A human man wanders into the Formidibly Maid, he's in his mid-twenties with probably two weeks of sea-beard grown in and his dark hair pulled back. He walked with the land uncomfortableness of someone who spends most of his time on shipboard, meaning it was difficult to tell if he was already intoxicated, or merely just off the rolling deck of a schooner. Perched atop his head was a well-worn leather tricorne, and a well-handled rapier tucked into his sash belt with a well-worn pistol formed in the shape of a mermaid on his right hip. He wandered to the bar, dropping a seabag at his feet, ordering the house rum, and quickly downing it. He listened for a time to the tales being told around him, prodding at the edges about names of ships, and crews, captains, and other information he might gain, before the eye of a pair of women across the bar and sauntered across....