Varastan Nightwater: Voice of the Deep

Upbringing

Born in the city of Mareliar beneath the Moonsea - the only Marel city in all of Faerun - Varastan's upbringing was typical for his kind. He was taught the cruel ways of Umberlee, their patron goddess. He was trained to fight with net and spear; to be ruthless and cruel to those he faced - or worse yet - captured. Males were tortured and killed when caught alive. Females endured worse. His hatred was directed against all creatures, but particularly surface elves, humans, and sahuagin.

Unlike most other Marel with pale skin, Varastan's own was deep green - reflecting his ancestry from The Great Sea far to the southeast of the continent. His ancestors had migrated to the Moonsea in 300 DR, only to be cursed along with the rest of the Alu'Tel'Quessir of Mareliar in 400 DR when the gods punished them for not protecting the city of Northkeep. But that was all long before Varastan was born.

When not training, his early years were spent in the city. Its dwelling were elaborately carved from deep water coral. Even to one with such monstrous ways, the beauty of the city was not lost on Varastan. Yet dealing with those who dwelled there could be perilous. Due to his coloring, he was seen as something of an oddity by most of his own kin. Yet his physical prowess was such that few dared to give him trouble for it to his face. Indeed, even from a young age Varastan was an exceptional specimen for his kind, with broad shoulders, large muscles, and an innate toughness to shrug off blows. Yet it was his comely features and charm that truly made him stand out. Between his honeyed words and his talent for violence, he was able to get whatever he wished from whomever he wished. This drew the attention of the clergy of his goddess.

Taken as an acolyte into the church of Umberlee, Varastan spent the latter years of his upbringing learning more than just violence. His education became academic - to think critically, and act with wisdom. His deeds would go on to be no less monstrous - but far more strategic. He began leading assaults against ships in the night, commanding the stealthiest members of his attack parties to execute whatever crew were awake, before leading a small party down into the lower decks to finish off those who were resting. It mattered not if they were military, merchant, civilian, or pirate - whoever sailed in the waters that Varastan patrolled would feel Umberlee's wrath. When the crews were killed or captured, and whatever valuables picked through, Varastan would summon his goddess' might to strike down the ships with lightning or massive waves - ensuring their tracks were covered, and the fate of the ships a mystery to the surface world.

By the time Varastan reached full adulthood, he was favored by all for his well rounded skillset. Yet he began to feel restless. A century of slaughter, torture, and deviancy left him longing for more - for purpose. This couldn't be all their was to life, could it?