“Gentlemen, it is my very good honour to meet you. My name is Edward van Helgen, I’m sure you’ve heard of me…
None of you? Really? Erstwhile captain of the Crimson Viper? The man who sank Port Royal? Not ringing any bells? Well, it appears news travels slowly. Regardless, as may be apparent, I’ve rather fallen on hard times so, meagre as it is, I’ll be having your cargo. And this ship. I’d advise you not give me any trouble.”
A recent arrival in Port Blacksand, van Helgen has the air of highborn Old Valonia, though whether it’s real or an affectation isn’t quite clear. Truth be told, very little about him is; even his name is more consensus than fact, him having, in his few short weeks in Port Blacksand, gone by Eddard Hagen, Gerard Klimt, Leomund Dantés and, on one memorable but ill thought out occasion, Porthos Bayvacari.
Gaunt, sun-beaten and sporting a neat handlebar, Edward could be anywhere between a youthful 40 and a weather worn 30. Coming in at just under six feet, he is unusually thin; there isn’t a spare ounce on him, he can generally be seen around Port Blacksand heavy green frock coat, well used tricorn and an eyepatch.
Edward arrived in Port Blacksand a few weeks ago sailing a decrepit fishing sloop by himself, no one is sure where it came from and even he isn’t sure how long it was at sea. He sold the ship for scrap immediately and has since been using the proceeds to pay for rooms at the Formidably Maid.
Edward maintains that he was once a dreaded pirate captain, though what ship and where depends on the telling. As easy as it would be to disbelieve his stories, and as much as his eyepatch changes side from day to day, closer observation shows that his clothes, though salt-stained and nearly threadbare, we’re once of exquisite craftsmanship and his pistol, now barely functional, is still highly ornate.
