A man stands thoughtfully atop a large crate at the docks, his hand to his chin, his elbow to his left knee, and his left foot to his right knee; a peculiar position, balancing on one leg. His dust worn cloak smelling heavily Kerosene and Lochnagar, and his Tricorn hat sewn and patched. And oddest of all, his face covered with a lengthy mask, the built-in goggles heavily tinted.
He perks up, tilting his head slightly to the right to look through his left eye as someone passes, a sly and almost devious chuckle emerging from his mouth. His tenor tone lingering as he looks back to the grand ship behind him as he lower his left foot. "Beeeehold The Windswept!" he shouts, obvious confidence lingering. The ship behind him appears rather large, yet scraped together and makeshift; several crew members moving hurriedly on and off with averaged sized crates.The ship appearing similar to the one you once saw in a sketch.
He turns back to the street slowly, taking in a deep exhale; it almost rasping throughout his mask. He laughs again, wiggling around slightly to readjust himself, then letting his head hang down slightly yet still glaring forward in an odd patience.((To set the mood
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s28VGuPpsfc Also, hey again to those who may remember me.))
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