Corsair

The brisk, salty air stung at his ears and chapped his lips. Perched high up in the the nest, the Simitirian Barrelman peered through his lense, taking in the vasntness of the Bromlen Sea before him. He and the rest of the crew of The Grisley Butcher, a two-masted schooner of a deep teak color, were on high alert. They were nearing the threshold of the Bay of Discourse, the edge of safe waters, and therefore each and every Corsair upon the vessel was ready to run and gun should the situation arise. "Boom About" a harsh voice cries from below and in a moment the Buthers is tacking hard to port. The sudden jolt in direction caught the Barrelman off balance and, as if in slow motion, he toppled over the side of the crows nest and began to plummet to his certain death. Spyglass hurling through the air, in a desperate move to save his own life, he whips his prehensile tail out into the rigging hoping to catch anything to slow his fall. Barbadu must have had plans for this sailor, as his tail wraps around a rigging line, and he finds himself hanging inverted, staring down at his fellow Corsairs. He'll be a swab for a month for both toppling out of his nest, and missing the Naval Galleon now hot on their tails. Luckily, The Grisley Butcher is as fast as she is dangerous.

Of Plunder and Pain

To be a Corsair on the seas of Centrilian is to be both free and haunted. Corsairs live lives completely outside of the traditions and legislation of the governments of Centrilian, until they are caught that is. Some Corsair vessels operate as mercenaries, guns for hire able to accomplish tasks that militia and the law-bound citizens of Centrilian cannot. Others operate as mauraders and thieves on teh high seas, besting other vessels in sea-faring combat, plundering their treasures, and vanishing into the distance. Others still, function as smugglers, hauling illegal goods, people, and secrets between continents all while avoiding the prying eyes of The Customs Exchange. No matter what realm the Corsair operates in, they typically have several things in common. For one, Corsairs often have a rougish penchant for danger and adventure. Unruly by nature, most are drawn to the life of Corsair simply because the life expectancy is short, the money is good, and the travel is great. Another thing most Corsairs have in common is a disdain for the shackles of conventional morality and the binding of the legal systems of Centrilian. Corsairs operate on their own terms and only answer to a Sea-Kin who ranks above them. While opposed to governmental control, many Corsairs live by a common moral compass, usually referred to as the Articles of Freedom or The Ten Spoked Helm.

1. On the sea, no man is King o'er any but himself
2. Kin don't steal from Kin
3. Landfolk at sea deserve what they get
4. Put stern to enemies beyond your ballast, but remember their Colors and mark their faces
5. Time tethered is Matron's lost
6. Steal when you can, fight when you must, never consign your freedom
7. Sea-family above all, honor your crewmates and sail in prosperity
8. A sharp tongue is more useful than a sharp blade
9. If blades must clash among crew or captain, none shall interfere
10. No kin shall be bound to any other, we hold no debts, keep no contract, and balance no scales

Heirarchy of a Ship

While all members of the crew are considered Kin and treated with respect, there is a power heirarchy that exists upon most sea-faring vessels. At the very top is, of course, the Captain or Commander. Both titles mean the same among naval and corsair communities and each demands the very highest of respect and admiration. Below the Captain is the Quatermaster, who dolls out punishment and manages the heads of each area of the ship. Next down are typically the categorical elites and those of specific skillselts; Cooper Elite, Gunner Elite, Carpenter Elite, and Swab Elite, along with the Barrelman, Navigator, and Bosun. Those below those of this rank were affectionately calld The Squall and consisted of the working Kynd on the bottom rung of the Corsair ladder.

Alternative Names

Scourger, Sea-dog, Plink (in reference to the sound a stone makes when dropped into water, typically referring to The Squall as fodder)