Story
The night was moonless and the sea felt like ink. Most of the crew slept below, but Pelonias stood alone at the bow with a small lantern shuttered in his hand. The Blue Marlin cut through the water in near silence. Even the usual creak of rigging felt muted, as if the night itself was listening.
Nasheem climbed onto the deck and approached with soft steps. He bowed his head in greeting, then leaned on the rail beside him.
“Strange night,” Nasheem said.
Pelonias nodded. “The kind that hides its own shape.”
Nasheem smiled. “You know, most navigators look at charts. You look at the dark and try to read secrets.”
Pelonias did not answer, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
Below them something surfaced. A wide sweep of pale skin just under the water, then gone again. Not a whale. Too smooth. Too silent.
Nasheem straightened. “Should I be concerned?”
“Not yet,” Pelonias said.
“Comforting.”
Pelonias opened the lantern a fraction. The faint glow spread over the water, and in the distance tiny flecks of green and blue began to shimmer. Bioluminescent plankton drifted in glowing strands. The wake of the Blue Marlin lit up behind them, turning the ship into a silent comet across a black world.
Nasheem let out a low breath. “Beautiful.”
Pelonias studied the glow with calm, unreadable eyes. “The sea shows her secrets only when she chooses to.”
“And you always seem to be here when she does.”
Pelonias closed the lantern again. Darkness swallowed the wake.
“I listen,” he said simply.
A moment passed. A soft wind rose and carried the scent of far off rain.
Nasheem glanced sideways. “You ever wonder what lies beyond all this?”
Pelonias kept his eyes on the horizon, on the line where water met shadow. “Always.”
“And if the answer is disappointment?”
Pelonias finally turned. His expression was quiet, steady, and centuries old.
“Then we keep sailing until we find something better.”
Nasheem laughed softly. “If you ever decide to command a ship of your own, tell me first. I would follow you for the view alone.”
Pelonias shook his head. “I follow the sea. Scarnax follows his crew. Those are different paths.”
Nasheem nodded, accepting the truth in it.
The two men stood in silence as the Blue Marlin carried them forward, the night deep and the water whispering secrets Pelonias seemed born to hear.

Background

Pelonias was born on the Olydrian isles, where most lives are decided before the children who live them can speak. Families passed down trades, expectations were rigid, and the islands prized order above curiosity. Pelonias felt trapped long before he understood why. The rhythm of village life, the same nets, the same tides, the same voices, all of it felt like a cage made of habit. He would stand on the cliffs and watch ships fade into the horizon until they were only flecks of white against blue, and something inside him ached to follow.

When he was barely old enough to shave he slipped away from home with a small pack of bread and fruit, walked to the nearest port, and signed onto the first crew willing to accept an untested youth. He left no note. He trusted that the sea itself would explain what he could not.

Apprentice Years at Sea

The first ships he served on were rough cargo haulers, slow and battered. They paid poorly, but taught him everything. Pelonias learned rigging, knot work, and how to sleep through storms that rattled every bone in his body. He learned to read the sky, then the sea itself. He soaked up knowledge like a dry sponge, quiet and intent.

His talent for navigation revealed itself early. He understood currents with an instinct sailors twice his age envied, and he memorized coastlines after a single sighting. Soon captains began to request him by name. His rise was not marked by noise or swagger. It was marked by the steady respect of sailors who trusted him with their lives.

Capture and the Meeting With Scarnax

Everything changed when pirates captured the vessel he served. The battle was short and bloody, and Pelonias found himself chained alongside the surviving crew. The pirates divided their captives into groups for labor, ransom, or sale. In that grim holding space he met Scarnax for the first time. Neither man spoke much, but Pelonias remembered the hard set of Scarnax’s jaw, and Scarnax remembered the calm in Pelonias’s eyes.

When the pirates later split their spoils, the two were sent to different ships. His skill was known even to the pirates, so he was forced into navigation work on the ship that claimed him.

Wandering and Return to Estoria

Fortune took a kinder turn when a storm scattered the pirate flotilla and Pelonias escaped in a stolen skiff during the chaos, rowing until his hands split open. He drifted for two days until a fishing boat found him. After that he wandered from ship to ship, working contracts as navigator or deckhand, rebuilding himself piece by piece.

He eventually reached Estoria, exhausted but unbroken. One evening, while walking the docks in search of work, he saw a familiar figure inspecting cargo. It was Scarnax, now a free man with a ship of his own. Their recognition was immediate and quiet. Scarnax asked if he needed a berth, and Pelonias answered yes before the question was finished.

Personality and Temperament

Pelonias is steady to the point of stillness. He speaks little, listens always, and weighs his words as carefully as he weighs the stars. When he speaks, the crew knows it matters. He has no taste for command or glory. He lives for horizons, for wind, for charts spread across a table in the lantern glow.

He is thoughtful, patient, and almost impossible to rattle. Storms that send others scrambling only make him breathe slower as his mind maps every shift of wind and water. He keeps his emotions tucked away, revealing them only in rare moments that pass quickly.

Why He Sails

Pelonias sails because the sea is the only place that ever made sense to him. Land feels too solid, too crowded with expectations. The sea gives him motion, choice, and the promise that somewhere just beyond the horizon is something he has never seen. He does not chase wealth or status. He chases the next unknown coastline, the next sky, the next story written in waves.

When he got the found map from the Waverider in his hands, it was like holding heaven to him. He knew he had to find the crew who made it, and especially the mysterious Phaedros Pelagos who's signature was in the corner. From the style of the ink and the choices made on the page he sensed a mind shaped like his own, a love of navigation, a love of mapmaking, just for the sake of it.

Relations on the Blue Marlin

Scarnax is the captain Pelonias trusts without hesitation. Their bond is quiet, built on shared suffering and unspoken respect. Nasheem amuses him with his elegance and bravado, though Pelonias rarely reacts outwardly. Caelin’s discipline aligns well with his own steady nature. Galenor’s inventions fascinate him in theory but make him uneasy in practice. Ayesha he watches carefully, admiring her mind even when he does not understand her motives, plans or moves. The marines he respects, but he never fully relaxes around fighters whose tempers burn hotter than the sun.

Junia is the only one who sometimes catches him smiling. She understands silence and never tries to fill it.

Roleplaying Notes

Pelonias speaks softly, slowly and sparingly. He uses short sentences. He pauses before answering. When confused he looks at the sky. When troubled he studies the horizon. He is honest, but only when his words add something useful. He struggles to raise his voice even when he should, and this can make his warnings seem softer than they are.

He is loyal in the way the sea is loyal. Not loud, not decorated, but constant. He will follow Scarnax into storms that would terrify other navigators, because Scarnax is the first captain who treated him as more than a pair of sharp eyes.

He is calm, deliberate, and shaped by the tides more than by people.

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