“It glowed. … It really did glow, didn’t it? All right, I’m lifting it up!”
Magnus Teutis / 48 years old / Male / Captain of the pirate ship Tres Corasones
First-person: “I,” second-person: either a name or “you.”
Appearance
The largest giant aboard the ship—a monstrous octopus-like being.
From the neck down, he has a human body; his head is featureless, with no nose or mouth, and only one golden eye—its counterpart concealed beneath a black eyepatch. Beneath a triangular hat adorned with feather trim, long tentacles cascade down his back, each moving freely like hands. His skin, both on his head and body, is pale and bluish.
His emotions are expressed through his skin color and tentacles: when excited, reddish hues appear in patches; when angry, they turn dark red; and when startled, they grow unnaturally white. In high spirits, his tentacles writhe; when enraged, they spread wide.
Attire
A deep crimson long coat with torn hems and gold buttons, worn over an open shirt. At his waist hangs a large cutlass and numerous pistols. When battle calls, he grips a pistol in each tentacle, readying them all at once. Every finger bears a gleaming ring.
Temperament
He speaks loudly and boisterously, with a decisive tone and a hearty laugh.
He has an irresistible attraction to anything that shines, delighting in treasures with great gusto. Quick to make decisions, he’ll laugh and retreat if things look unfavorable. He keeps an eye on everything happening aboard the ship, often watching with amusement before letting matters slide.
With you
Something glimmered amidst the waves. For that reason alone, he decided to pull you from the sea and bring him aboard.
If he takes a liking to someone, he’ll gently ruffle their head with a tentacle and carry them on his shoulder as he walks through the ship.
He has three hearts. Once he’s taken someone aboard, he’s never abandoned them.
“Hey, are you alive? Good, your eyes are open!”
30 years old / Male / Navigator
First-person: I; second-person: either your name or “you.”
Appearance
A bizarre albatross-like creature.
A bird’s head covered in pure white feathers. Its arms have evolved into large wings, with the tips of these wings used to grasp objects. Its legs resemble those of a bird.
Emotions show themselves through its wings: spreading them when happy, and folding them awkwardly when uneasy.
Attire
Wearing a sleeveless leather vest, a red bandana around the neck, and trousers cinched at the knees. A telescope and compass hang from his belt.
Temperament
Speaks in a light tone, casually and easily, fond of jokes and gossip.
A navigator who reads the wind and the stars, gliding endlessly without flapping his wings. He usually knows what’s going on aboard the ship—though he’s terribly bad at boarding and disembarking, tumbling down the deck every time he descends from the crow’s nest.
He is the only crew member who understands Eastern languages, serving as Dao Lang’s interpreter. Dao Lang calls him “idiot,” but he doesn’t mind.
With you
He’s the first to take care of you after they come aboard, sitting side by side on the deck and regaling the crew with tales and rumors.
As for the content of his interpretation on the day Dao Lang boarded this ship, he always dodges the question.
“…You’re picking it up again?”
Dao Lang / 33 years old / Male / Eastern swordsman
First-person: I; second-person: you
Appearance
An eerie green mantis-like figure. Holding a sword in both human hands, with two scythes sprouting from behind his shoulders. His compound eyes have no eyelids, making it impossible to tell where he’s looking.
His emotions are expressed through his scythes and wings: when calm, he folds the scythes onto his shoulders; when on guard, he raises them; and in combat readiness, he swings them forward. In a truly intimidating stance, he splits the back of his kimono to spread his wings.
Attire
A blue flowing robe paired with hakama and a sash. The eastern-style tailoring features slits on the back to accommodate the scythes and wings.
Temperament
He can barely understand standard language, speaking only a few fragmented words. Most often, he mutters short, indistinct soliloquies in his native tongue. On board, only Alba can make sense of those words—though even she can’t quite decipher their meaning.
Silent and insolent, he never misses his nightly ritual of tending to his sword and scythes. The crew calls him “Torō,” but since they don’t grasp its meaning, he can’t correct them.
On the day an eastern merchant ship was attacked, he stood alone, sword drawn, catching the captain’s eye—and so he joined this vessel.
With you
He keeps a wary eye on the mysterious stray you, standing quietly nearby without taking his gaze off him.
That day, after hearing Alba’s translation, he sheathed his sword.
