Happy Birthday [Open to one Other]

[Galloglasses]

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Today was not a good day for Fredrich Wilhem De Grimmalditore.

Not a good day at all.

For you see, it was the day of his 20th birthday, and after a hearty celebration in his family abode in that thrice old port town with its thrice damnable merchant families and thrice damned feuds, he was in the midst of his drunken stupor, tricked onto a boat by friends and kin, and shipped to sea that very same night. For as his brothers, not to his knowledge mind, were wounded mortally in a three way feud with two other merchant families, the Falcionites and the Communitori, he was the last of his line and his family, sensing their imminent destruction, decided to send him away to safe havens with no more a goodbye then the half memories of his party and the gift of tearful letters of a mother who will never again see a son.

Letters he will never read because, you see, the ship itself was sabotaged. and as he lay there sprawled amidst rope and other storage detritus of a ship's hold, gently hugging a rather big stick made out of oak and palmetto, a bow in fact, but he never knew that, he was too busy have a deep dreamless, snoring sleep, the gunpowder, unfortunately, was ignited and a rather large hole was blown in the side of the ship, with the saboteurs taking flight with the only good lifeboat, having sawed perfectly circular holes in all other means of watery salvation.

Fredrich, naturally confused, hungover and generally disorientated, angry and pissed out of his mind terrified upon waking up half drowning in water, panicked, and blacked out all the quicker for it. his body clutching the big soggy,now even more soggy, stick pinned between his unconscious body and large section of the ship's hull floating aimlessly out into the choppy waters of the sea, as the sailors screamed with their last breaths for far away and long dead mothers and desperate utterances, prayers and pleas to the gods, as the saboteurs received their blood gold and their benefactors revelled long into the night in victory.

And while whether or not the gods answered the prayers of the sailers will always be up for debate, one, strange god, decided to intervene.

Now this will just not do, a strange, oddly resonant voice started in Fredrich's head. And with this the unconscious blackness of Fredrich's mind became alarmingly concious and if possible, even more black.

Who is there? Fredrich replied into the blackness of his mind, at least he thought it was his mind, with his own disembodied voice. Show yourself! I demand this of you lest I go mad!

No, shut up The strange voice replied And listen, Human child

I am no mere child! Fredrich replied angrily, I am Fredrich Wilhem De Grimmalditore! I am a man full grown and heir to my father's name!

Again, do shut up the voice repeated, with a little irritation, Whatever you are, I am a God and I am not pleased, it stated Listen. Now. Your family is dead and you are floating at sea, also about to be equally dead and twice as wet, Now-

My family.... is dead? Fredrich whispered disparingly, his world becoming more shattered with each passing minute.

Yes, yes! Your bloody family is dead! Would you listen you bloody worm you! By ME its no wonder I never bothered to reveal myself to the world before, I forgot all mortals were as annoying as you are... The god
replied angrily Now here's how it is, I am going to save your life, and your are going to serve me for life by ridding of the evil that is most present in the world, I really dislike evil come to think of it

Wait a minute I never agreed to this

Well its not as if you have choice now is it!?

Well, what sort of evil?

Oh bloody hell I don't know! Start with killing witches or something then move on up to bigger things. See how that works out.

Well... Fredrich Began, What if I, what if I don't want to. Want if I want to die, drowned at sea, lost in the blackness of the waters for ever?

Tough shit The god finished.

Fredrich Wilhem De Grimmalditore Awoke startled, gasping for precious night air and coughing up water upon the dirty sands and the remains of his makeshift life raft, standing, clutching his big, soggy stick close to his chest, wearing and having nothing in the world but the ripped, ruined and stained slashed tunic, his tattered black cape, his equally stained light blue breeches, albeit with other liquids then sea water, and missing leather boot, claimed by the sea along with his stylish fedora as toll for letting him live. So there he stood, soaked, and worse then naked and unarmed upon the shore that was never scale beach.