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Rhysing

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About Rhysing

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    The Line Between Madness and Brilliance
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    Story writing, art, and cosplay

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  1. Rhysing

    One Last Delivery

    If Aldren was being honest, she wasn't here to negotiate. She would take what she wanted, and she didn't mind bleeding for it. But it didn't mean she couldn't put on a good show first. Wordlessly, she poured a second glass and slid it to the mercenary, just to humor him. It didn't match her own, and she remembered fondly how the twin cup had met its end; shattered as she carved out someone's eye with it. That had been a rather long day. She allowed the silence to drag on, taking a lengthy sip from her drink. Silence put people on edge, it made them feel uncomfortable, isolated, and vulnerable. It was as much a weapon to be wielded as her swords or magic, and could be used to gain the upper hand in confrontations such as these. She finished her glass, turning it over in her hand. "Do you know how I got my name, Captain?" The words flowed off her tongue with ease, totally comfortable, completely in her element, "I'm sure you've heard the stories, the tale is never told the same way twice, not that it matters. In the end, they all center around a single thing," She set down the glass, "Blood." Aldren smirked at that, picking up on their fear like a hound on a scent, and placed both hands on the desk, leaning slightly over it. Her eyes were fervent storms, swirling with sadistic delight, alight with vicious pleasure. She would never tire of it, this feeling. It was intoxicating to her, knowing that she held their lives in her hand, hers to take or to spare. She wasn't necessarily proud of it, didn't know where it placed her on the lines of morality, but she'd stopped caring years ago. Perhaps it was a side effect of that infernal creature. Or perhaps it was entirely hers. That didn't bother her like it should have. For now, it was irrelevant, thoughts best saved for nights when she was drunk and alone and wouldn't remember them come morning light. For now, she was here, in this room. A shark in the water. The harbinger of endings. Aldren moved her hair to drape over her shoulder, a casual gesture, but a reminder none the less. "I'm not in the habit of haggling, you see. If I want something, I take it," she continued, shrugging, "If someone gets in my way, I kill them." She straightened her spine, standing at her full height, and her voice suddenly took on a malefic tone. "So not only will I be taking all your cargo, I'll be taking half your crew as well." Serpent, Rolfe had once called her a serpent. Evil, cunning, venomous. Cruel because she could be, cruel because nobody could tell her not to be. "And because I'm a bitch, I'll let you decide who you hand over to me, Captain. You get to decide their fate. Who is worthy enough to live, and who gets to meet death at my blade." Half would be more than enough to pay the demon, keep it quiet and fed for a long while. Blood and souls were a currency now, something Aldren had to pay to keep what Rolfe had suffered to create, what he'd died for and she'd inherited. Like a gruesome taxes, if taxes leeched off her mind every time it got hungry. "But don't worry," She simpered, "Your ship I'll leave intact. Someone has to tell their families how they died." These men had families. Aldren didn't care. The descent to hell was an easy thing for her, because she walked the path for those she loved.
  2. Rhysing

    Green Wreckage

    Aldren hadn't run this fast in a long time. She could take on any man without much trouble, but beasts were another story. They didn't think like people, they didn't move like people, and they certainly didn't fight or attack like people, which meant Aldren's swordsmanship was only worth so much in this moment. Fortunately, that's why she had Scylla. Scylla, her tracker, her hunter, her shifter, who knew of beasts across the world, who had pursued them with such success because she herself could become them. But Scylla's shifting abilities were limited, and Aldren was certain she couldn't turn into whatever the thing was that was chasing after them. But she could turn into something equally dangerous. They approached a break in the foliage, and Aldren could already feel the change that had overcome her first mate, a sort of predatory nature that always set her entire crew on edge. Aldren grasped a low hanging tree branch, using momentum and strength to swing herself up and away from immediate danger as Scylla leaped into the small clearing, no longer human. The form she had taken was one of her favorites. Before Aldren's eyes towered one of Morgana's feared sand lions, the city from which Scylla hailed. She was massive, all lean muscle and raw power, lion-like body reaching to Aldren's elbow, and her head taller than that. Her slick fur was sand colored with faint striping, perfect for blending into the dunes. And she was absolutely terrifying. The reptilian creature came to a stop before her, and Scylla stared it down with those glowing amber eyes, growled at it with raised hackles, exposing canines twice the size and length of Aldren's fingers. The creature hissed right back, crouching low before launching at her. Scylla sprung to the side, out of the line of attack, before pivoting and lunging into its side. She tackled it, the force of her weight pinning it to the ground and razor sharp claws tearing through it's scaled hide. The creature writhed beneath her, snapping with teeth and kicking out with its legs until a blow finally connected, sending Scylla tumbling away. She quickly found her feet again, looking to continue the onslaught.
  3. Rhysing

    One Last Delivery

    The old man was either very brave, or very stupid. Aldren was inclined to believe it a mixture of the two. She wanted to laugh, had been attempting to hold it in all the while he'd been plowing through his little speech. Attempting, and at last failing. She threw her head back, the mad howling sound bursting forth from her like a dam, her crew (Casisth and Scylla included) joining with roars of their own, as though Aldren had broken the spell the other captain had cast. The merchant crew, however, seemed quite unsettled by the display. This fool had attempted to give her orders, as if she were some common sailor, as if she hadn't slaughtered dozens just like him, as if doing so weren't a death sentence. She had grown up under the thumbs of powerful men, under governments and educators who sought to rid her of her spirited nature, who had tried to force her into a mold of obedience and formality, their perfect docile soldier. The day she took orders from any man would be the day they cast her lifeless body to the sea. She at last recovered her composure, falling back into her natural state of poised self-assurance, the laughter of her crew slowly dying around her. During the captain's speech she had taken the time to observe the scene before her, now her eyes lazily examined the two he had elected to bring with him, roving over them like prey rather than people. The first was clearly a mercenary. It was evident if not by his well kept physique, then by the way he held himself, tall, proud, and arrogant, a smile playing on his lips and danger glinting in those blue eyes. Blue eyes that were practically drooling over her. Oh, Aldren liked him, but she figured she'd like him just the same if he were dead. Perhaps she'd give Scylla the honors, or maybe she'd dump him on an island somewhere when this was all over. The second looked ready to faint. He was Aldren's height, possibly a tad shorter, and had gone pale as a sheet. He was right to be afraid, of course, but that only distinguished him as an easy target. His newly white complexion was stark against the blood smeared across his face. So the fight had been with the mercenary, given the blood on the other's knuckles. Unwise of the captain to pair them together. Aldren's lips twisted into a smirk, dark eyes narrowing in on him, immediately marking him for death. Oh how the demon would love to torment him, hear his screams, feast on every drop of pain and fear before finally devouring his soul. Maybe then Aldren could get some damn sleep. Her eyes at last rested on the captain. He knew very well who she was. He stood there with his arms crossed, chin jutting upward, as if he were trying to look down his nose at her while staring with such defiance. Trying to both intimidate her and hide his own fear. It was a move Aldren was well aquatinted with, but whether her victims started frightened of her or not, they always parted terrified. That is, if they parted alive. She tapped a ringed finger against her sword hilt, noting the other captain wore a similar one. So a married man then. A year ago it wouldn't have bothered her, it wouldn't have mattered at all, they all bled the same anyways. But feeling Scylla's presence at her side, Scylla, living, breathing, having narrowly escaped death's hand, it unsettled her slightly. She knew she hadn't shown it, she never did, but Scylla seemed to sense it anyways. Her hand brushed against Aldren's in a minor comfort as she went to adjust the rifle strap slung over her shoulder. Fine. Fine, she'd grant his request. A kindness, a second consideration before killing him. To his lover, to his kids if he had any. "Welcome aboard the Siren's Song," She flashed a cruel, bloodthirsty smile, "You likely won't be leaving." Turning on her heel, hair whipping in the wind, she didn't wait for them as she lead the way to her quarters, Scylla and Casisth stopping to flank the entrance. They would enter after their guests. It was a spacious room, or at least it had been when it belonged to Rolfe. It seemed smaller since Aldren had filled it with her things, which were scattered messily throughout. Not that she cared, it was mostly treasure anyways. A small fortune, and a fraction compared to what she had amassed, hidden away in troves and trusted to banks across every continent, under various names of course. But what was present was spelled with protections, so if any of the boarding crew attempted to take, or even touch with ill-intent, (namely the mercenary), then they would find themselves a most painful, burning ending. What wasn't piled high with gold or strewn with discarded clothes was rather immaculate. Rich polished wood gave the room a warm feeling, with red curtains pulled back from the towering windows to let in light, casting the space in a golden glow. Aldren took her place behind the large desk, intricately carved with sea creatures of legend and pirate lore. She didn't bother to sit, didn't particularly care to, only poured herself a glass of rum and waited for negotiations to begin.
  4. Rhysing

    One Last Delivery

    "They're parlaying," Casisth, her Quartermaster, commented, a telescope held up to one eye. He was tall, nearly six inches taller than Aldren (who was by no means short), with a lithe frame and messy black hair. "It looks like they have mercenaries aboard," he stifled a laugh, "Even the crew is trying to look intimidating." Casisth was like family to Aldren, a soul kin to her own, and though she'd known him longer than Scylla, she had her reasons not to elect him first mate. He may chase after adventure and freedom as Aldren did, but he did not dance with madness, insanity, whatever it was she had come to know, he never taught himself the movements, but Scylla did. Scylla, whom she'd rescued from a slaver's ship three years ago, whom she'd granted freedom, who had chosen to stay. Not because she'd dreamed of the sea, far from it in fact, but because she'd seen what lay in Aldren's eyes. A look of wild abandon, the eyes of an untamable soul, one who would scream with joy into the storm, who would revel in it with delight, if only to feel the crackle of lightning on their skin, the thunder in their bones. Scylla had wanted that, to taste it for herself, or at least that was what she had told Aldren. So while Aldren trusted Casisth with her life, she trusted Scylla with her soul, and with her heart, and with everything that she was. That they were. Together. "A bit of fire in them," Aldren applauded, "all the better to extinguish." She unscrewed the flask she kept, tipping back a portion of its contents to silence the rising headache, the side effects that came with it. Fucking demon. "Ready the crew, prepare to board." Casisth collapsed his telescope, strutting off to do just that. How Aldren would love to tear them apart, if only for the hell of it. Sink their ship to the depths. A song sang in her blood, full of energy and fervor, Ship-Wrecker, it chanted, Ship-Wrecker, her name before the Red. "Do you truly despise me so? I who granted you power?" Purred the voice. It echoed in her mind, heard to no one but herself. Speaking of side effects. "The power I have I took for myself," Aldren hissed. "You have granted me nothing but misery." The ship seemed to shift beneath her. "Misery," it mused, "You know nothing of misery," The shadow from the Mast seemed to stretch across the deck, taking form in sinister claws, reaching to where Scylla stood at the ship's head. "But I can show you~" "Enough." She blinked and it was gone, as though it had never even been there. Because it hadn't. "I've grown hungry, red one, and I do not offer service without cost. Be generous with your blade, or I'll find other ways to feast." Aldren's hand drifted to her sword's hilt. "Touch her, touch any of them, and I will plunge into whatever abyssal pit you slithered out of and rip your fucking throat out you murderous bastard." It only laughed in response, a wicked sound. "Indeed, it is not I who is stained with blood." It went quiet after that. "Captain!" Called Casisth, "The gangplank is ready and we're prepared to board!" They had drawn up beside the merchant ship. Aldren let the previous interaction fall away, relaxing her grip on the hilt and gracing her features with another of her unsettling smirks. There would be other times to deal with that creature. For now she took that anger and shoved it down, tossing it to the roiling sea inside of her, ready to be drawn up and used at a moments notice. She traveled the deck with long proud strides, hips swaying, confidence saturating her every movement, and went to stand before the crossing point, first mate and Quartermaster on either side of her. And as the gangplank was lowered, Aldren the Red stared on like a wildfire, ready to decimate everything in her path.
  5. Rhysing

    One Last Delivery

    Aldren felt like she was being watched. That was usually a sign they'd been spotted. She smiled to herself, that unsettling little half-smirk she often did, as though she were in on some joke the rest of the world had missed. It was a habit, one picked up from Rolfe long ago, and she thoroughly enjoyed how uncomfortable and off-putting it was to people. They were gaining on their mark fast, the Song cutting through the water like a sharpened blade, and complying with their usual routine, Kerthall, a tall elven man, came to take the helm so Aldren could make her own preparations. She could feel the adrenaline sparking in her veins as she made a quick trip into the captain's quarters to grab her usual effects: a few knives, two pistols, and various other magic infused items, hiding them all on her person before emerging again. The crew had already armed themselves and were ready for the ensuing fight, many were already below decks, awaiting orders at the cannons. Scylla reported as much. "Prepare a warning shot," Aldren instructed once they were in range. Her First Mate nodded and promptly began the climb up to the crows nest. Aldren strode across the deck, the crew watching her with looks of half tempered anticipation as she took her place before them. They were insane, every one of them, herself most of all. Languishing after conflict and reveling in the challenge. A gamble of their lives, though admittedly, this job was a rather low-risk wager. But the feeling remained the same. "Listen up shitbags," She addressed from the quarterdeck, "We have two jobs today, the first is to take that ship and its cargo, the second is to be a pain in the ass while we do it. I have the upmost faith in you." She cast her gaze upwards, "Fire when ready!" Because to Aldren a warning shot didn't mean scaring her opponent with wasted ammo, it meant showing them she wasn't messing around. It mean blood and a forfeited life. And her First Mate was wicked with a rifle. Scylla fired.
  6. Rhysing

    Green Wreckage

    A scream pierced the stillness. Scylla threw out her hand, signaling Aldren to halt. This didn't strike the Captain as a good sign. "What was that?" She asked in a low voice, looking to the other. Her first mate's brow was furrowed in concentration, or maybe it was worry, perhaps both. Scylla turned her head slightly. Oh it was definitely both. "I'm not sure," she drew her sword, Aldren did the same, "but this region is filled with the untamable, so gods only know. Do you want me to scout from the air?" Aldren shook her head, "No. We'll proceed together." They pushed further into the jungle, occasionally hacking leaves out of their path. It was growing darker by the minute as shadows stretched long in the fading light. This didn't seem to bother Scylla as she continued to track whatever it was they were tracking, and Aldren's eyes gradually adjusted. The crew would likely be wondering about them, but they wouldn't leave until the two returned to shore. The jungle came alive in the twilight. The sounds of life, of bugs and birds, and whatever else was waking up began to rise around them. A melody of existence. Aldren collided with Scylla, forcing her from her thoughts. "What, what is it-" she immediately shut up when she saw what was staring at them through the greenery, what Scylla had frozen in the face of. Aldren gripped her sword tighter. Camouflaged by shadows and vegetation there stood a reptilian creature. It was like smooth stone before them, with piercing amber eyes that looked back into their own. They were filled with hunger. "Run," Scylla whispered to her, "Run." In a split second Aldren had grabbed Scylla's wrist, thrown her hat at the creature, and hauled ass into the woods. She could hear as the beast begin it's pursuit.
  7. Rhysing

    One Last Delivery

    The day was scorching, but the wind was favorable and cool. The deck of the Siren's Song was abundant with life. The crew had brought up an empty crate from the cargo hold to serve as a table and gathered to play Liar's Dice. Bets were being made, by both those playing and spectating, and money or items were rapidly passing between hands at the hailing of cheers or groans. Aldren watched curiously, leaning with her elbows on the railing of the Quarterdeck, tricorn hat casting a slight shadow over her face and twisting at the silver rings on her fingers. It was a game of deception and probability, one she excelled at to the point the crew refused to play against her. There was another round of acclamation, Ilbryn had made his sixth consecutive win, earning pats on the back and a lot of general jostling as his friends crowded him with praise. Aldren turned her head as her first mate, Scylla, appeared at the top of the stairs. Scylla was around Aldren's height with dark hair chopped messily along her jawline. "The ship shouldn't be too far ahead of us now," She moved across the deck like a cat, all smooth movements and careful steps, coming to stand by Aldren. "Remind me again why we're going after it?" "Because," Aldren smiled, turning her attention away from the newest round, "it's a huge shipment, which means we can sell it for a generous sum." Scylla gave her a slightly pointed look. "And It's going to Joran," she admitted. The other girl rolled her eyes in a teasing way, "And what will we do with this 'generous sum' once it's split?" "Well," Aldren began with a tilt of her head, "We can do whatever you want with it, take a break, maybe visit your family in Morgana." "Ah yes, I can only imagine what my mother would think of you." "Then perhaps we can take a vacation inland, visit Hodra like we talked about." "And what would we do with the ship? It's probably too large to take down river." Aldren shrugged, "Leave it at a port on the way." "So it can be taken by raiders?" "You know as well as I that no one can touch this ship," Her hand drifted to the hilt of her cutlass, set with rubies that glinted ominously in response, "Not without paying for it." Scylla's gaze drifted there as well, aware of what Aldren was referring to. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a call from the crow's nest. "Sail ho!" "We'll work out the details later," Scylla conceded, already headed to the stairs. Aldren nodded, turning to face the crew who had paused their game. "Ay! Lower the main sails! Overhaul!" The crew scrambled to their posts, disassembling their makeshift table and setting to work, Scylla already barking orders and making wild hand gestures. Aldren took her place at the helm. "Patience," she whispered to the ship, or rather the creature that had taken to it, "It won't be long now." The sails were dropped and the vessel launched forward in response, eager for the kill.
  8. Rhysing

    Green Wreckage

    The sun was setting, turning Aldren's hair to fire and setting her dark eyes alight. The heat of the day had dissipated and an increasing coolness had settled over the island. Aldren found this place years ago on her journeys with Rolfe and had used it ever since to restock supplies (namely fresh water) on their trips between Genesaris and Terrenus when they didn't stop by Elendaron. As far as they knew, it was uninhabited. The storm the previous night had been a vicious one, but Aldren and her crew had ridden it out with dangerous glee. They sang shanties to the wind and tide while the waves crashed down upon them, lighting crackling its dance, and thunder booming to the chorus, as if their ship were unsinkable and they were death's masters. Aldren was beginning to see why people thought them insane. They were loading the last of their supplies into the long boats, nearly ready to row back out to the ship, when one of the crew came up to her. "Captain," the male began respectfully, "Some debris has washed up on the shore, looks like the remnants of a ship." Aldren raised an eyebrow at that, but simply responded "Show me," and he began to lead the way. She shoved her hands into her pockets as her gray trench coat fluttered behind her like a bird's tail, boots sinking into the sand, and tricorn hat casting a shadow over her face. Pushing past some undergrowth, they emerged onto another part of the shoreline were a few others had already gathered, among them Aldren's first mate, a young female with short dark hair. She was crouched by something. "What is it?" Aldren asked, coming to stand next to her. "Footprints," the first mate answered, "not one of ours, too small, probably female." Aldren recalled that her first mate, Scylla, had been a tracker before turning pirate. The footprints lead to the jungle and looked disoriented in their placement, but a nod from the other woman told Aldren that they were fresh. "Scavenge the wreckage for anything useful," she ordered the crew, then turned to Scylla, "do what you do best." Scylla nodded, and together the two left the shoreline and disappeared into the foliage, following a phantom.
  9. Rhysing

    A Brief Greeting

    @Mickey Flash My main project is High Fantasy with a rather colorful cast of characters because I have limited impulse control. @Wade I'd definitely be up for it! Drop by my inbox and I'm sure we can come up with something.
  10. Rhysing

    A Brief Greeting

    Well hello, I suppose it's time for my own introduction so I guess I'll jump right in. I'm Rhys and I'm an aspiring author. It's been a few years since I last roleplayed and I find myself missing the activity. Creative writing is my passion and I find myself wanting to be immersed someone else's world while I take a brake from building my own. I admit I've never had an experience with a site like this so bear with me while I pick up the mechanics, but I look forward to writing out adventures with everyone!
  11. Rhysing

    Aldren the Red

    Aldren the Red "I could be a million things, lead a thousand lives, but I only have one. So why waste it on a repetitious existence when I can taste the horizon?" I. The Official Report Aldren the Red, also know as Aldren Ship-Wrecker, or on one recorded occasion "Captain Aldren the Great and Fearless, Wooer of Men, Women, and Danger", is a notorious pirate, smuggler, blockade runner, and hired sword, Captain of the Siren's Song, and a relentless scourge to kingdoms far and wide, particularly those of Genesaris. Credited with well over a hundred kills, at least three dozen ship sinkings, nine daring escapes, two "deaths", and the slaying of one sea serpent, Captain Aldren is widely regarded as a loose cannon, a force of nature, and "completely mad". There are conflicting reports concerning the gender of the captain, one notable testimony describes a "foul-mouthed whore", others "a dark-eyed flirtatious female," and another as "a broad chested male flashing a dangerous smile". The single consistency of all accounts is the description of blood red hair, presumably the source of Aldren's namesake. II. The Private Files The following information is known only to Aldren's most trusted, if known to anyone at all. Aldren Vestillian grew up in Joran City, a blonde-haired second generation immigrant from Terrenus, along with her older brother, Erys. A creature of chaos confined in a metropolis of order, she grew restless and felt suffocated by the town's industrial and military standards. She dreamed of the world beyond, as wild and untamable as the magic that gripped it, the magic that called so impossibly to her. Unlike her brother, a Joran prodigy, Aldren disliked schooling, which demanded mastery in mathematics and technology, and, much to the distress of her educators, blatantly refused to apply herself beyond her interests. She possessed a taste for adrenaline and found fights more often than not, aquatinting herself closely with disciplinary action. In their early years outside of school, Aldren and her brother were close, but as Erys grew nearer to graduation, the two veered apart as their values drifted out of alignment. Erys, once adventurous and brotherly, threw himself into his work, shutting out Aldren and others who considered him friend. Disaster struck at fifteen when a failed military experiment resulted in the death of their parents. Erys, in a state of emotional fragility, retreated farther into his research, leaving Aldren to mourn alone. No longer seeing a reason to stay, Aldren stowed away on a ship to Port Kyros. Upon arriving, she was quickly drawn to the vessel of a known smuggler and pirate, Captain Rolfe Storm-Blood. After requesting to join his crew and being rather unceremoniously turned away, she stole supplies from the market and stowed away below decks. Once at sea, Aldren revealed herself, proving that she wouldn't take no for an answer, even at the risk of death. Captain Rolfe, secretly impressed by the sheer audacity of the fiery fifteen year old girl, but outwardly quite annoyed, agreed to let her stay until they docked. Aldren took this time to learn all she could about sailing and sea fairing, furthering her knowledge of the world she wished to immerse herself in. Midway through their journey, they were pursued by Northern naval ships, and in an attempt to outdistance them, they fled into the rocky talons of a long abandoned trade pass. Unbeknownst to them, the route had been discarded not because of its crag filled and reef ridden waters, but because it had become home to a sea serpent's nest. They were attacked in the night, the serpent surging up from the depths, Rolfe's magic of wind and tide just barely moving them away from the strike which would have shattered their ship. In the end it was Aldren's quick thinking, observation, and skill that purchased their escape. Using the very contraband they were smuggling, Aldren fashioned a crude explosive to wound and force back the serpent, and manipulating the currents of sea and sky, they dashed the creature against the rocks using the ship's prow. Though having sustained heavy casualties and damage to the vessel, they made it successfully to port, were Aldren was deemed "Serpent-Killer" and permitted to stay aboard. III. The Years After Aldren was taken under the wings of Storm-Blood. He taught her the trade of her ambitions and fueled her desire for magical knowledge, showing her how to harness and expand her innate abilities. She quickly rose to become his First Mate. As they traveled the world, she versed herself in many things such as swordplay, philosophy, and politics, but none so much as magic. Everywhere she went, she left her mark in one way or another, and quickly sparked the beginnings of a legacy. Under Captain Rolfe she became notoriously known as "Aldren Ship-Wrecker" for her ability to sink enemy ships on hidden reefs, or lead pursuers to their demise in rocky mazes, though the tales of her early years pale in comparison to those of recent. For three years Aldren sailed under Rolfe before the fateful event seared into her memory, an event she believes to have been among the very first stirrings of Whispernight. Though she rarely speaks of it, it's what forged the legend of Aldren the Red. Only eighteen at the time, Aldren and the rest of the crew aboard the Siren's Song sailed into an eerie and unnatural fog. In the drunken, haunted state which she once recounted the tale, she described being greeted by wicked whispers, as though the fog had been alive and full of malice, piercing its way to her very core, driving them all into a madness before the demon descended upon them. Some turned on one another, others threw themselves into the sea, but Aldren alone was able to shake the possessive mania. She witnessed as they tore themselves apart, as she was forced to cut down her friends when they came for her, before facing the source of their insanity. A demon, an actual demon, who had crossed the veil separating this world from its own, who had come to feast on the minds of mortal men and become drunk off their blood. Drenched in the red of her crew, dark eyes clouded with the loss of her captain and closest friend, Aldren made a deal. The demon smiled, and as a symbol of their contract and a parting cruelty, permanently stained Aldren's hair with the blood she spilled. The remaining survivors spread Aldren's tale across the world, each telling different and more wild than the last, and thus was the beginnings of Aldren the Red. IV. Present Day Now twenty-one, three years have passed since the fog, and Aldren's legacy is wilder than ever. The Captain has been spotted all over the world, parading a crew just as mad and untamable as herself aboard the Siren's Song, one of the fastest and most feared ships on the sea. V. Description Although Aldren frequently alters her appearance in the public eye, she is tall, tanned, and well spoken with a tendency towards frequent colorful cursing. She has sharp facial features defined with dark gray eyes, almost black in color like swirling storm clouds, and long wine red hair. Bearing herself with swaggering confidence, she can be found by the tail of her trench coats, her cutlass by her side, a pistol at her hip, and silver rings on her fingers. Exhibiting a sly smirk, clever eyes, and a healthy knowledge of how to use her body, Aldren is ruthless as the devil himself.
  12. Welcome aboard!

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