Caspian Walsh
Caspian Walsh
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
He has a sailors physique: lean, wiry, but quite strong and agile. He's been lucky or discerning enough to typically choose ships with ample supplies for their journeys, and thus has suffered no permanent effects from his bouts of scurvy
Special abilities
Has a 'sea sense' like many perceptive sailors do. Able to foretell storms and weather sometimes several days before they happen as his senses have adjusted to small changes in barometric pressure
Apparel & Accessories
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Jeromy Caspian Walsh likes to say he was quite literally born from the womb of the mother ocean. It's not as much of an exaggeration as one might think seeing as how his actual mother gave birth to him in the cabin of a small trading ship. The first sound he would have heard would have been the creaking timbers of the ship and his first smell would have been seasalt leaking through the planks as the physician reached out to him with moist hands.
Whatever he'd like you to believe, Jeromy grew up in the bustling port of Sarusa in a small house with his parents, the oldest of 4 siblings. He remembers his father as a tall, good-natured man with dark hair who had him working as a ships boy and powder-monkey almost as soon as he could toddle. As he climbed through the ranks to midshipman, he began to spend more and more time in the captain's cabin, fascinated by the various charts, maps, and nautical instruments the lay strewn about on tables. What's more, he found after he had a genius for deciphering and relating them to the ships path. The world was layed out so cleanly, so neatly on those maps. And he found contrasting it to the heaving motions of the ship, the direction of the wind, and the position of the stars to be one of the most natural things in the world.
Eventually he found himself apprenticed to Alban Caradoc, pilot and shipwright, a burly, ugly Umeran native with a tangled beard who recognized Jeromy's talent for this sort of abstract thinking. Caradoc was callous and somewhat lazy, but to Jeromy, became the father he had lost. He could scarcely have asked for a better teacher who knew more in the domains of navigation, geography, shipbuilding, and the intimate way of the sea. Alban had taken a number of children under his wing, as was the way of the shipbuilding monopoly set up by the Sarusans. One of these children was named Johann Vinck, and the two boys would quickly become fast friends. Johann lacked Jeromy's natural talent for navigation, but was a decent enough administrator, and often found work as bosun.
As pilot, Jeromy had but one ambition: to own his own ship. He made his living for near another decade as a freebooter, selling his services to governments, exploratory expeditions, privateering, or directing slaver ships from Brandjorden and supply runs to the dangerous Preomona. He saw strange creatures beyond imagining among the waves of Wintermar and the river fleets of Preomona. He spoke with the dusty grinning merchants of Brandjorden, trading flesh and wine and rubies as big as your palm. He made friends and enemies among the Smugglers Islands, and had many adventures both on the sea lanes and on dry land. While the explorer in him longs to discover the secrets of the far north and eastern seas, any sailor could tell you those gods-forsaken domains are certain death-traps for various reasons, and for now he has left them untouched. Oftentimes he would be accompanied on his voyages by Johann, who made a competent first mate, and shared in his successes. His money from his expeditions never spent but for essentials, safely tucked away, hoarded in chests that he would drag back home in carriages for a pilot's share is always plentiful if he survives the journey, and if there's any loot to share in the first place. But for 'Lucky Caspian', as those he would sail with often took to calling him, there was more often than not. After long years of navigating and selling and saving, a lucky break; he inherited a ship after helping it escape a brush with pirates. A floundering carcass by the time it was brought into port, but his now as a reward for saving the cargo and some of the crew. He spent his personal hoarded fortune refitting and refurbishing it. She was small, no denying it, only ninety tons, but sleek with a nose like a greyhound, a sharp, floating battle platform with speed to outrun any fighter. A perfect ship for smuggling or fighting or getting anywhere in a hurry. 'Timmercyl' he named it, a contraction of 'timber' and 'Legacya' in honor of the fine red wood brought from the forests there from which he built his ship, light and malleable but sturdy as well. He thought the name was rather terribly clever.
The newly anointed ship was given it's first mission by the Sarusian government. Assigned to a small fleet, they were to raid and pillage settlements off the coast of scorching Brandjordan, carrying the war directly into the enemies belly. Unfortunately after the first few raids things began to go bad. Storms and an enemy Galleon scattered the fleet and the winds were beginning to change, making escape a difficult proposition at best. Timmercyl was isolated in the water, though still fast enough to outrun most pursuers. Treasure was slim, with only a couple of corsair ships out of the slaver cities to harry. Caspian found a mysterious silver chalice in the hold of one, but thought nothing of it other than it might fetch a good price. Pickings were too slim to brood, and danger around every corner kept him from investigating further. On top of everything, Vinck, acting as Caspian's first mate on this voyage, had been very strange the entire time. It had been some years since the two had last sailed together, but more than once Caspian had to reprimand him for staring off into the distance mumbling, or being distracted from his duties by poring over old scrolls and maps.
Eventually they came across a small village a few miles inland nestled in the dusty plains. They charged lustily, swords and slings in hand. But to their surprise they found only bodies on the ground, and a single pale young woman sitting in the sand amidst the corpses. A survivor, she said, of an attack by another ship that had come just yesterday. And indeed, the bodies on the ground included some Sarusian sailors from The Dauntless, another ship from their original fleet. Only her faith in Arior had kept her hidden from the bloodlusted crew, or so she said. The woman introduced herself as Ashara, and begged for passage aboard The Timmercyl to start a new life. Caspian saw no reason to grant her request. What could she offer the crew but another mouth to feed? She was greatly, but coldly, beautiful, and would be a distraction to the men. Finally, everyone knew it was bad luck to have a woman aboard. But Vinck, who carried sway with the men, insisted greatly on granting her request, and a bewildered Caspian supposed it couldn't do all that much harm relatively.
He had first intended to drop her at the very next port they came across, but enemy ships and poor weather kept them at sea or on inhospitable coastline for months. A strained sense of honor kept him from packing her into a rowboat and leaving her to fend against the leagues of sands, sun, and scorpions of the coast. Strangely, whenever they faced danger, Ashara, seemingly unafraid, would come on deck, even in the midst of brutal storms that would lash and tear at her body, and pray to Arior and his angels, singing in such a pretty voice. And, shockingly, it seems her god heard her. Sometimes it took the form of a sudden changing of the wind that prevented The Timmercyl from scraping against a rock. Sometimes a small island or reef, just big enough for the small ship to squeeze by, would appear on the horizon as she prayed, deterring a dangerous pursuer. The crew, even Caspian, began to warm to Ashara, affectionately referring to her as their 'good luck charm'. Vinck and Ashara quickly grew especially close, and Caspian was prevented from intervening out of a combination of his friendship for Vinck, and Vinck's own performance of his duties, which had switched from distracted to excellent after Ashara was brought on board.
Finally, one night as the boat sat anchored, Caspian relaxed in his cabin, writing in his rutter by candlelight. He heard strange noises coming from above deck, but dismissed them until several thumps like bodies hitting the floor were heard. He rushed upstairs to find an eerily similar scene to what he came across in the village. His crew's bodies littered the deck, dead, and standing in the middle was Ashara... and Johann. She was wearing black and had donned fearsome black facepaint tracing symmetrical lines from her eyes down to her jaw. She raised her arms and began to chant a prayer as she often did. But this was no prayer to Arior. Caspian held on for dear life and fought the urge to vomit as a cascade of dark energy poured over the ship, lound as any storm. And then, suddenly, it stopped. Stillness. And in the stillness, the hand of the corpse next to him began to twitch. He gaped silently in horror as his crew rose to new life all around him. And then Johann turned to him and his eyes... his eyes were...
The spell broke. With a mad surge of adrenaline, he launched himself in a dive off the side and swam desperately to shore, unable to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Bolts and arrows whizzed after him, but in the darkness they hadn't a prayer of hitting. He took one last look at his ship as it weighed anchor and began to turn into the wind. The blood that covered the decks began drip down and cover parts the ships nameplate until only one portion was left. Mercy.
It was purest luck that they were anchored only a week's walk to the nearest village, and Caspian had plenty of time to lament, as he fed on roots and bugs, that his life that had just been overturned in the course of a night. The confusion was the worst part. What would a dark magician want with his ship? And Johann... what had happened to him?
Not weeks afterward, the shattered husk of The Dauntless was found floating in the water. Survivors told tales of a devil ship, a red ship faster than any other in the waters and crewed by damned wights that never tire, never flag. Captained by a handsome blond youth with red eyes, and a beautiful woman, a siren or a spirit of the sea. As the weeks and months passed, The Mercy, as it came to be called, became a nightmare upon the sea lanes, with few ships being able to outrun it.
As for Caspian? He has languished, marooned, at port for months, only surviving by offering his services to a small river ferry company. He will be ruined financially if he does not get his ship back, but that pales in comparison to his willingness to make some sense of the horrors he has seen. He is determined to take back The Mercy, whatever the cost. But shall it be the captain that claims the ship? Or the ship that claims the captain?
Eventually he found himself apprenticed to Alban Caradoc, pilot and shipwright, a burly, ugly Umeran native with a tangled beard who recognized Jeromy's talent for this sort of abstract thinking. Caradoc was callous and somewhat lazy, but to Jeromy, became the father he had lost. He could scarcely have asked for a better teacher who knew more in the domains of navigation, geography, shipbuilding, and the intimate way of the sea. Alban had taken a number of children under his wing, as was the way of the shipbuilding monopoly set up by the Sarusans. One of these children was named Johann Vinck, and the two boys would quickly become fast friends. Johann lacked Jeromy's natural talent for navigation, but was a decent enough administrator, and often found work as bosun.
As pilot, Jeromy had but one ambition: to own his own ship. He made his living for near another decade as a freebooter, selling his services to governments, exploratory expeditions, privateering, or directing slaver ships from Brandjorden and supply runs to the dangerous Preomona. He saw strange creatures beyond imagining among the waves of Wintermar and the river fleets of Preomona. He spoke with the dusty grinning merchants of Brandjorden, trading flesh and wine and rubies as big as your palm. He made friends and enemies among the Smugglers Islands, and had many adventures both on the sea lanes and on dry land. While the explorer in him longs to discover the secrets of the far north and eastern seas, any sailor could tell you those gods-forsaken domains are certain death-traps for various reasons, and for now he has left them untouched. Oftentimes he would be accompanied on his voyages by Johann, who made a competent first mate, and shared in his successes. His money from his expeditions never spent but for essentials, safely tucked away, hoarded in chests that he would drag back home in carriages for a pilot's share is always plentiful if he survives the journey, and if there's any loot to share in the first place. But for 'Lucky Caspian', as those he would sail with often took to calling him, there was more often than not. After long years of navigating and selling and saving, a lucky break; he inherited a ship after helping it escape a brush with pirates. A floundering carcass by the time it was brought into port, but his now as a reward for saving the cargo and some of the crew. He spent his personal hoarded fortune refitting and refurbishing it. She was small, no denying it, only ninety tons, but sleek with a nose like a greyhound, a sharp, floating battle platform with speed to outrun any fighter. A perfect ship for smuggling or fighting or getting anywhere in a hurry. 'Timmercyl' he named it, a contraction of 'timber' and 'Legacya' in honor of the fine red wood brought from the forests there from which he built his ship, light and malleable but sturdy as well. He thought the name was rather terribly clever.
The newly anointed ship was given it's first mission by the Sarusian government. Assigned to a small fleet, they were to raid and pillage settlements off the coast of scorching Brandjordan, carrying the war directly into the enemies belly. Unfortunately after the first few raids things began to go bad. Storms and an enemy Galleon scattered the fleet and the winds were beginning to change, making escape a difficult proposition at best. Timmercyl was isolated in the water, though still fast enough to outrun most pursuers. Treasure was slim, with only a couple of corsair ships out of the slaver cities to harry. Caspian found a mysterious silver chalice in the hold of one, but thought nothing of it other than it might fetch a good price. Pickings were too slim to brood, and danger around every corner kept him from investigating further. On top of everything, Vinck, acting as Caspian's first mate on this voyage, had been very strange the entire time. It had been some years since the two had last sailed together, but more than once Caspian had to reprimand him for staring off into the distance mumbling, or being distracted from his duties by poring over old scrolls and maps.
Eventually they came across a small village a few miles inland nestled in the dusty plains. They charged lustily, swords and slings in hand. But to their surprise they found only bodies on the ground, and a single pale young woman sitting in the sand amidst the corpses. A survivor, she said, of an attack by another ship that had come just yesterday. And indeed, the bodies on the ground included some Sarusian sailors from The Dauntless, another ship from their original fleet. Only her faith in Arior had kept her hidden from the bloodlusted crew, or so she said. The woman introduced herself as Ashara, and begged for passage aboard The Timmercyl to start a new life. Caspian saw no reason to grant her request. What could she offer the crew but another mouth to feed? She was greatly, but coldly, beautiful, and would be a distraction to the men. Finally, everyone knew it was bad luck to have a woman aboard. But Vinck, who carried sway with the men, insisted greatly on granting her request, and a bewildered Caspian supposed it couldn't do all that much harm relatively.
He had first intended to drop her at the very next port they came across, but enemy ships and poor weather kept them at sea or on inhospitable coastline for months. A strained sense of honor kept him from packing her into a rowboat and leaving her to fend against the leagues of sands, sun, and scorpions of the coast. Strangely, whenever they faced danger, Ashara, seemingly unafraid, would come on deck, even in the midst of brutal storms that would lash and tear at her body, and pray to Arior and his angels, singing in such a pretty voice. And, shockingly, it seems her god heard her. Sometimes it took the form of a sudden changing of the wind that prevented The Timmercyl from scraping against a rock. Sometimes a small island or reef, just big enough for the small ship to squeeze by, would appear on the horizon as she prayed, deterring a dangerous pursuer. The crew, even Caspian, began to warm to Ashara, affectionately referring to her as their 'good luck charm'. Vinck and Ashara quickly grew especially close, and Caspian was prevented from intervening out of a combination of his friendship for Vinck, and Vinck's own performance of his duties, which had switched from distracted to excellent after Ashara was brought on board.
Finally, one night as the boat sat anchored, Caspian relaxed in his cabin, writing in his rutter by candlelight. He heard strange noises coming from above deck, but dismissed them until several thumps like bodies hitting the floor were heard. He rushed upstairs to find an eerily similar scene to what he came across in the village. His crew's bodies littered the deck, dead, and standing in the middle was Ashara... and Johann. She was wearing black and had donned fearsome black facepaint tracing symmetrical lines from her eyes down to her jaw. She raised her arms and began to chant a prayer as she often did. But this was no prayer to Arior. Caspian held on for dear life and fought the urge to vomit as a cascade of dark energy poured over the ship, lound as any storm. And then, suddenly, it stopped. Stillness. And in the stillness, the hand of the corpse next to him began to twitch. He gaped silently in horror as his crew rose to new life all around him. And then Johann turned to him and his eyes... his eyes were...
The spell broke. With a mad surge of adrenaline, he launched himself in a dive off the side and swam desperately to shore, unable to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Bolts and arrows whizzed after him, but in the darkness they hadn't a prayer of hitting. He took one last look at his ship as it weighed anchor and began to turn into the wind. The blood that covered the decks began drip down and cover parts the ships nameplate until only one portion was left. Mercy.
It was purest luck that they were anchored only a week's walk to the nearest village, and Caspian had plenty of time to lament, as he fed on roots and bugs, that his life that had just been overturned in the course of a night. The confusion was the worst part. What would a dark magician want with his ship? And Johann... what had happened to him?
Not weeks afterward, the shattered husk of The Dauntless was found floating in the water. Survivors told tales of a devil ship, a red ship faster than any other in the waters and crewed by damned wights that never tire, never flag. Captained by a handsome blond youth with red eyes, and a beautiful woman, a siren or a spirit of the sea. As the weeks and months passed, The Mercy, as it came to be called, became a nightmare upon the sea lanes, with few ships being able to outrun it.
As for Caspian? He has languished, marooned, at port for months, only surviving by offering his services to a small river ferry company. He will be ruined financially if he does not get his ship back, but that pales in comparison to his willingness to make some sense of the horrors he has seen. He is determined to take back The Mercy, whatever the cost. But shall it be the captain that claims the ship? Or the ship that claims the captain?
Sexuality
It's a hard life for a woman to be attached to man like him. He could be away for months or years at a time, and delays are as likely to be simple administrative slip-ups as complete and utter disaster. Loneliness is a sailors lot, and he's used to long voyages with only the sea and his crew for company. But the same loneliness can crush and mangle a woman beyond recognition, and he has yet to meet one with the strength of character and resilience to stand up to it
Some more progressive members of the Sarusan court take his superstitions against women as pure prejudice or a generalized dislike of the fairer sex. There is truth to that on a level, and he would not deny it. But yet another part of him imagines his sisters bearing the burdens he has had to face and shivers in disgust
Some more progressive members of the Sarusan court take his superstitions against women as pure prejudice or a generalized dislike of the fairer sex. There is truth to that on a level, and he would not deny it. But yet another part of him imagines his sisters bearing the burdens he has had to face and shivers in disgust
Education
While he is very quick to pick up matters relating to shipping, navigation, and all manner of seafaring affairs, he has something of a disdain for 'book-learning' as he calls it, and his education isn't highly advanced. While he knows his reading and writing, what maths he needs to know for his job, and the various political and cultural/geographical knowledge he's gained from his travels, his grasp of scientism, naturalism, and magical theory (or really most forms of academic theory) is quite poor. Starting at age 12, Jeromy spent nearly a decade as Caradoc's apprentice, sailing from port to port, learning special tacks, how to evade reefs, how to read the weather, the finer points of shipwrighting, and more, much more. Finally he was given his papers and attained the rank of pilot-major. No small feat in these days, for it is the pilot who sets the course, writes the rutters, and brings the ship from port to port. He alone commands at sea from the quarterdeck. 'That's heady wine' Jeromy often says 'And once sipped, never forgotten, always to be sought, and always necessary'. And it's one of the things that keeps him alive while others die.
Accomplishments & Achievements
Once captured a much bigger prize without firing a shot by sailing up to an enemy ship under cover of night and then revealing himself, threatening her with a full on ramming maneuver. An incredible feat of sailing
Failures & Embarrassments
Once blundered into a hostile Brandjordan ambush due to hasty sailing. He and the surviving crew were put to work in a slave galley for the better part of six months, an exhausting and brutal experience
Morality & Philosophy
He is a pragmatist that cares little for king and country, but he's loyal to his ship and his crew for they are the ones that give him importance, and of course how he makes his pay. He truly enjoys what he does and is good at it, but cares for little else.
The one moral he will truly stick to and the reason he loves ships are the freedom they offer. The ability to go anywhere, do anything, is intoxicating to him. He will seek to protect his freedom at all costs, and hates being chained, physically or metaphorically.
Taboos
He believes women are bad luck, especially aboard a ship. However his sense of pragmatism frequently battles his superstitions, and he's willing to occasionally let a woman on board, though she'll have to prove herself to him beyond what any man might!
Quite suspicious of magic, especially after his encounter with Ashara
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
He seeks to reclaim his ship, kill (and not quickly!) the foul siren who raised corpses to crew it, and settle things with Johann. Hopefully he can be freed from Ashara's influence, but he's considered that things may not be that simple...
Likes & Dislikes
Likes:
The sea
Playing the Lyre, with others or by himself
Premonian peaches; a true delicacy! He's only had the chance to try them once or twice
His family
The theater
Sea snakes
Dislikes:
Uptight moralists and nobles
Magic
Laziness
Cold, arid climates
Jesters and clowns
Virtues & Personality perks
Vices & Personality flaws
While he knows his way around a physical compass, his moral compass is somewhat lacking. As long as he gets to do what he enjoys doing and the voyage seems sound, he cares little about the moral implications of helping smugglers, slavers, or other disreputable folk do their work.
Personality Quirks
Hygiene
Is a fanatic about cleanliness on his ship. To put his crew through their paces, he'll order them to holystone the deck until it glimmers, and then to shine the brass and bronze fixtures until they gleam like the sun. 'Cleaning day' usually gets a lot of grumbles from the crew, but Caspian doesn't miss the straightened backs and spring in their step after it's all done and the ship is as spotless as a Trerian whore's skin.
He abides by the same strictures when he can, though opportunities for good hygiene are few on deep ocean sailing expeditions. He insists his men bathe every time they're in port, though few heed that particular order of his. Pays no attention to the sailors legend that baths cause the bloody flux.
He abides by the same strictures when he can, though opportunities for good hygiene are few on deep ocean sailing expeditions. He insists his men bathe every time they're in port, though few heed that particular order of his. Pays no attention to the sailors legend that baths cause the bloody flux.
Social
Contacts & Relations
Johann Vinck: Childhood friend and former firstmate of the Timmercyl, now captain of Mercy. A tall handsome youth, with blond hair, and a capable taskmaster, though he was somewhat naive and liked to crack unfunny japes at inappropriate times. The two certainly had their fair share of quarrels, some rather serious, but Caspian can't understand how Johann was convinced to betray him and slaughter the crew so easily. Did he have a secret motive? Was he under Ashara's spell? Or was he simply not the person Caspian thought he was?
Ashara: Mysterious necromancer and, strangely, seemingly zealous Arialist. Caspian often wonders if her devotion to Arior was a ruse given her nature, but the dedication to which she saw to her religious duties, the amount of times she would kneel in prayer and the way her voice would crack and tremble as she begged her god for a favor... well, he can't imagine it. He supposes she's deluded or simply crazy. He hates her for stealing his ship, and fears her cold, dark power.
Michael Dayne: Well-spoken, well-educated trader with a dark side; he often acted as patron or investor for many of Caspian's more illicit missions. His right-hand man 'Lenny' Smythe is a seedy, thin, slouching man who is deadly with a pair of of knives. The two men couldn't be more outwardly different, and yet have stuck together for years. They act as some of Caspian's principal contacts in underworld and trade affairs. Kruger Zimmerman: A self-described 'soldier of fortune' Kruger is a jack of all trades adventurer that Caspian has come across several times in his travels. Caspian muses that his wide skill set would be an asset to any ships crew, though he wishes the man would bathe more often.
Hartwell "The Vulture": Caspian has piloted for Hartwell's Sea Lioness on multiple occasions, and the two have become bosom friends. Caspian respects the man's ability and knowledge, though his continous attitude of being on the lookout for something as well as his refusal to raid enemy ships, even in favorable conditions, vexes the pilot some.
Apollo: Bard that Caspian has come across in many seafaring inns and taverns. Caspian judges him a talented player, and often accompanies on the lyre whenever they are together, though the glint of intelligence in the man's gaze makes Caspian wonder if there's more to him than meets the eye.
Ashara: Mysterious necromancer and, strangely, seemingly zealous Arialist. Caspian often wonders if her devotion to Arior was a ruse given her nature, but the dedication to which she saw to her religious duties, the amount of times she would kneel in prayer and the way her voice would crack and tremble as she begged her god for a favor... well, he can't imagine it. He supposes she's deluded or simply crazy. He hates her for stealing his ship, and fears her cold, dark power.
Michael Dayne: Well-spoken, well-educated trader with a dark side; he often acted as patron or investor for many of Caspian's more illicit missions. His right-hand man 'Lenny' Smythe is a seedy, thin, slouching man who is deadly with a pair of of knives. The two men couldn't be more outwardly different, and yet have stuck together for years. They act as some of Caspian's principal contacts in underworld and trade affairs. Kruger Zimmerman: A self-described 'soldier of fortune' Kruger is a jack of all trades adventurer that Caspian has come across several times in his travels. Caspian muses that his wide skill set would be an asset to any ships crew, though he wishes the man would bathe more often.
Hartwell "The Vulture": Caspian has piloted for Hartwell's Sea Lioness on multiple occasions, and the two have become bosom friends. Caspian respects the man's ability and knowledge, though his continous attitude of being on the lookout for something as well as his refusal to raid enemy ships, even in favorable conditions, vexes the pilot some.
Apollo: Bard that Caspian has come across in many seafaring inns and taverns. Caspian judges him a talented player, and often accompanies on the lyre whenever they are together, though the glint of intelligence in the man's gaze makes Caspian wonder if there's more to him than meets the eye.
Family Ties
Darren Walsh: Younger brother. Never had an aptitude for a life at sea, but instead works as a representative for one of the major trade companies. Greatly disapproved of Jeromy's acts of piracy and privateering, and the two are estranged
Alana Walsh and Sarah Walsh: Younger sisters. Alana, the older, wanted riches and fine dresses, but never to work for them. She is greatly pious and fervent in her adherence to Arialism. Sarah, the younger, was wild and rambunctious, and often wanted to accompany Jeromy on his expeditions. He cares for both of them greatly, and would make sure to send money to his family from his voyages. However he has not seen them often due to the nature of his work, and doesn't know where they might be now. He supposes they are still in Sarusia, hopefully married off to wealthy young men by now.
Alban Caradoc: Master pilot and shipwright. Ancient, huge, and almost godlike to young Jeromy, Alban was a veritable font of knowledge, seemingly knowing everything from how to swim an efficient stroke to history and battles that happened long ago. Jeromy has seen Alban a few times since his graduation, while not technically family, both men share a deep bond.
Social Aptitude
Is a serious and blunt man, though among equals he has something of a roguish charm. He gets to know the men under his command well, but not to become overly familiar. Pilots are feared and sometimes hated for their knowledge of arcane charts and magnetic compasses, and he doesn't hesitate to show a hard hand to his crew when necessary
Gets on easily with seedy traders or other rogues, but a life at sea, especially in command, has blunted his mannerisms.
Hobbies & Pets
He had a pet monkey named Zachary that took a liking to him during a stint in Preomona. Unfortunately zachary died a few years later after miscalculating a jump while trying to catch a seabird up in the rigging
He loves to play the lyre, and can often be found on the quarterdeck in the evenings plucking a haunting tune, or a cheerful sea shanty, depending on the mood that strikes him.
Speech
Has a deep, sonorous, baritone voice that speaks of experience beyond his (relatively young) years
Wealth & Financial state
Has little left to him currently, as he poured most of his accumulated wealth into his ship
A born pilot-major, Caspian Walsh served with many notorious ships and figures throughout his career. But now, his own ship has gained a new sense of notoriety as a damned vessel, a curse upon the seas.
View Character Profile
Age
32
Birthplace
Sarusia, port district
Children
Gender
Male
Eyes
Grey
Hair
Dark brown/ black
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Fair, though now tanned by the sun
Height
6’1
Weight
160 lb
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