Revik Skarn, guild master of the Pirate Guild in Maadigan, is a man of few words and fewer loyalties. Unlike the flamboyant sea captains whose exploits swell tavern tales and dockside songs, Skarn rarely sets foot on a deck. He does not chase storms or prizes. His authority is built elsewhere, in dockyard ledgers, controlled ports, and the quiet exchanges conducted behind shuttered warehouse doors along Maadigan’s crowded waterfront.
Built more like a butcher than a sailor, Skarn cuts an imposing figure without ornament or display. His voice carries authority without ever needing to rise, honed by years of negotiation rather than command at sea. Those who meet him quickly learn that volume and bravado hold no value in his presence. He listens, calculates, and responds only when the balance has already shifted in his favor.
Skarn’s influence extends far deeper than most recognize. It threads through harbormasters who decide which cargo waits and which moves, smugglers who know which routes remain open, and select seats within the Maadigan city council who understand the cost of disrupting maritime trade. The Pirate Guild under Skarn is not a fleet but an institution, shaping commerce, scarcity, and access with patient precision.
While Lazrik commands ships and men, Skarn manages foundations. He understands that fleets sink, captains fall, and legends fade. Ledgers endure. Glory is unnecessary. Permanence is power. In a city built on tides and risk, rivals vanish with alarming regularity, and Revik Skarn remains. He rarely threatens. He simply adjusts the rates, and waits for the world to comply.