Abbadon

Son of a Pirate Queen and Barbarian Adventurer destined to follow in his parents footsteps.

Description:

Abbadon is a sinewy large framed young man of about 6 feet in height. He has jet black hair that falls to his shoulders and intense blue eyes. His skin is fair and he has a set of facial features that suggest a mixed heritage of the rugged northerners and the middle easterners.

He speaks clearly and plainly but will occasionally in moments of drunkenness and anger will revert to some of the gutter dialect of a sailor.

Bio:

The pirate queen and her barbarian.

Abbadon.jpg

16 years ago I was born on a ship from the womb of the captain, a pirate queen of some renown for her viciousness and ferocity in her raids of the coast. My father was at the time a still young northerner looking for his place in the world when he found himself on her ship. His combat prowess ended up being the difference between being her slave and being her lover. After my birth some caution was brought into their raiding and terrorizing the coast, not much by most standards but a significant amount by theirs. To this day, on those nights where sleep is hard convinced to join me, I consider how many lives my birth saved during that brief respite for the people of the coast.

Eventually the lust for combat in my father and the desire for wealth in my mother joined forces to overwhelm the need to shelter their now several years old offspring and they hit the coast again full sails. During my fourth year we happened upon a foul black river leading to an area of dense forest that teemed with a dark smoke of dangerous life. Being who they were my parents gave barely a moments pause in considering all of that danger before succumbing to the allure of the fabled ruins on the inland shore of the river. While bold and reckless they were not stupid and weren’t going to risk my life or the larger half of our provisions and treasure so we were left on the second larger ship moored off the main coast. While they took the frigate and a landing party up the river.

What my parents encountered in those ruins may forever be a mystery to me. On the third day their ship returned to ours. It was barren for the most part but as the sailors and I boarded we found a treasure hoard large enough to support a small province for more than a few seasons. Laid to rest atop that treasure, her treasure from those fateful ruins, lay my mother forever at peace, her milky white eyelids restfully shut belying the violence and pain of her death present in the bloody eyes underneath. Above her pale porcelain breast rested the most beautiful ruby necklace anyone has ever seen partially obscuring purple and red bruising on her throat. One of the sailors drew the conclusion from her blood red eyes and throat that she had been hung til dead.

I was certain that my father prepared that funeral pyre for her and his absence meant that he had gone back into those ruins to avenge her. I am certain that he believed he would never return or would not have sent the ship back. I have three memories of my father, the first is the look he would get in his eyes when gazing on my mother, the second is the first time he put a sword in my hand and taught me to wield it, and the third is a memory of the imagination, one of him purposefully walking into that forest muscles taut, tears in his eyes, and a firm grip on his blade to put a violent and deserved end to whatever opponent had taken his queen from him.

Captain Flint

We waited for three days in the hopes that my father or any of the main crew would return via raft or otherwise from the mouth of the river but we all knew that it was a pointless thing to do. Nothing short of a full ship would stand a chance on that black snaking water. We left and headed back towards the parts of the coast where we would be able to meet up with other pirates and sell the treasure and ship. The sailors knew that they would be able to find work on other crews but I was left wondering what would become of me. I had had little interaction with the outside world other than the few captives we would bring on board from a raid here and there.

As it turned out the gods smiled on me, although I’m not sure which since my mother’s, Vecna, and my father’s, Kord, hardly seemed the kind for mercy and I knew of none other than those two and Olidammara, explained to me by one of the sailors as the one responsible for “lettin’ yur blade hit jus’ the right spot in yur foe’s back”. I would later consider that Fharlanghn may have had a hand in it although why he would deign to save me is still a mystery. After two months of travel we happened upon another ship flying a set of bright blue sails and a black flag. The Azure Tortuga helmed by a Captain Flint. Captain Flint was a Half-Elf who like most Half-Elves found his home on the fringes of society. He gladly took in the giant treasure haul we offered, what was left after we sent a part of it and my mother out to sea on the flaming ship we found her on, in exchange for two things. First he brought on most of the remaining crew and second he promised to see me safely to an age where I could take my own steps into the world. I would later realize that this was all a great kindness as he had more than enough right by might to just take the ship and treasure and slaughter(or worse) the rest of us.

Flint was a stern but fair Captain who found in me the son he never had time to consider having. He taught me most of the tricks and trade behind captaining a ship and a few things about swinging a blade as well. I learned a few “extracurricular” skills from the crew as well. This was a different kind of pirate ship than my parents’. Unlike the dark as night skinned crew of my parents’ ships this motley and mixed bag of a crew was more of a team of peers then an employ of servants and as such had no reason to fear speaking with me or teaching me to lie, cheat, steal, and otherwise demoralize my character.

For six years I sailed with Flint and crew on the Azure Tortuga and I learned to love it as much as I did my time on my parents ships. As I started to reach the age where a boy starts to become a man and considers his life as something that he controls rather than being led I began to wonder about the mainland. My first and only life to this point was on the sea but I knew that there were worlds of men living on land that I knew nothing about apart from the stories I had heard from the crew. In my 12th year Flint took notice of this and brought me into his cabin. There he explained that he had grown tired of my presence and that I was beginning to eat more food than my work on the ship was worth. He presented me with a satchel of items including a handful of coins and gems, worth enough he said “to put drink and food in you and cloth you for a season or two.”, a sword, and a letter. He told me that we would be in port in a week and that once we reached port I was to find a man named Darrowshire who would take me in and put me to work at Flint’s request upon presenting him the letter. Flint and I both were going to have a hard time putting each other at our backs but he had made it easy for us to avoid acknowledging it under his pretense of my burdening him.

Just as he had said we came into port in a week and just as he had said I found out Mr Darrowshire, a stocky halfling farmer who seemed to have a lot of connection with pirates for some reason, and again just as he had said I was taken in and put to work.

The Darrowshire Farmstead to present

I’ve spent 4 years working for Mr Darrowshire on his farm and while it’s work that would bore the average mainlander to tears and break their body at the same time. It was so exotic to me that I reveled in it. The simple concept of putting seed or root into the ground and having food and plant come back out was no less fascinating to me, a person who had nothing under him for the first 12 years of his life but a wooden deck and tonnes and tonnes of water and sand, than was the wizard who came through town with his cantrips a year ago. I would likely have worked that farm for several more years if I hadn’t been plucked from it by these damned captors of ours. Now that I have though I don’t think that I’ll be returning. No, I think it’s time now to put these practiced but unused blade skills and my father’s violent heritage to use for a while.

Abbadon

Tales of The Flying Bunyip (D&D 3.5) PetrolFox