augustxaugy

FAOLIN Faolin had always grown up in a world where he was different. A world that showed him no mercy, a world that was cruel and uncaring. Yet he thrived. He had always been filled with an inner light, a light that was naive to the evils of the world. He spent hours in the woods, and knew every plant and animal by name. His elder brothers had always joked that they were more family to him than they themselves ever were. However, these joking words were said with a hint of worry; Faolin had always had a hard time connecting with other children, whether it be because of his regional accent or because of his uncanny looks. He had always known he was different, Adunian, but did not feel like one. His parents had lived in his small town for as long as he could remember, both were simple weavers who provided a humble living for their growing family. Or so everyone had thought. They were also trained in Adunian combat and history, and were both excellent fighters. Though they were Adunian, they looked more Mali'dun, as it tends to be the prominent gene in their family. They had managed to escape the Undead Scourge with the rest of their family, but the excessive traveling had taken many. Although he was the youngest of five older brothers, he was talented and an excellent fighter. He was trained in the Adunian ways of combat, however, his parents had omitted to teach him about his culture in an attempt to integrate into the culture. When given the chance, though, he had always chosen targets that he could kill with one shot. Smaller animals. Animals that wouldn't feel the pain. He had always been connected to nature, and felt like it was a sin to take another's life. His life passed in a blur for sixteen years, filled with fellowship and joy. Until, it happened. Passed from the lips of a someone they had assumed they could trust, word soon spread of their culture. Adunians. A stench to both their town and honor. A garrison was pulled from the nearest town, having been told that his family was a den of thieves. In a matter of hours, his house had been burned, parents slaughtered; and he had only lived because he had decided to venture into the woods earlier that day. Amidst the bodies of the garrison, his brothers had not been found. He had only hoped that they had survived, and maybe, just maybe, they would come back for him. But they never did. He never knew what happened to them, whether they had lived or been slaughtered, but he did realize the cruelty of the world, a world that had never wanted him. Even after the two years he had traveled through the lands, he was constantly haunted by dreams. Dreams of his family. Dreams of his failure. His eyes were finally open, and he would never be able to close his eyes to it. They would always find him. Always haunt him; but we would fight back to find that inner light, the light that filled him all those years ago. He would find hope.