MourningStar has a minion!

Sharp the Leggy

"I wouldn't take her out."

He steps forward into the surf, holding a bag gingerly in his teeth. The salt water washes up to his belly quickly, and soon he is swimming. There is no need to dive. A muscled, sucker-spotted coil snakes around his torso and back legs, and the Celinox is dragged below. Even expecting this, he panics.

Her eyes, the color of algae growing thick on the surface of a tepid lake. He could forget everything in that inviting color, sink beneath it as a stone would.

He had always known he would make a bid for her heart, even as a cub. There had been many their age, and as such they had not been especially close. But he knew.

Water streams down his nasal passages, filling his lungs. He fights not to take a breath, to hold on to the precious offering he has brought. His eyes are wide in unbridled fear despite the sting of the salt, all too aware of the power of large form pulling him swiftly through the water, and how easily this could be his last act.

He is sure he is going to drown until the minute he is pushed above the surface, emerging into an underwater pocket of air, a hidden cave. The tentacle uncoils from his body and slips back into the deep. A strange, low light dances on nearby rocks, obscured by the water he blinks from his eyes, his vision shaking as he pulls himself up on to the rocks, dropping the satchel at last and wretching up water in a sputtering, painful series of heaves.

"Careful, Celinox. If the items are harmed in any way, I'm afraid we haven't got a bargain." Her voice is as liquid as he remembers, dripping with all the hidden depths of the sea. She emerges from the shadows by dragging herself forward, her immense and powerful tail all but useless in this little cave.

"Any harm that came to them was a result of your creature--" his muzzle curls up in a snarl, then he begins to hack again.

"Tut-tut. Do you want me to do this or not?" Merana's nails are sharp as she takes a hold of his chin, studying him. He stares balefully up at her, silent, and her terrible mouth splits into a pointed smile. "Much better. Now, let me see!"

He had not, however, always known he would win it. She was sweet, shy. She laughed easily but was quiet, delicate, unpretentious. He knew himself to be abrasive, awkward, and slightly selfish. Perhaps it was the way he fumbled past his shortcomings that won her. Perhaps it was something else. He was not well known for sentiment, and never asked.

The witch's lips curl into a smile and she releases him to take hold of the satchel. "Good, good. Yes, this is certainly all I need. Thank you so. Now-- my promise!"

She takes hold of him again, and he roars in agony, the dark magic coursing from her into his body tearing at him, warping him. Changing him forever into a hideous beast. And it is all he deserves.

A sunny spring day brought them out onto the shallows of the sea in a small sailing craft, no more than a dinghy, to enjoy some peace and quiet together. To enjoy each other. Heady and heedless of the warfman's warning of strange sea conditions, he brought her out for a picnic on the ocean. They strayed too close to the coral reef on purpose, as he knew how she loved to watch the Chelons and other sea creatures play in the warm, clear waters there.

The winds picked up with alarming speed. There was no storm, but the ocean's surface became dangerous. Large, choppy waves began to slap at the side, rocking the craft. Distracted, he was not ready to prepare the ship for such weather, and it tossed dangerously. She lost her footing, slid and hit her head, and fell overboard, unconcious. He jumped after her, but they were too shallow, too close to the reef. She sank, and became entangled in the seaweed that grew around the coral reefs. He struggled to free her, clawing and snapping his jaws around the weeds, but the waves kept pushing him under, knocking them both repeatedly into the sharp coral. Blood dirtied the water around them. Lots of it.

He blacked out, hearing the old man's voice, "I wouldn't take her out."

Starting at the beginning is not always exciting. For MourningStar (born Rhye), his early childhood was unremarkable. He grew up in a sea-side village, learned to sail at a young age, and did the things that young boys do: he played daring games, thought a lot of himself, and strove to impress his parents.

No, it was after he became an adult that his life became truly interesting, because two things happened. One is that he joined a mercenary ship as one of the crew, not willing to settle for the life of a fisherman, and the second is that Rhye fell in love. Doesn't it always start with a girl? In truth, he had known Calla his entire life; she lived in the same village as he did, attended the same schools. And even though he had been interested in her from their youth, it wasn't until they were both grown that he was truely smitten. Their courtship was remarkably short, they were joined in a mating ceremony, and for a time were in love in the way that is boring to everyone but those involved.

Their love never had a chance to mature, because the first Spring after their mating, Rhye ignored the advice of a dockworker and took Calla out to a coral reef to watch the sea life. A strong wind storm came up, and she was thrown out against the reef, badly injured and caught in sea life, and drowned. Rhye himself was horribly injured trying to save her. However, he does not or can not remember the actual events after he blacked out in the water, just that when he woke up, he was home and had slept, fever-riddled, through his mate's funeral.

As was the custom in his village, Rhye re-cristened himself following Calla's death, choosing MourningStar as his new name. In an attempt to distract himself from the intense guilt he felt, MourningStar threw himself into his work, taking shore leave less and less often. He became obsessed with finding the Omen Islands, knowing that the sea witch Merana was tied to the Island, having seen first hand the results of foolish creatures that thought they would recieve a blessing and instead were cursed and distorted. His crewmates became concerned, and eventually he was dismissed from the ship. By then, it hardly mattered.

It wasn't hard to find a suitably rich human to convince that securing a map to Omen Islands would lead to grand fortune. It was even easier to locate Merana once they reached the islands. Securing the items she asked for as payment was harder, but once MourningStar had them, all he had to do was return to the sea. One of Merana's minions, able to stray further from the island, dragged him under and took MourningStar to her. In a hidden cave under the sea, MourningStar was transformed to his current shape.

Satisfied that remaining in his grotesque shape was suitable pennance for his foolishness, MourningStar sought to return to his life as a sailer, looking for a crew that would have him. Of course, most reputable ships don't want a cursed, one-eyed (and surly) crew member, so it was on a less than reputable ship where he found a place. He lived and worked among the pirates of Omen Islands for a long time, but Merana's curse called him to her during the Omen Island festivities that would take young Amy's life. What happened then is as lost to him as those dark days following Calla's death. When his mind was returned to him, he remained reclusive for nearly a year, until one day he found himself back at the docks, looking to join a crew again, ready to rejoin some semblance of society (if only to avoid starvation).

Since, he has spent very little time with any given ship. Though years have passed and his hardworking (if incredibly dour) attitude have earned him a certain amount of respect as a sailor that helps to mitigate concerns about his loyalties, his curse is plain for all to see, and with Merana once more on the loose, there remains a seed of fear in everyone that those she has cursed may some day be called back to the deep.