Full Name: Commander Atlas
Nickname: Governor
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Occupation: Governor of Fort Dominion
Nationality: Mixed
Current status: Employed by GMD, Widowed.
Current Residence: Fort
Overall Appearance:

Height: You will be looking up (Gm says so sorry, maybe because he up on fort wall)
Body shape: Stocky Regimented Athletic Physique
Eye Color: Dark Green deep like the sea.
Hair color: Salt an Peppered Black an White from a traumatic life.
Hair Style: Three long braided ponytails signifying three terms of Naval service.
Complexion: Tanned weather worn leather-ed skin.
Distinguishing Marks: A scare that runs from the bridge of his nose through his right eye to his cheek, it's a very old scar, his eye covered by an a Blue leather eye patch
Clothing: Naval Commanders Uniform, white, and blue gold buttons, gold trim. Casual attire for the Governor would be considered taking off his coat and hat.
Basic Personality: Stern, reserved, a gambling man, poker face, discreet or he would more suggest private, snobbish in a military capability sense, Proud, yet does not view financial corruption as something to bring shame, so long as it's in the GMD's name. Happy to take a bribe, terms may or may not be met.
Special Skills: Marksmanship (Dueling pistol), Fencing (Naval commanders Saber), Rock Smash (Sledge Hammer), dedication to practice and the regimented practice time leaves him unmatched, prepare to loose. Map reading, Tactics, Signalling, being Ruthless, Gambling.


History: "The Decade Long Southeast Sea's Crimson tide" Was the name of the first war he was ever in, the description of the crimson tide that spread through out the chain of islands of his family, they were the last of the independent Islands know to them, they had no army, they were Men an Women defending their homes with Oars, spears, and hunting rifles, barely numbering one hundred per island, when the south coasted in on fast sloops sitting low in the water, loaded with troops just before dawn, it had been a slaughter, those not killed who managed to cross the island and survive made it to small fishing boats, women an children alike.

They tried to stay ahead of the red tide, day an night, Child taking the helm as much as Woman or Man, it wasn't until they saw the moon vanish, was it cloud cover, too thick surely a storm, twenty stars fell from the skies around them, illuminating them, along with the hull of a ship too large to explain, the term dwarfed did not to the difference justice, lanterns swung on ropes all around them, a call to tie them selves to the lines an smash the lanterns on the deck of their fishing boat came from high above like a faint call from a mountain top.

Being hoisted onto the deck took forever, they walked up the side trying to speed things up as their fishing boat burnt below them. The first day of the rest of his life as part of the  G r a n d   M a r i t i m e   D o m i n i o n.  Rescued.


Family (Living or Deceased?): Deceased in a southern raid, on his island home, has as much hatred for the north where his father game from for not coming to his island homes aid when they were in need.

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Introduction RP:

It was an escort run, some diplomat, though he looked more then some low level messenger, the sloop cut through the waves, Commander Atlas Held hand against Rum barrel an Mast, he didn't need to show off, to brace ones self stemmed from the knowledge of those who have experienced more then those who are green under the gills. His gaze drifted to watch the coral barely beneath the sloops hull, the maniac just went straight over a submerged atoll reef. The commander didn't look back, none of the coral was broken, it was a safe bet the skipper had done this before an was showing off, Atlas reached up grabbing his hat pulling the brim of the tri-fold hat down to cover his face from the sea spray of the wave just plowed through. His travelers chest was light an started to slide across the deck, his polished boot stomped down atop if it, stopping it's slide, the brass lock clinked against the chest.

Atlas looked back to the skipper an called back "Do you like rowing Dinghy's" He said in a gruff tone, suddenly the sloop started not to lean quite so much as the sail was let out to bellow a little an spill the breeze it was catching slowing them down in turn.

His beard his his reaction, a poker face was easy to hold when your beard was a guise your lips. His brow an eye gave away nothing to the crew scampering around deck, a commander knew well a good skipper an deck crew had an unspoken language of looks an gestures. One such deckhand reefed hard on the rope, drawing it though the pulley, biceps bulging, forearms straining, her arms a flurry of motion as she put her back into it, legs jutted out against it using her body weight to keep up the pressure, The Commander offered a barely noticeable nod of recognition, something those who knew him craved, favor. She gritted teeth into a grin, the tooth pick wriggling up an down with every act of effort, a crewman walked passed lazily making no effort to help, with a piiiit of a spit sound, the tooth pick shot out flicking round an around an hit him in the side of the face bouncing off an catching in the wind, An clear message to the new guy they should be helping, the young deckhand rubbed his face with weather worn hands an grabbed the rope infront of her an swung into place infront of her, his legs mimicking hers, his pull matching hers, The Commander looked away from the lovers, it was clear to him, the way they moved, they were not just in sync, they knew each other.

Sail furled, the sloop cruised up to the dock, the Commander leant down picking up his war chest, holding it to his toned stomach, he stepped on the gunnels an onto the deck, committing to the step before the Sloop was even lined up with the dock, without missing a step he continued to walk off, offering a look to the skipper an a nod to the deckhand, with that look she rushed back to the helm an pushed the Skipper out of the way, just like that she had earnt herself a promotion. Commander Atlas kept walking through town, stopped for no one, moving out of the way for no-one, knocking some drunk out of the way with a firm hip an a driven step, hints of a broad smile showed through the beard an he walked up the hill towards his new station "Fort Dominion"

+1 "Scurge's Eyepatch"	+1 "Liz" & +1 "Patty"
+1 "Naval Sabre"	+1 "Steller"