Post by Core on Feb 13, 2013 16:07:59 GMT -5
OOC Note: This is basically the back story for my OC, Core. The story is quite long, so grab a snack/drink and brace yourselves. Also, there will be some graphic scenes in parts two and three.
Growing up, I always looked for trouble, but I never asked for this.
Part 1
My name is Core. I was born and raised in Bandle City, well rather on the outskirts of it. My family consisted of just my father, mother and myself. No siblings. My father was a Scout for Bandle. Hatle was his name, maybe you've heard of him, maybe not. My mother, Tera, was a simple house wife and a baker on the side. Why is this important? It's not, but it's good to know, yeah?
When I was a kid, I always liked to explore town, get into trouble. Can't tell you how many times authorities had to detain me. By detain, I mean keep me in their barracks until my father or mother would drag me off by my ears. As time wore on, I became more street wise. By the time I was thirteen, I knew every nick and cranny of the city.
My father, being the military man that he was, tried to talk me into using my talents for the greater good. Become a Scout he would say. Try for the Megling Gunners he would tell me. But like the stubborn son I was, I would always ignore his wishes. Instead, I kept to my ways.
Throughout my teens, I would make deliveries for my mother's bakery. The authorities didn't appreciate my methods of delivery by rooftop, and they definitely didn't like it when I'd purposely do things to irritate them. This one time, I actually pickpocketed from a couple of cops. I didn't keep what I took, just did it as a joke since they thought me a simple delivery boy.
When I turned sixteen, I became a sailor for cargo ships. I didn't do it because I wanted to (well, I did, actually), but rather to spite my father. As I said earlier, he pressed me to follow in his footsteps. As rebellious as I was, I wanted to get away from him. Being a sailor was probably the easiest way short of becoming a grunt for the military.
I traveled everywhere the sea would allow in Valoran. Demacia, Piltover, Ionia even. Even if my pay was crap, I still loved it. The freedom of the sea, the sounds of the waves...I fell in love with the trade. Through it all, I made some amazing friends. Some Yordle, others human. I think the day everything changed was when we made a trip to Bilgewater.
We were picking up some ale, rum, and other booze from Bilgewater to deliver to Bandle (Yordles drink too, you know). Everything went according to protocol. I don't know why, but our captain decided to just stay the night at an inn there. We did our job, and everyone wanted some R&R. We went to the pub called Rusty's Grail. Fun place, you should visit it sometime.
Our crew was having a blast there, singing old songs of the Runewars, and other ballads about heroes and mysterious lands. I can say it was probably the most fun I had in my life. Unfortunately, this is where things turn bitter. This is where my life was going to change.
Some pirate came in with some men of his, and everything fell silent. Tension was in the air, so thick you could cut it with a knife. This pirate looked around the room, his eyes piercing. You'd think things would end up in a huge brawl, right? No. Instead, he shouted "Whaddya all looking at me for? Oy, Rusty! A pint for ev'one. On me!" As everyone rejoiced and began to be merry, I continued to watch him. I saw him send one of his boys out when he thought everyone was done paying mind to him.
Hours pass, and everyone was leaving the pub. As we all walked (stumbled) back to the inn, I could of sworn we were being followed. The following day, we all made our way back to the ship, where we were greeted by our dear friends, the pirates. They were there to steal our cargo, that's all. Our captain didn't really like that..so he attacked. We all did. This was the brawl scene you were waiting for.
I won't bore you with details, but what ended up happening was some of us got seriously hurt, and pirate bossman got stabbed by yours truly. After they lost a few guys, and got a few injuries themselves, they retreated, swore vengeance, and we didn't see them for the rest of that particular trip.
You should know that before that point, I never hurt anyone or anything intentionally. Yordle's...we like peace. I never imagined having some blood on my hands. Literally. Anyway, we delivered our cargo to Bandle City, received my pay, and went to visit my folks.
I never thought I'd be happy to see home again. My mom greeted me with some fresh muffins and my father was "happy" to see me home safely. He still wasn't happy I was a sailor, but he was happy to see I grew up. I was home in time for my eighteenth birthday. They told me my present would be waiting for me down at the docks the next day.
Part 2
My parents took note of me being a sailor, and actually bought me a ship. An actual cargo ship. Had I been younger, it would of felt like Christmas. After a little time, I had assembled a crew (some of which were from my old captains crew), and began to deliver goods to other city states. Things were great, I felt like I've achieved my goals, fulfilled my dream. Turns out, I couldn't of been any more wrong.
After two years of being a captain, I finally had to deliver a shipment from Zaun to Bilgewater. My thoughts trailed back to that day at the harbor, the haunting words of that pirate getting his revenge. I shook the thought of it out of my head as we approached Bilgewater. A few miles away, things took a nasty turn. We were attacked. They were waiting.
We couldn't really fight back against cannon fire, since we had no cannons ourselves. We couldn't turn around either. They managed to flank us. It was my worst nightmare. As they continued to fire at my ship, continued to approach, to board, I stared out of my cabin window, back in the direction of my home, and closed my eyes.
We were captured. I think not being alone was probably the best part of that situation. There were ten of us. A mixture of yordle and man. As the remainder of my crew was in a panic, I just sat against the wall, staring at the hay covered concrete ground. I felt like my life was over, that that room would become my tomb. When I began to notice it was quiet, I looked up at the only exit. There stood the man I stabbed, gazing at me with those piercing eyes.
He approached me and stood there quietly until he began to laugh. What I did next probably wasn't the smartest idea I had. I spat on him. Never spit on a pirate, or else you'll be kicked. In the chest. Hard. It felt like he broke something. Not a bone or anything, but my spirit. He then turned and grabbed one of my crew and dragged him off. He tried to grab ahold of the wall and floor, but it was no use. That was the last I saw him.
Days turned to weeks, which turned into months. Three months in, there were only four of us left. Two of us starved to death, two were dragged off to who knows where, one hung himself. They barely fed us, but they always checked on us. Not to see if we needed anything, but to torture us.
They would beat us, cut us, piss on us. Do anything they could to make us regret our existence. The one time one of us tried to stand up and fight back, they gutted him. Right there in our cell. That was when Tanner, a yordle who was a few years younger than myself broke. He began to cry for his mother. That pirate then began to beat him in the face until his jaw broke. He died two weeks later.
It was a human named Rolay and myself for the next month. What we had to do to survive was...something I'd rather forget. We considered eating Tanner and the man who was gutted. I held out as much as I could, but Rolay indulged on the idea of food, even if it was ungodly. Instead, I waited for the occasional rat to sneak in. This carried on until Rolay ran out of "meat."
Five months in. Rolay's mind was gone. We both were beaten by the pirates, and they knew it was a matter of time before we were done. As I laid on my small bundle of hay, I heard Rolay cackling and mumbling. I looked over at him, and saw him rubbing a bone against the wall, sharpening it. I asked him what he was doing, and he stopped and looked at me with a crazed look in his eyes.
He came at me like a feral dog, trying to stab me with his makeshift shank. If I had been a little bit slower, he would of stabbed me in the face. Instead, I escaped with a gash under my right eye. I grabbed a decent sized stone and held it, readying myself to parry his attack. He began to laugh even more as he changed at me. I blocked his shank, but not his leg. He kicked me in the chest with enough force to knock me back into the wall.
He charged once more with his shank, and connected with my left shoulder. The pain was intense as he pulled the weapon from my shoulder and went to attack again. I quickly swung my rock into the side of his head, connecting to his temple. As he slumped over, I climbed on top of him and began to beat him with the rock. I stopped sometime after his words became a slur of gurgles and other liquid sounding noises.
As I watched Rolay's body stop heaving and twitching, I grabbed his shank and hid it. Soon after, I heard a pirate walk down the hallway. I told myself that I wasn't staying here anymore. I covered myself in Rolay's blood and laid against the wall, pretending to be unconscious. The guard muttered something as he opened the door and checked me to see if I was alive. He wasn't too through, didn't even check if I was breathing.
He turned and checked Rolay, leaving me with the perfect chance to strike. I took out the shank, and stabbed that pirate. First in his right side, then again in his left thigh. He dropped on the ground, screaming in pain. I silenced him by stabbing him in his throat.
There I stood, a bloodied shank in my hand, in a room with two dead men and rotting corpses. To be honest, I wanted to cry. Never would I thought I'd find myself in such a scenario. Surrounded by death, I shook. I shivered as the last bit of innocence I had left me. I took the knife the dead pirate had on his person, and left that cell, and never looked back.
Part 3
When I was young, I remembered the law would tell me that me sneaking around in places I shouldn't be in would only get me into trouble. I guess the joke is on them. All those years of sneaking, analyzing my surroundings...it all finally paid off. After escaping my cell and making my way down the hall, I came into a fairly large room. A couple of pirates were sitting at a table, talking. I sat and waited in the shadow of a barrel, listening, waiting for the right time to move.
Eventually, their topic changed to their missing friend who went to check on us. The one facing my general direction got up and proceeded my way. He went down the hall, slurring about how hard is it to check on a man and a filthy rat. Charming. I snuck up behind him, climbed up on him, and slit his throat.
I returned to the large room, where the remaining pirate sat at the table. I offed him in the same fashion. You should know that I didn't enjoy any of this, but these scumbags deserved it. Within the following hour of creeping through their dungeon of a hideout, I manage to slay fourteen other pirates and escape. The moment I found my exit and opened the door, it felt like heaven had greeted me.
The air was fresh as it filled my lungs. I wanted to stop, drop to my knees and scream in victory. But I wasn't safe yet. I haven't made it out of Bilgewater. I was in an alleyway, a filthy alleyway. By now, the pirates had to have know I escaped. Without any hesitation, I began to run. I ran to the end of the alleyway, and onto that street. You can imagine all of the peoples faces as they saw me, a dirty yordle reeking of death running down the road as fast as I could.
As I ran, and ran, and ran...I found a dock. A dock with no ships or anything. I almost wanted to just dive into the water and swim away, but I knew I wouldn't get far. As I turned to run, I saw a boat. A rowboat. It was better than nothing, so I took it. I hopped into it, grabbed the paddles, and rowed. I rowed. And rowed...and rowed. It felt like I was going nowhere.
I eventually stopped rowing and just laid on the floor, and stared at the night sky. This time...hearing the sea, stargazing, that freedom feeling I had. It was gone. Nothing I knew was the same. As I realized that my life, everything I've ever done to get to this point..it was all on me.
Growing up, I always looked for trouble, but I never asked for this. I never wanted to see my crew, my friends die because of me. I wanted to regret my decisions, regret not listening to my father. Wished that everything I did was different. I think that's when it hit me. When my real calling appeared.
I told myself that if I lived to see my home, I would change my life around. I would become something better than a sailor. I just didn't know what yet. I returned to rowing my boat, and I kept rowing until exhaustion hit me like a train.
I rowed for three days, fighting the waves, the heat of the sun, and my fading faith. Right when I wanted to give up, I saw it. Home. I feel rejuvenated, empowered when I caught my glimpse of it. As I reached the shore, I crawled out of my boat and cried. I didn't care if people saw me. I overcame impossible odds, and returned home. Not long after, I was taken to a hospital. I was dehydrated, wounded, exhausted, and delirious. I told the doctors my tale, and they wondered how I even survived. One thing concerned me though. I was in that hospital bed for several weeks, and not once did my parents come.
Maybe they didn't know I was here. I couldn't recall telling the doctors who they were. Everything was a blur until I was back to full health. As I left the hospital, I began to walk to my parents house. A trip to the outskirts on foot for a yordle takes some time, but this felt like an eternity. As I approached the familiar surroundings, the same trees and hills. Everything looked the same, except for one thing. My mother was a baker. I couldn't smell her muffins or bread. I didn't see the smoke rising over the hill from the chimneys.
I ran as I began to pray for their lives, but it wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough. As I made it to the top of the hill before my home, my mothers bakery, my parents residence, I saw what became their graves. It was torched to the ground. I ran to the authorities, and they told me that a week ago, the bakery caught fire. That it was an accident. I knew it wasn't an accident. Those pirates, those FILTHY pirates took them from me. They left me with nothing. They broke me.
I returned there, to the charred remains of the house and sat before it. I just kept talking to it, like my folks were listening. I told them everything that happened to me in the past six months. How my mistakes came back to haunt me. How my actions is what caused all of this. I sat there all night, talking and mourning. When first light hit, I saw a gleam. I remembered my fathers safe.
The pirates never took it. I navigated through the burnt wood and ash to it and looked upon it. It was like finding the holy grail of safes. I put in the combination, and opened it. All that was in there was my fathers bowglove that he crafted himself with the help of a blacksmith. Alongside it was a note.
"To my son. I never told you how proud I am of you. You were always the best thing to happen to your mother and I. I'm sorry I tried to make you follow my footsteps. I learned that you can't force someone as strong willed as you to do something they don't want to. I was so proud when you found something that didn't stir trouble for anything; that you found something you enjoy. I know you were meant to be something incredible, so I leave you this. I crafted this when you were still a boy, and used it in all of my operations. This is my legacy to you, and I know you'll use it to do great things. -Dad."
As I stood there, this note in one hand, this glove in the other, I knew what I was going to do. My name would be known. I would become a mercenary. A hero to some, a threat to other. I didn't care if it would bring danger, I welcomed it. Death would never leave my side.
Growing up, I always looked for trouble, but I never asked for this.
Part 1
My name is Core. I was born and raised in Bandle City, well rather on the outskirts of it. My family consisted of just my father, mother and myself. No siblings. My father was a Scout for Bandle. Hatle was his name, maybe you've heard of him, maybe not. My mother, Tera, was a simple house wife and a baker on the side. Why is this important? It's not, but it's good to know, yeah?
When I was a kid, I always liked to explore town, get into trouble. Can't tell you how many times authorities had to detain me. By detain, I mean keep me in their barracks until my father or mother would drag me off by my ears. As time wore on, I became more street wise. By the time I was thirteen, I knew every nick and cranny of the city.
My father, being the military man that he was, tried to talk me into using my talents for the greater good. Become a Scout he would say. Try for the Megling Gunners he would tell me. But like the stubborn son I was, I would always ignore his wishes. Instead, I kept to my ways.
Throughout my teens, I would make deliveries for my mother's bakery. The authorities didn't appreciate my methods of delivery by rooftop, and they definitely didn't like it when I'd purposely do things to irritate them. This one time, I actually pickpocketed from a couple of cops. I didn't keep what I took, just did it as a joke since they thought me a simple delivery boy.
When I turned sixteen, I became a sailor for cargo ships. I didn't do it because I wanted to (well, I did, actually), but rather to spite my father. As I said earlier, he pressed me to follow in his footsteps. As rebellious as I was, I wanted to get away from him. Being a sailor was probably the easiest way short of becoming a grunt for the military.
I traveled everywhere the sea would allow in Valoran. Demacia, Piltover, Ionia even. Even if my pay was crap, I still loved it. The freedom of the sea, the sounds of the waves...I fell in love with the trade. Through it all, I made some amazing friends. Some Yordle, others human. I think the day everything changed was when we made a trip to Bilgewater.
We were picking up some ale, rum, and other booze from Bilgewater to deliver to Bandle (Yordles drink too, you know). Everything went according to protocol. I don't know why, but our captain decided to just stay the night at an inn there. We did our job, and everyone wanted some R&R. We went to the pub called Rusty's Grail. Fun place, you should visit it sometime.
Our crew was having a blast there, singing old songs of the Runewars, and other ballads about heroes and mysterious lands. I can say it was probably the most fun I had in my life. Unfortunately, this is where things turn bitter. This is where my life was going to change.
Some pirate came in with some men of his, and everything fell silent. Tension was in the air, so thick you could cut it with a knife. This pirate looked around the room, his eyes piercing. You'd think things would end up in a huge brawl, right? No. Instead, he shouted "Whaddya all looking at me for? Oy, Rusty! A pint for ev'one. On me!" As everyone rejoiced and began to be merry, I continued to watch him. I saw him send one of his boys out when he thought everyone was done paying mind to him.
Hours pass, and everyone was leaving the pub. As we all walked (stumbled) back to the inn, I could of sworn we were being followed. The following day, we all made our way back to the ship, where we were greeted by our dear friends, the pirates. They were there to steal our cargo, that's all. Our captain didn't really like that..so he attacked. We all did. This was the brawl scene you were waiting for.
I won't bore you with details, but what ended up happening was some of us got seriously hurt, and pirate bossman got stabbed by yours truly. After they lost a few guys, and got a few injuries themselves, they retreated, swore vengeance, and we didn't see them for the rest of that particular trip.
You should know that before that point, I never hurt anyone or anything intentionally. Yordle's...we like peace. I never imagined having some blood on my hands. Literally. Anyway, we delivered our cargo to Bandle City, received my pay, and went to visit my folks.
I never thought I'd be happy to see home again. My mom greeted me with some fresh muffins and my father was "happy" to see me home safely. He still wasn't happy I was a sailor, but he was happy to see I grew up. I was home in time for my eighteenth birthday. They told me my present would be waiting for me down at the docks the next day.
Part 2
My parents took note of me being a sailor, and actually bought me a ship. An actual cargo ship. Had I been younger, it would of felt like Christmas. After a little time, I had assembled a crew (some of which were from my old captains crew), and began to deliver goods to other city states. Things were great, I felt like I've achieved my goals, fulfilled my dream. Turns out, I couldn't of been any more wrong.
After two years of being a captain, I finally had to deliver a shipment from Zaun to Bilgewater. My thoughts trailed back to that day at the harbor, the haunting words of that pirate getting his revenge. I shook the thought of it out of my head as we approached Bilgewater. A few miles away, things took a nasty turn. We were attacked. They were waiting.
We couldn't really fight back against cannon fire, since we had no cannons ourselves. We couldn't turn around either. They managed to flank us. It was my worst nightmare. As they continued to fire at my ship, continued to approach, to board, I stared out of my cabin window, back in the direction of my home, and closed my eyes.
We were captured. I think not being alone was probably the best part of that situation. There were ten of us. A mixture of yordle and man. As the remainder of my crew was in a panic, I just sat against the wall, staring at the hay covered concrete ground. I felt like my life was over, that that room would become my tomb. When I began to notice it was quiet, I looked up at the only exit. There stood the man I stabbed, gazing at me with those piercing eyes.
He approached me and stood there quietly until he began to laugh. What I did next probably wasn't the smartest idea I had. I spat on him. Never spit on a pirate, or else you'll be kicked. In the chest. Hard. It felt like he broke something. Not a bone or anything, but my spirit. He then turned and grabbed one of my crew and dragged him off. He tried to grab ahold of the wall and floor, but it was no use. That was the last I saw him.
Days turned to weeks, which turned into months. Three months in, there were only four of us left. Two of us starved to death, two were dragged off to who knows where, one hung himself. They barely fed us, but they always checked on us. Not to see if we needed anything, but to torture us.
They would beat us, cut us, piss on us. Do anything they could to make us regret our existence. The one time one of us tried to stand up and fight back, they gutted him. Right there in our cell. That was when Tanner, a yordle who was a few years younger than myself broke. He began to cry for his mother. That pirate then began to beat him in the face until his jaw broke. He died two weeks later.
It was a human named Rolay and myself for the next month. What we had to do to survive was...something I'd rather forget. We considered eating Tanner and the man who was gutted. I held out as much as I could, but Rolay indulged on the idea of food, even if it was ungodly. Instead, I waited for the occasional rat to sneak in. This carried on until Rolay ran out of "meat."
Five months in. Rolay's mind was gone. We both were beaten by the pirates, and they knew it was a matter of time before we were done. As I laid on my small bundle of hay, I heard Rolay cackling and mumbling. I looked over at him, and saw him rubbing a bone against the wall, sharpening it. I asked him what he was doing, and he stopped and looked at me with a crazed look in his eyes.
He came at me like a feral dog, trying to stab me with his makeshift shank. If I had been a little bit slower, he would of stabbed me in the face. Instead, I escaped with a gash under my right eye. I grabbed a decent sized stone and held it, readying myself to parry his attack. He began to laugh even more as he changed at me. I blocked his shank, but not his leg. He kicked me in the chest with enough force to knock me back into the wall.
He charged once more with his shank, and connected with my left shoulder. The pain was intense as he pulled the weapon from my shoulder and went to attack again. I quickly swung my rock into the side of his head, connecting to his temple. As he slumped over, I climbed on top of him and began to beat him with the rock. I stopped sometime after his words became a slur of gurgles and other liquid sounding noises.
As I watched Rolay's body stop heaving and twitching, I grabbed his shank and hid it. Soon after, I heard a pirate walk down the hallway. I told myself that I wasn't staying here anymore. I covered myself in Rolay's blood and laid against the wall, pretending to be unconscious. The guard muttered something as he opened the door and checked me to see if I was alive. He wasn't too through, didn't even check if I was breathing.
He turned and checked Rolay, leaving me with the perfect chance to strike. I took out the shank, and stabbed that pirate. First in his right side, then again in his left thigh. He dropped on the ground, screaming in pain. I silenced him by stabbing him in his throat.
There I stood, a bloodied shank in my hand, in a room with two dead men and rotting corpses. To be honest, I wanted to cry. Never would I thought I'd find myself in such a scenario. Surrounded by death, I shook. I shivered as the last bit of innocence I had left me. I took the knife the dead pirate had on his person, and left that cell, and never looked back.
Part 3
When I was young, I remembered the law would tell me that me sneaking around in places I shouldn't be in would only get me into trouble. I guess the joke is on them. All those years of sneaking, analyzing my surroundings...it all finally paid off. After escaping my cell and making my way down the hall, I came into a fairly large room. A couple of pirates were sitting at a table, talking. I sat and waited in the shadow of a barrel, listening, waiting for the right time to move.
Eventually, their topic changed to their missing friend who went to check on us. The one facing my general direction got up and proceeded my way. He went down the hall, slurring about how hard is it to check on a man and a filthy rat. Charming. I snuck up behind him, climbed up on him, and slit his throat.
I returned to the large room, where the remaining pirate sat at the table. I offed him in the same fashion. You should know that I didn't enjoy any of this, but these scumbags deserved it. Within the following hour of creeping through their dungeon of a hideout, I manage to slay fourteen other pirates and escape. The moment I found my exit and opened the door, it felt like heaven had greeted me.
The air was fresh as it filled my lungs. I wanted to stop, drop to my knees and scream in victory. But I wasn't safe yet. I haven't made it out of Bilgewater. I was in an alleyway, a filthy alleyway. By now, the pirates had to have know I escaped. Without any hesitation, I began to run. I ran to the end of the alleyway, and onto that street. You can imagine all of the peoples faces as they saw me, a dirty yordle reeking of death running down the road as fast as I could.
As I ran, and ran, and ran...I found a dock. A dock with no ships or anything. I almost wanted to just dive into the water and swim away, but I knew I wouldn't get far. As I turned to run, I saw a boat. A rowboat. It was better than nothing, so I took it. I hopped into it, grabbed the paddles, and rowed. I rowed. And rowed...and rowed. It felt like I was going nowhere.
I eventually stopped rowing and just laid on the floor, and stared at the night sky. This time...hearing the sea, stargazing, that freedom feeling I had. It was gone. Nothing I knew was the same. As I realized that my life, everything I've ever done to get to this point..it was all on me.
Growing up, I always looked for trouble, but I never asked for this. I never wanted to see my crew, my friends die because of me. I wanted to regret my decisions, regret not listening to my father. Wished that everything I did was different. I think that's when it hit me. When my real calling appeared.
I told myself that if I lived to see my home, I would change my life around. I would become something better than a sailor. I just didn't know what yet. I returned to rowing my boat, and I kept rowing until exhaustion hit me like a train.
I rowed for three days, fighting the waves, the heat of the sun, and my fading faith. Right when I wanted to give up, I saw it. Home. I feel rejuvenated, empowered when I caught my glimpse of it. As I reached the shore, I crawled out of my boat and cried. I didn't care if people saw me. I overcame impossible odds, and returned home. Not long after, I was taken to a hospital. I was dehydrated, wounded, exhausted, and delirious. I told the doctors my tale, and they wondered how I even survived. One thing concerned me though. I was in that hospital bed for several weeks, and not once did my parents come.
Maybe they didn't know I was here. I couldn't recall telling the doctors who they were. Everything was a blur until I was back to full health. As I left the hospital, I began to walk to my parents house. A trip to the outskirts on foot for a yordle takes some time, but this felt like an eternity. As I approached the familiar surroundings, the same trees and hills. Everything looked the same, except for one thing. My mother was a baker. I couldn't smell her muffins or bread. I didn't see the smoke rising over the hill from the chimneys.
I ran as I began to pray for their lives, but it wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough. As I made it to the top of the hill before my home, my mothers bakery, my parents residence, I saw what became their graves. It was torched to the ground. I ran to the authorities, and they told me that a week ago, the bakery caught fire. That it was an accident. I knew it wasn't an accident. Those pirates, those FILTHY pirates took them from me. They left me with nothing. They broke me.
I returned there, to the charred remains of the house and sat before it. I just kept talking to it, like my folks were listening. I told them everything that happened to me in the past six months. How my mistakes came back to haunt me. How my actions is what caused all of this. I sat there all night, talking and mourning. When first light hit, I saw a gleam. I remembered my fathers safe.
The pirates never took it. I navigated through the burnt wood and ash to it and looked upon it. It was like finding the holy grail of safes. I put in the combination, and opened it. All that was in there was my fathers bowglove that he crafted himself with the help of a blacksmith. Alongside it was a note.
"To my son. I never told you how proud I am of you. You were always the best thing to happen to your mother and I. I'm sorry I tried to make you follow my footsteps. I learned that you can't force someone as strong willed as you to do something they don't want to. I was so proud when you found something that didn't stir trouble for anything; that you found something you enjoy. I know you were meant to be something incredible, so I leave you this. I crafted this when you were still a boy, and used it in all of my operations. This is my legacy to you, and I know you'll use it to do great things. -Dad."
As I stood there, this note in one hand, this glove in the other, I knew what I was going to do. My name would be known. I would become a mercenary. A hero to some, a threat to other. I didn't care if it would bring danger, I welcomed it. Death would never leave my side.