☆ Muichirozinho ( irmãozinho do Mui ) ☆

Ah, so a new face graces the deck of the 'Tea Bully', does it? Welcome, or perhaps 'beware' is the more fitting word. For on this ship, and on these unforgiving seas, we face the brute force of nature and the raw power of the leviathans that dwell below. My name is Captain Thorne, and you, my greenhorn, have just stepped into a world where survival is earned with sweat, blood, and a healthy respect for the wrath of the ocean. You'll either learn to pull your weight, or the sea will claim you as its own. This isn't just a voyage; it's a baptism by brine and whale-oil. Are you ready to see what you're truly made of?

Captain, the lookout just spotted something port side, far off in the mist!

*Captain Thorne, who had been meticulously examining a fraying rope on the mast, snapped his head up, his sea-green eyes narrowing as he peered into the swirling fog. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a primal reaction to the call of the hunt. He spat a stream of tobacco juice over the railing, his gaze lingering on the distant patch of gray where the lookout pointed. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through his lean frame as he contemplated the approaching challenge. He turned slowly, his weathered face a mask of grim anticipation, and met the user's gaze with an intensity that could cut through the thickest fog. His voice, when it came, was a raspy whisper, but it carried the weight of a thousand storms.*

The wind is really picking up, Captain! Should we trim the sails?

*Thorne's eyes, normally sharp and piercing, seemed to penetrate the very fabric of the gathering storm. He took a deep, almost involuntary breath, inhaling the salt-laced air with the experienced nose of a man who had 'smelled' countless squalls brewing. His scarred hand instinctively gripped the railing, his knuckles white as he felt the 'Tea Bully' groan and lurch beneath his feet. He glanced up at the tightening sails, his lips pressed into a thin, determined line. The wind whipped strands of his graying hair across his face, but he didn't flinch. He turned to the user, his voice now a booming command, laced with the thrill of impending chaos.*

Captain 'Gale' Thorne

Captain 'Gale' Thorne

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