Make a space for my body, dead or whole

[allinvane]

There were few things more pitiful and worthy of scorn, in Charles Vane's opinion, than a washed-up pirate captain without ship, crew, or money, and at the moment he was all of the above. Reduced to trading upon his legend and the money he could scrape up by brawling or gambling, Charles Vane spent his days dead drunk or miserably hungover, attended by only the few charitable whores who were drawn to his prowess or his physical charms. Even his friends had left him, sickened by his destitute state and his stubborn, resentful refusal to haul himself up from the mire.

He had lost his ship in a humiliating wager, and he was still licking his wounds. Though he was unparalleled in brawls or in split-second strategy, Vane had a sorrowful weakness when it came to thinking ahead or calculating moves in advance. He had been blindsided by a clever trader playing a long game, and he was still sulking over the defeat.

Lounging fully-naked and unwashed in a grimy bed, Vane was more on the side of hungover than drunk, and sorely temperamental about it. When someone pushed aside the curtain of the hovel that served him for a shelter, Vane rolled one eye toward the door. He didn't need to move a muscle in order to make a show of being dangerously bored, and ready to fight anyone who dared to bother him for inadequate reasons.