My name is Talasar, a name given to me by my mother. Though she is gone my written journey starts here. I am 16 summers old by the count of man. Born to female human and sired by a brutish orc of a father I have never known, I take up the name of warrior after him. From my mother it is said to be a long line of great fighters flowing through my blood from his clansman and quite possibly the only connection I shall ever have to him.
As I write this I stand newly a man, a handbreadth over six feet tall with wide set shoulders and the jutted and jagged features you'd expect from the bastard spawn of a half breed. Jet black hair tied into a warriors knot and dark, sunken eyes have not helped avert the disapproving glares of passersby.
I hereby plan to start my journey forth as a hired hand for any sort of hard work I can get to form my body and mind hard as my sword of steel for the arduous task ahead of me. Glory, redemption, conquest. The path to be king!
A Sentimental Value: Ring, Plain
Sorting through an old box full of even older trinkets, I set my eyes on a ring I had long since forgotten about. It is plain, simple and crudely made. But it was a gift from many years ago, and though it no longer fits, I could not bring myself to throw it out. It was given to me by the only boy I had befriended when we were just lads. Though he long ago cast off the friendship of a halfbreed by pressure from his purebred human peers, I keep this ring as a reminder of how things can be. A smile creases my lips as I slide the ring onto the chain around my neck before re fastening it.
"I'll hang onto this ring and the ideals that bind me to it" I say to myself, and then with one last look around, I step out into the new world before me.