Stories were heirlooms in these parts.

It wasn't who a person believed himself to be or what he pretended he would do in a given situation. It was what he did when he got there that defined him.

The feeling of a place was the best reason to go.

Sometimes the imagination could be even crueler than the bone saw.

Even their downtime was epic.

Reputation became the pirates' sharpest sword.

It was too late for he and his father to have an adventure, and NOTHING seemed to have any color anymore.

...it was easy to get an incomplete picture of the world if one relied solely on experts, and how important is would be to further rely on oneself