7 Years Old
Black smoke engulfs your eyesight, the blue sky barely peaking hrough an indication that you are on your back. Your hearing fades in and out of the sounds of steel clashing, the screams of men's will and an unknown archaic sound that feels as though it doesn't belong in your world. The sounds fade and the sky blanketing smoke fills your nostrils causing you to release a cough to a voice not your own. The sound of footsteps fill your ears but you feel no strength to even turn into the direction they come from, enemy or friend, your fate is in their hands.
A deeply tanned man hovers over you. A broad grin appears over his face as he looks into your eyes and he extends a hand towards you. With little strength you reach for his hand and he grasps it, lifting you up in one strong motion. Bodies of men in robes layed sprawled on the burnt plains, a single tower of stone in the distance and at the gate you can see large creatures resembling ants with riders on them grasping spears.
"Look into the orb and tell me what you see." The man's throat is raspy possibly from the smoke and he speaks in a slowed tongue indicating low intelligence. He hands you a shiny orb and as you gaze into it's unclear glass you wonder what you will see. You see you. But older. This isn't you now but.. the way you want to be. At least the way you envision yourself.
"I see me." You say, a child's voice leaving your throat but it's yours and it feels at home. The barbaric man plants a hand on your shoulder, his large grin practically awakening you.
"Then we win!" He practically shouts as he charges at the riders and you follow suit.
"Son/Daughter, it's time." You feel a strong hand shake you, not as strong as Grognak's but it stirs you from the world you took yourself in. With a blink, you are back in that little school in little old Boston. A once blank paper now marked by the colors of crayons of you and Grognak. A older you, a stronger you with your beautiful skin, your wonderful eyes, the hair you wish to grow, the hair you wish to cut. All there but drawn with the skill a possibly unawakened artist. The art of a child that all love to see.
"What you got there kiddo?" You look upward to your Father. Your DNA, your connection to your heritage, the basis of who you are before you fill out the details of your life. He leans down, looking at the drawing but not touching, unsure if you're finished.
"Look good kiddo. Could become a artist someday." He smiles at you, an earnest one and one you believe in.
[You really think so?] - "If you set your mind to anything, you can achieve anything. I believe in that when I see you."
[I don't think it's very good.] - "None of us start off good. We gotta learn, try and fail. That's how we make progress. Cause one day we will succeed."
[It's just for fun.] - "Well then I'll be sure to buy you a box of crayons, pencils and the like on the way home today."
[It's not as good as Jamie's.] - "Don't worry about Jamie's. Do you. Be you. It'll always be enough."
You release a yawn as the sun sets over the horizon, blanketing the room in a beautiful fading orange. Your Father leans over, picking you up and carrying you. You hear the ruffling of paper and you see the classroom you spend five days a week fade away as you blink. Your Dad sharply turn and you see your teacher, female, short brown hair holding the drawing you just made as she staples it to the wall amongst the others. She gives you a small wave and off to dreamland you go.
CHARACTER CREATION - APPEARANCE COMPLETE