Call me Anders.
I am at the age of 1.1, or 16, if you prefer human dating. I am known as the Prodigy because I excel at everything I put my mind to.
I was born a Draconian. I eventually learned that this shocked my parents, as neither knew of Draconian blood in their lineage. On my tenth name-day my mother's gift to me was a letter from a library, where they had traced her ancestry and found not one but two Draconians in the last seven generations. The next year she did the same with my father's ancestry, and even he had a Draconian six generations removed. I do not know how she paid for this, but I have treasured these documents ever since. My mother thought this must show that the gods drew her to wed my father, but I know better. There are such things are coincidences. If there are gods, they do not care for or about the likes of us.
Evidently my parents' minds were far more open than their families'. They loved and accepted me as their son, and I did not know prejudice from them. Perhaps they'd always been that way, or perhaps my birth changed them. But when reading my mother's ancestry and speaking with her about it, I learned that her family and my father's family must have found Draconian heritage shameful: neither my mother nor my father had any inkling of their Draconian blood, and their families were known for their loud and disparaging views of Draconians. Once my parents learned the truth, they wondered if some relatives do know of their ancestry and are bitter or ashamed. Neither of my parents have any relatives with Draconian features -- which brings implications I no longer care to think much about. Were others like me given up? Left for dead? Sent away? Or worse? I do not know, and I probably never will know. I have always been proud of my appearance and heritage, and I enjoy how unique it has made me in my community.
I stand five feet, seven inches tall with a slim body. I'm better at climbing mountains or embarking on arduous treks than I am at shows of brute strength. I have brown hair and eyes. My golden skin and a rough features are unforgettable. I am told I should smile more, and while I am proud of my unmistakable Draconian teeth, I think I prefer to be known as the serious-minded person that I truly am. I have vague scars above my right eye from an incident that I do not speak of.
I see myself as one who follows rogues. I prefer discretion, words, and wit, and when possible I use subtlety to avoid direct confrontation. If truly necessary, I choose confrontation at a distance, and a bow is my weapon of choice. When my words and mind cannot avoid conflict, I hope to engage with my bow and not with anything as uncouth as a blade.
I want to prove myself by starting a trade in scrolls and books, perhaps someday owning my own library. My mother's gift of our ancestral documents sparked my interest in education, and I love to read and can think of nothing I want more than a vast library of knowledge -- both figuratively and literally. However, for now I'll do whatever is needed for money and safety. I'll do what is required to survive and improve myself.
I view alliances as necessary. The world is a hard and cruel place, and I'm capable of managing on my own, though I rely on others whenever I need to. I have been accused of using others to further my own ends, and since this accusation does not bothered me, I suspect it's true. I'm willing to start and end alliances as benefits me the most. Friends, however, I am fiercely loyal to, no matter the cost to me. I will give my friends every possession I have, and I will give them my time and devote my energy to their safety and happiness. Few are willing to get close enough to me to learn this, however. I have very few friends.
I intend to use my mind and my ruthless nature to become the next Ruler of Kings. Know that if you are my friend, I will stand by you to the end. If you are not, you would do well to make yourself indispensable, or at least useful, to me. I have no time for or patience with those who get in my way. If you're not among my friends, count yourself fortunate if all I do is ignore you.
Thus, I now start this path toward adventure and glory.
A Sentimental Value
When I left my home, I knew I already carried all I needed: my mind.
That said, my mind was telling me that staying alive was particularly important that I should obtain something practical toward that end. While I do not like blades -- if I must use a weapon, I choose a bow -- having a short sword seemed prudent. It might save my life, and if nothing else, it should show others that I'm not to be trifled with.
I do not even know where the sword came from, buried as it was in my parents' cellar. It was wrapped in a cloth with a note containing some kind of dire warning, but the note had moldered almost to pieces, and was mostly illegible. The sword somehow looked new. Suspiciously new. But when I saw it, I knew bringing it with me was the wisest choice.
I bumped into Jenna quite literally. We were in a respected bookstore with our respective noses in our respective books, and we walked right into each other. It would have been funny, but I really was quite interested in what I was reading. Jenna just burst out laughing and instantly asked what I was reading.
It turned out we were both reading books on the history of books, a topic we found both fascinating and kind of funny. I almost smiled once. They were by different authors and actually conflicted in many points, but it was clear we had similar interests. And similar habits, like walking and reading and not paying attention to our feet. Jenna pointed that out at least twice.
We hit it off immediately, and Jenna made a point of giving me plenty of advice about first the bookstore and the staff there, then the town, and then about anything I asked. I have an inquisitive mind, and Jenna, well, she loves to talk. To be inquisited. A good match.
And so I found an advisor. And Jenna found someone who liked to listen almost as much as she liked to talk.
I, Anders the Prodigy, was attacked by a Bat Swarm and was victorious in combat.
While a Dog Rat may be difficult for some a Dog Rat is no match for me.
Most beautiful lady of Anders
Blue, intelligent eyes. Long, golden hair. Full lips. Legs that won't stop. Curves to die for.
Smart and sexy. A sharp and… talented tongue.
She can converse or debate on any topic, and whatever intimate time I spend with her, whether talking at length or… perhaps being too busy for talking, she leaves me always wanting more. And she is more than I can handle. In all the best ways.
I cannot stop thinking about her.
I, Anders the Prodigy, was attacked by a Skeleton and was victorious in combat.
Let it be known that I, Anders, have attained Level 1 and as such have grown in both ability and endurance.