Raised on the streets, Vane was already an accomplished thief by his own right and had already made a name for himself in his home city of --. When he was young, his father had a hopeless gambling addiction, and when he became bankrupt he fell to the drink - eventually taking his own life. His mother was sickly and could not afford to pay the taxes on her own, especially with her daughter so young. It fell to the son to keep the family afloat, working tirelessly until he came home, filthy and ragged. 

He spent months doing the same thing, doing dirty work for the rich and wealthy. He did not have many friends, but of the few he had was a young man of an age slightly older than his. It was when this friend approached him with a proposition did Vane start his life of crime.

For five months did he run with the gang, targeting the very aristocrats that used to pay him to buy their fish and take their laundry to the cleaners. He managed to make enough to feed his young sister and poor, ill mother, but it was not enough to heal their wounds, and the taxes only got higher. He grew sick of breaking his back just to make the rich men richer, so he joined the resistance.

A year had be fought with the rebellion, ever growing - soon to be out of control. The magistrate had started to tire of the uprising, his men living in fear to uphold the law. Something had to be done.

Vane watched his comrades fall, be captured and killed. Reinforcements had come to take the city and laid waste to any opposition. The blood of his mother, sister, friends all ran slick across the cobblestones. Smoke lingered in the air and flames dances on the horizon. There was no escape. Except, perhaps, the sea. There was only one ship in port, a merchantman bound for Port Regal. Vane hid inside of a barrel and was transported safely away, living in the dark recesses of the ship for the rest of the voyage. 

Upon arriving on shore he had no clue as to what to do anymore. So he lived one day at a time. Pickpocketing, taking odd jobs, but primarily spending the majority of his time at the local tavern. With time - and some very welcome company - he started to heal, and when an old sea dog came up to him one day and offered him a place on his crew, how could he decline?

- More stuff explaining how he's a bloody acrobatic and good shot -

Jumping ship and immediately locating the nearest pub, the Crusty Crab Inn. There he met a mysterious stranger whose very aura seems to radiant darkness. It was here that he heard the rumours of suspicious activity of a rather infamous captain was floating around port. The Red Dawn was to make sail the next morn, and any scallywags that wished to make the journey were to board her at first light. 

Vane crept onboard during the dead of the night and waited for three nights before surfacing. From the rumours he'd heard, he would have to do something  stupidly impressive or impressively stupid to be let into Captain Nightingale's crew. And from the stories he had heard, he thought he knew a way. 

The next morning Nightingale came onboard to find a tall, dark, foreign and dangerously charming man lounging on deck, her crew busily avoiding the intruder. "Hawkins!" She called, the stout lieutenant hurrying to her side to assess the situation. "Who is this runt?" Her first mate seemed to be at a loss for words, apparently just as startled as her captain. Feeling merciful today, Vane got to his feet and sauntered over. "The pleasure's mine, m'lady." He said with a great flourish. The Captain bristled at this, and placed her hand upon the hilt of her sword. "Who do ya think ye are?!" She spat in his face, teeth bared as if she were some sort of mutt off the street. The landlubber scum smiled prettily in response and taking her hand, spoke with perfect chivalry. "Valerine Vane, at your service." He leaned over her grubby gloved hand, very well aware that her undisguised annoyance was practically radiating off of her. "Thank ya very much -" She yanked her hand back, much to his amusement. "- But please would ye tell me, what business do ye have on my ship -" She growled. "- and why we shouldn't throw yar sorry rear overboard right this instant." 

The shady man grinned again, and the Captain got an awfully strong urge to smack it right off his face, then and there. "Why, because I wish to join your crew, of course, my fair lady."

She leaned in close to his face, practically standing nose-to-nose, rising up on her toes in order to tower over the pitiful excuse for a wharf rover, hand still on her hilt. "We're not hiring." She was so near that her awful pirate breath overwhelmed his senses. "...and it'd be in yer best interest to disembark this journey now, matey." 


By this time most of the ragtag crew of buccaneers had gathered round, watching the drama unfold, eager to see what their captain would do to this arrogant landlubber scumbag. Just as said scumbag had planned.

Well, sort of.

Completely improvising, the foreign stranger took advantage of the moment. While the bizarre female pirate was trying to stare him down, he did the complete opposite thing of what she expected him to do: And leaned in and kissed her.

"oOOo!" The crew cheered, knowing this was about to get very interesting. 

For a moment the Captain just stood there frozen in mid-speech, completely stunned and at a loss for words. 

Then, with a startled leap backwards, the shady stranger barely dodged a slash of a rusty cutlass, and wielding this weapon was a frenzied and threatened terror of a Captain. 

With the speed of a thousand horses she whipped her weapon around, giving him no chance to retaliate, and rested the blade upon his throat.


"ARM YOURSELF!" She yelled, gesturing wildly with her cutlass when he shook his head furiously. "I WON'T FIGHT AN UNARMED MAN - ARM YOURSELF!"

She attempted to swat his thighs with the flat of her blade to provoke some sort of reaction, however he jumped up out of the way like a gazelle, planting his feet upon the railing with the balance of someone who had spent his entire life at sea. She slashed at his legs, apparently forgetting her declaration, and he evaded with ease, managing to step upon the blade to keep her from moving it. Her eyes narrowed, and then a gruesome smile crawled its way onto her face.

And with a swift kick, he was knocked overboard.

Retrieving her blade, she sheathed it and walked away without a second glance, dusting off her hands like a job well done. Then, there was a cry from the lookout. "Look overboard! Port side!" 


The pirate who had been watching rushed to railing to catch a glimpse, the Captain and her first mate shoving their way to the side.

And there was Vane, his leg tied to one of the ropes, perfectly fine and completely upside down.

"Ye've got guts, I'll give you that." The Captain called, grinning toothsomely as they pulled the lad back onboard. She shoved out a leather gloved hand which he reluctantly took. "Alright then, welcome aboard, Ensign." She punched him in the ribs.


From across the deck he shot the gun out of the enemy's hand. From that moment on he was Lieutenant Vane, Chief of Riflemen.


Swaggering walk.