Mort

An old salt who lives and works in Pinecoast: a fishing town downstream from Eightleaf Town. His real name is Morton, but he's gone by the nickname for so long that his real name is more or less void. It may seem strange that the authorities of the Southern Icefield -- arguably the strictest in Sornieth -- would let him work a regular job in peace within its boarders. After all, he's a former pirate who sailed aboard many vessels and under many captains -- and the authorities are well aware of this. And because of this, Mort's been under watch all the years he's worked there.

However, Mort's proven to be relatively harmless, and extremely content to leave his rough and vile life behind him. He still carries the strong accent, and tells many stories from his past to the patrons he serves -- tailoring them to the audience, of course. He also mutters and hums old shanties to himself when he isn't talking to someone, singing them aloud, or mumbling something or other to himself. But otherwise, he's content and peaceful. Of course, he's no coward. If someone starts making a ruckus in Mort's place of work, he'll get rough, himself. Besides being his own, personal bouncer, the old dragon serves food and drink to customers, and keeps the place tidy.

Mort only has one wing -- his right, specifically. According to him, he lost his left wing and half his tail under his first captain, but rarely says anything more about that. In fact, he may even start up on a tale about some event or other about some point later on in his life, on a completely different ship if anything gets brought up about the first captain he served under. It's clearly a time in his life that he'd both really like to forget, and is just as much unable to. Some details can be gleaned from the bits and pieces he's let slip, though: he was just a cabin boy back then, serving his captain and the senior officers directly with errands and the like. He'd also been a Pearlcatcher.

The story of how Mort became a Bogsneak is one he parts with much more easily. That is, he was about ready to retire, and was trying to figure out if there was some way to treat his aching back where his wing used to be, and his stump of a tail, which ached just as much. He was still a pirate, so he sought help from less reputable sorts. In this case, a group of too-eager alchemists. He didn't ask questions, but Mort figured they were the sort to pretend to be legitimate in order to try out some new formula. Anyhow, they tried regrowing his wing and tail...and wound up doing neither. Instead, he just transformed into a Bogsneak. Mort decided to keep the form, and to not worry about his damaged and missing appendages anymore. He also will freely express that he actually prefers this new form, and enjoys it rather much.



There is also a rather eccentric dragon that frequents his bar named Ghola. Lives off of nothing but sparrows and, Mort hopes, rum. The crazy orders enough of the stuff. Always covered in all manner of bird skulls, that one...

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(Pirates were talked about.)