Misha Blake Pirate of the Swordcoast



  • Character Name: Misha Blake
    NWN Account: MewingLoki

    The smell of salt
    The sound of seagulls
    The gentle rythm of the waves

    These sound shave been the setting for my whole life. Always traveling. Always on the deep blue sea. My most recent adventures were as Captain Misha Blake of the Midnight Rose. But it was not always so…
    "Hey baby, get up." I felt a gentle hand on my arm. It was my mother. "C'mon Misha, you just have to see this sunrise." As I walked up the stairs of the Emerald: Gem of the Sea, my father's boat, I saw my father and some of the crew strapping on their gear and heading to top-deck. As soon as I left the doorway, I was immediately amazed at the dazzling array of colors stretching across the sky. As I looked on, I overheard my father chatting with his crew. "Well mates, though she be beautiful this mornin' we best keep our eyes open for trouble." He then began to chuckle and recite an old sailor's wive's tail. "Red at night, sailor's delight. Red in the morning, sailors take warning."
    I have lived by that rhym ever since that fateful day. While the rhym and my father had referred to the weather, it was I who saw the black mast against the brilliant red canvas even as my father spoke. "Papa," I had said. "What's that out yonder?"As he followed my pointing finger, the color drained so thoroughly in terror, that not even the red rays of the sunrise could mask the paleness in his face. "Get...down to the lower hatch...now.........take your mother......I love you Misha." While i stared back dumbfounded he unraveled his favorite weapon, long bullwhip that he had been teaching me to use. "Here baby, take this, you're ready. Use it if you have to.....Goodbye." With the premature gift, the way his voice trembled, and the permanence of his goodbye, some part of me knew I would never see him again. I began to cry as my mother carried me into the lower hatch.
    My knowledge of the battle between my father and crew and the pirates is not totally clear for I did not witness it firsthand. Instead, I learned of it from the very pirates who boarded the Emerald, killed its captain and crew, took its two women, and sent it to the depths.
    The nastier, ruthless pirates said that my father squealed as they pinned him to the mast with his own sword and left him to drown. And that the outnumbered and outmatched crewmen fought like drunkards...And that my mother screamed like a tavern wench when they entertained themselves with her and then tossed her overboard.
    The slightly more civilized pirates, friends of mine to this day, recount the battle differently. They say my father fought and killed two of their men before being stabbed. He then fell back to the lower hatch door and guarded it until he sustained nine different fatal wounds. As he was stabbed the tenth time, he is said to have begged them to spare my mother and I from foul treatment. My "friends", infamous, yet honorable men, were able to at least save me.
    They watched over me day and night, protecting me from their ruthless companions. See, a split had occurred as a result of the ravaging of the Emerald. The captain and his men had stepped to far in the eyes of my guardians. They were no more than bloodthirsty animals. My protectors told me of their mutiny plans but their lack of captain to lead them. In the weeks that followed my capture, my thirst for revenge deepened to an insatiable desire.
    Almost ten years passed, and the ports and hundreds of other raidings have blurred with time and anger. But my thirst had grown. I had become a woman. I had been taught to fight. My abilities with my father's gift were unmatched, my friends had told me. Thinking of revenge, I told them how we would take the ship. All that was left was to wait. Wait for a scarlet sky......
    That morning came and we were ready. Blood-red above met blood on the deck. My friends defeated the captain's followers some perishing in the struggle. The captain was all that was left. This was my battle...As he turned to face me, I saw the fear in his good eye. My friends to this day claim that in me they had seen the very devils of hell. He stepped forward, rapier poised as i unraveled my father's whip. He swung once. I dodged sufferring only a minor cut on my left thigh. That would be the last voluntary movement of his wretched life.
    With one flick of my wrist his rapier fell. With the next I tore his legs from under him, bringing him to his knees. And with the last, I snapped his neck, freezing his features in terror forever.
    From that point on I became Misha Blake, Captain of the Midnight Rose. My crew and I have traveled far and wide as a band of honorable pirates following our own strict code of conduct. Our adventures for treasure, fame, and glory have taken us up and down the Swordcoast. And those tales my friends, are for another time.....
    ARRRRR Ye Sea Dogs!!!
    Misha Blake

    Two long marks border this journal entry.
    They resemble, well.......whip strikes.
    Obviously contributing to the credibility of this letter



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