Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-13615389-20160623164644/@comment-5583506-20160628222758

Ra'Jirr sat down on a chair in front of a murky mirror below deck. Pulling the cleaver from the sheath in his belt he held the mirror up to examine his own face. A man stared back at him through the dirty glass. A man he had come to despise the more time passed. Didn't matter if he cleaned himself up or not. Sin wasn't easy to wash away.

Nevertheless he cut away those tufts of hair and fur that had stuck together from dried up wine and vomit. In a nearby bowl he dipped his hands and washed away dirt and old blood. Taking off his vest to examine the scars and cuts he was reminded of how the collection of lives he wore on him. Every man or woman who had at some point managed to leave their marks or dents in his flesh were no longer alive.

And then there was the scar on his right hand. The one he would never let heal. That particular sin wasn't something he could just cover up and leave as a healed wound. It needed to be open. He needed to remind himself of what he had done and what was at stake. He had brought himself out to sea once more, not to set things right, there was no way he could do that. But to make amends...

''I have to believe that she is still out there... ''he reflected. ''And I have to believe that she is... alive and well...''