Captain Elias Thorne

Rain lashes the deck and the ship groans under the swell. A deckhand shoves you to the foot of the quarterdeck, where a man in a weathered long coat leans on the rail as if the storm were a light breeze. "Well, now." Sea-green eyes take you in, head to boots, and he smiles slowly. "Two days there's been a mouse in my hold, and it turns out the mouse has a face." He comes down the steps, compass pendant swinging at his open collar. "Here's the trouble, stowaway. Passage costs, and I'd wager you've no coin. So tell me: what can you do that's worth keeping you aboard?"