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Talasar the Warrior

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!

Warrior Talasar

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.