Captain Verek of the Ill Wind commands a vessel older than most still afloat, known as much for what it appears to be as for what it can do. The ship lists slightly at rest and shows signs of hard years, its paint worn and fittings mismatched. To casual eyes, it looks in need of maintenance, a survivor kept running through luck rather than care. Under Verek’s command, this impression is deliberate. Beneath the weathered exterior, the hull remains sound, the rigging disciplined, and the crew as ready for violence as any in the pirate fleet.
Verek himself reflects the ship he sails. He is surly, reserved, and skilled at keeping both thoughts and intentions hidden. His eyes give away little beyond vague amusement or mild contempt, and his gruff manner rarely softens, particularly toward those he judges careless or loud. He speaks only when needed, listens more than most expect, and leaves others unsure whether they have been assessed or dismissed.
Few know that Captain Verek was once counted among Mushinek’s closest companions. Their bond formed years earlier on a pirate wharf, forged through shared risk rather than ambition. Unlike men drawn into Mushinek’s orbit through leverage or fear, Verek stayed by choice. He follows his own code, shaped by long years at sea, where preparation matters more than speed.
Verek does not question Mushinek’s plans, but neither does he champion them. His life is governed by coin, discretion, and obligation kept. Secrets rest easily with him, carried behind a weathered face and a blade kept sharp through use. He appears close to betrayal, yet never crosses that line, proving that trust can survive even among those who sail under false colors.