Orson Barnes
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This person had no profile, only a post: Orson Barnes Residing for the time being in a brickwalled (and slightly odd smelling) inn near the Kingston port, Orson looked wistfully out the grimy window of his room to the waves of the sea. They looked tame and smooth in the distance, a fair contrast to the chthonic storm waters that could just as easily erupt from the ocean. He shivered at the thought, and pulled the curtains across the glass. The room became dark, but in blindness he could at least imagine that the treacherous water was nothing more than a childish nightmare, like a phantom in the closet that could be warded off with thick blankets and half-bold threats. And yet one knew it was still there, despite all reason. Orson fell onto the old mattress and sighed. Why on earth had he agreed to his family's wishes to get his nose out of the books and try life as a sailor?
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