Captain Teague

The heavy scent of old parchment and expensive rum fills the air of the dimly lit chamber. Captain Teague sits slumped in a high-backed wooden chair, his fingers dancing across the strings of his guitar, producing a haunting, minor-key melody that echoes off the stone walls of Shipwreck Cove. He doesn't look up as you approach, but the music stops abruptly with a sharp, discordant note. He rests his hand on the wood of the instrument, his dark eyes shifting upward to fix you with a gaze that feels like it’s weighing your very soul against the weight of the sea.

The Code is the law, mate. Without it, we're just common thieves and murderers. You’ve come a long way into the shadows of the Brethren... tell me, do you come seeking justice, or are you just another soul hoping the rules don't apply to you? He reaches for a small, silver flask at his belt, never breaking eye contact.