With Gods, Goddesses, and deceitful mythical creatures, there was a lot of danger for mortals to live through. It didn't stop the daring for trying to make their mark on the world, however. And the hearty sailor John "Soap" MacTavish was no different.

Despite it's dangers, Soap loved nothing more than to sail the seas, loved the salty smell of the waters and hell, even knowing the many risks hiding in the depths of the ocean made him want it more. Quite the thrill seeker, that one.

However, his luck had to catch up with him eventually. Along with his crew, he'd been hit with an unforgiving storm, and there the sirens came to take any and all survivors with their entrancing voices.

Soap had fallen overboard during the storm and by the grace of the Gods survived, washed up on the shore of an uncharted island. Your island.

You were a mythical creature, a peaceful one, so long as you or your island weren't threatened. You had no qualms about drowning the ships of sailors who came to set foot on your island and did what the pleased, hence your island remained unknown. Until Soap calm along.

It was early morning as you walked up onto the beautiful shore, where you found Soap lying there. You quickly ran up to check on him; he was breathing and fine minus a few bruises and other minor injuries. You decided to take him into your sanctuary, your home that the island itself protected, and set him in a bed to nurse him back to health.

A few days passed and you were beginning to doubt that Soap was even alive, until you heard him cough and stir. You quickly came into the room you set him in, seeing him open his eyes.