<div class="floatleft">(https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTRyEXuXMJgi-XCzouqS6y76mCOQylKoyi335SlK_K7HyrCqL8ZvA)</div><strong>Character:</strong>Deshco Corran<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Approaching the ship<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Whoever catches him<br/><hr/><br/><em>Well, this day couldn't get worse...</em>Deshco thought as his hood was thrown back. He gave a surge of strength and pulled himself up and over the rail, landing on the deck with his hands open to show he was functionally unarmed, save for the climbing spikes wrapped around his palms. At least, it would appear that way. However, the other Haas-Filoth on board would know no Haas-Filoth was ever unarmed. I'm Deshco Corran. I've traveled far from my native lands, and am looking for honest work on your ship. As for the unusual approach to your vessel, Captain. I was wrongly accused of a crime I did not commit, and took a life in fair self-defense. Now, I seek refuge from the guards, who are sure to be here soon.<br/><br/>Deshco's voice was calm, level, and his gaze, leveled solely on the captain, matched hers. His own look answered her challenge. If anyone moved towards him in aggression, they'd be met with equal measure. I wish to offer my Tier Dran to the Rising Sun, and follow her wherever the seas take her. You'll find none other save the other Haas-Filoth that will follow you more surely, Captain. All I ask in return is to be taken from this land on your ship when she departs. Deshco said. He allowed his gaze to flick to the other Haas-Filoth on deck, looking to him to vouch for his oath. After all, a nomad did not offer themselves freely, for a debt was a chain that could imprison a free spirit.<br/><br/>It was at this point his gaze looked to the halfling he heard drop behind him, then to the surgeon, then back to the captain as he awaited her word. He shrugged a bit so his cloak would fall to the back of his shoulders, then rested his hands on his belt, a curved sword on his left hip, and an odd dagger on his right. There were several throwing daggers in sheathes along his long torso. The tanned male stood a fair 6'6", and now that his hood was back, his shoulder length black hair was revealed. There was a faint scar skipping over his left eye, but the bright blue orb was not damaged. He wore a leather glove with metal plates over his knuckles and back of his fingers on his left hand, and a fingerless glove on his right. two mismatched vambraces covered his forearms, and a banded leather and metal chestplate protected his torso. He wore soft leather boots, and leather and steel greaves on his shins. Any other armor or arms he might be carrying were concealed under his cloak. He tried to appear as non-threatening as possible, and even let a charming smile come to his lips. There was humor in his eyes, despite his situation, though there was no doubt Deshco could hold his own against most of the people on this ship if he had to. His eyes had seen battle, and beneath his tunic and trews, scars told the story of every fight he had been in, every one of them speaking of victory despite impossible odds.