Background: A rascal kid, born to a rebellious, lying, thief. His father is/was a pirate captain, as well as a con-artist. Influenced by the crew of the same occupancy.
Child: In his youth, Cymic Seymour was a little rascal. He was born on a ship in the southern seas. He grew up around a multicultural crew of pirates, the captain being his father. They never bonded much, though he was influenced by his father a ton as a kid. His childhood was spent almost entirely on a boat, mostly in the Southern Seas. He enjoyed climbing around various bits of the ship, as well as the netting, and things of that sort. His father used to tell stories of the Northern Kingdoms, and the unique characters that lived there. The different things that went there. The place usually always described in the stories as exotic, abnormal, and unique.
Teens: Spent his teens, learning about the "family business", taking up a few battles himself, as well as a few deals. Learning from his father how to steer a ship. swordplay, and picking up the bow at an early age, though not much of a passion for it. A few years later, as they were docked at an island, negotiating a deal, it turned out to be a sting operation, to capture the notorious pirate, Cymic's father. Most of the crew, along with Cymic ended up departing without his father, and a few crew members who had bolted towards the tall trees in the opposite direction of the docks, the local authorities flocking towards them, Cymic's father was the one which attracted the most attention, being the "notorious captain". Cymic Seymour was granted crew leadership in his teens, the remaining crew members were a few of the lesser trusted ones. Albeit there were missing crew members, and there was no way the crew members would allow him to return, so he was forced to recruit.
Adult/Current Age: The few years he was captain of the ship, he was presented with disrespect, unloyalty, and treatment to that of a kid. Although a worthy captain, and successful every sea battle, and every negotiation, it was usually done so recklessly, and casualties were common. This made the crew resent Cymic.
Reaching Northern Kingdoms:
Nearing the end of an exhausting trip, to a region Cymic had only heard about in stories by his father, he spotted the large land region from a few miles away. He'd step off of the planks leading to his ship, a small fist-sized pouch of riches in his hand, and his crew standing behind him. Flakes would fall onto his jacket. He'd shiver slightly. His jacket would provide enough warmth for comfort.
Four long months have passed since feet had touched actual ground. The snow would crack and crunch under his feet satisfyingly. He wasn't used to it, but he came prepared. Walking over to a little eatery, he'd toss the riches onto the table. "Dinner for.." He'd count the hungry crew members behind him. "6.. including me."
His men were tired, as was he. Taking his father's place as a pirate, or "businessman", as he liked to call himself was fairly new to him. He thought of himself as a pirate hybrid, because he wasn't just a traditional hack, slash, plunder, and kill. He would just cheat people out of their money, and possessions as a whole. He was a con-artist, and a pirate, along with his crew. Dirty, thieving, lying, cheating scum. He was either really good at what he did, or extremely lucky when it came to charming, persuading, and escaping. People tended to like him for their first impression, until a few minutes later when they catch him diggin' in their pockets.
He'd awaken by the sound of his own snoring. It was now sometime in the middle of the night. and to no surprise, his crew was gone. He'd look over to the docks from the eatery he had recently awaken from, to notice the moonlight set on a spot on the docks. his ship was nowhere to be found.
"Those dirty little rats.." He'd smirk. He had sort of expected a mutiny, they were a band of dirty pirates, after all.
Broke, stuck, and groggy, Cymic would have no choice but to start a life at the iceburg of a place. He was now, a nobody, and noone knew of his crimes. he couldn't decide whether this was a good or a bad thing. Taking advantage of it was his best bet. On a fresh start, he'd take a deep yawn, and stretch his arms out as if he could snatch the stars right out of the sky, and.. he would, if he could.