Barry
He let the door swing shut behind him, aware that the men on deck lingered slightly, trying to see within. Imal caught the eye of one, Kendall, a particularly nasty man who's skin was covered in pox scars and his hair was as greasy as his tongue. 

"She' a right fuckable one, ain't she sir," He rasped as Imal as he pushed his brush and scrubbed the sea slime and salt off the deck.

Imal paused in his path to the galley and locked eyes with the greasy man. He stood there for a moment, brows furled, eyes sharp, until the other man looked down, murmuring some nonsense under his tongue. Imal continued, hardly missing a beat to his step.

As he entered the gallery he saw his first mate Hanah grabbing a 2nd taste of the evening meal. As Imal entered the small room, carved out of the hull and bursting with barrels of pickled food and weak beer, he laughed.

"Ah, Hanah, still 'ungrry I see" He clapped his friend on the sholder as Hanah sputtered a weak objection. "Eat, don't let me stop you".

"That voman 'aving you fetch forr 'err like a deckboy?" Hanah threw back, catching his breath. 

Imal laughed as he grabbed a gunny sack and tossed a few hard tack rolls and pickles inside it. "You vant to test 'err?" He asked.

Hanah raised his hands in surrender "She is yourr prroblem, not mine" He said, grabbing a wrinkled green apple from a small sack he had hiding behind a particularly rusty looking pile of pots and tossed it to Imal, who snatched it out of the air quickly and pointed at Hanah.

"Sneaky sneaky" Imal said, wiggling his finger and tucking the apple into the sack. He grabbed a tankard out of a crate and held it under a tapped barrel, the foamy liquid pouring a smooth bronze.

"Keep zat up and I'll begin to worry you've made frriends with our new quarrtermasterr." Imal chuckled but Hanah's mouth twisted and he spat on the deck.

"Zat one is trrouble," Hanah said.

"Ey, keep a vatch on 'im, and ze ones zat came viz 'im" Imal said, turning back towards the deck. "I don't vant any trrouble".

As Imal left Hanah in the galley he heard a guttural agreement behind him. Almost half his crew had come with the new quarrtermaster and Imal regretted the decision almost immediately, but the cargo needed to be delivered to Tonate quickly, and they were making good time. There shouldn't be any trouble, as long as there were no more surprises. He would need to keep Loonay / Zeeba out of site and out of mind.

He reentered his cabin and immediatly noticed the curve of her neck as she bent over his charts. "Do you know vat yourre looking at?" He asked as he set down the beer and sack.

She murmured, neither confirming or denying, and picked up the tankard, taking a small sip, then drank deeply. She then fell upon the food ravenously and he took again to his cot to sit and watch her. She was fascinating, a deadly grace to her that made his skin crawl and heat raise in his face and stomach. She snatched up food quickly, catching anything before it could fall, not loosing a single crumb. He had heard stories of the deadly grace snd efficiency of the Shadowmen but he has never met one. His service to the Dark Lord involved information. He was not the hand, but the eyes and ears. He revered her as he watched her, the touch of divinity both amazed and aroused him. But he values his hands too much to actually touch her.

He leaned back on his cot and lounged, stretching his muscles, sore after a days sailing. "So, verre arre you 'eaded" He asked the ceiling.

She paused, her mouth closed and examined the hard bread in her hand before murmuring "I don't know."

This surprised him, he had not really expected a response.

Imal Hassan
The Wind Dancer, en route to Tonate

"Vell, ve arre 'eadded to Tonate" He said back to the ceiling.

She ate for a while in silence, finishing her meal and the beer. He was starting to slip into slumber when she spoke again.

"My Lord vill guide me" She said strongly, startling him awake.

"Ey," Was all he could thing to say.

She came towards him, her balance impeccable, none of the flailing clumsiness he had seen earlier. She swayed with the ship, her hips rocking and his mouth started to water. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him. He raised a brow and she furled hers. He chuckled and rolled to face the ship's hull. She laid down as well, her back to his. He could feel her radiating heat but she did not touch him, and he knew better than to touch her. He slipped into sleep thinking of his mother and how she used to tell him that women were like fire, but he was used to heat, and wouldn't mind a little burn.
Elizabeth
15 YEARS AGO
House Alder's Estate, The Southern Isles

_Riander_

"Got him," Robin said, returning his bow to his back and nodding over to Riander, who had stayed behind while the rest of the gang members they'd recruited shattered the glass of the balcony window and charged into the room of the patriarch.

With the frenzy of the war, being able to scale the outside of the estate had been easy enough. Something about it all felt _too_ easy, though.

"Right," Riander said, swallowing and gripping onto the dagger at his side, his knuckles white with the intensity of his hold. This was it. There was no going back now.

The young man stepped over the glass and strode into the room, appalled at what he saw. An enchantment circle, losing its glow... And a woman, bound there against her will? The room looked as if it hadn't seen light in days, and the musty smell of old books filled the space.

"Get the woman up, bind any wounds you can," Riander ordered. "She's the matriarch. Don't be rough."

The gang glanced to Robin for direction. As the gang's _actual_ leader, it just felt right to check with him before taking orders from a young man who was barely a teenager. But Robin remained outside. He shrugged, smirking and taking a slow draw from his flask, waving a hand dismissively.

And so, the gang did as Riander said, pulling the pregnant woman from the circle of chalked gibberish, leaning her up against the wall and using strips of cloth to try to stifle the bleeding. From there, Gertrude simply stared at Riander and his leadership, puzzled, but too exhausted to say much about it.

While doing so, Riander stared at what he assumed was the patriarch. The older man wore the colors of House Alder, his rings telling enough of his wealth and power. A power that Riander was determined to make obsolete. For good.

Indeed, the fallen patriarch could do nothing but gasp and clutch his chest, where Robin's arrow was lodged. It hadn't pierced the man's heart, but was agonizingly close to doing so. All he needed to do was deliver the final blow. He'd imagined this moment in so many different ways, but that still didn't feel like enough to prepare him, as he was.

"Do you know who I am?" Riander said, his voice containing a slight tremor as he fought to keep his rage back. 

Sergian could not properly speak, but looked clueless either way. He choked and gurgled on his own blood.

"Fine," Riander said, lifting his foot and placing it on Sergian's chest, making the man grunt and squirm. "I will tell you, then."

Riander unsheathed his dagger and twirled it once in his hand. His eyes were piercingly cold, glaring down at Sergian's face. His father's face.


"My mother used to work for you, in this estate. Her name was Leia. You sent her away to fend for herself. You sent her away with me," Riander said.

Sergian coughed and wheezed, his eyes brightening with recollection as the memories of Leia began rushing back. The resemblance to the woman in this boy's face was utterly undeniable. That servant woman... Did this boy really mean that... Leia had been...?

"You killed her. You're a monster, and you took the only person I had away from me!" Riander shouted, gripping the dagger's hilt with two hands, now. He raised up his arms, shouting as he rammed the dagger right through Sergian's chest, crouching over the man now.

The patriarch's gaze focused on Riander's face for his last few moments of life. He saw himself in the boy. And he saw Leia, as well. He tried to say something, but his mouth couldn't properly form the word. And then, he stopped breathing entirely.

Robin smiled, satisfied even from where he watched on the balcony. He tucked his flask away and hopped down from the railing, walking inside and kicking away a few shards of glass.

He noticed a movement in the doorway, sharply turning toward it.

Newry Alder stood there, her hands and feet numb with shock. She watched her father lie there, dead. And there was so much blood... 

"Da? D-Da.." She cried, sniffling and remaining where she stood. She was too frightened to move any closer. Too stricken with shock to run away.

Robin scratched his head, sighing and walking toward the girl. _This night make things complicated._ She was about to scream, before Robin scooped her up and placed a hand over her mouth.

"Oh no you don't," He said, before elbowing the girl in the side of the head, rendering her unconscious. He held her limp form in one arm, nodding to the other gang members. "Secure the room."

He turned back toward Riander, the boy a shuddering mess. 

"Up off the man, kid. The deed's done. You won," Robin said, watching as the boy did as he was told. 

_He's real shaken up_ , Robin thought, sighing. _I'll take over from here._

"Don't worry. You did the right thing," Robin said, nudging the boy away from Sergian's body with his foot. "Just keep looking clueless, alright?"

It was at that point that a flurry of steps made their way to the door led by none other than a pair of twins. Tobias and Thalia had somehow managed to get past Helene. And it was a good thing they did.

Thalia merely screamed, covering her eyes.

Tobias glared at Robin, reaching for his sword.

"What did you do with my father. Who are you?!" The twin shouted. He noticed that Robin was holding Newry in one arm. "Let her go!"

"I'm the one who saved your mother's life. Er, well, he was," Robin said, gesturing to Riander. "Your father went mad, boy. He was about to send this whole island to ruin, starting with your mother. And this little girl, too."

"What do you mean?" Tobias asked, looking to where Gertrude was propped up against the wall, a trail of blood in her wake.

"From the looks of it, he was trying to make an undead army. And the matriarch was going to be the final blood sacrifice," Robin said, shrugging. "We got here just in time. We weren't intending to kill your old man, but, well, the second he realized who this kid was, it seems he stabbed himself in the heart. Riander did his best to save him, but.."

Robin gestured to Riander, who was at least a little more composed, now. He stared at Tobias, his eyes devoid of much emotion besides anger. And fear.

"Who is he?" Tobias said, frowning with confusion. 

"He's your brother, Tobias."

The weak voice came from the wall, where Gertrude sat. She'd had enough time to piece it all together in her mind, while she'd been observing all of this.

"Ma... What do you mean? That shitblood—"

"—Is your brother, just as I said. His mother was a part of the help, here. Your father..." Gertrude began coughing, her frail body hardly able to sustain the amount of energy she was expunging.

"I didn't believe it either, kid. But the resemblance is uncanny," Robin said, noting the physical similarities between both of the boys. "His name's Riander. He grew up on the shores of Alderport, with me."

Tobias wanted to argue, but shock and confusion left him silent. If even his mother agreed with this ruffian's story..

"They saved my life, Tobias. Please... Believe them," Gertrude said, her plea sounding even weaker than her explanation before. 

"But.. If father is gone.. And Mylo died on the ship..." Thalia murmured, the girl having been silent up until now. "Does that mean.. T-Tobias is the new—"

"No," Gertrude firmly said, sighing deeply. "Riander saved me. He has your father's blood, and he kept this island from becoming an utter disaster."

Riander blinked, looking over to Gertrude, his face dark with disbelief. _Why is she defending me? Didn't she see what I did...? _

Robin just smiled to himself, having to contain his glee. Was this all going to go in the direction he wanted? He'd hardly had to lift a finger.

And then, the course of House Alder changed forever. Heavy gusts swept into the room, and lightning flashed to cast a momentary flash of light on those gathered.

"By the power vested in me, as standing matriarch of our clan," Gertrude said. "I name this boy as our new patriarch. Riander."

_The events that followed the patriarch's murder._

When all of the dust settled, Riander was officially named the new patriarch of the Alder clan. It wasn't a direction he'd seen coming, but it was one that served Robin and the rest of the gang. And in truth, it served everyone.

Under Riander's leadership, shadowed mostly by Robin's decision-making, the clan ended their war against the Pirate Lord and submitted to his rule, ending the bloodshed and constant feuding between the clans. As a shitblood, Riander came to identify with the Pirate Lord's philosophy after learning more about the origins of the war. And though Robin did most of the planning until Riander grew old enough to make decisions on his own, he saw to it that the culture of Alderport changed.

He used but a fraction of the family's store of wealth to help the poor, ordering a hospitable shelter built on the shore and issuing decrees to modernize the town, similar to what Bradai has done in Tonate Proper. 

When the issue of Newry arose, Robin and Riander had to think of an alibi to keep her quiet.

"What do we do about her?" Riander had said, sitting at a desk in one of his late father's studies. If Newry revealed that he'd killed Sergian, not merely "Saved" Gertrude, Tobias and Thalia would certainly turn against him. The twins already seemed leery of him.

"The Pirate King is taking up wives from the other clans, right?" Robin said. "That's what we do. We give Newry over as _our_ elected bride, and voila! She's out of our hair."

And so, that's what Riander did. It was a difficult decision, especially for the rest of the Alder's, but for the next 15 years, it would keep Riander and Robin in charge without any hiccups.

Seeing the benefits of aligning with the Pirate King, Tobias and Thalia eventually came around, serving at Riander's side.

"What happened was awful, but... Riander saved us, Tobias," Thalia had said one night on their 20th birthday, when they'd snuck up to the roof to stare at the stars together. "And life is so much better now. I miss father, too, but..."

"I know," Tobias had replied, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "I just wonder if we did the right thing. Letting a shitblood take over. If Mylo were here.."

"He'd be proud. We're still the most profitable island in the Southern Federation. We aren't fighting for our lives anymore," Thalia said, smiling. "Mylo would be proud."

—————————————————

Currently, Lord Riander Alder, 28, reports directly to the Pirate King as lord of The Southern Isles' Navy and head of the opium operation. Robin, 38, serves as his head advisor.

Tobias Alder, 29, serves as Commander of the Navy, working to defend the waters of the Isles no matter the cost.

Thalia Alder, 29, is head of the poppy farm operations, making sure the growing of the plant by which the Southern Isles lives is thriving and prosperous.

Newry Alder, 21, is one of Bradai's wives. Her memory of her father's gruesome death has never truly left her. 

Gertrude Alder, 50, is practically bedridden after the ordeal. She was able to recover, but the toll her body took on that night has left her quite stationary as the honorary matriarch of House Alder. She offers advice to Riander often, taking quite a liking to him.

Mirajane Alder, 15, is the child who was born to Gertrude prematurely.
Carl
Emmaline Maíth, Quartermaster
Just beyond spyglass distance; aboard the Salt Queen

"What the fuck is that?"
"It used to be rice."
Emmaline blinked. "Why would you try to pickle rice?"
"Why wouldn't you?"
"Because I have a shred of common sense."
"Do you really?"
"...Would you like to die today?"
"I'll think about it."
Elizabeth
Brandon Welles
Aboard his ship "Birnam" In Tonate Proper, The Southern Isles. 

Leon made it clear in  wasn't going to be an option for more than a few days for the foreseeable future. In the last five years, the longest consecutive period he'd been on Araedian soil was eight days. He spent three years away without hearing a single word from his family. The first person to reach out to him was Evelyn. She'd been writing for years, but somehow the letters never reached him until she got clever about the way in which she sent them.

It took him a full year to realize the finality of his stay in the Southern Isles. 

A full year of his life was spent enjoying all the things he couldn't do in Araedia out in the open. He made friends with whomever he liked, he drank whenever he liked, he said whatever he liked, and no one from home reached out to him. He assumed he wasn't missed in Araedia, and that was nice at first.

His 19th birthday was a turnaround, his first birthday away from home. The crew Leon sent with him had no plans to take him home. Even though he was on the ship, Leon was still the Captain of it. He expected they might come to him, but a week after his birthday passed it was clear that no one was coming. It was the same for Hogcock, the anniversary of his mother's death, Evelyn's birthday, Leon's, Reyums...

The silence from his family left him numb for months, but that's when he understood that he was no longer a real part of that family. It took him months to recover from that realization. It took him 2 months to dismiss the entire crew Leon sent with him- becoming the Captain of his own ship, another month to staff it again with a crew made up of the sort of people he actually wanted to be around, and another year before he felt a sense of accomplishment for the family he built for himself in the Isles. 

His ship was not designed to be a home, but somehow Brandon made it one.
__
"Give me a warn-" He started choking as the bucket of water was thrown in his face. It was sea water. It burned his eyes, stung the inside of his nose, but he couldn't even complain about it because within 5 seconds another bucket was thrown at him. 

This was how the crew bathed, having buckets of water thrown at them near the wooden squares they sat on when they had to take a shit. 

Brandon knew didn't need to go through this. He could have a warm bath and no one would care, but Brandon prided himself on the fact that everyone aboard Birnam was treated like an equal. Besides having his own sleeping quarters, Brandon was very much regarded as a member of his own crew.

The young man throwing the water at him was new. Bran found him nearly ready to have his guts ripped out for cheating while gambling in a pirate tavern on Zulprisa Island. He couldn't have been more than 16 years old, and the fact that he complimented the man that was about to gut him on being able to count as his last words made Brandon take pity on him. He talked him out of certain death and paid his debt. He had every intention of just letting the kid go, but it was obvious he didn't have anywhere to go. 

Water dripped from Brandon's body, and he could feel the breeze coming from the small holes in the floor that the water escaped from. This was misery. Five years of these baths at sea were beginning to take a toll, yet he looked over at the new kid holding the bucket and said, "Another."

He had business to conduct, a very small task, however he couldn't do it looking or smelling like he did. He knew he was much more likely to be successful when he didn't look like a vagrant. After a shave, a haircut, and a slathering of some salve over his sunburnt skin he looked fit for business. 

The trade he did for Erba was busy work. Leon didn't trust him to run the operations, so he basically just transported rum and cocoa from a trusted grower every few months. Frankly, it was insulting, Evelyn could have done it. It was a chance to receive supplies from home though, and once it was done he was free to go wherever he wanted.
Barry
Loonay de Silva
Tonate docks

Loonay watch from the captain's deck as the men brought the ship into port. Men scurried over the main deck below. Months of working together had taught them to move in tndem, like a kind of dance in the tight space. Everyone had a job to do, but even so there was a clear division to the crew. Imal had not said much to her about the state of his crew and she had rarely left his cabin, but she could see that some if the men were dirtier than others, the carried themselves lower, in defensive positions, like a waif backed into a corner. They were the ones that leered at her and whispered behind her back. She would not miss them.

The ship was a masterpiece, all ropes and sails, gliding into port gently with the changing tide. Iman gave instructions to Hanah while making notes in his inventory lists, categorizing the order that shipments would be unloaded and delivered. A man from the port had rowed out to them and was inspecting the lists. Coined changed hands more than once and Loonay made a point of not looking at them.

It took hours to get the ship tied securely to the dock, and loonay had to dodge men carrying huge barrels of goods and booms lifting even more crates in a net. As soon as her feed hit the dock she almost fell, the world tilted and spun, and only a firm hand on her arm kept her from pitching into the water between the dock and the ships hull.

"Zat vill crush you for surre, Zeeba" A deep voice said. Loonay turned, startled at the use of the false name she had given so many weeks ago. She turned to meet the face of Imal's second mate, the quartermaster.

"Many zanks" She said, pulling her arm from his grasp, it still felt as though the dock was moving under her as she took a few steps back.

"Your lands legs'll come back" He chuckled, letting at her figure, everything from the chin down.

She did not bother to respond, instead she simply turned and carefully made her way along the dock, weaving between the growing piles of cargo.

She had no idea where she was, and knew only a few words of the local tongue. Imal had offered to teach her a few phrases but she knew it would be difficult to communicate. Even so she wanted to put the Wind Dancer and her crew far behind. Anyone who knew her or where she had come from could be a threat. There would not be a price on her head but she did not want to draw undue attention to herself. As she made it to the wharf she became to look for the signs of her faith. Imal had said there was a small underground temple in Tonate and she was sure she would be safe there, for a time. 

As she walked she grew more confident on her feet. The ground still seemed to move slightly but she was adjusting. Sailors called out to her as she passed but one look from her abd they gave her a wide berth.

She found the simple she was looking for, a circle with a horizontal line through the top, the setting sun, on the bottom corner of the door to a warehouse. The road it was on was narrow and filthy, rubbish and mud piled up at the edges of the buildings. A fat orange tabby cat darted out from a nearby alley, a large grey rat darting out in front, but no people were nearby. She tested the door but it was latched, so she began to walk the perimeter of the building looking for another door or open window. She paused at the entrance to the alley the cat had come from. It was dark but her eyes adjusted quickly.

She proceeded quickly, jumping as a pile of rubbish squirmed. She could see a window high above halfway down the alley that was ajar and made her way towards it. Her attention was so entirely on the window she almost missed the sound of a booted foot scuffing the dirt of the alley behind her. She ducked refkexivke as something heavy swung  over her head. Whoever it was lost their balance and fell on top of her, taking her down with his girth before she could move out of the way.
Elizabeth
Kichea
Tonate docks, The Southern Isles 

The other girls slept during the day, nights were busy. Such a life never suited Kichea. She worked when she liked, but she also took walks in the sun. The docks were not her favorite place. The sand smelled like piss, drunken men stumbled about trying not to miss their ships, and it was easy to get robbed or over powered. There was only one person she would venture this close to hell for, and when she arrived his ship wasn't even there. What a terrible lover- if he even warranted that title.

Kichea survived relatively on her own in the Isles for as long as she did because she knew when to smile, when to run, and never to get involved in the mayhem surrounding her. She did however, enjoy a show.

She walked by the alley just as a hulk of a man, seemingly drunk, took a swing at a woman half his size. Almost anywhere else in Marin, this would only have one outcome, but women in the Isles seemed to be a different breed, especially the ones that roamed the docks. Kichea watched as the two of them stumbled to the ground then shook her head, "Why ya takin a swing at tha poor girl?" She sighed, but kept her distance. "Ge' off er ya fat *Swine!* "