Dockside's Harbor Master is a distinguished looking gentleman named Arthur Jacoby. Adorned in what could be described as an admiral's uniform, he struts about the docks in a fine coat decorated with polished brass buttons. His beard is impeccably groomed and his entire demeanor exudes power and dominance. He and his Port Authority are responsible for investigating criminal acts, immigration, customs and excise, and maritime safety. Some believe that with the Harbor Master's flaunting of wealth, lavish office decor, and fine clothing that he must be corrupt. Scuttlebutt has it that he has been "financially persuaded" a time or two by the more powerful shipping and trading companies to look the other way when certain cargo is offloaded and rushed through customs.
To call her meticulous would be an insult. Celeste, the Customs Official of Dockside, is a woman of an inconceivably scrupulous nature. Everything about her exudes fastidious attention to detail which is exactly the reason she is in charge of all importing and exporting commerce at Dockside. Her dark hair is drawn up into a tight and tidy bun and her spectacles stay impossibly balanced at the end of her nose. When she isn't pouring over bills of lading or cargo manifest documents, she can usually be found stalking the docks, making sure that everything from the last crate of linen to last bottle of imported bloodwyne is accounted for. If anyone needs to know information about shipping in Dockside, she is the go-to woman.
The most notorious drunken sailor to be found in Dockside is a man everyone calls "Old Salty". One will most often find him huddled up to a stack of crates or barrels along the docks with an old bottle of rum in his hand. You may come across him mending a fisherman's net to earn some extra gold for his next purchase of spirits. Often times he's seen singing an obscure seafaring chantey laced with expletives and descriptions of scantily clad women who are "broad in the beam." If you find him sleeping or passed out on the docks, he can be heard muttering, "Splice the mainbrace!", "Let fly the jib!", or other such nonsensical terms foreign to landlubbers. Old Salty has been around for quite a while. Many a night, he has entertained the locals with tales of mysterious isles, sea monsters, and cursed treasure. He can be a useful tool for information—so long as you catch him when he's not loaded to the gunwalls with rum.
The old, vicious looking hag has been spotted on the docks usually on foggy, eery early-hour mornings. Some sea hardened men and women who have claimed to have seen her vividly pass on the tale that she was beautiful one second and utterly frightening the next. Like a ghost that can reach out to stop the hearts of men and women with a mere, icy touch (no matter their level of Humanity or magic!)! To see her means a very bad omen upon that person or persons -- along the lines of sinking ships, dieing of plague, or worse.
