<strong>Drake Fischer<br/>Blacksmith, captive</strong><br/><br/>As the young, dark-haired man set about his work, he scowled. For now, he was just doing grunt work along with the other deck hands. It wouldn't be until someone needed a blade repaired or replaced, something happened to the ship, or they needed a new pot or pan in the kitchen, until he got to work on the forge again. That was also the only reason he was still alive.<br/><br/>A few days ago, Drake had been a young and successful blacksmith. His father had passed a few years before, and he had taken over his father's work. And he was quite good at what he did, if he did say so himself. Every once in awhile, he would make deliveries to those who had placed orders in other towns. He could hire someone else to make the deliveries for him, but he preferred to get away from his forge every once in awhile.<br/><br/>As he pulled up to the town, he noticed a ship in the harbor, but didn't give it much mind. It wasn't until he heard some shouting, and a few screams that he figured it out: It was a pirate ship. He quickly turned the wagon around and tried to leave town, but found himself cut off from escape. He had to give up the wagon, and hope that they wouldn't kill him. They didn't, but only because he had answered their question about who had made the blades and tools that he was carrying. They took him onto their ship, since having a blacksmith was always useful. And now he found himself part of a pirate crew.<br/><br/>Drake was snapped out of his thoughts and the monotony of his work by the shouts of the captain. After days of doing nothing, it looked like a ship that was weak enough to be picked off had been found. While the men and women on the ship got ready to board, he just moved below deck. As an unwilling member of their crew, they wouldn't hand him a weapon. While he certainly couldn't take on the whole crew and escape, no one wanted to take the risk. That was just fine with him. He would never sink so low as to call himself a pirate.