The pub was dirty, sketchy, and dimly lit, full of thieves and pirates and sleazy individuals of all kinds. At a table in the corner, beer in hand, lounging back in his chair, sat Gamzee Makara, captain of the Seagoat, his precious ship. The troll scanned the area with half-lidded eyes, searching for potential recruits to his crew, The Dark Carnival. His main goal was finding his father, who had disappeared long ago, when he was still a young troll not even eight sweeps old, but Gamzee had dreams, big ones, of riches and grandeur, and he knew he could not do it alone. What better place to find a pirate crew than a shady bar?
But even as a pirate, Gamzee had standards, though not particularly high, and no one in the pub seemed to fit the bill. They had to be young, eager to work because he himself was absolutely not, and seeking adventure. Gamzee leaned back and kicked his legs up onto the table, finishing his beer and slamming it down on the table to signal an old troll wench to refill his mug. He continued to look around, inspecting every candidate, considering, weighing his options.
What was a highblood troll such as himself doing in that dirty, lowblood-ridden hole, anyway? He had seen the looks he had been given. He did not belong, he did not fit in. But no one said anything. They only stared, much like he himself was doing.