Ishvallan
Buccaneer
Four years. Its been four years since that day. The day before life in the Caribbean as we knew it ended. A scourge brought down the hammer of the law on the islands, both inhabited and wild, and all pirates- grzzled old sea dog and soft sea legs alike were forced into a lawful life or to escape the long arm of the law by any means necessary. I myself opted for life on the run, I took aboard my ship, the flagship Sun Hawk, and sailed into the east with no heading, to sail until land found me or death took me. A fellow of mine, nearly kin we were, almost like brothers from the same creator, who only ever called himself the Ishvallan, chose to go out a different way. Last words he said to me was that he would end it all in the same way and place that thousands of cursed beings had been laid down in pursuit of our finest rewards of piracy. I can only guess that meant that he met his mortality by his own hand in the gold filled room of Isla Tormenta, and likely at the power of his own grenades to ensure the job was done quickly with little suffering.
But today I claim my official return, be it by a new name as presenting the name of an infamous and wanted man on the run four years is not wise when returning to the place of his crimes. Four years to the day of my exile, I return to remind every thing living and otherwise in this sea to fear and respect the title 'pirate.' I sail in from south to the same island I made my exit from those years ago, Padres Del Fuego. My weapons of fame and power may have found their way down to the locker of Davy Jones, but I feel I have more than enough time before this life comes to an end to reclaim them and to find stronger.
But today I claim my official return, be it by a new name as presenting the name of an infamous and wanted man on the run four years is not wise when returning to the place of his crimes. Four years to the day of my exile, I return to remind every thing living and otherwise in this sea to fear and respect the title 'pirate.' I sail in from south to the same island I made my exit from those years ago, Padres Del Fuego. My weapons of fame and power may have found their way down to the locker of Davy Jones, but I feel I have more than enough time before this life comes to an end to reclaim them and to find stronger.