He stood no more than five foot five with hair like an untamed child. Kicking the stones along the road, he kept to himself. He watched ever so carefully as everyone passed. He saw those things they tried to hide. They watched him pull and tug uncomfortably on his own clothes and hair.
He was mysterious and captivating all at once. His advice never failed even though he was so young, so inexperienced. He could talk about any and everything. Conversations with him were never less than entertaining.
He was able to see the world with wide eyes, yet know the troubles ahead, which could not be avoided in life. Logic of his always resulted in success; and people were always eager for five minutes of his time. He should have had more than enough to stay content.
However, no one really knew who he was. His thoughts of himself always separated him from the rest. With a mind like his, building up the feeling of personal ostracism came easily. He constantly deemed himself out of place, but pretended that he belonged. He felt that failure followed him around and was his only friend.
He held an interest in the people all around him, analyzing them in hope for an answer. Craving something more, he forced himself to believe. Especially since he knew of no hope, no heaven. He only knew of now; he only believed in now. His life was filled with false promises and false rewards; he ached for something real.
Tired of the life he lead, he began the search. Seeking something more, something in which to believe. He was looking for a hero. Someone who could prove that there was more to life that what we are taught. With the hope of a child, he wanted to find it through this adventure. There had to be more to life than that of which he knew. Life couldn't just be about wealth or the afterlife; he believed there was more. He needed something more than just a false sense of what life represented.