[Dover, England: September 1594 (the recollections of a war-weary mariner)]
Hearken boy; for I would tell thee a tale before we set sail for the Bay of
Biscay on the morrow. I was not always called by this name, you know... To
you, I am Caleb Blackthorne, battle-scarred master of an English galleon,
survivor of a score of sea-fights, cheater of the notched blades of many an
over ambitious Spanish pirate... the Scourge of Medina Sedonia! But to many
others over the countless centuries since my first birth, I have been known by
a host of other names... so many that even I begin to forget all but the ones
distinguished by the most vivid deeds... for I hide a wondrous secret, boy...
a secret some would call a blessing, but which others would deem a grim curse.
Aye, it all began a very long time ago...
Memories of death and life...
For countless thousands of centuries I have walked the earth...
I have seen endless battle,
And untold centuries of slaughter.
I am reborn once more!
The same grim spirit once again given flesh...
O' to be ravished by the seductress death...
[The Scion of the Storms:]
Dethroned 'ere Atlantis fell, haunted by a dark queen's curse,
My son's soul shackled by this spell of endless death and grim rebirth.
Fly, o' skyborne steed of Lyonesse, ride the tempest's wings,
I am the scion of the vengeful skies, a god to warriors and kings!
[Reflections on lifetimes of carnage:]
I have been slain by Roman gladius,
And by Norman spear dealt a mortal wound,
The threads of my ensorcelled destiny
Endlessly woven on some unknown cosmic loom.
I have lost my life to longbow shafts
Fighting for the English crown,
And mayhap I'll end this marinerc