Viskas Herg

Visk, as they choose to be named, called the sea home more than they ever had the land. Now they carry that connection with them wherever they walk.

## Basic Information

### Organisation(s)

The Family (former), The Guardians, The Harbingers of Havoc

## Key Dates

### Born

2 BTG

Viskas Herg is a Cephalith warlock of Shog-Ammonoth, who after a great personal tragedy went on to serve The Guardian Council as a Guardian. Adventuring with the tiefling Morrigan and the automaton D.I.V as part of the group known as The Harbingers of Havoc, Viskas soon began to travel the lands of Saschia, earning their place as a hero of Forestsedge.

## History

### Childhood

Viskas Herg was born into a Cephalith family who lived in secret inside the borders of the The Highlands. This family were Passers, a portion of cephaliths that repress their abilities and try their best to blend with the community. Cephaliths themselves were uncommon in Veiltouria, having emigrated in small colonies from an overseas land. Viskas was born into a group known as The Family, who took their 'passing' to the extreme by completely eschewing their nature, traditions and heritage, and refusing to shift out of their Human appearance, even within their own home, raising their children as humans.

Childhood was marked by confusion and suffering for Viskas. Being born a literal blank slate and able to shift on a whim, they didn’t have a concept of race, species, or gender. Initially they couldn’t understand why they were the only member of The Family that could change their appearance, why they looked so different. The Family didn't want them to understand. They wanted to be human; according to them they were human. Anyone that thought otherwise was 're-educated'. Initially it was being chastised and scolded for questioning the nature of their abilities but the more often Viskas strayed, the harsher the methods became. Turning hair fun colors got it pulled out, making funny noses at dinner earned a broken one instead. The Family employed more and more barbaric methods to try and make their child believe they truly were human. Viskas endured it all, retreating into their mind whenever the ‘education' began, clinging to the one thing that brought them peace. A book they’d found in the study described an endless expanse full of adventures and wonder, both above and below it's surface. It lay calm and glittered like diamonds in the sunlight, or blackened and heaved with the anger of the gods. The sea called to Viskas. Its nature, in constant flux and unpredictable, felt more like home to them than The Family ever would.

It wasn’t until they’d found a dusty old tome in the back of the shelf, detailing all of the known races in the known world that they began to understand themselves. Nights were lost furtively poring over every spidery word that sprawled below the heading ‘Cephalith’. Viskas looked forward to hearing the doors click shut and see the flickers fade as candles were snuffed. That was when they got to sneak out to the bookshelf, studying each and every word for what felt like the hundredth time, finding new understanding and new possibilities each time. Until that night. The night they got complacent. The night they fell asleep, book in hand, dreaming of all the things they could be. The Family found them, found the book, found out what Viskas had been teaching themselves.

### The Mirror

The compendium ripped from their hands, Viskas was dragged, kicking and screaming out of the study. Clearly the physical methods weren't working. It was time for a different kind of re-education. Viskas was forced to sit in front of an enchanted mirror, the magic affecting their mind and hiding from them their own ability to change. Soon, after weeks of this indoctrination, Viskas gave in. They said the words The Family wanted to hear.

"I am human"

To finalize their 'graduation', Viskas is made to burn the tome and any other offending materials, anything The Family thought had contributed to the delusion. As they set the books aflame, Viskas saw a glimpse of a drawing; an endless blue field, glittering like diamonds in the flames before it blackened and twisted. Their hopes and dreams reduced to ashes, a decision was made. Human or Cephalith, it didn't matter, but Viskas was going to be free. Free like the ocean. They started to toe the line to make The Family happy, becoming the model child, to the point where they finally allowed Viskas to leave the house, confident that they could maintain the façade without any problems. Viskas collected materials, supplies, and waited for their day.

   This went on until Viskas' eighteenth birthday, where their plans and preparations finally came to fruition. The Family celebrates with a feast and jubilations. Drinking themselves into a stupor, The Family turns in for the night. Waiting to be sure they’re completely under the oneiric spell, Viskas goes room to room, locking the doors. They come to the final room and, on a strange compulsion, decide to look inside. There stands the mirror, the instrument of self-inflicted torment. Viskas will never forget how they felt sitting in front of that thing, unsure of what was real and imagined, a mere child forced to question their own sanity. They instinctively ran a hand down the frame, and feel carvings in the wood. Looking closer they find symbols, etched all along the frame, and clarity comes crashing into Viskas' mind like a tidal wave. They collect their stashed supplies, and uncover the tinder that was collected and placed in the nooks and crannies of the house throughout the years. Walking out the front door, they throw a gas lamp over their shoulder and hear the ‘FWOOOSH’ as the kindling ignites and rushes through what they'd come to consider their prison.  Without turning to look back Viskas condemns The Family to the only fate they deemed fitting. Reduced to ashes.

### A Pirates Life

Viskas travels anyway they can to the coast, meeting many strange and interesting folk on the journey across Forestsedge, rediscovering their gift and reconnecting with their Cephalith nature. Their travels take them to Crows Nest and they quickly sign onto the first ship they find. They see this as a rebirth, and a birth needs a name. Putting ink to parchment, they look at the spidery scrawl. The handwriting is a familiar shape that evokes memories of the small joy they found in their childhood, but the name a reminder of where they came from and what they had to go through. 'Visk'

A merchant ship, The Oriana, takes them on as a swabby. Visk is happy to take any work, as long as they’re on the sea and free to go anywhere, do anything, and, most importantly, be anyone. Visk had quickly became numb to the strange, distrusting, and sometimes fearful looks from those that saw their true face, but found that the crew cared little anyway. They were in every size, shape and race, and were well traveled - they'd seen it all. Visk felt at ease, finally comfortable in their skin.

Visk serves on the Oriana for years, loyal to not only the crew but the ship herself. They knew every knot and whorl of every plank. Eventually they take on the role of navigator, and serve by guiding the ship and crew through tumultuous waters and dangerous reefs, around storms, and through dense fogs, diligently protecting the The Oriana and her crew from everything the sea could throw at them. Until one voyage goes horribly wrong.

Chartered to carry an unspecified, but highly valuable cargo, The Oriana sets sail from Crows Nest. Unbeknownst to the crew, the ship is tracked by a pirate band, and they’re set upon once they reach the high seas. Being a merchant ship of some repute, The Oriana is no stranger to pirate attacks and the crew are more than happy to repel the brigands, but they soon find themselves outmatched and outmaneuvered. Visk spies a storm front on the horizon and, realizing there’s only one slim hope to get away with crew and cargo in tact, shouts down to the helmsman the new heading. The helmsman diligently follows his navigator’s direction and in doing so entrusts Visk with their fate.

### The Storm

The Oriana enters the storm, hotly pursued, and the waves begin to batter her sides, throwing her around like a doll. The pirate band is unrelenting, determined to take their quarry and they don’t intend to take quarter. Unable to weather a battle on all fronts, The Oriana is too damaged to out-sail the pirates, or out-last the storm. Visk looks about them watching on as, black and heaving, the sea sends colossal waves to engulf the deck, watery fingers groping and dragging poor souls down to the depths. Cannon fire and grape-shot rip through the ships skin. Where there were once knots in the wood, shrapnel is embedded. Whorls have become gaping wounds gushing with torrents of water, the life giver bringing nothing but death. The sea has turned her anger onto The Oriana. Her voice is deafening overhead as she strikes down, blackening the deck wherever she touches.

Visk sees it all and, falling to their knees, begins to pray. Not to any particular deity, they’ve never really known religion, but to any power that is listening. As the decking tears away beneath them and the waves are grasping at their legs, Visk cries out, beseeching;

"Don’t let me die here, don’t let this be the end. I’ll pay any price, any toll. There’s too much I want to do, too many places to see, too many things to be"

Visk cries this out until the ocean reaches up again with those watery fingers and drags them below the surface, filling their lungs. Their voice stifled, they begin to scream it in their mind instead. As they are dragged further and further into the depths, pulled closer into the icy cold embrace of the sea, they see nothing but black, hear no response, and they’re sure that they’ve met their end.

Waking up on an unfamiliar shore, Visk has nothing left but their spyglass, the clothes on their back, and the washed up anchor of The Oriana, which they take up, the weight a constant reminder of the lives lost because of their decision. But there’s something else with Visk now too. In the depths of their mind are voices, whispers, all speaking over each other and promising many different things but, somehow, the same thing.

Power. Revenge. Freedom. The voice calls to them.