Editing Last Breath of Winter:Characters:Mask:History (section)

==Life 4- Mask Rent Asunder, Moonshadow Abyssal, Avenger of the Betrayed==

Blackness. I remember Blackness. At first it was an oppressive inky depth that swelled and churned around me. I felt as if I was falling without descending; dark torrents whipping around, clawing at me, smothering me, blocking out everything except me and my confusion and fear. I have no idea how long I fought- as long as I had the strength, for sure. I just -knew- if I held on long enough, I could figure out an escape. I -knew- I was smarter than death. And then, it happened. I gave up. No, I did not give up. I realized that life was simply no longer an option. It was in that moment I found that peace that I had always tried to impart to those whose stories I had to end. It was oddly blissful, in truth. It was so comforting to just let go...

When I came to, I saw blackness again, but clearly different. It was the dark canopy of a starless sky, rocking softly back and forth. My ears could hear the soft, slow movement of the water that I had found myself floating in. Everything was so quiet and empty. I remembering wondering, "Is this it? Is this the afterlife?" It was serene, but not quite what I would expect. I don't know how long I spent pondering my state before the fishing boat passed by.

One of the fishermen greeted me with a probing jab from his oar. "Another through the shadowland, I suppose. What do you think, Win- Whoa!" The spectral fellow gave a start as I began climbing up the oar. A moment later I was aboard the small craft with what I resolved were the ghosts of some of the local fisherman tribe. Oddly enough, the reaction you get as a stranded living person in the sea is rather similar to what you receive in the Underworld. After a few moments, I finally croaked out,"Where am I?"

"Uuuuy, we're a bit west of the Isle of Shadows, or thereabouts." Yep, these were definitely fisherman of the Nisbloa tribes- I recognized the accent. An intriguing society... they have often been called Sharkskins due to their reverence for the creatures. The choice to move them to that totemic ideal over squids was definitely a wise choice from the Bureau. It made them far less, well, odd.

"Ah, alright then. I need to get back a port then. If you would be so kind as to give me a lift, it would definitely be appreciated." As the words left my lips, I was already preparing for a demonstration of strength. While the change of gods had given them more social graces, it has also left them with a strong predator streak. It was graceless to approach with a physical strongarm, but I did not have the time or energy to waste. As I saw the toothy grin of the oarsman cross his face as he prepared his own witty remark, I rose to take a tactical position. I assumed the Air form, though it certainly felt different at the time. I remember feeling an itch about my head and the trickle of blood down the side of my nose- a wound from before, no doubt. I was already prepared for their standard tactic. The Nisbloa fight like sharks, circling to disorient and surround their prey. I waited for them to begin the already planned dance, when they provided a unique experience, a surprise.

"Yes, my lord. Right away!"

The faces of the two had gone slack with awe as they fixated up toward me. It's amazing what being murdered and stranded in the ocean will do to wear your temper, and my head was throbbing. I snapped,"What are you looking at?!" My words hit them like a whiplash and they began scrambling to get the boat in motion. It was not a time to question when things went in your favor, so I contented myself to look out over the water for a possible destination. It was only then, when I caught my reflection against the slick inky surface of the water that I saw what these two had seen. On my head was a new caste mark, the one of an Eclipse! Only, rather than gleaming gold, it was dark and bleeding around the edges. The realization that followed buckled my knees under me. I was a monster. I was one of ''them.''