Well, I have a character over at Zelda Universe named Syn Coraen. Since there doesn't seem to be an RPG section over here... I'm going to start a story of his life here.
It's a little short, but I'll be increasing the chapter's length as time passes.
Prologue: Another Long Journey
Syn stood, looking out the window. The night was calm; owls were heard hooting in the distance. The fire crackled in the corner of them room casting a reddish glow over the table he’d just gotten up from. He blinked; surprised that he’d been able to make out anything in the inky blackness- especially a shadow. He didn’t have time to worry about that, though; he had to keep moving. He needed to settle down somewhere… after… He didn’t even want to think about that right now; he couldn’t afford to.
“I have to go,” he said to the host. “Thank you for your hospitality.” He pushed in his chair and stepped towards the door in the room. He opened it, feeling the wind gust into the room and caused him to stumble back a bit. He regained his balance and walked out the door.
“It’s really no pro-,” he closed the door, shutting off the old woman’s words. He didn’t have time for lengthy goodbyes; he didn’t have much time for anything these days. Syn took a deep breath and hefted the bag across his shoulders, feeling the weight of the food and clothes he carried. He had just enough to last him until the next town, and then he’d restock his supplies and head off again. That’s how it always was.
Syn stands at about 185 centimeters tall and weighs about 79 kilograms. He is very muscular, and wears plain clothes- a gray tunic over a black long sleeved shirt and light gray pants. His boots are a darker shade of gray than his tunic. He has a sharp nose and slightly pointed ears, as well as silver eyes and black hair. His eyes are shaped like chestnuts and tend to pierce a person’s soul and look within them; they’re often described as the feature that best identifies him. He has a rounded chin and his cheeks aren’t particularly prominent. His voice is best described as either a baritone or bass- it’s not exactly either. He has no particular accent, and takes on any accent he chooses. He is fourteen years old.
“Still… what if they had survived?” He often rambled to himself like that this. What would thing be like if one thing had gone differently? What would thing be like if he was a different race? He always had those questions. Syn was walking slowly down the dirt path, the silver blade strapped to his back in the gray sheathe as usual. The dark red handle stuck out over his shoulder, though, completely contrasting his otherwise colourless appearance. He listened to the steady beat of his footsteps on the road pervading the noiseless night. He was getting tired, but he couldn’t sleep. If he slept his plans would be ruined- he still needed to continue moving.
It’s a shame, really. That they all had to go like that. He remembered the bright flash of electricity, the screams… Syn shivered and pushed the thoughts out of his mind. If he kept thinking like that, everything would go wrong- everything. Instead he put his thoughts on the latest town he’d been chased out of- Caresea. The mobs of people had almost caught him… he didn’t like it when things like that happened. Why do they hate me, though? I’d lived there for three years studying under him… Why couldn’t they understand? He didn’t know.
All he knew was that he was beginning another journey- another long journey. I wonder, though… did my original journey ever end? …And what’s a journey without a destination?
It's a little short, but I'll be increasing the chapter's length as time passes.
Sorrow
Prologue: Another Long Journey
Syn stood, looking out the window. The night was calm; owls were heard hooting in the distance. The fire crackled in the corner of them room casting a reddish glow over the table he’d just gotten up from. He blinked; surprised that he’d been able to make out anything in the inky blackness- especially a shadow. He didn’t have time to worry about that, though; he had to keep moving. He needed to settle down somewhere… after… He didn’t even want to think about that right now; he couldn’t afford to.
“I have to go,” he said to the host. “Thank you for your hospitality.” He pushed in his chair and stepped towards the door in the room. He opened it, feeling the wind gust into the room and caused him to stumble back a bit. He regained his balance and walked out the door.
“It’s really no pro-,” he closed the door, shutting off the old woman’s words. He didn’t have time for lengthy goodbyes; he didn’t have much time for anything these days. Syn took a deep breath and hefted the bag across his shoulders, feeling the weight of the food and clothes he carried. He had just enough to last him until the next town, and then he’d restock his supplies and head off again. That’s how it always was.
Syn stands at about 185 centimeters tall and weighs about 79 kilograms. He is very muscular, and wears plain clothes- a gray tunic over a black long sleeved shirt and light gray pants. His boots are a darker shade of gray than his tunic. He has a sharp nose and slightly pointed ears, as well as silver eyes and black hair. His eyes are shaped like chestnuts and tend to pierce a person’s soul and look within them; they’re often described as the feature that best identifies him. He has a rounded chin and his cheeks aren’t particularly prominent. His voice is best described as either a baritone or bass- it’s not exactly either. He has no particular accent, and takes on any accent he chooses. He is fourteen years old.
“Still… what if they had survived?” He often rambled to himself like that this. What would thing be like if one thing had gone differently? What would thing be like if he was a different race? He always had those questions. Syn was walking slowly down the dirt path, the silver blade strapped to his back in the gray sheathe as usual. The dark red handle stuck out over his shoulder, though, completely contrasting his otherwise colourless appearance. He listened to the steady beat of his footsteps on the road pervading the noiseless night. He was getting tired, but he couldn’t sleep. If he slept his plans would be ruined- he still needed to continue moving.
It’s a shame, really. That they all had to go like that. He remembered the bright flash of electricity, the screams… Syn shivered and pushed the thoughts out of his mind. If he kept thinking like that, everything would go wrong- everything. Instead he put his thoughts on the latest town he’d been chased out of- Caresea. The mobs of people had almost caught him… he didn’t like it when things like that happened. Why do they hate me, though? I’d lived there for three years studying under him… Why couldn’t they understand? He didn’t know.
All he knew was that he was beginning another journey- another long journey. I wonder, though… did my original journey ever end? …And what’s a journey without a destination?
