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| − | Born to an Irish mother and a Scottish father, hatred of the English was in my blood. Not only was this distaste supported by my family, it was encouraged, as was education, for that matter. “Education is power, education is the road to freedom” my father would say. My father and uncle were both doctors, though of a philosophical nature, not a medicinal path like my own. Early on I knew medicine was my true calling.
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| − | I apprenticed under a druidic healer for years and studied the ancient healing powers of plants and herbs as many of my Celtic ancestors had. This foundation for my journey proved very useful. I trained in modern medicine for years, but as I developed my practice, I was unable to find the excitement I had always imagined, the real action was out at sea. My desire was to help the people who were suffering at the hand of the English, teach them modern theories of how to stay healthy and heal their illnesses and injuries when needed as I could.
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| − | During my young years of training, I frequently found myself in need of relaxation. This was something I found in dancing and drinking, an unusual practice perhaps for someone study how to keep the body healthy. It didn’t matter the music, though I enjoy a dark, earthy sound. And it didn’t matter the drink, though I prefer something strong, yet smooth or even sweet.
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| − | During the years of staying out at the pubs until the wee hours of the morning, I met a handsome fellow by the name of Keith. He was fun to talk and flirt with, and we enjoyed each other’s company as friends do. He introduced me to quite a few of his friends and family over the years, many of whom referred to him as Jereth, most of whom seemed to share my love of the sea. One may assume that I would’ve instantly connected with these people and taken them into my life as my own kin, but fear and apprehension would stop me…for years. In order to understand this, I must take you back to my youth, nearly 20 years ago.
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| − | I didn't always have a strong voice, I used to be nearly meek, in fact, agreeable to a fault. I had to learn from some horrible experiences. As a youth, there were many things in my life that I tolerated that I may not have if I were older and more comfortable with my voice as I am now. One of these things being a villain of a man that called himself by the name of a noble feline, whom I will simply refer to as "pussy" from here out. At a time when I was otherwise disillusioned by a suitor who I lived with, the pussy was our roommate. This was my gullible and naive phase, otherwise known as young and dumb.
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| − | During this vulnerable time in my life, like a ray of light, a strong, beautiful young lady's presence was a saving grace. Though she was hardly my senior in age, I looked up to her. She was level headed, of similar spiritual beliefs to my own and we were further bonded through our common dislike of the fool named pussy. Her name was Traveler Hawk. We were reunited several years after having fallen out of touch with one another and she too, was a part of this group of sea-fairing folk named the Rogues. In fact, she was a Captain. All the more reason to admire this strong woman, who is even more beautiful because of her strength.
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| − | Though pussy man did not leave me with any permanent scars, the foul taste in my mouth still lingers and when I see him, I wince in disgust with clinched fists. Over the years, I had witnessed him spending time in the same vicinity as these kinsfolk of Jereth. Ashamed though I may be, I categorized these people poorly due to their fraternization with the pussy and it took me over ten years to change my mind.
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| − | Shortly after concluding my studies in medicine, I came to know a young Frenchman by the name of Tony. We would frequently play cards together at the neighborhood pub and go to the dancehalls followed by a bite to eat shortly before sunrise. Tony was a wonderful friend in my life shortly after experiencing quite a few losses, understandably, we grew close quickly.
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| − | Just as happens in most new friendships, we introduced each other to several of our friends, some who were common between us without our knowledge. For the third time over nearly 10 years, I was introduced to “Rogues” through someone I trusted. That being said, I decided to give this wild bunch a chance and haven’t regretted it yet. I let the Frenchman know about my concerns with this haunt from my past, and through a few old-timers in the group I was assured that he was barely an acquaintance of a few people in the group, and was NEVER a member. I was further assured within only a week of being embraced by this family that he was never going to be an issue, because I was already valued and cared for. The foundation had been set for the building of a new family.
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| − | Right off the bat, I was welcomed by the group so warmly, it was moving. At one of my first weekend camping experiences with them, I arrived equipped with over a gallon of whiskey and rum as well as food to share with all. It was then that I learned the capacity this group of pirates had for drinking, they were my kind of people.
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| − | With such a large group of people who like to drink, accidents are bound to happen. My medical background was probably going to come in handy in one way or another, sooner than later. “Sooner” came quickly. In a sparring match, someone with a pre-existing injury and a bit of booze on the breath twisted his knee. A couple months later, he drank a bit too much and was a cause of concern for his friends, the same night one of the Captain’s backs had a “run-in” with some glass in a frame. It was all very mysterious, really.
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