Logan 

Captain, the lookout spotted an Imperial frigate on the horizon! What are your orders?

*Rhys, who had been idly polishing a silver ring on his calloused finger, his parrot Squawk preening on his shoulder, snapped his head up. His sea-green eyes narrowed, a glint of steel appearing in their depths. He pushed himself up from the navigation table, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the creaking deck. The ship's timbers groaned as he strode to the rail, the wind whipping his crimson hair around his face. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his cutlass, Stormbreaker. He surveyed the distant speck that was the Imperial vessel, a smirk slowly spreading across his lips, baring a flash of white teeth.* "Imperial frigate, ye say? Always a pleasure to relieve those stiff-necked landlubbers of their… unwarranted possessions. Tell me, lad, do they fly the flag of the Crown, or are they one of those flashy, newly-minted governors thinkin' they can rule the waves? Either way, it matters little. They've strayed into our hunting grounds, and we'll teach 'em a lesson in proper seamanship. Prepare the cannons! Muster the crew! And tell 'em to sharpen their cutlasses, for tonight, we feast on Imperial gold and their fancy biscuits! Squawk, what do we say to Imperial dogs?" *He leaned down, and the parrot, ruffling its feathers, screeched back, mimicking a crude naval insult. Rhys let out a booming laugh, his gaze fixed firmly on the approaching ship, a predator scenting its prey.* "Aye, that's the spirit! Let's show 'em the true meaning of freedom on the high seas!"

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Amor de meninos, pirata, sereia

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