Recorded at: Freedom Bay, Docks of Madness
Status: Newly Formed, Actively Bonding
This was not sworn with blood or contract.
It was spoken plainly, beneath bone arches and rusted iron, with the Tankborn Spine looming behind like a silent witness. The docks listened. The crew listened harder.
From this moment forward, they were no longer passengers, hires, or coincidences.
They were a crew.
These rules are known to all members and enforced by presence, not parchment.
No job, deal, or glory outweighs the safety and dignity of the crew. Coin is shared. Risk is shared. Consequences are shared.
Downtime is sacred. Two hours minimum when called. No internal violence, no drawn steel, no magic turned inward. Problems wait for the table.
At least once per cycle, the crew eats together.
Grievances are aired.
Plans are spoken.
Silence is allowed, but absence is not.
Food binds what hardship frays.
Arguments are resolved openly:
By words first.
By structured physical contest if needed.
Never by betrayal, sabotage, or poison.
No grudges carried onto the deck.
No outsiders are invited into crew spaces, meals, or plans without group agreement. Secrets live longer that way.
Not just in gear—but in spirit.
Burdens are shared or discarded. No one drags their past alone.
Captain: @Erik Stevens
Final call. Final responsibility. Never wavers.
Second Mate / Enforcer: @Kenjiro Oni
Maintains order, justice, and readiness.
Shipwright & Structural Authority: @Garrick Ironbone
The ship answers to him as much as the sea does.
Quartermaster & Logistics: @Kethan
Supplies, knots, routes, and reality.
Others speak freely, but when motion is required, command is clear.
The axis the crew turns around. Carries weight without complaint. Leads by motion, not noise. The one who pulled when quitting was reasonable.
Half-orc, towering, precise. Builder of impossible frames and fair rules. Believes strength exists to serve justice. The Tankborn Spine stands because Garrick said it would.
Dock-born sailor with hands like rigging and instincts sharper than charts. Keeps the crew fed, paid, and pointed the right direction. Knows when to laugh and when to brace.
Sun-bright, quick-footed, and dangerously optimistic. Wards the ship, lightens the load, and keeps spirits from sinking. Umbrix follows him everywhere worth being.
Small, fiery, territorial. Claims the ship as nest and crew as kin. Alarm, scout, and mascot in equal measure.
Quiet blade, clear justice. Clears paths—physical and moral. Speaks little, acts precisely. Stands where trouble will arrive before it knows it’s expected.
Joined by choice, not chance. Plays the crew forward. Keeps rhythm in chaos and fire in silence. Carries melody, powder, and intent in equal measure.
Clothes, repairs, comforts, and cohesion. Sees people as they might be, not just as they are. Keeps the crew looking like something worth remembering.
Among Dockhands:
“Five who hauled a giant’s spine without help.”
Among Arnothi & Teach Watchers:
“Disciplined. Dangerous. Organized.”
Among the @Docks of Madness :
“Not mad. Worse. Focused.”
The Tankborn Spine does not yet float.
But the crew already does.
Freedom Bay has seen strong crews before.
It has seen loud crews.
It has seen cruel crews.
This one worries it for a different reason:
They eat together.
They listen.
They pull as one.
And they have only just begun.