I was a human, once… that much I know. I can remember several events that lead up to my current “employment”, all the way back to my childhood even. However, the details in my memory are fuzzy, obscured. People's names, towns… most of that I can't remember, but it's not really necessary to, in order to tell the story, I think.
As a human, I was a girl with a name lost to history, and I grew up in a village somewhere on the coast, located, as best as I can tell, somewhere between Marin Bay and Thorns. Because it was a coastal village, the obvious village-wide trade was fishing, and in my town's case, mostly sea-fishing undertaken with vessels owned by the more prosperous parties amongst the village (which wasn't saying much, honestly). Almost all of everyone in our village was a sailor and a fisher, and I, likewise, learned the trade of sailing in order to further our village's prosperity.
As a kind of necessary evil of learning to sail amongst pirate-infested waters, everyone who took to ship was also required to learn basic self-defense, usually manifesting as some rudimentary sword training. I, likewise, was no exception there either.
However, in our village, it was rare that anyone would learn beyond just basics of the sword, as the sailing was much more important to our village's livelihood. But for me, well, what can I say? I was a natural at swinging the sword. And more than that, I *loved* it; a sword in my hand filled me with pure, forged power. For me, this trumped everything that our village stood for; I would never be a sailor, a fisher, I would instead wield my sword. This of course greatly annoyed my parents who couldn't see beyond the arbitrary borders and the “needs” of the small village in which we lived, but I wasn't about to let that stop me.
So, as I grew up, I learned what sailing skills I was required to, what fishing I was required to, but in any and all of my spare time, I trained with my sword. I learned and mastered all of what I could from the folks in my village, and after that I worked on innovating forms for myself, until the day in which I would set forth upon my own quest.
And that day came a few months after I came of age. I decided, one night, that there was nothing more I could learn here, and that now was as good a time as any to cut my ties with these people. So, the next morning I headed out of my village, en route to the nearest large-ish town down the packed dirt road that was fairly well-traveled, with nothing but that which I could carry on my back and my sword.
My story is far from over yet, however, it is time to take a step back and take stock of just what it was that set out that morning from such a small, sheltered, rustic town.
My appearance as a human was actually very similar to my current appearance as it is now. Back then I had black hair, always cut short (for a girl), with brown eyes that had a slight garnet tint to them. I was also incredibly tall for a girl, with a muscular frame and tanned skin from being out in the sun on the ships so much. My rather flat-chested appearance was no doubt due to a lack of fat and a large amount of muscle tissue, more than any particular genetic defect.
And, of course, I was, to all appearances male, especially given my force of personality and the way I carried myself. I never bothered to correct people when they got it wrong; I saw myself more as an extension of my blade than a person with a gender. It never mattered to me what others wanted to think about that aspect of my being, so over the years I have automatically responded to either pronoun. Most of the people in my own village thought I was male, even though, of everyone, they at least should've known better.
My stature and personality gave me many advantages while I was still young in my village; I gained more and more responsibility on our fishing vessels than even people twice my age. I was trusted for being reliable and level-headed, and generally dedicated and physically capable (even if I didn't like sailing that much). My personality, such that it was, required me to do anything I was tasked to do to the best of my ability. Perhaps it didn't matter to these rustic people that I was so dedicated, but in my later life, these personality quirks of mine would inadvertently shape a number of peoples' destinies.
So, back to the main part of the story… In search of a way to expand my sword capabilities, while also wanting to see more of the big, big world outside of my rustic village, I traveled from place to place, over the course of months, and eventually came across a band of organized mercenaries called the “Barbed Arrows”. I find it interesting that this is the one “name” of anything in particular that I can recall from my life as a human. I wonder why?
Anyway, the Barbed Arrows had a lot of competent members I observed, good leadership, and at least something resembling honor to them. The commander was someone I perceived to be an intelligent and respectable sort, and seemed to have a good feel for running such a group. After not a whole lot of pondering the idea, I decided to join the band.
I ended up staying with the Barbed Arrows for quite a long time (relatively speaking). Over the years, the more jobs they took and tasks they performed, the more experience I gained, and the better my bladework became.
I spent time, before, during, and after skirmishes, observing how our enemy acted (if there was one), how our band responded, and what tactics we used for what reasons, and the effect they had on the situation. I found it interesting how to make a force like this an effective unit of destruction, and took note of all such tactics to be collected and poured over later, when I had time.
While part of the band, I quickly assessed who the folks in the band were that seemed to be the best at sword play, and approached them at different times throughout my tenure in order to learn what things they could teach me. Even while we were not working a job, I practiced my bladework in as much spare time as I could manage, working toward some kind of ill-defined lofty goal of mastering the art of the blade. I still have some yet to learn, but I feel I am close, now.
And, well, due to my stubborn persistence, after only a few short years my skills with the sword became, well, not exactly a thing of legend, but very oft spoken of by those within the band, even those well-respected. This gossip ended up giving me some mild prominence within the Barbed Arrows, perhaps somewhat unusual for someone so young as I (at the time).
Several years after I joined the Barbed Arrows, when my position within the band was far more senior than it really ought to be (although not one of the commander's immediates, or anything like that), the band became divided over an issue. Many within the band sought my advice and opinion on this issue, whatever it had been, given my relative place of respect among them. When asked, I would explain only that I was in agreement with the current leader, and would say nothing more about it. I took no active role in the bickering, refused to discuss it with anyone beyond the above, and gave no indication that I was prepared to do anything but blindly accept the outcome, whatever it happened to be. After all, it was the current Captain's job to work out this issue himself, not mine.
However, a few weeks later, the instigator (seemingly) of the “other” faction within the band got into a heated argument with and killed our current commander, who had been unarmed at the time. Following this act, the usurper assumed control as the leader of the band in place of the old one.
The respect I in particular held for the old leader, who was now dead, was relatively unknown among even the people who did know me well, since I didn't speak much of such trivialities. And so, my actions following this event came as a surprise to pretty much everyone. As soon as the news came to my ears, I picked up my blade and strode casually up to the command tent, stepped out before the new, squawking asshole who had murdered my commander in such a shameful way, and, in front of 20 witnesses, demanded he draw his sword or he would face the same fate as the man he had just killed.
Perhaps it is cocky to think that this guy should have known of me and what I was capable of as I stood there before him with such a seemingly ludicrous demand. But it was certainly no secret, and given my visibility of late, it was laughably miscalculating on his part to blow me off with such a boring speech as the one he gave, amidst dismissive laughs.
Either way, as a result, the poor sot never knew what was coming as his sword rattled slowly out of its scabbard amidst snorting and loud, wordy, mocking speech directed at me, which I patently ignored. As soon as the blade was free, in nearly the blink of an eye the weasel lay on the ground before me, his lifeblood spilling out unceremoniously onto the hard-packed dirt of the camp floor as I stood above him silently, watching.
After the moron was finally still, I leaned down and cleaned my blade on his jacket and sheathed it, turning around, crossing my arms, and glaring individually at every single person standing around, gawking at what had just happened. Before them, I made the announcement that I was assuming control of the band and that any who has a problem with this could leave and go free, or challenge me to a duel to assume the position in my stead.
Everyone remained silent, looking at their feet, or up at the sky, or anywhere but directly at me. From there, I declared a week of amnesty; any who no longer wanted to be part of the Barbed Arrows under my command could leave unhindered, with no questions asked. It could be noted as interesting that, over that week, no one, absolutely no one, challenged me to a duel. However, about 1/3 of the band did leave, grumbling, but otherwise unhindered.
I didn't realize at the time that the real power behind the coup was one snivelly little dog who had always been a bit of a thorn in the previous leader's side, and who had simply been waiting for something to use to drive wedge between members of the band in order to make a power grab (I didn't much care for gossip and, to be honest, I hadn't been close enough to the upper command ranks to know these things anyway). He had manipulated things pretty well given what he had to work with, but he hadn't expected his plans to go so awry due to my interference, since I mostly seemed dismissive and uninterested in the argument. This failure on his part while victory had been in his grasp had made him very very angry, and he secretly vowed to get revenge.
This information was relatively unknown amongst the Barbed Arrows prior to the incident, and was even less available after the split. All of the people who had known about the true “mastermind” behind the coup (and those people were few indeed, I have learned) had left the Barbed Arrows along with the snivelly dog, and had taken their knowledge with them. Perhaps it was a mistake to let them go, no questions asked. But, I don't find that I regret the decision, thinking back on it even now.
All that aside, under my leadership, the Barbed Arrows managed to do quite well, even moreso than during the previous leader's command. I was young, a visionary, with a good deal of charisma and a realistic idea of what the band was good at and what we weren't good at. I accepted jobs to improve the band's weaknesses while minimizing risk, and accepted even more jobs that were perfect for our strengths, to keep us on the ball. Any issues that came up were dealt with immediately and relatively fairly (by my standards, which some may argue as being not so much), even if I had to be somewhat ruthless about it.
My success as Captain enraged Idiot, my self-proclaimed rival who had, in the intervening time, formed his own rabbl- er, band. He attempted to manipulate things to get the Barbed Arrows into bad situations, to corner us and destroy us or at least hurt us significantly. But, to his intense frustration, I universally out-maneuvered him and his pack of weasels, especially after it became clear what it was he was trying to do. These failures, of course, only served to enrage him further.
I, for my part, didn't pay him much mind, considering him naught more than an annoying gadfly. He was a great manipulator within a small, close-knit group, especially one where he knew most of everyone and knew some of their secrets, but he was a terrible strategist. Further, his skills at manipulation seemed to be ineffective on a large scale, especially where he wasn't well-established or when he wasn't well-informed. My flippant dismissal of his perceived rivalry served to stew the pot even more.
His anger, his revenge-driven obsession with defeating me and my band ballooned to epic proportions right beneath my nose. So the day that he showed up and marched right into the Barbed Arrows camp with a new, intense power boiling inside of him came as a bit of a shock to me.
He called me out before my troops and demanded a duel. I dimly recognized the severity and magnitude of his sudden, new power swirling about him, even if I didn't know its origin nor the details. And, as I stood before him accepting the duel, I knew that I would not be able to defeat him this time.
That, of course, didn't mean I wouldn't spend a bit of time mouthing off at him beforehand to show him my disgust that he had to CHEAT in order to defeat me. This, of course, predictably enraged him further, before the circle of people waiting nervously. This may be my end, here, but I was not going to go down like a snivelling pansy, like he had so many times before me and my band.
With this newfound power of his, we were actually fairly evenly matched in skill with a sword for once, even though he had never been anywhere near this good during the previous times I had seen him. However, even so, I felt my life and energy draining from me even those times I was able to block his blows, and eventually, I was weakened to the point where I couldn't escape the edge of his blade.
His sword slid right into my middle, twisted, and pulled out, leaving me to bleed on the ground beneath him while he laughed and ranted insanely above me. The crowd around this display was utterly silent, as they all pretty much universally hated this bastard, and further, no one had really expected me to lose. I managed one last act of defiance, lifting my hand up and giving him the middle finger, telling him I'd see him in hell very soon indeed.
As my life force was about to leave me, a voice entered my mind, offering me unlimited power in exchange for servitude and unquestioning loyalty. Yeah, sure, that didn't sound like a bad deal. Without much consideration, I accepted. I should note here that I still do not regret my lack of consideration on this decision.
And so, as everyone stood staring silently at my body on the ground while the Idiot with the bloody black mark dripping from his forehead ranted angrily above my seemingly lifeless body, my eyes flickered open. My brownish eyes had deepened to a very bloody red color and my skin had paled considerably. I cracked a bit of a smile at the taste of dirt and grass in my mouth, and the sound of Idiot screeching above me as he lorded it over his victory.
One by one the bystanders noticed that my eyes were open and were rather aware of what was going on. With a smirk and a burning gaze, I remained still until his speech ended, with him looking around demanding frustratedly of everyone, “what, what?!”, as he finally realized that their attention was no longer on him. After a moment spent collecting himself, he looked with the rest of them to where everyones' gaze was aimed.
I felt him turn toward me, and move slowly in my direction. With a little effort, I stood up before him, still clutching my sword. Just as he was about to point at me and say some other pointless river of words, I gritted my teeth, squeezed the hilt of my sword (a basic, if well-made, steel longsword), and ran the bastard through completely. I twisted the blade as I ripped it out of the side of his body. Then, I came around for a finishing strike, sending his head rolling away from his so recently gutted torso.
Given his state, he should've known what was happening, because he had experienced it once himself. But, such that his life was, it had ended with this utterly lame and rather karmic experience. I found it amusing, and chuckled over his headless body as I felt this newfound power rushing all around me.
It was about then that I noticed that a black vortex of energy had descended upon me, and now everyone was turning away from me and running for their lives. I mused momentarily, staring down at Idiot's headless body, that it hadn't really taken much to beat this jackass, when our power classes had been re-equalized. It amused me to think that even with all of this power Idiot had been given, and all he should have been able to do with it… in the end, all he did was squander it. Well, that's what you get when you give a moron power, I suppose.
Alone now, I removed my Barbed Arrows badges, including my captain's insignia, and left them on the ground beside Idiot's body. From there, I raided whatever items he had of import on his person, and then turned to the East, setting down the first boot of a long, long journey which would end at the feet of my new master, the Duke of Lamentations.
Only later would I discover that the Duke had been watching my antics with Idiot for several years now and had taken an interest in me. Looking back on it, it amuses me to think that the Duke had purposefully given Idiot the power of an Abyssal when the moron had gotten himself killed doing something stupid, taking a gamble on what Idiot was most likely to do with his newfound power once he had it. And, well, the Duke had been right. Idiot had immediately turned around and set out to kill me, just like the Duke had hoped. I almost feel sorry for him, being nothing more than a mere stepping-stone in the Duke's plans to snatch up the lamer's own rival.
And anyway, it was in this way that the Duke was able gain my service in a more timely manner, rather than waiting decades for my death when I, perhaps, would no longer be as useful (or as interesting) to him as I am now. I am happy to serve you, my Liege.