Lorelei Tucker... and her crew. ^^

Name: I’m Lorelei Tucker. But that’s Captain Tucker to you, understand? Not Lorelei, not Lorrie, not Tuck. Captain. Tucker.
Age: 26, and proud to still be alive.
Race: Human.
Lives: On my ship, on the water, on the sea…
Appearance: I'll get the picture up soon. It's sweet. ^^
Powers: Swordsmanship. No one’s been able to beat me at fencing for… ages. I’ve got mad reflexes; speed, grace, and attitude to match. Nothing supernatural, though. Just a plain, boring, non-magical human. Who could cleave your head from your shoulders before you even felt the wind from my blade.

Persona: Pirate, pirate, pirate!! She’s a pirate, through and through!
I’d rather you let me describe myself. I could do it better than you could.
There’s one point. She’s arrogant.
I prefer ‘self-aware’.
And she doesn’t like to be proven wrong.
Does anyone?
She’s proud and haughty and graceful. And she also has a hair-thin temper trigger. Stay under her orders and out from under her feet, and you may avoid being hacked to ribbons. If not, well… at least you’ll be able to cross “get killed in a pirate’s duel” off of your “things-to-do-before-I-die” list.
*shoves Mika out of the way* You’re lucky I hold a few shreds of respect for you, or you’d be crossing it off your list. Anyway, before she ruins what’s left of my reputation, I’m going to set my personality straight. I’m a no-nonsense Captain, and I’m highly respected.
You mean ‘feared’.
No. Respected. My crew is more loyal than any other you’d find. I’ve treated them well over the years, and they respect me in return. They’d never mutiny on me, even if I gave them the chance.

Background:
Where does one start when retelling the tale of a woman pirate, much less a woman captain?
It usually helps to start at the beginning. But that’s just my opinion.
Thank you, Cap’n. May I continue?
No. I can tell my own story: I was born on a ship, raised on a ship, and I’ll die on a ship. My parents were pirates. I’m a pirate. Any children of mine will likely follow in my bootsteps. As for how I got in this position… Well, let’s just say that I took over for someone who couldn’t captain a cork boat in a bathtub. And now I sail the waters, stopping in ports to visit pubs and look for gold and most of those stereotypical pirate habits.
Except grammar.
…What?
Grammar. You have really good grammar. It’s one of the stereotypes you didn’t pick up as a pirate.
…Oh. Well, my parents weren’t illiterate ruffians. Why should I be? And in any sense, are we done now? Am I free to go?
Can you say it once? Just once, and then you can go?
...Say what?
...‘Arr, Matey’. Pleeeease? Just once?
No.
*chases after* Oh, come on! Can you sneer? How about ‘Yo, ho, ho’?

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Captain Tucker's Crew:


The Dorothy Nott: Captain Lorelei Tucker’s beloved ship. She isn’t very big (only scrapes about seventy-four feet long), but she’s a nasty candidate when it comes to ship combat or boardin’ action. She’s wicked speedy, and her crew is one of the best in the area. If ye can catch her with th’ wind at her back, consider yourself lucky. If ye can escape a cannon battle with enough of your own ship afloat... consider yourself darned lucky, aye. If ye managed to get yer ship blown to bits without landing a single shot on the Nott, then ye, my friend, had better count yeself as one of the luckiest people in the world; because no one—and I mean no one—damages Captain Tucker’s ship and gets away with it. I’ve seen it ‘appen, an’ it ain’t pretty. Ye’d be better off dead in th’ water than alive with th’ Cap’n after ye neck.



Coran O’ Shalley: First Mate/Navigator; A youngish gentleman. Red-brown hair, green eyes, cool grin. Cap’n Lorelei is allays gettin’ on ‘is case for flirtin’ with the young lassies when we land in port. I think she’s sweet on ‘im ‘herself, but she’d never admit it.



Syrus: Quartermaster; Your stereotypical pirate. Eyepatch, grizzled look, old & weathered. He’s been through ‘ell and back, and ‘e ‘as moments where ye might lose ya head around him, but ‘e means well... we think. He ‘asn’t killed any’un... yet.



Booth: Ship’s Carpenter; The comic relief on the Dorothy Nott. Not many can keep a straight face once this guy starts talkin’ (well, except Syrus, but ‘e’s an old salt). What with ‘is brown eyes shining at ye through eternally salt-crusted glasses and ‘is windswept black hair, ye can’t help but smile. That’s what th’ Cap’n says, anywho.



Rudy: Boatswain/Cook/Surgeon; A cheerful, portly, red-faced man. ‘E’s got huge arms, ‘e does, as big around as th’ ship’s mast! Balding, squinty-eyed and good-natured, he’ll cook you up some fine grub before ‘e sews up some unlucky sap. Not on th’ same table, or with th’ same utensils... we think. (I like Rudy. Throws me some fish scraps, sometimes, ‘e does.)



Nance: Gunner; A firecracker of a ammunitions expert. He’s in ‘is late teens, but ’is voice still cracks when ‘e gets excited about summat. Violently red-‘aired, freckles much, clear green eyes. Also ‘appens to be Coran’s younger brother. Make a crack about ‘is name, an’ he’ll shoot ye from one o’ ‘is cannons. (Ahaha... Nancy boy with th’ curly ‘air.)



Minikin: Powder Monkey/Cabin Boy/Etc.; The silent child. Pretty girl, really clear eyes; blue an’ green like th’ sea and th’ sky all in one. She wears a blue bandanna over ‘er blonde ‘air, usually spends ‘er time among th’ rigging and sails of the ship, or up in th’ Crow’s nest. She can talk, She just doesn’t. Except to th’ Cap’n. And she talks t’ me, but I don’t count, since I can’t talk back. She’s a strange one, that little Minikin... Can’t be much older’n twelve, mebbe fourteen. Picked her outta th’ sea one day, just floatin’ around, holdin’ on to this bit o’ crate. Dunno where she came from; just kinda took ‘er in. Th’ Cap’n keeps ‘er around, for good luck an’ such, especially during storms and th’ like.



An’ then there’s me! I’m Tikkat, th’ ship’s exterminator. Th’ Cap’n brought me onta th’ ship not two weeks back, when I was barely owd enuff to catch me own rats. I don’t talk often, but I’m here ta offer me opinion whenever I sees it’s needed. I s’pose I’m th’ saltiest sea dog out on this ship, which strikes me as... odd, some’ow, seein’ ‘ow I ain’t a dog. Y’ won’t see me much, but just know that I’m there... somewhere. Us’ally in th’ galley, beggin’ fish scraps from Rudy...

I remember youuuuuuuu!

Oh, the times to be had...approved.