<hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;"><strong>Game Master</strong></span></span></div><hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/FsSwBxR.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Captain Rosette de Courtenay (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=300519.msg14691423#msg14691423)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Esperanza, Port Royal | top deck<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Everyone<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Introductions<br/><hr/><br/>As people poured onto the main deck, some of them so dedicated that they applied themselves to the job they had been brought on board already, Rosette began to size up the various individuals that hustled and bustled about, so eager to set sail and leave the notorious pirate city behind. “How many are we in total, Mister Scott?” she inquired without averting her eyes. Her hand briefly reached up to adjust the hat that fit so perfectly around her scalp. It was black and carried a wide rim, much like a cavalier’s hat albeit without the signature fold. A maroon coloured feather still drifted from its back though, attached by a black-and-silver encrusted jewel. She hadn’t worn it in many years, but now the time felt right to actually look the part that she had never quite abandoned.<br/><br/>Her second-in-command unrolled the paper that had sat none too ceremoniously tucked into the back pocket of his trousers. He checked the list of names; Liam Scott had been a reasonably capable reader when they’d first met and, at Rose’s insistence, had become considerably more practiced in the years after. “Seventy-six in total, Miss,” she said. “Forty new ones added to the thirty-odd we picked up at Tortuga. With you Sir, me, Winton and Townsend of course-”  He paused, his words broken up by the most lighthearted chuckle that barely seemed to fit the old sailor. Lawton Townsend had been on Liam’s good side since the day he lumbered aboard and hadn’t done a thing to change his opinion since. Even Rose, who trusted Liam Scott’s judgment of people without condition, thought highly enough of the man who was so infatuated with the ship’s cannons, that she had gone out of her way to seek him out the moment they’d arrived in Port Royal. “Yep,” Liam finally concluded in his gruff, sea addled voice, still staring at his paper. “Makes seventy-six.”<br/><br/>Rose crossed her arms as she stood straight, her upper body angled back in a near act of defiance. “The men of Tortuga are the working mules, Liam, the followers,” she said impatiently. Her hand left the comfort of its resting place on her opposing arm to gesture lightly towards the crowd. “<em>These</em>are the people who are going to make a difference. These folk have come because they want<em>adventure</em>, because whatever they had here on land was not bringing them any sense of fulfillment. That, or they were just bloody desperate.”  She flashed a toothy smile at that, revealing that, while life at sea hardly demanded high standards of hygiene, the dear Captain still had all of her teeth. Her expression remained unwavering even as the one man to have never left her side, her boatswain Alvirs Winton, spoke up, giving voice to his doubts whether this ragtag group of pirates, sailors and scum-o-the-earth was going to live up to the expectations of Rose and himself. It was the one aspect to Alvirs she had always appreciated about him most, if only because it was a good counterbalance to the once boundless optimism of his captain. Not that she was going to have him sour the mood for her on this eventful day, and the sharp look she cast her bo’sun over her shoulder left no doubts that he oughta tone it down. “She might surprise you yet, the little mouse,” Rose said calmly, indicating the scrawny little female figure that had already crawled between the woodboards, seeking refuge belowdeck. “Besides, I never saw you as one to back away from a challenge.” She turned her head back to the scene below; Alvirs and her had been through Hell and back together; they would never tell each other anything except the undiluted truth and Rose was certain that he wouldn’t take offense to her words. Much, anyway. “Mister Scott,” she commanded, “Let’s put my dear Alvir’s mind at ease. Tell me about our new crew, so that-”<br/><br/>Her voice trailed off at the sight of a young woman, with bronzed skin and an infectious smile upon her dark coloured lips. She was the first of the newcomers to make direct eyecontact with their new captain;  she greeted Rosette with an accent so drenched with the French drawl that it had the redhaired fury angle her head slightly towards her first mate. Liam scraped his throat.<br/><br/>“Ah, that be miss Joie,” he proclaimed, “native girl, one of our strikers.”<br/><br/>“Clearly one more suited to your expectations, Alvirs?” Rosette inquired with feigned nonchalance. She gave Lourdes a courteous nod, then watched a few more board the ship. Few did more than offer her a pirate’s salute or a laughably demure nod, if anything at all. Rosette didn’t blame them; most of these lads and lasses had seen little education in their life, never mind been taught the laws of common courtesy. Of course, she was the source of legend and ghost stories alike, making the more superstitious among these sailors a little wary of her presence to begin with.<em>She’d soon show them how alive she was.</em><br/><br/>A brief acknowledgement of her new quartermaster’s return took shape in a small nod. “Mister Scott,” Rose said, once again addressing him by his last name. “Please ensure that Marisol joins us for a meeting in the navigation room, let’s say two hours after we weighed anchor. Be so kind to invite our sailmaster too. That is…” she added ponderously, “If he has graced us with his presence yet?”<br/><br/>Liam Scott immediately searched the swarm of people with his grey eyes, which were framed by countless of fine wrinkles. Like an anthill they seemed to crawl  around and over one another, belying any organisation of sorts. When he ultimately found the aforementioned navigator, he beckoned him over with a strong arm. Rosette curiously took in the sight of the stranger, who she would be relying on more than she was willing to admit. He had a proud stance; straight back and steady hands that she was certain could be the envy of many a surgeon. His sword was plain and unassuming; his<em>weapon</em>rather the opposite. Rosette stoically kept her gaze at eye level as he made his way up to the quarterdeck.<br/><br/>“Ah, mister Black,” she said, her voice a paradoxical mixture of standoffishness and warm expectation. He came bearing requests that made him at least appear dedicated. “You are at liberty to inspect any part of the Esperanza the ship entitles you to.” The ghost of a smile briefly found, then abandoned her lips. “You may address me as Sir, Captain until you have earned the right to call me by name. Privileges are given when they are duly earned. But I suspect you will not be disappointing us.”<br/><br/>It wasn’t so much a threat as it was Rosette’s intuition that he was going to live up to Liam - and her- expectations, and she was rarely mistaken. Though elusive, the man before her carried himself in a way that Rose appreciated; Liam had done his work well in finding Devon Black.<br/><br/>She hadn’t the time to linger on every single individual though, and as the line of arrivals seemed to near its conclusion, her eyes briefly met with another dark-skinned young woman, who, like Rose, had adorned their skin with black ink. Hers didn’t limit itself to a single sleeve, however, and Rose grew instantly curious about the meanings to the tattoos she couldn’t quite discern from up where she stood.<br/><br/>“Ah, that be our new cook,” Liam helpfully offered.<br/><br/>“Nancy Goldsworth,” Rose remembered. She’d made an effort to memorise the names of all the people on board, and while she was far from perfect, her mind was sharp and she dared wager that she could flawlessly name every single person who had come aboard this glorious morning once they stated their position. The girl seemed enthusiastic in her ways, and Rose could only hope that her cooking skills equalled her spirit; nothing like several weeks at open sea to make you appreciate fine cuisine (or anything that wasn’t biscuits and dried beans). Still, when chef Nancy made to approach the First Mate, Liam hurriedly waved her off, then barged down the stairs to stop her from getting up on the quarterdeck. Rose laughed softly. “Do show her the galley, Mister Scott,” she called after him. “I expect nothing but the finest meals from our new chef!”<br/><br/>She greeted the final of the arrivals; a young woman with a warmly glow to her hair and a politeness that seemed out of place. She gave her an appreciative nod. “Permission granted, Miss O’Malley,” Rose told the fellow redhead, addressing her in a manner that was perhaps unconventional, considering the girl’s status. But the captain was, by now, feeling particularly sprightly,  and Rosette de Courtenay finally uncrossed her arms, taking a step back from the railing. Conspiringly she regarded Alvirs, even sparing Devon a glance as he wandered the helm. “Reckon it’s about time to get acquainted with these lovely folks,” she said, her voice kept low. Simultaneously the confident young pirate captain reached down into her boot, allowing slender fingers to wrap around the equally slender handle of the concealed dagger within. Only upon withdrawing it from its hiding spot did it become evident just what magnificent a blade she carried upon herself: a silver grip, encrusted with small jewels, and the shiniest steel with a glint that darted along the sharp edge. The weight of it was comforting, and Rose let it rest in her palm for a moment. Then, with all the matter-of-factness of one who had wielded so many blades in her years, she tossed it up into the air, only to catch it by the tip instead. Her eyes sharply cast their gaze towards the main mast, and with an agile motion she threw the magnificent blade forward. It tumbled over and over itself, the agitated<em>woosh-woosh-woosh</em>as it cleaved through the air drawing the attention of those so precariously close beneath its trajectory. A low, but satisfying thud emanated from the dagger as it bit into the wood of the sturdy mast, not seven foot from the deck up. Sailors craned their heads back to stare up at the shamelessly scintillating weapon, then to the captain who had so obviously tossed it halfway across the deck. Movements ceased, voices fell silent or dwindled to a low murmur; even the merry melody of a flute being played faded away. Captain Rosette cast Alvirs the briefest of looks, then boldly stepped down the stairwell, guiding her to the main deck.<br/><br/>With flair and a considerable amount of grace, Rosette raised her arm in a welcoming gesture, her high-heeled boots steadily allowing her to descend to the level of her new crewmembers. “Gentlemen!” she called out, “Fine ladies and everything in between! I am Rosette de Courtenay,” she touched down upon main deck, and her charming demeanour persisted as she reached her hand to the top of her bold looking hat, removing it from her head and giving them all a small, yet so very courteous bow. “Your captain and commander for as long as you be on the Esperanza. Now worry not!” she immediately continued, and she meandered slowly between the men and women aboard, meeting eyes with those who dared as she purposely approached the quivering dagger, embedded into the central part of her precious ship.<br/><br/>“I will treat you fairly. I will reward you for your hard work, your commitment and your courage. I will bring you fame, accomplishment!<em>Gold</em>,” she added, finally speaking the language that even the most dimwitted of sailors would understand. And she could see the words taking root in the hearts of these hopeful seamen and -women, their eyes aglow with dreams of riches and being part of something greater than them; something<em>legendary.</em>Rosette was content enough to even address the unlikely exception to the high-spirited crew; a young woman, propped up against the side of the ship -<em>her</em>ship- clearly still working through the aftermath of her last night’s drunken stupor. The captain slowed to a halt before her, eyes roving over the slouched figure. Toned arms, a pretty face and an arsenal of weapons enviously kept close. Such a pity this promising package came with a pisspoor attitude. Rosette crouched down, and with a careful but firm hand, took the chin of the morose feeling sailor, lifting her head to meet her captain’s gaze.<br/><br/>“All I ask in return,” Rose told everyone, and Sarah Jackson in particular, “Is for you to prove your worth to me. with unquestionable loyalty and hard work. You do that for me, and you’ll be gettin’ everything your heart could ever desire.<em>Sound good, aye</em>?”<br/><br/>She raised her voice significantly for those last words, and Rosette sprung back into a standing pose, pointing with great emphasis at the costly dagger. “As for this little beauty here, that be a special reward that each and any of ye can earn. The first man or woman to spot the Grim Horizon will be wielding that costly blade for the rest of their days!”<br/><br/>Rosette paused, adding to the weighted nature of the challenge she had set. Not all would be versed in the backstory of their new Captain, and sure enough, most only felt the greed of becoming wealthy beyond their imagination over so seemingly trivial a task.<br/><br/>“You reckon you can do that for me?” she asked, and Rosette turned around. Her voice was commanding now, rousing,<em>full of energy.</em>“Will you work hard? Will you show the devotion that we’ll be needin’ to get the best of treasures, the most infamous of victories?"<br/><br/>Rosette flashed them all a bright smile, raising her fist high in the air. "<strong>Will you be <em>pirates</em> with me?!</strong>” she shouted .<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>