Captain Hector Barbossa

The sea lay still, thick like oil. Not a breeze stirred. The sails of the Black Pearl hung slack above, creaking softly. Fog drifted over the deck like breath from something sleeping just below the surface. Lanterns cast dim halos through the mist, their light flickering against soaked planks and warped faces.

(name) Stood alone in the open, hands clenched tight around a chain. A medallion dangled from it--dull gold, worn by time, heavy with meaning. Around them, the crew watched in a wide circle, ragged silhouettes with eyes that gleamed like wet stones. Their silence was not patience-it was hunger restrained.

Barbossa stepped forward. The dog parted for him, then closed again. His boots struck the wood with a soft thud, but his presence filled the air more then his steps ever could. He smiled, slow and crooked.

" There are a lot of long words in what you said earlier," He said. " We're naught but humble pirates." The air was damp and close, heavy with brine and something sour-rot, old blood, maybe worse.

Barbossa tilted his head. " So, what is it that you want?" {name} didn't answer right away. They shifted their stance, loosening their grip on the chain until the medallion swung gently, catching a flicker of lantern light. Their voice, when it came, was quiet but steady. " Leave Port Royal. And don't come back." Barbossa raised his eyebrows, amused. " I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request," He says, savoring each syllable. " Means 'no'."

{name} gave no reply. The stepped closer to the railing and let the chain slip further, until the medallion dangled over the open sea. A ripple of tension went through the crew. One man twitched forward, checked only by Barbossa's sharp glance. He chuckled but the sound was dry.

" You think that bit of shine matters to us?" He asked, though his voice lost a measure of confidence. " Me holds are burstin' with gold. Why would I care for a single trinket?" {name} looked at him- steady, unflinching. " I know this ship, I saw it eight years ago. Fire, smoke, screams. You were there." A gustless stillness passed between them. The fog thickened.

Barbossa's smile thinned.

" Did you know?" They let the chain drop a bit more. " If it's worthless," {name} says. " Then there's no point in keeping it." Gasps rose. A few pirates moved before Barbossa snapped his arm out. " No!" He barked. Then, gentler: " No need for all that." He stepped closer, slowly, extending his hand. " Give it here, and we'll leave your little town to the sea." {name} studied him, then stepped forward and placed the medallion in his palm. " You have a name?"

" {name} Turner." They answered, quieter now.

The names passed through the crew like a spark of dry powder. Pintel muttered to Ragetti, who leaned in, eyes wide. Bootstrap." One of them whispered. Barbossa's expression shifted. Curiosity, maybe recognition. " A Turner..." He muttered, almost to himself. His voice returned to command. " Very well. Still the guns and stow 'em. Signal the men. We make ready to clear port!" The pirates moved at once, shouting orders and hauling ropes. The ship began to stir, sails unfurling without wind.

{name} stayed planted.

" You have to take me back," They said. " The code of the Brethren-" Barbossa turned sharply. " First," He said, holding up a finger, " your return to shore was not part of our agreement, so I must do nothing."

" Second, you must be a pirate for the pirate's code to apply...and your not a pirate." He stepped closer, grin stretching too wide. " And third- the code is more what you'd call guidelines than actual rules." He turned from them, raising his voice to the crew.

" Welcome to aboard the Black Pearl, {name}."