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Dover, England: September 1594 (the recollections of a war-weary mariner) |
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Hearken boy; for I would tell thee a tale before we set sail for the Bay of |
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Biscay on the morrow. I was not always called by this name, you know... To |
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You, I am Caleb Blackthorne, battle-scarred master of an English galleon |
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Survivor of a score of sea-fights, cheater of the notched blades of many an |
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Over ambitious Spanish pirate... the Scourge of Medina Sedonia! But to many |
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Others over the countless centuries since my first birth, I have been known by |
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A host of other names... so many that even I begin to forget all but the ones |
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Distinguished by the most vivid deeds... for I hide a wondrous secret, boy... |
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A secret some would call a blessing, but which others would deem a grim curse |
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Aye, it all began a very long time ago... |
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Memories of death and life... |
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For countless thousands of centuries I have walked the earth... |
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I have seen endless battle |
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And untold centuries of slaughter |
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I am reborn once more! |
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The same grim spirit once again given flesh... |
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O' to be ravished by the seductress death... |
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The Scion of the Storms: |
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Dethroned 'ere Atlantis fell, haunted by a dark queen's curse |
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My son's soul shackled by this spell of endless death and grim rebirth |
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Fly, o' skyborne steed of Lyonesse, ride the tempest's wings |
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I am the scion of the vengeful skies, a god to warriors and kings! |
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Reflections on lifetimes of carnage: |
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I have been slain by Roman gladius |
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And by Norman spear dealt a mortal wound |
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The threads of my ensorcelled destiny |
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Endlessly woven on some unknown cosmic loom |
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I have lost my life to longbow shafts |
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Fighting for the English crown |
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And mayhap I'll end this mariner's life |
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A good three score fathoms down! |
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I marched with vast armies 'ere gleaming Atlantis sank beneath the waves... |
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I reddened my blade against Caesar's legions long ago... |
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I stood beside Boudicca at Colchester... |
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I dealt honed steel death from the ranks of Arthur Pendragon... |
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I slew and looted gloriously at Lindisfarne... |
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I slaked my scramasax at Maldon... |
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I crossed blades with Brian Boru at Clontarf... |
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I slaughtered left and right with Harold at Hastings... |
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I dispatched Norman swordsmen with Robin of Loxley... |
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I wielded a Claymore at Stirling Bridge... |
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I was in the thick of the fray beside Henry at Agincourt... |
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I spilled blood for the White Rose at Bosworth Field... |
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I captained a galleon against the great Armada of Philip II... |
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I have witnessed the rise of corrupt religions, but my heathen blade was red |
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Countless centuries before their flaccid laws were ever carved in stone |
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They call me the Scourge of Medina Sedonia... my ship sails at dawn, and may |
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Our English steel ring gloriously against the cutlasses of the outlander |
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Pirates! |
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Aye boy, it is a strange tale indeed. I know not why I am destined to live and |
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Die in this way, my soul moving from life to life, ever dying and being again |
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Reborn, with every memory of my past incarnations intact. A whim of the gods? |
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An ancient sorcerous spell? Some cruel machination of fate, mayhap? Or is it |
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All for some mysterious, greater purpose? Sometimes I feel the gaze of inhuman |
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Eyes upon me, and fragments of some past existence which I cannot wholly |
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Recall flash before my mind's eye. And time and time again I know precisely |
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When I am to die in the fray, for always 'ere the fatal blow is struck, I see |
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Him... grim and noble astride his great winged steed, gleaming spear crackling |
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In his grasp, beckoning me onwards to the next life... to ever more slaughter |
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And carnage... Yes, adour and brooding spirit he is, and in his burning eyes I |
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See a great secret which I must discover, a powerful mystery I alone must |
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Solve. I cannot speculate as to what strange destiny the fate! s ! have |
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Written for me in the stars... but the gods have decreed that this is the path |
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I must follow, and I am sure that my adventures are far from over... |