3. Doc Ashall

Doc Ashall

  • D

    Born to a large family of gypsies, Docistole(Dock-ist-ole') is the fourth son, eight born to merchants Mirra and Hociam Ashall. Survivors of the slaughter that brought their town's numbers to barely a few handfulls they were a cruel, yet happy family that made sure that the lesson of survival was learned at a young age. Being the 8th child meant that those lessons of survival did not always come form the hand of mother or the father but the sibling which did not hold as much compassion. His older brothers taught him to use the sword, but only because he was the weakest target for practice. Doc did not go down without a fight, learning to harness the skills to parry and counter more powerful strikes. His father never took Doc with the other boys to hunt, so his sisters took the time to smooth the edge that the males have sharpened. 1st born Mona taught him how to write and read poetry that took to Doc as fast as his skill with the sword. 3rd born Monica taught him the mysteries of anceint treasures, how to identify what, if any magical properties the object may hide. 7th born Mirry, whom was closet of all to Doc in age and mind explored the woods in shadowed secret, creating maps of where they have been, as well as buried troves of personnel items left along the way. To a gypsie merchant anything a customer looks at for longer then a few seconds shows some interest in buying said object. Mirry and Doc took all those objects they did not want their father to spontaniously sell and buried them safely to be found later.

    Growing up in the Camp meant that everyone would eventually learn about and know the others that called the collection of wagons and tents home. It soon became apparent that his family was one of the largest in the coliation with his father having much say in matters concerning the future of our people. While the children slept, the fathers spent the midnight hours hunting in the forrest not for creature but any stranger too dumb to wander close. Sometimes this meant a murder or two if the marks tried to flee or resisted. Those the men did not speak about openly back at the camp. One night Doc snuck out with Mirry to their one of their secret spots when they came across a trio sitting around a camp fire. Wonder and caution came over them, with Mirry finding the path of least sound. From behind a large tree, the two watched the makeshift camp until there was a rustle behind one with a large axe across his lap. The man did not even have time to scream as his throat was slit from behind, with the his companions following suit with shock forever etched on their pure, alabaster faces. The assassins removed their hoods after looking about, and Mirry gave out the shriek calling attention to their location. Their father stood beside his oldest brothers with knives dripping of crimson fluid. The other men of the camp snatched up Doc and Mirry without realizing who they were, and Mirry's voice went forever silent as a curved blade crossed her throat. His father screamed in bloody dispar and moved with such quickness that the offending hunter was gutted before his mistake was realized. The stars shone in her dead eyes, forever unblinking in the moments that Doc held her. His father pushed Doc aside, and lifted the body of Mirry into his arms, making a slow march back to home. The funeral was very cerimonial with only Hocaim maintaining a dry eye. The offener's family wept for the girl, and not for their own. His death was justified as the murder of a fellow gypsie broke the first law of the families.

    The next morning Doc was rudely awoken by his brothers as they bound his hands and feet in tightly knitted ropes. 2nd born Allas carried the bound boy like a sack of illgotten gains outside to a gathering of the families. His father was seen speaking to the Eldest of his sister's killer who held out a viscous looking whip, sharp with a bladed end. As Doc struggled against his brothrs, they succeded in tieing his hands to seperate posts, ripping off his shirt to expose his bare back to the watching crowd. The Elder came forward and spoke of his sorrow for his loss, and that of the young girl. Just as the wind changes from breeze to gust the Elder spoke firecely of why the girl was out in the woods when it was forbiddon for children to do so. Punishment was due to the offenders yet the death of Mirry saved her from the worst. The Elder pointed to Doc and claimed that for breaking the law set forth Doc is to recived 20 lashing from the Fingers of Remorse. 10 of which belongs to Doc, while another 10 is to be delivered for Mirry's part and her abscence. After the first 7 lashes the pain faded into tears as memories of his lost sister overcame the sounds of the whip against his flesh. It was that night that Doc dreamt of a land far away with his sister beckoning him to leave the camp forever. It would be another year of planning but eventually Doc managed to run away during the wedding of brother, 6th borh Jario.

    Now at the age of 28, Doc started to gain fame as a newly establish privateer with a grew of gypsies that found a way to live outside the camp. Known for taking cargo in the sleepy hours of the night, the Dusksrider was home, ship and mate to Doc's heart. A small, fast vessel that was painted over with black dyes and could hold a crew of 20 that was rumored to not even touch the water as it sailed would meet its end not in glorious battle but by drunken mistake. The crew was celbrating the recent aquisition of a payroll frigate with only the opposing captain amoung the dead. Having lost 10 of his own men Doc gave the chance of being a crewmate over the plank to the surviors. It would be this temporary generousity that lead one of these men to knock over an oil lamp in the cargo hold, right on top of the rum barrels. If Captain Doc had not been standing on the very stern of the ship he would of been turned to smoldering ash just as his crew and ship erupted into hungry flames. After fighting back the sea, and finding breath and savior in an upside down trunk Doc watched his promising future burn into nothing. A passing ship seen the blaze from far away and from what Doc assumed with a purpose to loot what they could find. The ship belong to the Black Sails, their flag being holsted into view. Another sign that the ship was marking this carcass as their property. Knowning that he had a better chance with the pirates than against anything in the water a signal was raised for help. After being pulled on deck, a very rough affair that lead to a more than personal search Doc announced who he is , and what he assumed happened to his ship. An arrangement was made for Doc to be taken to a nearby port for anything of worth that survived the blaze. Except for the clothes on his back, his sword and a few other effects he found his feet once more on the shores with his sister's voice encourging him to continue on.

    Appearence.

    1. 5' 11'
    2. 165 Lbs.
    3. Olive
    4. Smooth with Scars
    5. Sea Green, Almond Shaped
    6. Long, Braided, Raven Black
    7. Southern Gentleman
    8. Unusual scars on right hand.
    9. Usually heard speaking Common, Gypsie Speak to those of his kin.
    10. Human
    11. Black and red accented clothing, rapier or longsword usually hanging on left hip. Boot dagger on right calf.
    12. Coin Pouch, Small backpack holding map cases, compass, various trinkets.
    13. Right Handed
    14. Earring, small gold hoop in left earlobe.
    15. Family at Camp
    16. Firm, but not overly muscular body with a firm pair of sea legs.