Gypsy McSporker
I am known as Gypsy, a member of the Blood Eagle crew. The journey I took before finding my home among this group of pirates was not always a happy one, but it is my story none the less.
My mother is Cherokee, and the source of most of my happy memories. Though growing up among the Cherokee was difficult at times due to my French blood, I respected these people and learned a great deal from them. I not only learned a fierce independence and skills for defense and survival, but I learned the value of a family and loyalty to that family. I was known as Ayita, or First to Dance, by the tribe. I always managed to find the happiness in anything that happened. I would have spent the rest of my life with Cherokee had my father not decided to take me away from the only family and way of life that I knew.
My father was a Frenchman. His family was known for their military accomplishments throughout many generations. He did not approve of what he considered a heathen way of life. While my mother allowed me free reign of my choices and freedom, my father expected me to live my life according to his rules. As a result of one of the many fights between my parents, my father informed me that we would be sailing for France so that I could get a proper education and live among civilized people. I despised the man from that point on, and vowed to do everything in my power to go against his wishes. On the voyage to France, my father wanted me to sit in my cabin and only leave when escorted properly by a person of his choosing. I took every chance I could to sneak off and sit with the sailors of the ship. They taught me the many skills needed to sail on a ship, and told tales of adventure and freedom. It was this freedom that they spoke of that first caught my attention. Even thought they were confined to this vessel most of their days, they loved this ship and its crew as family, and that was something that I could relate to. Unfortunately, the trip was too short, and we arrived in France, the land of my father, sooner than I would have liked.
My father’s family has a large estate, overrun by Greyhounds and horses, which is probably the only happy thing I encountered during my time there. His family was very cold towards me as they disapproved of my Indian heritage. Where I preferred to dress as a boy and run free, they expected me to dress in corsets and skirts as a lady should. I rebelled against their rules as often as possible, but soon learned that if I would appear to conform, I was awarded more freedom. I used that freedom initially and would take one of the horses and a couple of the Greyhounds out to the woods to hunt or just wander. This was an environment that I knew, and one that brought comfort. However, the sea started calling to me. It started off with just smelling the salty sea water along the edges of the forest. I took to wandering the coast at dawn and dusk to watch the sun rise and set. My daily treks started to change course for the docks. The sight of the ships with their crews working together and always happy appealed to me. I roamed the docks talking to anyone that would speak to me. One day, I happened upon a ship that did not look like the rest. It was a ship of Norse origins; the Blood Eagle I was told.
The crew of the Blood Eagle looked to be all male, save for one female. It was her I approached and started a conversation with. She spoke of a brotherhood, and their thirst for knowledge as well as adventure. She was counted among their ranks as an equal, and a superior in some cases. I knew this was my chance for freedom, whether it was my way back to my mother’s people, or off to a life on the sea among these brave and boisterous crew. I asked to speak with the Captain, and was brought before him as well as his first mate. I plead my case, and requested the honor of serving on their ship. I was told to return the next day as they would need to consult the crew.
I rushed home and gathered the few prized possessions I had managed to keep from mother, stole one of my favorite Greyhounds from the kennels, and rushed back to the docks too excited to wait. At daylight I approached the ship, and was met by the Captain, his crew standing behind him. He said nothing to me, but he reached forward with a red and black sash in his hand in offering. This red and black piece of cloth was the key to my freedom. Without hesitation I snatched it from his hands and tied it around my waist. I was officially a member of the Blood Eagle.
I carry the memory of my father and the bondage of French aristocracy with me in the form of the Fleur-de-Lis. A symbol that evokes negative memories has become my motivation to live my life as I see fit. I take the lessons about loyalty to family from my mother and apply it to my new family, the crew of the Blood Eagle.
Whether I am seen in the corsets and skirts of a proper lady, or the practical clothing of a sailor, I will wear the black and red with pride.
