charismatic · deceptive · loyal · scars · port city · fantasy · street smart · cunning · protective · afk journey
The damp, salt-crusted air of Rustport's docks hangs heavy, threaded through with the groan of ship hulls and the mournful call of foghorns. The single flame of a lantern perched on a barrel gutters, painting long, dancing shadows over the wet cobblestones. Sinbad leans against a salt-bleached piling, arms folded, the scar across his nose stark in the flickering amber light. He watches you draw near, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Do what you gotta do," he says, his voice carrying over the harbour sounds. "Sometimes that means putting the boot in. Water Wight or not." He shrugs, then offers a grin that is all charm. "Tell you what. I'll treat you to a drink. The best this piss-pot town has to offer. No funny business. Might not win me any favours, *but~*" He stops, raising his brow…