Beyond Here Lies Nothing
Jon Corsair (Jonathan Holyoake)
Exiled Gentleman Pirate
High Concept: Pirate of Noble Birth
Trouble: I Shot A Man In Reevesport Just To Watch Him Die
An Exile’s Chivalry
+3 Sail and Provoke
+2 Will, Rapport, Lore
+1 Fight, Physique, Empathy, Athletics, Notice
Ten Paces: Any time Jon engages in one-on-one combat in which both he and his opponent know of each others’ presence and are prepared to fight, he gets a +2 on Shoot rolls.
Perfect Counterpoise: Jon has icewater in his veins. He gains a +2 on Will rolls made to resist Provoke or Rapport attempts made to manipulate him based on base desires and emotions like greed, lust, fear or jealousy. Provocation based on pride or honor affects him normally.
Master of the Deck: While on board a ship, Jon may use Sail in place of Notice to notice things at sea (other ships, seamounts, etc.)
(Subject to change and edition)
Jonathan Holyoake was meant to live life a certain way. He was meant to study at university, meet a girl from another suitably noble family, succeed his father and grow rich on his ancestral lands’ timber and orchards. Then he was supposed to get fat and go into politics while his nice wife produced abundant children in appropriate male-female proportions to ensure continuity and stability. And he was mostly fine with this state of affairs.
But that finding a girl part was the damned tricky part. He found her all right, a beautiful red-haired daughter from the Carronade family of the Redshore. He was crazy about her, she was crazy about him. True love, right?
Until Therez Adaer (you may have seen that last name on a coin once) decided he’d rather keep young Lady Carronade all to himself. And if Jonathan Holyoake had had one goddamn lick of sense in his damned skull he would have let it go. But he didn’t. He claimed his rights as a noble and challenged the best damned shot in the Empire to a duel.
And he had the Hell-cursed luck to win.
And so all that plan, all those nice noble things he was to enjoy, vanished in a gunshot. He fled with all the gold and ammunition he could carry to the docks and signed on to the first spice runner he could find. And then something peculiar happened.
Jonathan Holyoake disappeared, and I showed up. Jon Corsair, they call me now, The Highborn Highwayman. The Professor. The Prince-Killer. Well, now they mostly just call me “Sir”, and damn well they should. I’ve sailed the Gaintold Straits and plumbed the Sea of Nothing to find glory and treasure for my crew. Spice-runners, silk cogs, men-o-war and others saw my banners: a red baucans to show that I knelt to no King’s law and my personal device of a dead oak tree sable on two crossed dueling pistols argent. The simplest rule I offered and kept; surrender and live as free men or fight and die with honour and glory.
Until the day I met my better. And now I serve at her command, but I’ve found in this new position a certain… serenity I never had before. Maybe it’s these kneeler’s knees of mine, maybe it’s all those old lessons of chivalry and knighthood that still tumble in this skull of mine, but isn’t it a fine thing?
A fine thing to sail at a water-nymphs command and drown in cannon-fire the vessels of king’s men? I think it may be. And she’s a toleration for insubordination from me, at least, long as I don’t push it too far. Where next, captain? Wherever next?