General John "Orbit" Fairfax

## ***BACKSTORY***

Born on the streets and press-ganged into the navy when he was but a lad, John Fairfax worked his way up the ranks to First Mate. When his first captain took his retirement, John was transferred to the service of Captain Pudgely. Round of belly and cold of soul, his new commanding officer was a greedy and corrupt man who was undeserving of his wage and position. As the crew were made to empty his chamber pot and feed him his meals, First Mate Fairfax took over ship operations.

Captain Pudgely’s temper was sharper than an arctic wind after a keelhauling, and he kept his whip full of broken glass and fragments of flesh. On one voyage, it took his fancy to berate a poor greenhorn for no reason other than for daring to look his captain in the eye when he boarded at Plymouth’s docks. For the entirety of the crossing, he whipped and slashed the lad to shreds, breaking his spirit and his sanity. Then the winds dropped, and the ship sat for a day in the calm swell, with the fearsome captain refusing to show his face. The next morning, the crew were awoken by pots and pans clashing, and the captain ordered them to swab the decks beneath the blazing sun from dawn to dusk, with only a quarter of their water ration and a single biscuit at midday. Fairfax suspected that the dirty captain wanted the last of the meat for himself.

A storm was brewing in the south, and the crew raised the rails, although the winds were still absent. As the sun went down, the seas turned blood red, and the captain struck his whip on the greenhorn a final time. The poor lad slumped and moved no more, lifeless as the wind that day, but the captain slashed at him again and again. He screamed and stood on his head, the enormous weight spilling brains out over the deck. John Fairfax, torn fingers quivering from fatigue and the blood boiling in his veins, stood then.

The captain called his First Mate over to clean up the mess the lad had made with his insubordination. After saluting, he made his way to the center of the deck where the boy lay. He grasped the halyard as he went, and the captain questioned his actions. “Lowerin’ the sails, Cap’n,” he replied; “the storm be clearing up”. The captain turned, and slowly stomped up the deck, raising his eye glass and saying, “Master Fairfax you be talkin bollo-”, and nothing more. His First Mate looped the halyard around his neck and pulled it tight. Like-minded crewmen in the rigging freed the ropes, and with a creak of oak and a shuffle of cotton, the sail came tumbling down with great speed. The halyard was quickly pulled tighter than a Governor’s purse string, and straight up went Captain Pudgely with it, gurgling, flailing, and frothing from his filthy mouth.

About half way up the mast, the bugger’s neck separated from his trunk, and an almighty twang of the halyard cast his head right up into the sky, whilst his swollen corpse crashed through the poop deck, to land right in his old bed, and spilled the sacks of gold he’d stolen and stashed under the mattress. Fairfax and the other officers divvied up the gold and all else aboard the ship whilst the crew cheered a happy day. A true seaman’s burial was had, and they poured his share of the loot into the waves alongside him, to ease his passage into Davy’s Locker. But no one ever saw the captain’s head come down again, or heard the splash of it coming down in those calm waters. So John took the name “Orbit” for the deed.

The winds picked up shortly thereafter, and the crew made for Tortuga with much haste. As the Navy wouldn’t take kindly to mutiny, they scuttled the ship in harbour, shook hands, and parted ways.

Orbit’s exploits were long and varied following that, but in time Admiral BC left a message in a bar in Tortuga, and Fairfax found himself a place in his ‘fleet’ in the early days (back then, he only had one ship). He served with then-Captains Pic and Flintlock as a Marksman for many raids, and eventually defeated then -Master-at-Arms Ebone and Quartermaster Williebeard (Poseidon rest his soul) in a Captain’s Trial. Captain Pic took his place as Commodore, and John “Orbit” Fairfax became the 2nd Captain of the Gutless Goon.

Captain Fairfax was appointed by the Admiral to work with “Bones” Graymarrow to train new recruits in the arts of raiding and piracy. Master Cappy was made 3rd Captain of the Gutless Goon in his stead.

With the King deposed and the war with Sparrowmemes ended at the Battle of Pirate Hole, the newly-formed Council of Bones accepted him into their ranks, to watch over the Mediterranean Sea. This keeps him close to his beloved England, but far enough to avoid the stench of His Majesty’s Navy.

## ***APPEARANCE AND GEAR***

* A well-travelled and grizzled sailor of many crossings, Lord “Orbit” Fairfax nevertheless is the least likely of the Pirate Lords to be taken for an actual pirate. He maintains the upright Naval Officer look, with long, flowing dirty blonde hair and an unkempt gingery beard, as well as a disapproving frown when there are cheeky lads who don’t follow the code. His blue eyes peek out from under a great-crested Naval hat (purloined of course), with hand-stitched crossbones and yellow piping. A white neckerchief and tailed coat completes the outfit, but he enjoys fanciful pantaloons when he can find them.
* Orbit’s favoured weapon is a flintlock pistol with four barrels, which he himself constructed from scraps on the streets of Tortuga (the weapon earned him the rank of Marksman during his time aboard the Goon). He also wields a heavy blade for close quarters, and for emergencies in the saloon, his sword-arm strong thanks to his mother.
* Lana is his pet scarlet macaw, and sits on his shoulder at most times. She does not say much, but she is his oldest friend, and pulls the greatest of faces for his amusement. Her name is after a Mother Superior that took care of young John, after he helped her escape from a burning nunnery.

## ***PERSONALITY AND ABILITIES***

* Lord Orbit Fairfax possesses sharp wits, and a sharper tongue, with quite a dry sense of humor. He is good-hearted and always up for a filthy chuckle, and a toast in the saloon is the symbol of true friendship in his eyes. But do not test his patience. Most lads can be forgiven for their crimes, but never more than once or twice. After all, “His boots be made fer walkin’, but ‘is kick be fer a mule har harr!” -*John Fairfax, himself*

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