hands, Gal stepped forward and raised his eyes to meet the captain's.

"Gal Gebara," he began in his rough voice. "The best navigator you'll find on these seas."

The journey to dock seven was an adventure in itself for Samuel. It was the first time he's set foot on Myra harbor, and the massive crowds didn't help. He did make it in time to hear the captain's opening speech. Not really knowing what to expect, Samuel was pleasantly surprised, until he saw the ship. What he saw was a ship that was barely floating, let alone sail. It was obvious others felt the same way as Samuel by their reaction to the captain himself. When the captain confirmed that this was the ship they were using, Samuel considered leaving with the mass, but something kept him there. For some reason, he saw the potential in this ship, if you could call it that, the captain, and the rest of the folk who stayed. Besides, what would he do if he walked away?

Role call began, starting with a carpenter named Jonathan. Thank goodness he was here, his skills would probably be the most valuable right now. Next was the captain himself, questioned by Jonathan. Seymour Winslow was his name, who claimed to be the greatest captain there. There wasn't much to account for these claims, but Samuel was in it to stay regardless. The next person was called Amelia, whom by her greeting, seemed to know Seymour. She didn't say what her occupation was raising his curiosity. Finally it was a rugged old man, a navigator, named Gal. Before he knew it, this group of random strangers started to appear as a crew.

It was time for Samuel's turn to introduce himself. Mustering up his confidence, he went ahead and spoke to the Captain.

"Samuel Tavares," he began, "Fisherman."

It had been several days after Selvani's departure from his home. His siblings could take care of themselves for sure, but in case, he left most of his belongings with them. The only things he had brought with him were some funds, his ever-important tools in a bag, a few select drinks, and the skills of a master cook. He had used some of it for lodging, and eating some of the delicacies around Myra. They were adequate he supposed, but he felt no thought of any of it being superior than the cuisine back home.

Still, it was only the beginning of his journey, so he decided to move on from this city. Finding any s**** for cooks, he found one that seemed of interest, a captain wanting others for a "righteous mission". He had no interest in justice, or whatever he wanted, but having free travel to other islands was useful. Noting it's location, Selvani walked to the port, curious about this "Seymour Winslow".



When he got there, what he found was...lackluster to say the least. The ship looked barely functioning and nearly the entire crowd had left. Still, he had to admit, the captain seemed certain of himself that this endeavor will bear fruit, and despite the ship's status, it wasn't like he himself prepared dishes that looked unappetizing, but far exceeded the eater's expectations.

After the fisherman named Samuel introduced himself, it was his turn to step forward. "My name is Selvani Celtigar, one of the finest chefs of Marsette." he said with a bow before retreating a step.

A familiar place the harbor of Myra was. Numerous wealthy individuals and organizations used this harbor for all sorts of affairs and to Alester these many affairs had, at one time, served as his sport, his game. Today was different though. Alester had not come to Myra to leave a calling card behind or challenge his father or grandfather's legacy. No, today Alester would be taking to the sea in hopes of finding something quite beyond any of that. Dock seven, a gathering of people and a clearly agitated captain; this was what he had come to find.


An s**** that Alester had seen not too long ago boasted that a remarkable captain was searching for individuals who could help him achieve a vision of a better, brighter tomorrow and though the idea didn't entirely appeal to him the voyage and what could possibly be found during it did.

"Alright then. Names and occupations, left to right."

So it was just ten then, rather eleven counting the captain. A ship of this size and shape didn't quite need a crew of much more than that but the prospect of almost every other would-be sailor just up and leaving was a tad bit troubling.


"Alester-" His voice rolled through the air, it was a voice that belonged to a statesmen, a noble or even just a wealthy learned man. His voice was also deep, accented and filled with a golden harmonious sound. "and I am simply a merchant of general wares, Captain."

Frederick hoped the trip was worth the trouble and mass of people he had to squeeze through to get here. Unfortunately, he was wrong. He hadn't grumbled or complained like the rest of the people did before leaving but he furrowed his eyebrows. The ship wasn't up to his expectations, or anyones from the look of it. He wanted to trust the captain, but it proved to be tough. How did he expect a crew like this? Frederick didn't want to leave, however as he could tell it certainly was going to be an adventure and a new chapter in his life. He chuckled silently. He knew he wasn't going to leave since it took him a while to get here. 

He shook his head to clear those thoughts. He was starting to act like his brother. It had been a while since they'd gone separate ways, but Frederick hoped that he would come, but he wasn't anywhere in sight and didn't stay with the few people who still trusted the captain. Frederick wasn't worried in the slightest bit about his brother though, he was tough and could easily take care of himself. 

Realizing he was one of the last people, Frederick walked up. Yes, he was positive he was going and wasn't changing his mind back. Besides, life is about taking risks right? Nothing major happened in his life thus far so he was pretty excited for the experience. 

"Frederick Moonsdale," He spoke, "And I'm a doctor. All the stuff I need is in this sack." 

Seymour acknowledged Amelia's greeting with a nod and a knowing smile, not that it could be seen under his ample mustache, then waited as the others introduced themselves. The navigator was clearly a weathered veteran. His experience would be invaluable. A fisherman's talents were always welcome at sea as well, especially if supplies were low. Being a big fan of food, the captain was secretly thrilled to have a chef of such purported talent vying to be on his crew, though he didn't show it.The merchant, however, didn't seem to have any particularly relevant skills, though having an extra hand on deck was almost never a bad thing. Now, a doctor was a rare an incredibly valuable commodity on a ship such as this. In the absence of a proper practitioner, medical duties typically fell to the carpenter, who used the same tools to perform operations as he did to maintain the ship. Messy business, that.

The next to speak was a skinny, shabby-looking man in a tattered vest and a skullcap. His fingernails protruded from his long, gangly fingers, and his unkempt grey hair fell to his shoulders. He had nothing on his person but a bottle of some nonspecific alcoholic beverage.

"Dale Banister, reporting for *hic* duty, sir!" He slurred. "I don't really have an octopusation, or whatever you said, but *hic* I could just, uh... help around the ship. What do you say?" He went to take a swig from his bottle, but he was stopped short by the captain.

"Don't drink anymore of that!" He commanded approaching the man. Grabbing him by the shoulder, he led him to the stern of the ship. "I have a very special job in mind for you. I need you to stand right here. Now, when I give a signal," The captain whispered some instructions into Dale's ear. The man grinned and nodded, overjoyed to have a part to play.

"As for the rest of you, all aboard! That includes you." He continued, gesturing at the two who had yet to introduce themselves. Once everyone was on board, Seymour spoke again.

"The crew's quarters and the cargo bay are both below deck. Feel free to stow away your personal effects and get acquainted, but don't be too long. We'll be shoving off soon."

It certainly seemed they had a fairly reasonable lineup of people--a cook from Marsette? Good to know they wouldn't die of scurvy--and Jonathan was quite pleased with them (though the merchant may end up being dead weight) until they came to Dale Banister. The clearly drunk man disconcerted Jonathan, but the fact that they would be leaving the dock soon easily topped it. He couldn't do all the necessary repairs at sea! If he was lucky, maybe most of the damage would be external and there would be few causes for concern (given the fact that the ship was floating at all he had a bit of a chance), but that was pushing it.

Alright. He needed to check out the ship and repair it as necessary while they were still at the dock. Easy enough. Put his stuff in his quarters, take a look around, assess the damage, repair it. Only a few minutes to talk to the others (that had been hard to decide). At least they would understand if he had to leave suddenly. Smiling, Jonathan turned to the others.

"Hello," he began. "I suppose almost all of us have been introduced; except you two." He gestured towards the two women who had not had the chance to speak yet. "So, would you mind telling us your names?"

Amelia watched as the others went into what she assumed must have been the crew's quarters, and she followed the Captain with her pack slung over her shoulders, looking at him expectantly. While she was more than well acquainted with the workings and management of a ship, as ensured by her father, she did not regard herself as "crew" out of habit. Thus, she believed that she would be given a cabin of some sort, as was usual to her experience out at sea.

"Where do I put my things," she asked quite innocently.

Gal went below deck as quickly as his body would allow him and dropped his small sack by the far wall. All it consisted of was extra underclothes and dried fish for Bleu-Nial. Everything else he needed was located in the various pockets of his uniform. He would never leave his tools far from his body, they were far too precious in his line of work.
Finishing up, he returned topside and approached Amelia and the Captain, the former of the two already expressing some concern. As he walked toward the two, he began heavily stroking Bleu-Nial, who, in an attempt to escape, climbed up his arm and perched herself on his shoulder.

"Captain, I need to see all the navigational resources your ship has to offer me. If it's as understocked as it looks at first glance, you will resupply immediately. No negotiations," he demanded, butting into the conversation already at hand. "I have every tool I need, you should have the rest."

Alester wasted little time dropping off his small bag of personal effects in the area designated to the crew before he ultimately returned to the deck to look over his new crew mates. It was a pleasant surprise to see so many women willing to work as part of a ship crew, but even more pleasant to see a captain who was willing to allow such a thing. Alester had always assumed, rather he had been told by captains of other ships, that women sailors bring misfortune to a ship as they distract male crewman and cause unsettling changes in the sea. Obviously the good captain wasn't the superstitious type.

Once Alester had taken the chance to visually inspect each of his new 'mates' he retired to the ship's stern to watch the sea in peace. There was something about these waters that always took the young thief's mind right to some perfect outlet.

"At times like this..." Alester spoke low and blankly to himself as his glorious, regal eyes focused themselves just over the horizon as if they were watching some wondrous spectacle just hidden from normal sight. "A song, perhaps. An emotional piece, not quite melodramatic. It would be perfect." Perhaps the idea of going on a journey that could possibly consume years of his life had finally settled in, though from the start he had always been prepared for such an event. It just seemed so real now, so final.

Honestly Cecil was shocked and appaulled at the vessel that laid before her. So much so that she missed her chance to introduce herself. In fact she was just going through the same motions as with every other boarding before, and didn't come to until after she had already claimed a space with her wooden trunk which carried all her wares. At that point it was much to late to abandon ship without looking like a total fool.

"Oh my, yes, silly me," She was talking not only to the man who asked, but to evertone in range of her merchant's voice, "I am Cecil Furantu'an, I am a monk by nurture and a merchant by nature, but on a ship I usually offer my services as a clerk."