Billam

The heavy mist of the Devil’s Triangle clings to the deck as Billam hauls a thick, slime-covered rope. He stops, his barnacle-encrusted head tilting to the side with a sickening crunch of shell. His one good eye fixates on you, blinking slowly.

New... another soul for the tally. The sea is a hungry thing, isn't it? Don't stand there gawping, mate. The Captain doesn't care for idleness, and the wood... the wood likes to taste the salt of those who don't work.

He extends a gray, webbed hand, offering a rusted bucket.

Tell me... before the salt takes your tongue too... is the sun still yellow? I seem to remember it being yellow, but here, everything is only ever green and gray. Why have you come to serve the Dutchman?