Pirates of Brinedeep
Gerard Luc Picard
Navigator and Sailing Master of The Thunderblow
Everyone’s favorite absent-minded Abyssal Cleric, Gerard Luc Picard is a delusional elven man that has let himself go, primarily because he doesn’t know who he is! He stands 6 feet 6 inches tall, has long platinum white hair, silver eyes and fine elven features, all masked by his slovenly appearance. To call him a slob is an insult to slobs everywhere. He has as close to a pot belly that an elf can get, his hair is bedraggled and usually a greasy matted mess. His appearance is largely the result of too much drink and lot’s of sitting around feeling sorry for himself, but he can on occasion clean up to look quite dashing. In his mind he is always dashing and debonair, wielding a flaming skull mace and draped in the finest Platemail that money can buy.
The Story of Gerard Luc Picard is a tale of what happens to a man that lusts for power at any cost. Hopefully his story ends differently than other tales of this sort, but we do not know what the future holds. With his loss of memory, he has gotten a second chance. We just have to wait and see what he does with it.
Gerard Luc Picard is the name he has given himself, but that is not his real name. His real name is Altarean Hezrael and he was born to a young couple that fell madly in love, but as such stories go, among the elves such a brash act often leads to tragedy. This union meant that Altar’s mother, a child of a prominent and powerful family would not be having her First Born with the Suitor her parent’s had chosen for her. Altar’s father was “Called Out” and died in the Duel of Honor. Altar’s mother was inconsolable and for his entire childhood, looking at him brought tears to his mother’s eyes, so she kept her distance. Altar was left to his own devices and often mistreated simply for his accident of birth.
He was an incredibly intelligent boy and could have been something great, but without any love in his life simply didn’t receive the nurturing he needed to do something good with his life. Instead he channeled the malice, frustration and loneliness he felt into terrible experiments.
He felt a never-ending need to bring others to their knees before him. To do this he delved into the dark arts. At first he just dabbled in the arcane, in those things that he could control with his mind, but by the time he reached adulthood he knew he was not meant for this type of magic. There was something in his soul that needed to be let free that Arcane magic could not unlock. Frustrated and willing to do almost anything for the power he so desperately craved he began to search for the means to become a god. That was when Theria came into his life.
One day while pouring over ancient tomes in the Hezrael Family’s library, a beautiful raven haired human woman came into the Library and began to mock him. She called him a weakling, an amateur and seemed to know just how to push Altarean’s buttons. He exploded in rage and without thinking came at her with every spell he could muster. She batted them aside like they had been cast by a fledgling. At 100 years old, Atlar was anything but a fledgling in the arts and he was far from stupid. After seeing this display of power, rather than rally against it or slink away before it as he had always done before, he begged her to learn of it.
Theria kissed him on the lips and made him hers that very day. After that day Altar’s enemies began to disappear or die of mysterious circumstances, always he stood to benefit in their deaths, but no one could find a way to lay the blame upon him. Secretly Altarean grew in power and bathed in the Blessings of Theria, the goddess of Mayhem, Suffering and Death. No mortal had ever worshiped her before that day. Now she had an instrument that reveled in such things as her right hand.
Altarean helped craft the Church of Theria, he was instrumental in its creation and for his deeds was given full access to the powers of Theria. For 900 years he was her consort and the manifestation of her will in this plane until the unthinkable happened. The heart that should have been hardened against all compassion found it.
Altarean and his followers by this time had taken to the Seas of Brinedeep and off the coast of Ransom they boarded a ship for sacrifices to their Lady. The battle for the ship was over quickly for Altar was powerful, but the battle for Altar’s mind and soul that began that day is ongoing still. It turned out that when he stepped into the hold of the ship he stood among slaves. You would expect that a man like Altar would feel nothing for slaves and have been around them hundreds of times in his 1000 years of life, but he had not. This was the first time he encountered them and it struck him how much their lives where like his. They too suffered from circumstances out of their control and had no idea what the outcome of their lives may be. He felt the hope that they would be set free, BY HIM! They thought of him as their chance for freedom! Completely astounded and speechless by the look in their eyes, he turned around and fled up to the deck.
There, upon the deck of a Slaver ship, Altar began a new path and faught a titanic battle of wills against his goddess. When he stood in the sunlight with the wind in his face and the battle of wills raging within him, Theria appeared to him. Her sultry appearance did nothing to fire up his lust, for the first time, she repulsed him. She saw something in him at that moment and commanded him to slaughter everyone on the ship in her name. With one word, he changed the course of his existence. He said, “No”. In a terrible rage and fury that smote the entirety of her followers, slaves and both ships, she obliterated everything around her. What she did not know was that by giving Altar her powers, she could not destroy him anymore. She left, thinking him dead. Instead Altar floated among the wreckage and the currents unconscious until he was found on the shores of Ransom.
He woke up in the humble home of a old washer woman in town, Elize De Buet. She had found him along the shore and nursed him back to health. Altar had no idea who he was or where he came from when he awoke, but he felt the conflict still rage within him that would lead him to drink in the near future. His recovery took some time, for Theria had hurt him badly, but he eventually recovered completely. During that time he was entertained with Elize’s many trashy romance novels. Her favorites were of a dashing man by the name of Gerard Luc Picard that searched the seas for new life and new civilizations, for secrets, women, treasure and in case I forgot to mention—women.