Ahoy Mates! Here is the first part of my story about how I became a Sea Rat! Hope you enjoy... 7th century AE was not a most favorable time to walk the continent of Halos for a poor peasant’s son but it had its opportunities for a crook who wished to overthrow his fortune. Having left my town for a better future, I headed to Granoleon, Oleon where I worked for peanuts for a few months but that was not my dream. I was yearning for something else: Money. Lots of Money. So I ended up in the dark, muddy backstreets of Granoleon where the similarly infamous pubs were located. These pubs housed all types of stereotypes of bad seed who you wouldn’t see in the clean, civilized streets of Oleon, which was famous for its traditions, advanced culture and divinity. Consequently, it wasn’t long before I got toxicated by the virtues of the vicinity: Theft, murder, adultery…and they far exceeded number 7. In a few years’ time, I was living my dream. Of course, with the little discomfort law makers had to offer to the likes of me. I was caught red handed twice and sentenced in the cold vaults of Granoleon but I was so talented to be imprisoned in the ordinary fashion. Tasting the humid of the vaults had taught me one thing, though. That I was dancing on the knife’s edge. I had to find a way to erase my past as a crook. So I withdrew to Corrington to spend some time off Granoleon but a crook is a crook wherever he goes and I returned to my beloved Granoleon. Changing location didn’t help but changing identity could. It wasn’t an age of communication or information and money could buy you one. But it entailed another obstacle. I had to leave Oleon because my history would sooner or later reveal the real me. Desperate to find a solution, I lingered on. Until I heard about the news of the recently discovered lands to the East, which meant that Oleon needed men to put into the Blue Coats. I had an epiphany the moment one of my crook friends mocked about it. If I could enroll as a false persona, I could leave my past behind and could visit Granoleon every once in a while. Better than nothing, I thought. I was now a defender of justice and order, and of course of His Majesty! What a world, I thought to myself, as I headed to the Bluecoats’ headquarter where I would receive proper training.   Two months later, we were summoned to serve in our first mission to the East and I found myself in the swinging lazaret of one of the warships owned by His Majesty King Philip I. Born as the son of a poor peasant in the inner land, I had no idea about the cliche of voyages: Mal de Mer, or nausea as we ordinary folks called it. I must have spent two weeks lying sick on my hammock. We headed to the East and I was clearly not used to this type of climate. So my time in the lazaret extended. One night, I was chatting with the guys lying comfortably on my hammock when I heard the ground beneath my feet break. The ground, no, it was the deck that tore like a sandwich. It was a stormy night but we had seen worse days aboard. That’s why nobody worried about it. There must have been something else. But neither I nor other guys would ever have the opportunity to satisfy our curiosities. My mind blew when I felt the cold, dark water surrounding me. The only light was that of the exploding gunpowder. And it was a bad guide to follow. I barely made it onto a boat which seemed to come out of nowhere. I spent two days on the Terraversa Sea without the faintest idea about how to survive. I was thinking over and over again about how misfortunate a Bluecoat could ever get on his maiden voyage. At the end of the second day, I was thirsty to death but there came rain. Could it be an omen of good fortune? I had sank into such philosophical thoughts on my boat when I noticed an island on the horizon. Yes, the answer to my question arrived spontaneously. It was good fortune for sure. The rain, the island… But there came the storm again, swinging my small boat like a nutshell until it crashed onto the rocks off the island.   Luckily, I was able to jump off the boat before it hit the rocks but the current was so strong to resist that I let myself go with the flow. And it brought me to the next ill-fated phase of my story, by the end of which all my life would change for good. It was obvious that I had stranded on the wrong beach…           02 by Mengish, on Flickr               06 by Mengish, on Flickr             03 by Mengish, on Flickr           08 by Mengish, on Flickr          09 by Mengish, on Flickr        05 by Mengish, on Flickr        07 by Mengish, on Flickr       04 by Mengish, on Flickr       10 by Mengish, on Flickr       01 by Mengish, on Flickr