she/they, 5'3, Scottish, around 47 years old (the years get blurrier the longer she travels these waters... Besides, who really cares if she claims to be a few years younger?)
Excerpt from a foremasthand's journal aboard the Azoth:
"...The captain scared the hell out of me when I first boarded this dilapidated ship, as they do to every fresh face. Having only heard stories of them and their deadly encounters with the beasts roaming these seas, coming face-to-face with this hunter floored me. I admit that a part of me, the naive greenhand, hoped to learn under them. Closer than I do now, I suppose. Yet due to the captain's reserved and stern nature, I've been kept at a distance. Initially, I wrongfully interpreted these parts of Captain MacTavish's character as excessive strictness and even a veiled temper; it shames me to admit this now. I was around four months into my contract when we encountered a creature I believe spanned over half the length of the hull. I couldn't see it clearly as the beast's trunk-like tail nearly tossed me overboard. That would've been the last of me if the captain hadn't saved my sorry ass at the cost of their leg (i thank whatever lies above every day that it was their prosthetic; I can't imagine the wrath I'd face from the crew if it wasn't). I've come to respect Captain MacTavish more than anyone aboard this godforsaken vessel, their stern kindness, their respect (even for us foremasthands!), and their unwavering strength, not just in body, but in mind. Too many have gone mad on these waters, but with MacTavish as our captain, I have faith..."