Welcome to Gaia! ::

Welcome aboard the Ghost, mate. I am the Captain, Sorin Tenime. I'm here in need of a crew, so come aboard, swabbie! We'll see if ye can face yer fears of the unknown.

Me ship has two lower decks and a quarter deck, where ye'll find the helm. She's equipped with two rows o' cannons, a row of sweeps, and two tripple guns. Thus far, we've ne'er been outrun by a naval ship.

Rumors 'ave been spread that the ship's cursed. I've seen naught so far, but we'll see. The former Cap'n took that secret with 'im to the grave.

Kibo walks aboard the newest arrival to the lovely island of Tortuga, looking around, and quickly spotting what he assumed was the captain. He walks up, bowing low.

Kibo: Hello there. Admiral Kibo Botch, at your service. Well, actually, I was here to offer you a proposition. One that would include you in some of the most feared ships in the Caribbean, nay, the seven seas. Have I piqued your interest?

Kibo scratched his chin, wondering if he should go for the road less traveled. He shrugs, and pulls out his pistol, aiming it at Sorin's head.

Kibo: Now, if I were to pull this trigger, you would most likely die, no? Do you believe in the permanence of death?

Kibo shrugs, and redirects the aim of the gun. Now it was pointing at the newest addition to the conversation, hiding in a pile of ropes.

Kibo: Or would you rather have me shoot that little whelp over there? It's your decision.

Kibo cocks his eyebrow at his own pistol, returning it to it's holster.

Kibo: You know what, it's easier to show you on someone who's already dead.

He unsheathes the two blades slung around his back, revealing the hundreds of strange markings running down the entire length of the blades. He crosses them, stabbing the tips into the deck below. In front of the two blades, a mist formed from the ground. Slowly, the translucent form of a man appears, standing confidently, as if this was all rehearsed.

Kibo: Let me introduce me to my former captain, Posthumous captain Christopher S. Farind, of the Blazing Glory. And let me re-introduce myself. I'm Admiral Kibo Botch, Necromancer extraordinaire.

He bows low.

Kibo glances over at the tangled man, and chuckles.

Kibo: You can have him if you want. I have plenty of cooks on my fleet. That is, if you want him...

Kibo: I've come with a proposition for you. You said your first mate was a spirit walker, yes? Well, I hate to say it, but spirit walking is a weak form of Necromancy that anyone can perform with enough training. True Necromancy, that is, raising someone body and soul, is something a rare few can do. Now, as for the proposition. I wanted to know if you'd be willing to fight under my flag, and no longer let death concern you in the slightest. You'd also gain access to my gold store, and gain an immortal, virtually unstoppable spirit crew.

Kibo: Oh, that's what you mean by spirit walker? Oh, I thought you meant the Native American equivalent of necromancy. Hell, that's just a tied spirit. I have them all over the place. My swords...

He unsheathes his swords, once again revealing the rune markings on them.

Kibo: My pistol...

He points at the pistol, holstered on his waist.

Kibo: And my body.

He lifts up his sleeve, revealing many markings, like tattoos, on them, paying extra attention to the line of 8 markings separated from the rest by a tattoo line.