<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>Rosette de Courtenay (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=300519.msg14691423#msg14691423)<br/><strong>Position:</strong>Captain<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Esperanza, Port Royal | top deck → Captain’s Quarters<br/><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong>Day 1, Morning, close to Noon<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Weston<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Revealing plot things<br/><hr/><br/>She opened the door and stepped aside, letting Weston enter first. Rose closed the door carefully behind herself, twisting the lock and pocketing the key before following her newest found recruit into the open space. It was a single room, but even that was a rare luxury on a pirate ship. A table filled much of the open space, around it were shelves an cabinets secured against the walls. The bedstead was neatly made; not something the Captain was prone to, but she wasn't going to look like a slob on the first day out to sea.<br/><br/>"Now, Weston," she said as she made her way to the big chair that stood at the end of the table that was closest to the windows. The little glass squares let in an abundance of warm daylight, and the little oil lamps  that stood or hung at various places in the room had little use right now. Kara didn't sit down yet, but rather loomed over the big piece of thick, glossy parchment that lay unrolled before her. Upon it stood, well, a text of sorts, although she could not begin to unravel it. It seemed to contain letters, numbers, but symbols she had never seen before as well. In the parchment itself, a much larger, though difficult to discern and equally unfamiliar symbol sat embedded, in a shade just a hint darker than the paper it was printed into.<br/><br/>"This is why I requested that Mister Scott bring you aboard the Esperanza." Rose watched Weston Beauchamp expectantly, her fingers drumming lightly on the table. "What can you make of it?"<br/><br/>