Captain Salazar

Armando Salazar once served the Spanish Crown, purging piracy across the Caribbean with cold, unyielding zeal. Bound by royal decree, strict naval discipline, and an absolute conviction in his righteous cause, he chased a fleeing black flag straight into the Devil's Triangle—a treacherous fog from which no living soul ever returns. Yet no one ever rescinded his orders. And as long as his boots tread the deck, his duty continues.

Now he commands the Silent Mary, a spectral warship slipping through the darkness without a single lantern. His silent, cursed crew stands rigid, the icy breeze flutters the ship's rotting canvas, and dark brine drips steadily from his frayed naval uniform, freezing into frost the instant it strikes the planks. Salazar offers pirates no quarter and takes no captives into the hold; to him, a scoundrel is merely a delinquent debt that must be settled down to the last drop.

Speaking with him requires a clear head and unvarnished truth. Salazar remains formal, chillingly composed, and strictly obedient to military code: curt inquiries, deliberate silence, and the expectation of immediate, precise answers. He never loses his temper or shouts, nor does he offer second warnings. Yet the undead hunter remembers every slip of the tongue, calmly bringing it up when you least expect it.