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⇴Name: Morgan Xavier Scurlock ⇴Age: 38 ⇴Gender: Male ⇴Species: Canine...? ⇴Nick Names: - ⇴Alias: Ghost Eyes |
⇴Nationality: Kasurian ⇴Operational Status: At Large ⇴Occupation: Captain of the Servant ⇴Height: 6'1'' ⇴Weight: 220ish ⇴Alignment: Lawful Evil |
⇴Sexuality: Bisexual ⇴Relationship Status: Single ⇴Birthday: November 24♐ ⇴Scent: Gun Powder, Musk, Liquor ⇴Eyes: None, burning white orbs ⇴Scars: Three Claw Marks Across his Left Eye |
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⇴Sailing ⇴Arcane study ⇴Drinking ⇴Winning ⇴Swordplay ⇴Marksmanship ⇴Counting coin ⇴Harvesting souls ⇴Debauchery ⇴A good fight ⇴His crew ⇴His mother |
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⇴Staying on land for too long ⇴Arrogance ⇴Stowaways ⇴Losing ⇴Guards ⇴Soldiers ⇴Merchants ⇴Nobles ⇴His brother
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Morgan was born to a merchant sailor and his wife in Port Payne, along the northern coast of Kasuria. The youngest of two, Morgan had always dreamed of sailing the seas with his father. With his older brother, Ezekiel, going off to serve with the Kasurian crown, a young Morgan was left to assist his father with the trade. As young as seven, Morgan was already learning about sailing and trading, being made to assist his father anywhere he could. It wasn't all work and no play, of course, as within this trading company did he meet another young boy and soon to be friend-for-life, Graves Armstead. As they grew together, the two boys cemented a loyalty for each other no matter what may come to pass. There was hardly a moment they weren't together, quickly becoming known as trouble boys along the docks. Not that they were particularly rotten, but boys will be boys. Eventually, they grew old enough to go out to sea with their fathers, and at last experience the sea! Morgan took to sailing quite well... This is to say, as a young 12 year old boy coming into port, he was often pitching a fit about eventually having to get off the boat. It remained this way until Graves and Morgan stood as the successors of their fathers' business, having to make trading voyages themselves. But there were no complaints. They were sailors through and through now. Through the early years of their young adulthood, Morgan and Graves traveled all over the Kasurian coast, enjoying the company of each other and the sea. They were honest men making their living on the water. But clearly things didn't stay this way. |
by Atropa |
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Morgan's decent into piracy came about in a rather unexpected way. During one particular trip, the two traders were in fact robbed themselves! Their livelihood, the sanctity of their boat, all put to task by two-bit thieves! But these two weren't going to sit back and just accept it. They weren't going to be like the other whiny sailors, crying to other pub goers about how cruel fate was. They were grown men! they were going to do something about it! How DARE those nautical gypsies make them return to port empty-handed?! The two managed to incite a crowd, enough that several offered to join them on their quest for vengeance. Taking a schooner and only four guns, they went off on their hunt. The hunters, outgunned and outmanned, managed to find these thieves. Their boat was too fast for them to hit, and their wills to strong to pierce. With the ship on its last legs, the small crew boarded. It was a long, brutal fight, men who had nothing to lose against men who had just had enough, men who would refuse to be pushed around any longer. They won. When the last pirate lay dead, only a half dozen of the original party remained. But, not only did they emerge victorious and get their cargo back... But these pirates had quite the bit of loot stockpiled! These men, fighting for justice, suddenly found themselves rich with someone else's ill-gotten gains! Did they return it? Did they donate it? Did they report it? No. they kept it. They kept it all. |
Morgan and Graves realized what sort of riches awaited them in a life of piracy. They had been given a taste. They wanted more. They all did. Repairing the ship and grabbing a few more eager souls with the money they found, this newly formed band of ruffians set sail into the Kasurian seas. no longer as traders and men of innocent gods. But hunters. Or at least it started that way. The crew was more and more successful as time and experience saw them true. They began as pirate hunters, but oh so slowly devolved into the beasts that they had brought themselves to hate. Bounties no longer brought them satisfaction. It was then they started to pray on the weak. The innocent. Traders, navy ships, slavers, all were fair game. They were able to sustain themselves tremendously with coin, food, drink and merriment. They had embraced the pirate's life. Their exploits earned them bigger bounties. Bigger crews. And eventually, bigger ships. The ship that serves them to this day was originally a pirate vessel commanded by one Admiral D'Arigo. Taking him down would be the ultimate show of force on the Kasurian coast. And so it was. Admiral D'Arigo was thrown from the side of his own flagship, The Crimson Key and eaten alive by the many sharks that had been drawn to the blood in the water. With Morgan's own ship having been sunk in the skirmish, it seemed only right to take the massive flagship as their own. The survivors set to looting and making repairs at once, but only after the ship was renamed. Thus, The Servant was born. That was when Graves found it. An urn that he believed to be particularly valuable. Just as Morgan had hollered at him to put the damned thing back, the tiger hybrid lost his footing and dropped it! In the same day they achieved a great victory, so did they suffer a terrible defeat. As the urn shattered across the deck, the ashes of several bodies were spread upon the wood, the ungodly shriek of the damned filling their heads as they were exposed to the salty ear. A spirit appeared before them, accusingly roaring to the pirates for disturbing their remains. The ship they coveted was given new life. Actual life. Its sustenance? Souls. Specifically, theirs. All the pirates on board found themselves with a new red and black mark upon their flesh. Over time, they discovered its true, sinister nature. A soul siphon. The pirates were now soulless, forever feeding the ship they were now bound to. Though who tried to wander to far from the ship, from their soul, wasted away to nothing. Those who died on board were forever cursed to serve as part of the crew, roaming the deck in ghostly form. Part of the crew. Part of the ship. Forever. |
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