A Rogue's Restraints

Prologue

Y'all ever been to a public execution? No? Why ever not? I for one have, but not in the way you might be imagining. Though I'm flattered that you presume me to be one of the horrified, or even jeering spectators. No, you see, I was the one on the chopping block.

But that's a story for another time.

Now before you scratch your head in confusion and cast aside this story, know that this story is made up of many stories, all equally mindboggling as the time I escaped execution. This, kind sir, is the story of me. The story of Sebastian Blackheart.

To you I may be the legend. The heroic man to seek the Black uncorrupted. Or the man to eff and blind at for nearly starting a war of epic proportions. To others I may be that jerk in the tavern that cheated them at cards (I do that a lot, but people never learn) and to those most important, the man who disappeared without a trace.

I am all those things, but to my friends, no my family, I'm Sebastian Phineas Coreville (Don't tell anyone about the Phineas part. Obviously, I never got a say in my name). Orphan, outcast, thief. Worth less than dirt to most people. But not Willa and Theon. Theon is the brother I never had and Willa...Willa's something special.

I'll see her again. Even if I sell my soul in the process.

You know, if I had a soul. You get the point. The sentiment is there.

Now before you curse my name I'll cut to the chase. Where to begin...I could start with the craziest stories first, like that time I drank the elixir of death, or when I stabbed the girl trying to seduce me...Oh! What about the time I stole a herd of chickens (do you call it a herd?) and released it into the women's bathhouse in Henlin. The stampede of naked women was the best part.

Though I guess the best place to start would be the beginning. I have time. I have to wait another generation in (as the Kamasians would put it) this Non forsaken country. On a side note, Kamasian heresy does amuse me. Simply, they're in denial of their world's sorry state, though I guess for a man from the Godless Realm this was as good a place to land as any. But of course you're wondering who I am and how I got here.

If anyone ends up reading this, whether you're from the Original, or the Godless, or even less likely the Magicless, know that I DON'T CARE. That's right, universe! I don't care. I'm not writing this to make my mark on society. I've already done that. All in the wrong places. I'm not worried about a legacy of any sort. I just...well I might as well let the cat out of the bag. If you get close enough to me to read this, I suppose you deserve to know.

My fire, not the physically summoned kind, the psychological and emotional Lifefire of the Black. Threatens to consume me constantly. I haven't earned ownership over it like a master owns a slave. Stories and rumors aren't everything. I constantly hope to find a way to cope. To rise above it. This is just one of many ways I've tried.

Phew! That got depressing. Really, I'm not the dark, manipulative person I appear to be. Honestly, that's literally the only person the people around here comprehend, or at least, the people I consort with. It's a relief that here in my writing, I can be the person I honestly am.

All I came here with was my Savasian bone knife, the clothes on my back (which aren't in the best of condition), and a worn leatherbound book that is more precious than gold. (Which isn't worth much around here. Tell me, why Jade?)

Well, here we go. The story of me. The story of my accomplishments and failures. My talents, and restraints.

The tale of Sebastian of the Black.