[Cowboy One: Woah, What in tarnation is that!?
Cowboy Two: Well, I'll be a jack rabbit's second cousin if that ain't a "spoiler"
Cowboy One: Hot damn! I ain't never seen such a big "spoiler"! That critter must be praticly ten par'graphs!
Cowboy Two: Yessir, I'd hate to mistake that thar information for common knowledge in the midst of a serious rp session, which would confuse the players and mark me as what some folks would call "an inexperienced roleplayer who should read some articles on the subject before giving up his day-hobby".
Cowboy One: Yeehaw!]

At the age of two, an unnamed peasant baby was handed over to the Dread Pirate Saemon in return for not having his parents and younger brother killed. The D.P.S. Agreed and took the child as his own son aboard his pirate ship "The Reckless Retribution" and named him "Saemon Just To Confuse Things". After many years, the child -- shedding his useless latter names and replacing them with a simple "The Buccaneer" -- grew into his role as a pirate boy. When he came of age his father handed over The Reckless Retribution and the armada it controlled.

Saemon the Buccaneer was a fearsome pirate. He was known for his incredible cruelty towards all people but those of nobility. You see, he wished to be a wealthy noble one day and if he didn't set this standard now, then when he did become a noble, all sorts of pirates might start messing with him! Besides, he knew what it was like to have to order people about all day!

Saemon the Buccaneer was a much better pirate than his predecessor was. He grew quite wealthy and stopped having to do any real work whatsoever. He stopped talking to people all-together thinking he was really that close to becoming of nobility. He spent his days clinging to ropes and such in the riggings of The Reckless Retribution. Upon the realization of that he could never be a noble (this revelation occurred when his ship ran into a ship of nobility, causing it to founder. The noble's on the ship refused his help thinking it below them. They all drowned.) Saemon was cast into a deep depression.

It was during his depression that Saemon was captured by several elite members of the "Mystery Harts"-- a group of do-gooders and thieves. Saemon was forced to betray his own armada under pain of death. During the proceedings in a the Harts' secret hideout, Saemon the Buccaneer managed to frighten a junior member of the group into betraying the Mystery Harts themselves! When the pirate fleet was hiding in a secluded cove (unknowingly awaiting another fleet of pirate-hunters and the like) a galleon was being stocked with the recently freed crew of the Reckless Retribution and quite a large chunk of the wealth of from the Mystery Harts' treasury.

Whilst his pirate armada was being massacred, Saemon sailed away to the east in his gold-laden galleon. However, the M.H. soon caught up with him in the countries to the east and incited the native countrymen to destroy Saemon and his crew. Saemon's crew fought bravely, but their ship was outnumbered and outmaneuvered and thusly sunk. The gold stowed below decks was scattered throughout the many canals of the eastern coast. Saemon himself abandoned ship early on when he saw the vigilante fleet on the horizon. He made his way deep into the city of Terashu, where he stayed for a year working as an apprentice shipbuilder in the shipyard of Blind Tsao Fang, likely the world's greatest shipbuilder. He never met the man, being apprenticed to a junior carpenter far down the totem pole, but he heard great stories of his skill.

The man Tsao Fang was very, very old. The ship he was working on was to be his last and greatest work. The wood was imported from the Far East, great logs of White Thinir, treated with the oils of the T'nuku cactus from the deserts to the south. Each plank was carved with knives, not saws, in the hands of Fang's most trusted shipwrights. They were held together with strips of mithril and sealed with the wax of distilled silver dragon scales. Then, in came the ship's wheel, Black Thinir with platinum filigree. Once the hull was finished, and the masts secured, the rigging and sails were instated. With lines of spun mithril and sheets and sails made from the woven fibers of the Slischian Terago (the body plant itself) the decorated masts were a pleasure to the few eyes which gazed upon is heavenly surfaces. However once the ship was assembled, Tsao Fang did not survive the week. As per request, his death was kept secret and his body was sealed in an ark and pushed out to sea. The master's final ship, still unnamed, stood regally under the domed roof of the grand shipyard. Still, business must continue, and the ship was not complete. The final process was to last one week and on the seventh day the customer (an unknown faction) would come with payment barges of gold and platinum and sail his ship away. During the previous week, wizards from a northern confederation would come to bestow upon the ship their gifts of magic, numerous hexes charms and sorceries. For six days, a constant glow of light issued from the great glass dome of the grand hall, the steady glow of competent work being done by professionals.
On the seventh day, the light was extinguished twelve hours too soon. Early in the morning, before the sun's dreams began dim, a wind picked up around Terashu. Flags whipped out straight and the smaller sailboats leaned precariously. Gradually the wind rose until it was forceful enough to pick up the smaller boats, and hurl them into the city. All throughout the canals and islands, chimneys were toppling and water was coursing through the waterways as if Terashu's heart had picked up pace. A hurricane had come to the coast, dealing blows like the fists of the gods.
The great hall stood for an hour against the total fury of the storm, withstanding flung vessels and broad waves, until finally it was split open like a three- minute egg. Each half, battered by seawater, disintegrated into the ocean, and the wizards between them, mortally distracted by their spellcraft, were swept into the canals and drowned. The only structre left standing in the city was the nameless ship, glowing as if in anticipation of the few words left unsaid by the mortal mages.

(To Be Continued, When the Muse Strikes, yet Somehow Saemon Takes the Ship and...)

Having no crew, and no money (other than that which was sewn into his clothing), Saemon reached unknown southern shores with naught but the clothes he wore and the Revelation. He sails it himself, through incredibly complex rigging traveling the shoreline of this new continent looking for a trustworthy crew, so that he might start a new reign of terror and taxation.