Weight - 68kg / 11 Stone / 149lbs
Hair - Dirty blonde Blonde with Fringe at the front
Eye colour - Purple
The sea had always been Flopper’s world. From a young age, he learned to read the tides and trust the stars overhead, spending long days casting nets and hauling lines beneath open skies. Fishing was honest work—quiet and dependable. On one calm evening, as the sun dipped low, he guided his small vessel farther from shore than usual, thinking to himself,
“One last haul… what harm could it do?”
The answer came swiftly.
Without warning, the winds shifted and the waves rose in violent defiance. Clouds swallowed the stars as the sea battered his boat, sails tearing under the strain. Flopper fought the helm with numb hands, shouting into the storm,
“This isn’t right… I know these waters—why won’t they listen?”
The ocean gave no reply, dragging him far from anything familiar. When dawn finally broke, the shoreline he knew was gone.
Days passed in a haze of hunger and exhaustion. His supplies dwindled as the sun burned by day and the cold gnawed at him by night. Each morning, he searched the horizon and whispered desperate questions to the wind.
“Am I still alive… or is this some cruel dream?”
At times despair crept in, yet he refused to yield.
“Not like this,” he muttered. “Not without a fight.”
When land finally appeared, Flopper scarcely trusted his eyes. His battered vessel broke apart as it reached unfamiliar sands, and he collapsed upon the shore, weak laughter escaping him as salt and blood stained the ground.
“Where in the gods’ name am I now?” He wondered,
staring at strange trees and distant hills. With no other choice, he gathered what little remained and pushed inland, guided by faint trails and the promise of shelter.
Each step carried him farther from the sea he once called home and closer to a land shaped by forces beyond his understanding. When signs of civilization finally rose before him, Flopper paused, heart heavy yet hopeful.
“Perhaps this is where I was meant to wash ashore,” He thought.
By storm and survival, the fisherman became a wanderer, setting foot upon the realm now known as the Lord of the Craft.
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