Ebon Surf Chaser
Player Character from the "Westgate" series, played by Summers
Background
I'm a Chosen of the Unconquered Sun, and I'm good at it.
I'm an Anathema who stole his power from the sky gods. I'm not good at that, but it gives me authority when I take what I want from a small ship.
Oh yeah, I'm a pirate too, and that, I am pretty damn good with.
I wasn't always this way. I had a family, kids, a wife, a home. Every few days I would, with some other men from my village, sail out a few miles and catch fish for the next few days worth of food. It was simple, and it was good.
When the squall struck we were out at sea during an otherwise shitty day. The catch had been weak and the riptide was vengeful. This storm blew us out to sea, and we were lost. Days went by before we saw a ship fast approaching. In retrospect we should have known better than to flag it down. We all knew what it was, but we had to survive.
The Lintha took us. They killed some of us just to prove their point, their superiority. They turned their knives to me. That moment is frozen in my mind, the inbred demon spawn of a whore had his arm pulled back and his blade was ready to thrust forward. The Sun reflected off the blade, into my eyes. Instead of blinding me, it made me see. I remember all of their faces, and the horror in their eyes. I also remember the one divine word I hear him speak. It wasn't "Run", nor was it "Fight". Divinity isn't that direct. It trusts us and chooses us. Once we are Chosen we are right because we are divine. This word was simply, "Go".
We killed them all. My friends followed my orders. We were systematic, we were clinical. They hid in the obvious spots, and I countered. I lured them into traps. I strangled some with my own hands. The last one, begging for his life, offered us information. He would take us to a place where the mist obscured it and hid it from the world. I could live there, outcast, Anathema, safely. Had I known he was only lying about me living there in safety I may not have crushed his neck. Not yet anyway.
Lacking a better course, we set sail for this misty island. He was right, until we ran aground there was no sign, no warning that it was there. The smell of blood run rancid permeated the beach. It took us days to kill every vile beast they had brought to their camp here. I have to admit it WAS a nice village. If it weren't for the Malfean (I STILL don't know where that word came from), incestuous, and cannibalistic overtones it may have reminded me of home.
After the bonfires were set we began to explore this strange place.
The island was about six square miles in a vaguely crescent shape. It looked to be mostly a volcanic outcropping, as if it were the peak of a dormant mountain. The peak of the island overhands the crescent bay. We docked out ship inside of this massive cave. This place felt like it was calling me. I couldn't really understand at first, but now I do.
The cave was lined with black jade tiles carrying ancient runes. They had held up impressively against the Lintha robbers who had been pulling (sometimes successfully) them off the stone wall. I could feel the place bleeding, and moaning in pains from its wounds. After an hour of exploration I found, or more properly, was allowed to find a stone door with thin, delicate framing. It seemed to disappear into the rock face if one looked upon it from any but the most precise angle.
The door led into a large building. The entire mountain peak had been carved into a single structure for some first age lord. I know believe that that lord was me. Again, like Malfean, I don't know why I know this, or feel this, but it is true. As we passed more than a few feet into the entryway though our torches dampened and were snuffed out. In darkness we retreated back to our ship. We had now been gone for nearly three weeks. it was time for us to go home.
There was no home to go to. Our massacre had not been thorough enough I suppose, and word had gotten back to those sun traitor spawn about our victory over their precious crew and their puny, stolen, hidden island. Raped, charred, dismembered corpses were all left of our families. Burned out holes were all that was left of our homes. Salted earth was all that was left of our lands. Rejected we returned to the sea.
That was a little over four years ago now. We have survived on the patronage of strangers both willing and unwilling. The building, this manse (there is another one of those words), has since opened itself to us as our home. It has served as shelter as our skill and ambition grew. Now we seek fatter and more powerful targets to fuel our hatred, our blood lust.
Myself, my ship, and my crew will gladly accept all who would see the Litha boiled in their own blood.
