This is not a denial of what I have done, but it is also to recognize that I am not only what I have done."

The kitchen doors burst open as a waitress bounced them off her hip. Balanced on one palm was a tray of shrimp and clam finger food. She scuttled over to the bar where the barman placed a tray of various grog onto her other hand. The weight pushed down on her thin arms as she squeezed her way through the rowdy folk to deliver food and drink to the famished and parched ruffians. The gelert had braided hair piled upon her head, adorned with various garish clips, pins and bows. One might wonder if one were to be pulled out would the hair come toppling down? It sat perfectly, like she had spent hours sculpting it, which she had and not only her hair but her face also. It was a wonder that she would work in such a place. A gelert such as herself would be an easy target for pirates. The truth was, she enjoyed the attention, be it from a filthy plunderer or a handsome rouge, attention was attention in her book. The front door opened and another gelert appeared. He was older than the other, around his late twenties. He was a familiar face to The Golden Dubloon. Some recognised him but not many, he wasn't one for making a scene. His piercing green eyes darted around the crowded building, looking for a familiar face. He had a small, neat goatee that sharpened his chin to match the rest of his features. He kept his hair relatively short. It was thick enough to have some shape but too short for a pony tail. He wore a double buttoned dark coat, with its collar turned up. Hidden under his long coat was his belt that carried various knives and guns not to mention his sword. He slipped past the men blocking the entrance and found himself a seat in a far corner.