Name: Captain Grant Mackenzie
Age: 28 (348)
Birthday: September 19, 1667
Gender: Male
Category: Staff, Gunsmithing instructor
Appearance Description:
Cap'n McKenzie is tall for the era he was born, being 6'2". His hair is bone white, not see through, but pure white. No trace of other color. When not under his bandanna, his hair is short and spiked in the front. He generally shaves in the morning, but perpetually seems to have stubble. His right eye is an emerald green, while his left is a lot different. ((See power for description)) He has a perpetually youthful look, no scars or bruises, and he has a fairly toned body from a life on the sea.
The Captain generally wears his old captains attire. A tricorn hat with a blue bandanna under it, keeping his hair down. An eye-patch covers his left eye, held tightly against his head. His jacket is a deep blue, with green trim around the edges. The buttonholes are colored red, and the sleeves are a lot larger than they need to be. The coat is very thick, having a few strips of leather running through key points to add armor. The Captain generally keeps these unbuttoned. His shirt is a very light orange, and is very loose as to keep good movement.
Over the shirt, he wears a bandolier full of what appears to be brown burlap packages that smell very strange if you get up close. Gunpowder is what most people will smell if they know the scent. Towards the bottom of the bandolier, hidden mostly by the jacket, are a pair of small glass jars with fuses on them.
He wears a kilt that has a few strips of steel on the inside, acting as a sort of armored plating.
His Sporan bag is hide, very soft fur. He claims it to be the fur of a bear, but no testing has ever come up positive for it. It is his portable gunsmiths kit, rolls of small tools and supplies. It's surprisingly spacy for a small looking bag. He also has a metal jolly roger pinned onto his kilt, showing his piraticall allegiance. Under the kilt he has on ragged pants, like a soldier of old would have worn, along with thick boots, very well worn.
He has five gold rings spread across both of his hands. On his right, he wears a ring on his middle and pinky finger. On his left hand, he has a ring on the Pinky, ring, and Middle fingers. The ring on his ring finger contains a small glittering emerald.
He also carries around a blunderbuss everywhere he goes, and he keeps it in excellent condition. Do not let it's apparent age fool you, it still functions perfectly. Engraved into the stock are the words "Ol' Smokey" and below it are a bunch of notches. Four sets of five, and a set of three.
Behind his jacket, he has a pair of belt pouches, each containing various supplies. A pocket on the inside of his jacket contains an ancient flask, full of...something. It's very strong, and very alcoholic. He also has a small boarding axe on his left hip, held in place on his belt. He keeps it very sharp.
Personality Description: Grant is a fairly laid back person unless he is working on a gun. He is very tense and serious when it comes to gunsmithing, but when he isn't he enjoys lounging about with a history book or a sea chart. He does enjoy polishing his blunderbuss or doing minor tinkering with the mechanics, as well as packing cartridges for it. If you are in his class, he demands nothing short of perfection. If you are late once, you get a detention and a warning not to do it again. Late again? You're dropped from the class.
He enjoys reading up on pirate history and lore, but doesn't enjoy seeing common pirate tropes, such as burying treasure and walking the plank. He did enjoy watching Pirates of the Caribbean though. He liked Johnny Depp. It was completely inaccurate, but a good show.
Powers:
Major Power:THE EYE OF THE STORM
When his eye was stabbed by the fountain of youth, the water flowed into him and imbued his eye with an eldritch power. This is shown by the physical change in his eye. Gone was his green normal green coloring, now there appeared to be a swirling hurricane, clouds moving slowly around his pupil. The white of the eye was now grey, and contained flashes of what appeared to be lightning every so often.
The Eye of the Storm gives Grant the ability to manipulate and control weather, specifically in clouds and winds. Manipulating existing weather is fairly easy for him, moving clouds that are already there around, slowing down rain, creating light breezes and so on.
He can create weather as well, but that takes a lot more out of him. Creating rain clouds out of nowhere is among the simpler creations he can make, but it does require to have moisture in the air already. Creating heavy storms and calling down lightning, or creating tornadoes and windstorms take a lot out of him, and leave him exhausted.
His power is linked faintly to his emotions, but he hasn't honed on training it. He generally hides The Eye of the Storm underneath his eyepatch, revealing it to almost nobody. His weather controlling powers are generally unknown by the school, other than a few of peoples of the island.
Though...He always seems to have a cloud above him when he's outside. Always in the shade. Strange, isn't it?
Minor Power:SURVIVOR OF THE FOUNTAIN
Grant is a survivor of the Fountain of Youth. The fountain itself is an eldritch trap, one of several fountains that exist in the world. The fountain itself ages people depending on the part of the fountain they drink from. The four statues represent the ages that specific water will age to. The old man ages you to an elderly age, the child ages you to a child again, and so on and so forth. Drinking from the large basin the fountain sits in will de-age you to nothing. There is no statue, and it represents pre-birth.
When Grant was pierced by the statue, the water flowed into his body, entering his bloodstream instead of his stomach. This actually ended up shifting his body chemistry and giving him an eternal dose of the fountains water. He doesn't have blood, but it isn't pure water as well. It's a unique compound that is a mix of both. Drinking his "Blood" will not function as drinking from the fountain would.
Grant will naturally live forever due to the fountains influence, but he can still be killed. Beheading, losing a heart or his brain, being blown to smithereens...These will all kill him. He does heal incredibly fast, far faster than a normal human. If he loses a finger, he can keep the finger pressed to the stump and it will reattach.
Biography: Grant was born in an large English port town in 1667. His mother was a prostitute, his father a sailor. All Grant knew of his father is that he was a sailor, nothing else. Grant loved the sea, and would commonly be found at the docks, staring at the ships sailing in and out of the harbor.
His mother, sadly, passed when Grant was only five years of age. Luckily for him, he was taken in by an aging master gunsmith as an apprentice. Grant took to the trade easily, but would always find himself drifting back to the sea. Never while he was working on a gun though, that always required his full attention. His master told him that gunsmithing required 100% dedication. Anything less would end poorly. It was one of his masters favorite sayings, and he always punctuated it by tapping his wooden leg on the ground. Grant took this lesson to heart, nothing could distract him when he was messing with his guns. He was more lenient when he was just doing simple maintenance or polishing, holding conversations with his like minded friends.
Grants master passed away when the young boy turned 15, leaving him everything. Grant would be alone, if it weren't for his friends. He had met a group of similarly minded young men who loved the sea as he did, hearts calling to them.
One of them suggested they become sailors, but they all agreed to not listen to a governmental power, preferring the image of sailing by their own rules. They agreed to buy passage as deckhands on the ship 'Malevolence', captained by a man who only referred to himself as 'The Baron'.
The Baron was an incredibly poor captain, constantly picking fights the crew couldn't win, and unfairly splitting the meager loot they did manage to scrape in. The small group of friends, along with a few of the other crew members wanted to mutiny, but they were all afraid of one thing. The Baron himself was a giant of a man, who had a strange ability to control metal. Any sword that dare to try and strike him simply bent around his flesh, iron cannonballs bouncing off. All of the men felt that they would not be able to defeat him should they try.
All except Grant. He spend months tinkering in his quarters on his blunderbuss, referring to it as a 'secret project'. He never joined the other men in the taverns and bars when they made port, sequestering himself away in the ship, or disappearing into town, returning only at nightfall.
A few months after his eighteenth birthday, Grant put his plan into action.
After a surprising sacking of a Spanish treasure galleon, he challenged The Baron to a duel with the rest of his friends by his side, claiming mutiny. The Baron laughed, and even offered Grant the first shot. Those who sided with the Baron moved to his side, a surprising amount of the crew. Those that sided with Grant stood behind him, getting their weapons ready. Grant had told them he had a secret plan, and to trust him. The others hesitantly did, but inside they were fearing the worst.
Grant took aim with his blunderbuss as the crew looked away. This had happened before, an attempted mutiny. The mutineers would fire on The Baron, but the shots from others pistols and rifles would just bounce off his chest, and then he would kill them. Grant fired, and those who shared his sentiments closed their eyes, fully prepared to breath their last that day.
What they didn't expect to hear, what nobody expected to hear, were The Barons screams of pain. Everyone opened their eyes to see a scattering of bleeding holes across the giant mans chest. The crew allied with the Baron were awestruck by seeing a firearm hurt their captain. What had this...Kid done?
Grant rallied his allies, and they surged forward, another well placed shot from Grant ending the Baron. Soon, Grant and his cohorts were victorious. One of his friends asked Grant how he defeated The Baron. Grant opened one of the small cartridge pouches he used to keep from having to reload as slowly.
Instead of lead shot, or even iron shot, Grant had filled the pouch with gemstones, filing them down to small shot. Not as effective as regular shot, but it got the job done. Especially in this circumstance.
They decided to sail into harbor and sell off their existing ship and use the profits along with their haul from the galleon, to purchase a smaller ship, more suited to their purposes. They named Grant the Captain by a unanimous vote, and he took the position gracefully.
Naming the ship the 'Lady Luck', Grant and his crew set off to explore the seven seas. One of the men discovered a small holy book dedicated to a minor goddess known as Besmara. She was the patron goddess of Piracy, sailing her ship Seawraith through the heavens. The crew had a few copies of this book, and began to call themselves 'Besmara's Finest'.
The crew sailed across the oceans, discovering islands and searching for adventure. They made it a policy to only attack others in self-defense. This proved to be strangely effective, as other pirates would see them as easy prey, and paranoid merchants trying to get revenge would fire upon the Lady Luck, only to be taken and looted by Besmara's Finest.
The crew gained a fierce reputation as one of the best and most feared pirate crews in all the seas. It was hard to determine when they were about, seeing as their Jolly Roger was the simple Skull and Crossbones. The symbol of Besmara. Most people spotted them and mistook them for a novice crew, as they still sailed a sloop.
The crews fortune turned when they were ran aground on a small island during a storm. They survived for several days on the beach, attempting to repair their ship when their water supply ran low. The crew went deeper into the island, searching for a spring.
During their search, they came across an elaborate fountain that was spouting what appeared to be freshwater. The fountain itself was strange. It was made of a pure white Marble, and consisted of a large basin from which a statue protruded in the center. Four human figures made up the statue. A baby, a child, a young adult, and an old man. Each one was pointing in one of the cardinal directions, water flowing out of the tip of each of their fingers. The men, relieved that they had finally found water, rushed forward to drink from the basin. The water was cool and refreshing, and the men were greedily drinking their fill.
All except Grant. He was examining the statue of the young man, staring at the water suspiciously. This is when tragedy struck.. One by one, the men began to warp and change, regressing in age quickly. In their panic, shots were fired and people started running amok, ending with the statue tipping over and, in the chaos, sent the finger of the fountain the captain was looking at into his eye. Then he blacked out, a blinding pain in his skull.
When he awoke, all his crew were gone, the fabric of their clothes and the possessions they carried all scattered about. Dried blood was everywhere, the captain had obviously been out for a while. His eye still hurt, in fact the whole of his face did on that side. The statue had righted itself as well, still silently pouring out water into its basin.
Grant fumbled out his signal mirror, and looked at himself in shock.
His hair was now a bone white, gone from its natural brown. But that wasn't the most shocking thing. His eye that was stabbed was fine, but it had changed. Gone was his green normal green coloring, now there appeared to be a swirling hurricane, clouds moving slowly around his pupil. The white of the eye was now grey, and contained flashes of what appeared to be lightning every so often.
It took a new meaning to 'Stormy Grey eyes'.
The island itself was now overgrown, all save for the area around the fountain. Wandering out, he saw that the island itself was much different than when he had landed. Trees had grown larger than ever, vines covered every surface, the grass was almost hip height. He was shocked when he finally reached the beach. Where his ship once sat, hull damaged on the nearby rock formations, was...nothing. No ship, no campfires. No evidence his crew had even been there. He sank to his knees. What had happened?
Grant started to wail, a strange force building up behind his eye. His scream turned bestial in nature, deepening. The wind around him started to whip fiercely, rain starting to pour. Lightning flashed. A hurricane was forming with Grant as the center, but instead of moving, the hurricane remained stationary, simply getting stronger. Grant continued to wail in his depression and grief. The storm continuing to get stronger and stronger, lightning flashing rapidly as the wind ripped trees from the ground, flinging them far across the ocean. The fountain that caused his grief was uprooted, flinging it into the rock formation that surrounded the island, shattering it. Grant soon fell unconscious, the storm soon dying and dissipating.
Grant awoke a few hours later and sat up. He then looked around, shocked by what he could see. Or rather, what he couldn't. The island was now devoid of trees, save for a few palm trees that Grant was now sitting by by.
Another few hours passed, the sky growing dark. Grant was staring at the sea, not sure of what to do now, when he noticed something. He noticed a strange ship in the distance, sailing towards him. The boat was illuminated by...something. Yellow light was pouring over the sail on the strange boat. The sail was strange as well. Pure black, with a bright blue crest on it. A shield with the letters S and A. He had never seen a country with a crest like that.
It looked like it was going to smash into the rocks and sink, when something strange happened. The water underneath the boat surged up and a gust of wind came from seemingly nowhere to push the boat forward. The boat dropped anchor just off the coast of the small island, and a figure stepped out through the cabin.
They walked to the port side of the boat and stepped off, but instead of falling into the ocean, a pillar of rock shot up from below the sea to catch their feet. Similar pillars continued to rise as the person walked towards the island. They stopped in front of Grant, a fire appearing in front of him and illuminating the figure.
It was a woman, with short hair and dark eyes. She was dressed...Incredibly strangely. What was she wearing? Not only was her manner of dress strange, but she had four...Things floating about her. A stone that kept shifting forms, a glowing green orb, a small bright flame, and a ball of water.
Grant started laughing and the woman asked why he was, an accent he'd never heard before. He replied with a simple phrase.
"Because Lass, I've clearly lost me mind."
Grant had believed the current year was 1695. He was shocked to hear her claim that the year was now far, far past that. She told him that she was starting a place for people like him, gesturing to his eye. She offered him the chance to come with her, and learn what had happened. She turned away, telling him to follow her. She turned and move back to the ship, the pillar walkway remaining.
Grant watched her walk for a few seconds, before looking to the ruined island.
He glanced next to him, his blunderbuss laying in the sand. He picked it up and ran his fingers along the weathered notches etched into the wood. Memories of his crew and his adventures flooded his mind.
The pirate hefted himself to his feet, resting an arm on his blunderbuss, letting the firearm support him. He pulled an old flask from his coat and took a swig, before he followed the woman onto the boat.
He was given the lowdown on his situation. He had been unconscious for hundreds of years. He sequestered himself away reading any book or text he could get his hands on, helping defend the site of the school that was being built. When the school was finally constructed, he took up residence in a small room in the school, one he constructed himself. He was allowed to construct his quarters to his own specifications. The outside looked normal, but he constructed his own version of captains quarters. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of wood. Instead of a bed, there was a hammock. The window was a porthole, which stood out strangely from the outside.
Grant continued to learn all he could, not only about the history of the world he missed, but about all the new advances in firearms. He remained like this, learning and honing his craft for decades upon decades, never growing old. He would eventually learn about his powers, and discover what had happened to him.
He made frequent trips back to the island where the fountain was found. He had erected a statue there for his crew, a memorial. One day he was there, and there was a bird sitting on the statue. A purple Macaw parrot. He took a liking to the bird, and held his arm out for it, the bird flying over and perching on the offered appendage. He dubbed the animal Rose, and took her with him, enjoying the added companionship.
He was technically always employed by the school as a gunsmithing instructor, an elective college course one could take. He was an incredibly strict instructor though, kicking people out of his class for even joking about misusing the skills he was teaching. He would also sub in for other teachers occasionally, as a last resort. His normal strategy for this is to just assign a few worksheets and spend the class tinkering with his blunderbuss.
Additional Information: Rose is his trained Macaw. She can speak English, but it's mostly repeating things she's been trained to say. Though, her eyes have a glimmer of intelligence. Who knows what it could mean.
Age: 28 (348)
Birthday: September 19, 1667
Gender: Male
Category: Staff, Gunsmithing instructor
Appearance Description:
The Captain generally wears his old captains attire. A tricorn hat with a blue bandanna under it, keeping his hair down. An eye-patch covers his left eye, held tightly against his head. His jacket is a deep blue, with green trim around the edges. The buttonholes are colored red, and the sleeves are a lot larger than they need to be. The coat is very thick, having a few strips of leather running through key points to add armor. The Captain generally keeps these unbuttoned. His shirt is a very light orange, and is very loose as to keep good movement.
Over the shirt, he wears a bandolier full of what appears to be brown burlap packages that smell very strange if you get up close. Gunpowder is what most people will smell if they know the scent. Towards the bottom of the bandolier, hidden mostly by the jacket, are a pair of small glass jars with fuses on them.
He wears a kilt that has a few strips of steel on the inside, acting as a sort of armored plating.
His Sporan bag is hide, very soft fur. He claims it to be the fur of a bear, but no testing has ever come up positive for it. It is his portable gunsmiths kit, rolls of small tools and supplies. It's surprisingly spacy for a small looking bag. He also has a metal jolly roger pinned onto his kilt, showing his piraticall allegiance. Under the kilt he has on ragged pants, like a soldier of old would have worn, along with thick boots, very well worn.
He has five gold rings spread across both of his hands. On his right, he wears a ring on his middle and pinky finger. On his left hand, he has a ring on the Pinky, ring, and Middle fingers. The ring on his ring finger contains a small glittering emerald.
He also carries around a blunderbuss everywhere he goes, and he keeps it in excellent condition. Do not let it's apparent age fool you, it still functions perfectly. Engraved into the stock are the words "Ol' Smokey" and below it are a bunch of notches. Four sets of five, and a set of three.
Behind his jacket, he has a pair of belt pouches, each containing various supplies. A pocket on the inside of his jacket contains an ancient flask, full of...something. It's very strong, and very alcoholic. He also has a small boarding axe on his left hip, held in place on his belt. He keeps it very sharp.
Personality Description: Grant is a fairly laid back person unless he is working on a gun. He is very tense and serious when it comes to gunsmithing, but when he isn't he enjoys lounging about with a history book or a sea chart. He does enjoy polishing his blunderbuss or doing minor tinkering with the mechanics, as well as packing cartridges for it. If you are in his class, he demands nothing short of perfection. If you are late once, you get a detention and a warning not to do it again. Late again? You're dropped from the class.
He enjoys reading up on pirate history and lore, but doesn't enjoy seeing common pirate tropes, such as burying treasure and walking the plank. He did enjoy watching Pirates of the Caribbean though. He liked Johnny Depp. It was completely inaccurate, but a good show.
Powers:
Major Power:THE EYE OF THE STORM
When his eye was stabbed by the fountain of youth, the water flowed into him and imbued his eye with an eldritch power. This is shown by the physical change in his eye. Gone was his green normal green coloring, now there appeared to be a swirling hurricane, clouds moving slowly around his pupil. The white of the eye was now grey, and contained flashes of what appeared to be lightning every so often.
The Eye of the Storm gives Grant the ability to manipulate and control weather, specifically in clouds and winds. Manipulating existing weather is fairly easy for him, moving clouds that are already there around, slowing down rain, creating light breezes and so on.
He can create weather as well, but that takes a lot more out of him. Creating rain clouds out of nowhere is among the simpler creations he can make, but it does require to have moisture in the air already. Creating heavy storms and calling down lightning, or creating tornadoes and windstorms take a lot out of him, and leave him exhausted.
His power is linked faintly to his emotions, but he hasn't honed on training it. He generally hides The Eye of the Storm underneath his eyepatch, revealing it to almost nobody. His weather controlling powers are generally unknown by the school, other than a few of peoples of the island.
Though...He always seems to have a cloud above him when he's outside. Always in the shade. Strange, isn't it?
Minor Power:SURVIVOR OF THE FOUNTAIN
Grant is a survivor of the Fountain of Youth. The fountain itself is an eldritch trap, one of several fountains that exist in the world. The fountain itself ages people depending on the part of the fountain they drink from. The four statues represent the ages that specific water will age to. The old man ages you to an elderly age, the child ages you to a child again, and so on and so forth. Drinking from the large basin the fountain sits in will de-age you to nothing. There is no statue, and it represents pre-birth.
When Grant was pierced by the statue, the water flowed into his body, entering his bloodstream instead of his stomach. This actually ended up shifting his body chemistry and giving him an eternal dose of the fountains water. He doesn't have blood, but it isn't pure water as well. It's a unique compound that is a mix of both. Drinking his "Blood" will not function as drinking from the fountain would.
Grant will naturally live forever due to the fountains influence, but he can still be killed. Beheading, losing a heart or his brain, being blown to smithereens...These will all kill him. He does heal incredibly fast, far faster than a normal human. If he loses a finger, he can keep the finger pressed to the stump and it will reattach.
Biography: Grant was born in an large English port town in 1667. His mother was a prostitute, his father a sailor. All Grant knew of his father is that he was a sailor, nothing else. Grant loved the sea, and would commonly be found at the docks, staring at the ships sailing in and out of the harbor.
His mother, sadly, passed when Grant was only five years of age. Luckily for him, he was taken in by an aging master gunsmith as an apprentice. Grant took to the trade easily, but would always find himself drifting back to the sea. Never while he was working on a gun though, that always required his full attention. His master told him that gunsmithing required 100% dedication. Anything less would end poorly. It was one of his masters favorite sayings, and he always punctuated it by tapping his wooden leg on the ground. Grant took this lesson to heart, nothing could distract him when he was messing with his guns. He was more lenient when he was just doing simple maintenance or polishing, holding conversations with his like minded friends.
Grants master passed away when the young boy turned 15, leaving him everything. Grant would be alone, if it weren't for his friends. He had met a group of similarly minded young men who loved the sea as he did, hearts calling to them.
One of them suggested they become sailors, but they all agreed to not listen to a governmental power, preferring the image of sailing by their own rules. They agreed to buy passage as deckhands on the ship 'Malevolence', captained by a man who only referred to himself as 'The Baron'.
The Baron was an incredibly poor captain, constantly picking fights the crew couldn't win, and unfairly splitting the meager loot they did manage to scrape in. The small group of friends, along with a few of the other crew members wanted to mutiny, but they were all afraid of one thing. The Baron himself was a giant of a man, who had a strange ability to control metal. Any sword that dare to try and strike him simply bent around his flesh, iron cannonballs bouncing off. All of the men felt that they would not be able to defeat him should they try.
All except Grant. He spend months tinkering in his quarters on his blunderbuss, referring to it as a 'secret project'. He never joined the other men in the taverns and bars when they made port, sequestering himself away in the ship, or disappearing into town, returning only at nightfall.
A few months after his eighteenth birthday, Grant put his plan into action.
After a surprising sacking of a Spanish treasure galleon, he challenged The Baron to a duel with the rest of his friends by his side, claiming mutiny. The Baron laughed, and even offered Grant the first shot. Those who sided with the Baron moved to his side, a surprising amount of the crew. Those that sided with Grant stood behind him, getting their weapons ready. Grant had told them he had a secret plan, and to trust him. The others hesitantly did, but inside they were fearing the worst.
Grant took aim with his blunderbuss as the crew looked away. This had happened before, an attempted mutiny. The mutineers would fire on The Baron, but the shots from others pistols and rifles would just bounce off his chest, and then he would kill them. Grant fired, and those who shared his sentiments closed their eyes, fully prepared to breath their last that day.
What they didn't expect to hear, what nobody expected to hear, were The Barons screams of pain. Everyone opened their eyes to see a scattering of bleeding holes across the giant mans chest. The crew allied with the Baron were awestruck by seeing a firearm hurt their captain. What had this...Kid done?
Grant rallied his allies, and they surged forward, another well placed shot from Grant ending the Baron. Soon, Grant and his cohorts were victorious. One of his friends asked Grant how he defeated The Baron. Grant opened one of the small cartridge pouches he used to keep from having to reload as slowly.
Instead of lead shot, or even iron shot, Grant had filled the pouch with gemstones, filing them down to small shot. Not as effective as regular shot, but it got the job done. Especially in this circumstance.
They decided to sail into harbor and sell off their existing ship and use the profits along with their haul from the galleon, to purchase a smaller ship, more suited to their purposes. They named Grant the Captain by a unanimous vote, and he took the position gracefully.
Naming the ship the 'Lady Luck', Grant and his crew set off to explore the seven seas. One of the men discovered a small holy book dedicated to a minor goddess known as Besmara. She was the patron goddess of Piracy, sailing her ship Seawraith through the heavens. The crew had a few copies of this book, and began to call themselves 'Besmara's Finest'.
The crew sailed across the oceans, discovering islands and searching for adventure. They made it a policy to only attack others in self-defense. This proved to be strangely effective, as other pirates would see them as easy prey, and paranoid merchants trying to get revenge would fire upon the Lady Luck, only to be taken and looted by Besmara's Finest.
The crew gained a fierce reputation as one of the best and most feared pirate crews in all the seas. It was hard to determine when they were about, seeing as their Jolly Roger was the simple Skull and Crossbones. The symbol of Besmara. Most people spotted them and mistook them for a novice crew, as they still sailed a sloop.
The crews fortune turned when they were ran aground on a small island during a storm. They survived for several days on the beach, attempting to repair their ship when their water supply ran low. The crew went deeper into the island, searching for a spring.
During their search, they came across an elaborate fountain that was spouting what appeared to be freshwater. The fountain itself was strange. It was made of a pure white Marble, and consisted of a large basin from which a statue protruded in the center. Four human figures made up the statue. A baby, a child, a young adult, and an old man. Each one was pointing in one of the cardinal directions, water flowing out of the tip of each of their fingers. The men, relieved that they had finally found water, rushed forward to drink from the basin. The water was cool and refreshing, and the men were greedily drinking their fill.
All except Grant. He was examining the statue of the young man, staring at the water suspiciously. This is when tragedy struck.. One by one, the men began to warp and change, regressing in age quickly. In their panic, shots were fired and people started running amok, ending with the statue tipping over and, in the chaos, sent the finger of the fountain the captain was looking at into his eye. Then he blacked out, a blinding pain in his skull.
When he awoke, all his crew were gone, the fabric of their clothes and the possessions they carried all scattered about. Dried blood was everywhere, the captain had obviously been out for a while. His eye still hurt, in fact the whole of his face did on that side. The statue had righted itself as well, still silently pouring out water into its basin.
Grant fumbled out his signal mirror, and looked at himself in shock.
His hair was now a bone white, gone from its natural brown. But that wasn't the most shocking thing. His eye that was stabbed was fine, but it had changed. Gone was his green normal green coloring, now there appeared to be a swirling hurricane, clouds moving slowly around his pupil. The white of the eye was now grey, and contained flashes of what appeared to be lightning every so often.
It took a new meaning to 'Stormy Grey eyes'.
The island itself was now overgrown, all save for the area around the fountain. Wandering out, he saw that the island itself was much different than when he had landed. Trees had grown larger than ever, vines covered every surface, the grass was almost hip height. He was shocked when he finally reached the beach. Where his ship once sat, hull damaged on the nearby rock formations, was...nothing. No ship, no campfires. No evidence his crew had even been there. He sank to his knees. What had happened?
Grant started to wail, a strange force building up behind his eye. His scream turned bestial in nature, deepening. The wind around him started to whip fiercely, rain starting to pour. Lightning flashed. A hurricane was forming with Grant as the center, but instead of moving, the hurricane remained stationary, simply getting stronger. Grant continued to wail in his depression and grief. The storm continuing to get stronger and stronger, lightning flashing rapidly as the wind ripped trees from the ground, flinging them far across the ocean. The fountain that caused his grief was uprooted, flinging it into the rock formation that surrounded the island, shattering it. Grant soon fell unconscious, the storm soon dying and dissipating.
Grant awoke a few hours later and sat up. He then looked around, shocked by what he could see. Or rather, what he couldn't. The island was now devoid of trees, save for a few palm trees that Grant was now sitting by by.
Another few hours passed, the sky growing dark. Grant was staring at the sea, not sure of what to do now, when he noticed something. He noticed a strange ship in the distance, sailing towards him. The boat was illuminated by...something. Yellow light was pouring over the sail on the strange boat. The sail was strange as well. Pure black, with a bright blue crest on it. A shield with the letters S and A. He had never seen a country with a crest like that.
It looked like it was going to smash into the rocks and sink, when something strange happened. The water underneath the boat surged up and a gust of wind came from seemingly nowhere to push the boat forward. The boat dropped anchor just off the coast of the small island, and a figure stepped out through the cabin.
They walked to the port side of the boat and stepped off, but instead of falling into the ocean, a pillar of rock shot up from below the sea to catch their feet. Similar pillars continued to rise as the person walked towards the island. They stopped in front of Grant, a fire appearing in front of him and illuminating the figure.
It was a woman, with short hair and dark eyes. She was dressed...Incredibly strangely. What was she wearing? Not only was her manner of dress strange, but she had four...Things floating about her. A stone that kept shifting forms, a glowing green orb, a small bright flame, and a ball of water.
Grant started laughing and the woman asked why he was, an accent he'd never heard before. He replied with a simple phrase.
"Because Lass, I've clearly lost me mind."
Grant had believed the current year was 1695. He was shocked to hear her claim that the year was now far, far past that. She told him that she was starting a place for people like him, gesturing to his eye. She offered him the chance to come with her, and learn what had happened. She turned away, telling him to follow her. She turned and move back to the ship, the pillar walkway remaining.
Grant watched her walk for a few seconds, before looking to the ruined island.
He glanced next to him, his blunderbuss laying in the sand. He picked it up and ran his fingers along the weathered notches etched into the wood. Memories of his crew and his adventures flooded his mind.
The pirate hefted himself to his feet, resting an arm on his blunderbuss, letting the firearm support him. He pulled an old flask from his coat and took a swig, before he followed the woman onto the boat.
He was given the lowdown on his situation. He had been unconscious for hundreds of years. He sequestered himself away reading any book or text he could get his hands on, helping defend the site of the school that was being built. When the school was finally constructed, he took up residence in a small room in the school, one he constructed himself. He was allowed to construct his quarters to his own specifications. The outside looked normal, but he constructed his own version of captains quarters. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of wood. Instead of a bed, there was a hammock. The window was a porthole, which stood out strangely from the outside.
Grant continued to learn all he could, not only about the history of the world he missed, but about all the new advances in firearms. He remained like this, learning and honing his craft for decades upon decades, never growing old. He would eventually learn about his powers, and discover what had happened to him.
He made frequent trips back to the island where the fountain was found. He had erected a statue there for his crew, a memorial. One day he was there, and there was a bird sitting on the statue. A purple Macaw parrot. He took a liking to the bird, and held his arm out for it, the bird flying over and perching on the offered appendage. He dubbed the animal Rose, and took her with him, enjoying the added companionship.
He was technically always employed by the school as a gunsmithing instructor, an elective college course one could take. He was an incredibly strict instructor though, kicking people out of his class for even joking about misusing the skills he was teaching. He would also sub in for other teachers occasionally, as a last resort. His normal strategy for this is to just assign a few worksheets and spend the class tinkering with his blunderbuss.
Additional Information: Rose is his trained Macaw. She can speak English, but it's mostly repeating things she's been trained to say. Though, her eyes have a glimmer of intelligence. Who knows what it could mean.
