Petyr was born to a poor fisherman and his wife in a small village situated along the northern reaches of the Haense shores. He learned the family trade from his father who tried to convince his son that fishing was a proper honest business, but Petyr’s ambitions were much greater. By the time he was only 17 he ran away from home, stowing aboard a trading vessel headed south. Despite his unexpected presence aboard the ship, the captain liked him, and since he was a hard-working lad, he made him his cabin boy. Petyr worked under the captain for several years, going through both joyous and difficult times together. One day, a few days before Petyr turned 20, the captain turned to him and said with a weary smile,”Pete, my boy, ever since Bobby left the crew, I’ve had the thought of making you the new quarter master...and that’s just what I’ll do!” Petyr was warmly congratulated by the crew as the new quarter master, and despite his young age, he performed well, managing the upkeep of the ship, and advising the captain on profitable trade routes.
A few more years past, and the tide gradually turned against the captain and his crew as the pirates became more plentiful and dangerous. More precautions were taken as Petyr and the captain planned trips with other traders, betting on dissuading pirates by strength in numbers. However, the fateful night arrived. During a voyage to Sutica, the crew lost sight of their fellow trading ships in a thick blanket of fog. Well aware of the danger of their situation, Petyr desperately tried to locate their friends through the misty expanse of the Eastern ocean, but to no avail. A few hours passed as the night grew darker, but the fog eventually subsided. However, their allies were nowhere to be seen, instead a lone, grim ship flying a black banner from its mast approached menacingly from the east. These fiends had no subtlety about their intentions. The captain immediately called for the crew to bring out their weapons on deck. The men rushed back and forth frantically, bringing up swords, bows, and crossbows from below the deck. A few men hauled up heavy, lethal-looking arbalests and locked them into place along the broadside of the ship. Petyr could hear the captain pray fervently under his breath, “Blessed Kristoff, the foe presses me from all sides...”.
The battle that ensued was both bloody and terrible, as Petyr’s crew was ill-prepared to fight. They were tough, but the pirates that boarded were both battle-hardened and merciless, slashing and murdering left and right. As the battle continued, Petyr and the captain were separated, and Petyr screamed in anguish as he saw his captain’s throat slit by a weaselly-looking pirate who had crept behind the old sea trader. Petyr’s anger and shock turned into pure rage, something he had never quite felt to such an intense degree. Grabbing a second saber from the cold hands of one of his dead comrades, he rushed across the deck screaming blood-curdling profanities, slashing down anyone who got in his way. Standing like a rabid dog defending its master, Petyr stood over his dying captain’s body, lashing out at with his swords, letting no one come near. If only he hadn’t been so hopelessly outnumbered.
SHUNK! A crossbow bolt lodged itself deep into his skull, slightly above his left ear. Petyr dropped to the deck like a rock, not quite dead, but barely alive.
Hours passed, maybe even days, when Petyr’s eyes slowly fluttered awake. He instinctively felt the ground below him with his outstretched hand. Sand.
Petyr squinted at the gentleman with a suspicious stare. This dandy fellow had no reason to welcome HIM, an absolute stranger, so something sinister had to be going on. He answered the man without looking him directly in the eyes, “I prefer to keep my business to myself thank ye very much. Now sod off.” Petyr nodded curtly toward the well-dressed man and tried to walk past him.
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