A refined British Man-O-War, what this vessel lacks in speed and stealth it makes up tenfold for armory and resilience. Its hull is finely crafted and braced in sheets of metal, a s mast are firmly set aboard fine craftsmanship. Despite the numerous years spent bracing monstrous storms and bashes from vessels alike, the Gallows seems no worse for wear. It flies so lonely black sails, akin to the black staining of the wood and metal. A sore thumb on bright days, but expertly camouflaged on moonless nights. It bears a hearty arsenal, though it lacks gun ports and cannon slots on the aft and fore so attacks only come from the sides.

A name as sinister as ‘Gallows’ isn’t merely bestowed, but rather earned. And rightfully so. Rather than an intricate figurehead crafted from fine wood or other material, the figurehead is instead a strung up captive. It’s quite the hassle to change it out weekly. From the mast and yards hang the corpses of those unable to escape the trajectory of the warship. The feared Captain is often found dozing about in the crows nest, or meandering about the decks.

As it’s grown in infamy, with the garnered sour recognition, the crew has formed the habit of never staying in one port for long, which has not made such a terrible impact as the vessel spends far more time terrorizing on the high seas and overtaking other fleets rather than docking for the night.

Name: Kvothe Crenne
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Appearance: I used Picrew for this as I was struggling with coming up with his appearance. He is short, 5'4 and around 130 lbs. [Mod Edit: Removed for hotlinking]
Personality: He is a new character for me so I don't have a personality completely thought up for him so it will develope in the RP. He is exciteable and bubbly mainly, but he does have a quick silver tongue. He is also riddled with insecurities due to issues from his childhood.

Name: Warren Noname

Nicknames: War / Captain

Age: 29

Gender: Male

Occupation: ‘Revered’ Captain of the Gallows - More Pirate than not

Appearance: Visually -

His skin is very tanned from a life in saltwater and on the seas under the blaring sun. His hair is an array of golden blond, though more often than not its messy and mused regardless if he wears a hat or not. Warren has cruel blue eyes, which are often narrowed or rolling. His left ear is riddled with small golden hoop piercings, and he wears an eyepatch over his left eye to make the transition from light to dark easy. Warren tends to tower over others, as alongside his height of 6’1” he bears a strong but lean build.

He wears pretty typically clothing for a pirate captain, though almost all articles of clothing are monochrome. He wears dark breeches with what used to be a white poet shirt, that does have laces in the front but is typically left unlaced to his chest. Atop that he wears a long-sleeved waistcoat, typically unbuttoned, with a high collar that ends at his knees. He dons dark leather boots that stop above his calves. For a Captain he is not very flamboyant, but rather practical.

Warren surprisingly does not carry much in the way of weapons on him, but he does boast a cutlass from his hip as well as a Flintlock pistol. It’s unsurprising to know that he has a multiple of scars, though most are small and blend in with his tan skin. He does however have a branded M at the base of his right thumb for ‘murderer’.

Personality: Definitely not a friendly guy. He is crass and quite rude, though he treats his crew fairly and without bias. Warren is quite charismatic despite his foul moods, so he tends to inspire loyalty in his men. Not very compassionate and seems to lack basic empathy, which bods well for thieving, murdering and being a pirate in general.

History: He doesn’t like to talk about it, though it’s obvious he was born into the cycle of crime and never escaped, or never bothered to.

Other: He genuinely does not have a last name, and while it’s not really a pet he does keep a tabby cat aboard the ship who he seems quite fond of.

Nice! Do you want to start us off?

Yes I'll have a starter up sometime today! I'll probably have them pushing off from a dock if that's alright! Just to give Kvothe a window of opportunity to sneak onboard ;)

Got it!

Life at sea was no life at all. How could it be, when every waking moment was spent in defense of your life? The only thing more unforgiving than the brutal, frying sun was the tumultuous and bloodthirsty waves that ravaged anything and everything unlucky enough to enter its deadly throws. But to Warren- as well as the rest of the barbaric cremates- the ocean was a godsend, a reprieve from the clutches of humanity. Though it’s not as if humanity wanted anything to do with any of them.

The crew aboard the Gallows was a cluster of societal rejects, outcasted from mankind not by choice but by force. There was not a tattered soul aboard the saltwater-stained deck without a tarnish to his name. One might question the decision to man such a vessel with the hands of murderers, thieves, and other malefactors, but to Warren, it was an ingenious resolution. For why would the Captain surround himself with those different from him? Warren was no different from the weathered men that hoisted sails and manned the cannons. If anything, the blond was far, far worse.

Warren had never lived a life of comfort. He’d never had a home, or the luxuries of friendship and connection. He was brought into the world alone, and he’d likely leave in the same fashion. Yet the man was fine with that- he preferred it. His only companion his entire life had been the cruel and ruthless ocean. When he had no one to turn to, which was an occurrence that was far too familiar to the man, the ocean had been there. The sting of salt in the air and the cries of gulls and albatross.

It was on the sea where Warren had first found success. Ever since he had been a child, the only path that seemed viable to the man was one of crime. His skills had not been honed when he first tried to make a living off pickpocketing and petty theft, his fingers not deft enough to pull anything tangible. Though it was always enough to support his lonesome self. But it seemed his luck had run out one day, when his sights had been set upon a man donned in fine silk and extravagant garb. He’d been blatantly caught when he had tried to nab the sack of coins dangling like a prize from the man’s hip, ignorant to the guards that had been trailing behind the man like a shadow. The fingers that dug into his shoulders felt akin to the snares of death, and Warren had accepted his fate then and there. But fate seemed to have another plan.

Whatever it was, be it the emotionless and cold glint in Warren’s blue eyes, the man had found potential in the young urchin. Taken him under his wing, if you will. The man had been the captain of a galleon, simple enough but with a crew to boast. Warren had nothing tying him to land, so his feet were more than willing to abandon firm ground in return for shaky duckboards and violent storms. As it would turn out, this had simultaneously been the best and worst decision of his life. It was a cruel childhood, growing up in the company of hardened pirates and even harsher weather. But he learned. His hands may have become calloused and his mind even more so, but he learned. The truth of the world and the harsh reality of humanity.

It was with that crew that Warren was molded into what he was now today- a cutthroat, heartless shell. A vessel merely to carry out chaos and destruction. And he was good at it- very good. It was how he found himself, still a young man in his own right, the captain of such a ship with a remarkably foul crew to boot. Yet as hardened and resilient as the crew and the ship herself were, there were times where the howling winds and bashing waves would prove to be too much. Such was a time as this.

They had been perusing the seas which hounded the Horn of Africa, when they had all but sailed directly into a fleet of British warships. Naval warfare was no stranger to the Gallows, yet as cannonballs and volleys of flaming arrowed were exchanged the ocean offered her own exchanges. Looking back, Warren should have been glad for the storm which brewed wildly, as it drove his own ship from the fleet. Though the breaching waves and monstrous rainfall offered a reprieve from the onslaught of attack, it hardly made it easy to hold control over such a large ship. As much as the current pulled the adversary fleet further out, it only brought the Gallows further inshore. Which was perhaps the best solution, unless Warren would have preferred to be the captain of a capsized ship. So the crew let the sails be pulled and the bow guided to land. It wasn’t only when mass wasn’t visible on the horizon that the storm relented, if only briefly. Warren could not recall the last time the ship had docked to restock, or even allow the crew a break, so the decision was an easy one. Nightfall was already upon the weather-worn behemoth when it was guided to the docks, and it remained tethered there for the better part of four days. Yet as the sun rose to speckle the earth in light on that fourth day, Warren was sick of land. It held its perks, naturally, yet he craved the vast nothingness of the blue canvas of sea. So the crew was preparing their voyage back into the great blue, sails beginning to unfurl as deckhands tireless worked to slacken the rope ties.

Warren himself had found his way to the utmost deck, his large body braced in a languidly lazy arch over the railing as his disinterested eye scanned the crewmates mulling about the lower deck, be it to mop or merely converse.