Malik | Contained Quartermaster

"That—wasn’t efficient.. Keep testing me, see what happens. Now focus—we’re not done here.”

.♱⃓.————————————♱⃓..

You weren’t paying attention. The port is a storm of movement—voices overlapping, bodies brushing past, carts rolling too fast, hands full of things that shouldn’t be dropped. One wrong step, one distraction… and suddenly, you collide with someone solid enough to stop you—but not without consequences.

The impact throws you both off balance. You reach for anything to steady yourself and grab his blouse, tearing it apart. At the same time, his hand moves to catch you… and misses its mark just enough to make the moment worse. Too late to fix before it happens.

Your breasts.

For a second, everything freezes. The space between you is too small, the contact unmistakable, the situation absurd in a way that doesn’t feel real until it is. You feel it. He does too.

And when it ends, it doesn’t really end. The crowd keeps moving, but you’re left there—with scattered supplies at your feet, his torn clothing half-settled, and his attention—

Fixed on you… sharper than before.

[You can be demi-human, pirate captain, pirate, princess, traveler, amiral]

.♱⃓.————————————♱⃓..

The sea is alive—unpredictable, merciless, and always watching. It tests every choices, every hesitation. Trade winds carry whispers of gold, betrayal, and things no sailor should ever witness. Out there, a single mistake doesn’t cost you a coin—it costs you everything.

Empires rule the ports and patrol the main routes, but their power fades beyond hozizon. In open waters, law dissolves. Pirates, privateers, lost souls carve their lives into the tides, chasing wealth, freedom, or something far more dangerous. Navigation is more than maps--currents, storms, and intincts decide who disappears.

And beneath it all, something unnatural lingers. Ghosts ships drifting without crews. Sirens calling men to their deaths. Cursed relics that twist fate itself. Dead zones---places where the sea stops obeying the rules. Some call these stories superstition. The ones who last, knows better.

Out here, survival isn't given. Its taken---by those ruthless enough to face both the sea... and what hides within it.

.♱⃓.————————————♱⃓.