John
Ichabod Sigmar

Portside Town in the Southern Isles

Ichabod traipsed along the docks, picking up a large crate on the way. He had gotten a small job from a trading ship, and all he had to do was do some grunt work. He was a skinny lad, falling over himself as he picked up the heavier things. Good thing it was nothing breakable.

He seemed to be stronger than he looked, but the crates were still a struggle as he hoisted it up to a sailor at the edge of the ship to grab. He grunted heavily, the sweat beading on his brow and along the color of his plain white cotton shirt.
Elizabeth
William "The merchant"
Portside town in the Southern Isles

Quite some time had past during their trip, and a rather thick beard had grown on top of William's face. However, it did not even nearly resemble that of many a cliche'd lumberjack's, being reasonably well kept and tidy though able to be noticed if he had his helmet off.

It was much different from that though, considering how armored he and his men had gotten upon getting closer to the port. The ships' flags had been changed to that of another relatively unknown and yet relatively wealthy family so that no guard was to bother them upon entrance. The soldiers and the merchant had jupons and paintings showing the colors of red and blue with a yellow sun on it's center as was the heraldry of that house.

Leaving the ship, William turned towards Ichabod right before lifting his visor, letting the top of his face be visible to Sigmar, as the bottom was covered by the steel that protected it... But only him, for he wanted to know what a clumsy boy such as himself was doing in those docks. Right after, he motioned to a poster of a bounty—his bounty—and motioned to his own face.
"Now that you know who I am, mind if I know who you are, lad?"

His relaxing and dominant voice struck through the air, the thunder of his tone amazing even the birds that chirped under the somber sky and clouds of the isles.
John
Ichabod Sigmar
Portside Town in the Southern Isles

Ichabod paused as the ship came into the port. He was even more intrigued as the soldiers were seen. Fancy ship, high price, right? He could probably make quite a lot doing little chores... Or make quite a lot with his slippery fingers.

He caught the small gold coin that the sailor flicked to him and he set it in his pocket, before walking over toward where the ship was docking. Quite magnificent indeed. 

The man who came off of it was quite magnificent as well. He narrowed his eyes and stood a little taller, for the short stack that wasn't a lot. He maybe made it to The Merchant's chest in height.

Looking at the bounty and then back at the Merchant, he curled his lip. Well that changes things. A pirate, eh? He blinked rapidly as if clearing his head.

"Ah... Ah... I'm Ichabod." He said curtly, crossing his arms as he seemed to deflate in his comfidence as he found who he was talking to.
Elizabeth
William "The merchant"
Portside town in the southern isles

The merchant was six feet in height, and with his longsword and dagger on his hip in their respective sheathes, he yawned before lowering his visor. Ten men in full plate harnesses were right behind William, and they seemed to each be decent folk considering how they looked in pity towards the frail-looking, miniscule Ichabod.
"I do not assume you believe everything told about me in that poster, Ichabod. I believe many lies have been told about you as well as me, specially when we are talking about how the cowardly nobility sees us."

He looked the boy up and down, though his eyes were not visible. Maybe he was going to be useful, or just someone that he could help out of altruism. Either way, 'pirate', although being one of the titles attributed to him, was not very accurate.
"You are brave, young Ichabod. I can see it in your eyes... Is it glory that you lust? Or is it fortune?"

The young man seemed to be alone, for he was not working alongside his father as it usually happened at the time. Rather, he was working alone at the docks.
"Or... Family, mayhaps?"

He motioned towards the end of the dock, promptly walking up towards it and looking into the sea. The man motioned for the boy to follow.
"Tell me, *Who are you*? Not your name. Not your nickname. Who are **You**?"
John
Ichabod Sigmar
Portside Town in the Southern Isles

"Ah... I-I'm..." The words tripped up on his tongue as he followed William. He thought about what he said. Lies told about him.. Plenty. A lot of truths, too though. They count for something, right? And Cowardly Nobility. His mind didn't rest enough to think about anyone but himself. Given the visions that fade in and out at times made it difficult to even act normal. "I doubt them's fancy folk had a thought 'bout me." He commented, looking out to the stormy grey waters.

"I'm not lookin'... For anythin'." He said somberly. "Mayhap a good meal and a warm beddin'. Me mum always made me sup." He rasped out, crossing his arms.

So... Who was he? "I don't 'ave me mum or pa anymore. I ain't 'ave nothin but all me teeth and the clothes on me body. You keep askin' who I am trying to be fancy, but sir, I ain't nobody. A boy with a foggy brain. Crossed wires."