Full Name: Karyn J. Fathom
Gender: Female
Age: 23 at death, current unknown
Occupation: Damned Sailor

Let me spin ye a tale me lads, 'un of betrayal, cowardice, death, and revenge.

Aye 'tis a tale that stood the test o' time, so let me start from the beginnin' o' that tale.

Ehem.

It all started in Nassau, nearly 400 years back.

Karyn J. Fathom was born in the year o' 1755, to a rich family which governed over the formerly pirate-inhabited Port Nassau. Her father, Henry K. Fathom, and brother, Frederick J. Douglas (he'd inherited his mother's name as it were), grew up in a mansion on the once proud seaside of piracy.

Where were her mother ye might ask?

She had very little time wit' her ye see, as she left this world just as her daughter entered it. 'Cause o' this, she never really had a 'typical' childhood, as were considered "appropriate" by society. She did not pursue 'lady-like' fancies and instead spent most of her time being entertained with her brother and his friends. She'd go with them to play rough, adventure the nearby forests, and whatever young lads would be doin' at that age. This was practically the routine o' the young lass up until she turned 16. Her father was planning to throw a massive party for her birthday when troublin' news was discovered. Apparently, her brother, who was now 26, was found engaging in piracy and associating with other criminals o' that nature.

When the father learned o' this, his heart filled with woe. His own son, imprisoned for a seemingly long-dead trade, and he knew what would be asked o' him. He pleaded with the locals that he would not have to bear the burden of hanging his own son, to which they responded by ousting him from office. He could only watch in fear as his son walked up to the gallows. A quick drop, a sudden stop, and it was over. Silence ensued, where normally there would be cheers for the death of such a "scoundrel."

Karyn had yet to learn of this at the time it occurred, as she were out o' town, visiting her grandpappy. A war veteran and experienced sailor, he spun tales of honor and glory to his young granddaughter, encouragin' her to follow her heart, no matter what was "expected of one." While she was with him this time, he'd told her a tale o' the war, explaining how he and his redcoat brethren fought back against the detestable French and savages, something that her tomboyish spirit enjoyed every minute of. Having grown bored of her life with her father, she'd snuck away from her grandpappy's house and snuck aboard a redcoat vessel in the cover o' darkness. She thought they would ne'er hurt a "lady" and they'd be forced to have her around on their voyages, giving her a chance to live the life her grandpappy had.

After she fled, her father desperately searched for her, attemptin' to break the heart-breakin' news o' her brother. Never, did she return to those shores, however.

Her plan had gone on without a hitch, but she was eventually booted from the ship multiple times, only to sneak back aboard once in port. Eventually, the redcoats were so impressed with her enthusiasm and fiery spirit that they offered her a position on the crew, mind you it took her 3 years to convince 'em. Har!

She became a deckhand aboard HMS Courage, a fabled vessel known for its pursuit of pirates. Seein' men slaughtered before the mast, both friend and foe, made her develop a sort o' strange view on life, livin', and death. She began to see death as more of a hindrance and somethin' o' less consequence than it truly be. One ship after another, one allied death after another, she began to grow more and more insensitive to the true value of life. Eventually, depsite this disposition (and her gender o' course), she began to climb the ranks. Slowly and painfully she climbed to the rank of Admiral. One night she was ordered by her superiors to pursue an unidentified vessel spotted off the coast of Nassau, that port which she once called home.

She engaged, and while she fought with valor and courage, her ship was taking heavy damage from the reefs below, which tore the hull apart. Eventually it became caught in the reef, an easy target for the mystery ship, but it was the sea that claimed her and her vessel, not that pirate's vessel. (Not to say they didn't fire back)

She found herself bloody and bruised sinking to the bottom. As she closed her eyes, giving out that one last breath, she felt herself rising from the deep. Something was bringing her to the top. Suddenly she was forced through the water on the deck of what appeared to a long-sunk ship. With mortal wounds, she thought she was envisioning these last moments. A figure loomed over her, tentacles writhing on its face.

The figure spoke calmly. "Many come to my door fearing death... yet... ye do not. Do ye serve a purpose?"

She merely lied there in confusion. Muttering a response. "Aye, to-"

She'd been interrupted by the damned sailor. "It matters not what ye served before, as I now offer ye a choice to serve another. A choice that will allow ye to bridge the gap between life and death, which so intrigued ya."

With this, the ship began to sink and he only held out a tentacled hand; her chance at beating death.

She grabbed it, not thinking of consequence and she sunk to the bottom with that tentacled demon.

Now, those who sail near Nassau report seein' the shadow of a woman appear on their decks in the middle of the night, eyes glowing a soft blue and hair writhing as if it were the sea itself.

"Fear the Depth Strider."