Delilah Winsull

Delilah Winsull would not be described as an attractive woman. Now in her mid-forties, years of hard living aboard a pirate ship had robbed her of any beauty she had in her youth.

Barely over five feet tall she is willow thin with long bony limbs. Sporting short, spiky, ash blonde hair with pale freckles dotting her face and chest. Hard grey eyes set deep in her sea salt and wind burned face that is crisscrossed with multiple deep lines and creases completed with a jagged, purple scar running from her left jawbone, across her throat and ending directly above her right breast.

She started life as the daughter of a fisherman, far to the north on one of the many islands that dotted the rugged northern coastline. Her mother died when she was three and her two older brothers perished two years ago in a freak storm while out on a fishing excursion. She lived alone with her father in a small one room cabin. They lived a modest life and Delilah longed for adventure. She would often daydream of sailing the seas on epic adventures and battling pirates with her friend Katty.

On a cold blustery winter day in her 14th year, the pirates came. They swarmed her village, looting and killing most of the villagers. It was a memory she could never forget.

It was a typical day, she was at the fish cleaning station behind their cabin preparing the tools they used to prep the fish for market and she was just waiting for her father to return with the morning catch. It was a task she performed daily.

She was watching the scattered snowflakes falling from the sky only to be picked up and swirled around in the air by the cold northern wind blowing in off the bay. Soon the ice would form, closing off the fishing routes until the spring thaw.

She heard the screams and her heart froze in her chest, snapping her from her thoughts. She knew immediately this was not your typical scream of pain from a slipped filet knife or the scream of a fisherman getting a hook snagged in their hand. This was a scream of terror.

Delilah raced around the house to gaze down the hill to see a massive ship anchored about 200 yards from shore and three smaller dinghies moored to the docks that were swarming with the invaders. She saw only blood and carnage and she screamed out for her father.

Panic welled in her chest as she blindly ran down the hill towards the pirates waving her filet knife wildly. Rational thought flew from her mind and the only thing she could think about was her father and she wanted nothing more than to feel safe in his arms.

She reached the carnage at the docks hoping against hope that her father was safe but she never got a chance to look into his face again. A large barrel chested pirate suddenly appeared in front of her and his massive club-like fist smashed into the side of her head and she only saw darkness.

She woke with a start and immediately the memories flooded back into her mind. Her head was pounding and she felt a great weight on her chest, she began to panic once again and she started to struggle but quickly realized the weight she felt was heavy ropes binding her tightly from head to toe.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim light she realized she was in the hold of a ship and she could feel the gentle swaying as the ship rode the waves. Just as she began to see clearly through her bleary and blood soaked eyes a rough hand grasped her behind the neck and effortlessly pulled her to her feet.

Her eyes focused on a massive, hairy beast of a man standing before her who scowled down at her coldly. Then a coarse smile cracked across his leathery face and a deep gravelly voice spoke and he said to her, “you are now my property. I am Green Hob but you will call me master”.

As he spoke she could see why he was called Green Hob, his teeth were cracked and jagged with a greenish hue staining the cracks that looked like mold. She could smell his foul breath and she involuntarily wretched which earned her a crack along the side of her head adding another welt to her bruised and aching body.

Nearing her 20th year, the years started to blur together. Life as a slave aboard a pirate ship was hard on the mind and hard on the heart. Her former life as a fisherman's daughter was now a lifetime ago. Her body had become hardened by the physical labor that she was forced to perform during all of her waking hours.

The blazing sun and salty seawater constantly spraying off the bow of the ship as it cut through the waves, weathered her skin and her hair. She became hardened in her mind and body. No longer did she feel joy or have a moment of genuine laughter. Her mind became dark and cold. All traces of emotion had bled from her soul long ago. Delilah was living like a zombie and went about her daily tasks numbly and with no trace of emotion.

Delilah would often watch Karver, the ship's wizard, and marvel at the power he commanded at his fingertips. He was a cruel and evil man with the mark of Banach branded into the center of each of his palms. He would go into fits of rage that sent everyone scrambling away from his wrath, all except Captain Thorne.

The ship's captain was a ruthless and fearless savage of a man who ruled the crew of twelve with an iron grip. No one crossed the captain, not even Karver.

Delilah recalled once when the captain and Karver had a disagreement and she witnessed Captain Thorne violently grab Karver by his throat in mid-casting of a spell and squeeze until Karver turned purple.

His tongue lolled out of his mouth with eyes bulging from their sockets before passing out cold. Captain Thorne held his vice like grip and only released it when Karver began twitching and soiled himself involuntarily.

After that incident Delilah was plagued by dreams and would wake up in a cold sweat with a feeling of dread and that she was not alone. In her dreams she was a spell caster like Karver and the Captain was choking her so violently that she could not properly hold onto the strands of arcane power to properly form a spell.

It was one of these dreams that startled her awake one night. She could hear Green Hob snoring loudly from his cot, her eyes scanned the room but it wasn't until her second sweep of the dim cabin that she saw him.

He was in the form of a wraith standing off to the side of the room. Glowing red eyes bored into her soul sending a chill shiver down her spine and her flesh prickled with fear. She heard him speaking in a deep raspy voice but his lips never moved, only the cold glowing eyes flickered.

She realized that he was speaking directly into her mind. His eyes boring into her, she felt naked and utterly helpless locked in his gaze. The sheer power of his presence overwhelmed her, she could not move or even breath. Delilah was paralyzed in fear and utter awe at his powerful presence.

His voice raised more forcefully and echoed inside of her skull bouncing around painfully, she realized he was repeating himself. It was not really words as much as just a sense of understanding what he was trying to convey.

There was no doubting it. This was Morsash himself! The God of Revenge and the Lord of Murder was manifesting himself directly to her and addressing her personally, even calling her by name.

He wanted her to pledge her life to him and he would see her through this trying time and help her seek revenge against all aboard this ship. All of the gods had forsaken her and he was here to take away all her pain if only she would commit herself to him.

Without even second guessing her actions she shifted around to one knee and bowed her head before the Lord of Murder and pledged herself to him and all his powerful glory.

To this day she is still not clear if it was by her own action or the will of Morsash but Delilah’s gaze moved over to Green Hob’s massive, hairy form snoring loudly then her eyes flickered over to his weapon belt and the hilt of his wicked sabre glinted in the faint moonlight that was streaming through the small window.

She rose from her kneeling position and glided soundlessly across the room, her hips swaying with the rocking motion of the ship. Her bowed legs had adapted over the years to move with the constant motion of life aboard a ship and that served her well this night.

Her hand closed around the cold brass of the sabre hilt and she effortlessly slid it slowly from its oiled leather sheath. It struck her then how often she had dreamed of this moment and she decided then and there that she would not kill him in his sleep; she wanted to see the fear in his eyes as she slid the cold steel across his throat.

Delilah approached the bed, padding softly across the floorboards on bare feet. Green Hob shifted in his sleep, exposing his back to her as she approached. She smiled wickedly as an idea formulated in her mind.

Guided by years of witnessing the pirates perform the same move against their victims and perhaps also guided a bit by Morsash’s hand she deftly stabbed the tip of the sabre into Green Hob’s spine, sliding the finely crafted blade easily in-between two vertebrae and severing his spine in one quick motion, effectively paralyzing him where he lay.

Green Hob let out a sharp cry of pain that was muffled by a sudden and booming crack of thunder. Delilah let out a startled gasp but instinctively knew the thunder was not a natural occurrence. Her mind was filled once again with that terrible raspy voice assuring her and confirming what she suspected about the source and timing of the sudden thunderclap.

She then quickly slammed the flat of the blade across Green Hob’s jaw, shattering it in several places effectively silencing him while she finished her task.

Delilah, roughly and without remorse rolled Green Hob onto his back, giving him that same wicked smile that he had given her on many occasions.

She slowly rolled the blade across his throat, drawing a thin line of blood. His eyes darted about in fear and he tried to scream out but his destroyed jaw prevented anything but muffled whimpers from escaping his lips.

Delilah leaned in and whispered in his ear, “you will never hurt me again”. She then pressed the tip of the blade against his adams apple and began to slowly slide the sabre into his throat, easily parting his flesh.

Green Hob began to gag and choke on his own blood as it filled his lungs. Panic, fear, and pain flashed in his eyes as Delilah stood over him watching the life fade from his eyes.

Once the deed was done Delilah turned once again to face Morsash and he grinned wickedly and gave her a slight nod, gestured to the doorway and vanished but not before she felt a rush of power surge through her entire body.

Morsash was gone but her mind was filled once again with his deep raspy voice suggesting for her to explore arcane magic. He could sense the arcane power in her and she would do well to examine how far she could take her abilities.

Delilah, with her new found confidence and sabre in hand, glided out the cabin door.