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History~
The first memory I have, that I can somwhat call my own..... standing there, seeing the fires..... looking down at my feet at my own face in a omnius pool of blood and innards. I must have been ten or eleven, I really can't tell, but i do see my mother, looking down at me her face frantic with instruction. She tells me to run and hide as a club comes down and destroys my world. Then......blackness. I don't know much of what happened next it comes in fragments and waves. I was taken in by a farmer, a man named Issander, I know not how I arrived there or when I finally came around to the horrific reality of what has happend. I grew fast and worked hard to earn my meals, the broken blisters and sores on my hands and feet remined me of my long days toil as I sat down for broth and bread.
As for the future, I do not know what it holds for me, for my life is just begining my world has just opened up, and the smell of Issanders entrials warms my soul. I am Tundierous, a wreched, orphained-whipping boy, who's embarkment has just begun to unfurle.
Issander~
When I first met Issander he seemed as though he was my savior , my guardian. Little did I know that he was a delapidated old coot that desevied his recourse. The first week in his shifty placid farm .... if you could call it that.... he put me to work, no metion of my mother or how I had come to be there. His whips and switches where as cold and swift as his dead blue eyes. He was a tall skinny man with farmers strength, and a hatred for Ork boys. Day in and day out he beat me and worked me, as though I was a ox with a yoke, had my mouth been bigger he would have fitted me one. He always yelled stern obsenities at me, no matter what I did, eat, sleep, wake up, work, a horried man. He had no family, no wife no children, and I was his ticket out of back breaking work. He was a selfish rotten soul ( that is until I cut it out of him) whose only pleasure was cracking open my skin like a dried up ol' leather satchel. His end was the smae as the life he gave me, brutal, painful, and bloody.
The first memory I have, that I can somwhat call my own..... standing there, seeing the fires..... looking down at my feet at my own face in a omnius pool of blood and innards. I must have been ten or eleven, I really can't tell, but i do see my mother, looking down at me her face frantic with instruction. She tells me to run and hide as a club comes down and destroys my world. Then......blackness. I don't know much of what happened next it comes in fragments and waves. I was taken in by a farmer, a man named Issander, I know not how I arrived there or when I finally came around to the horrific reality of what has happend. I grew fast and worked hard to earn my meals, the broken blisters and sores on my hands and feet remined me of my long days toil as I sat down for broth and bread.
As for the future, I do not know what it holds for me, for my life is just begining my world has just opened up, and the smell of Issanders entrials warms my soul. I am Tundierous, a wreched, orphained-whipping boy, who's embarkment has just begun to unfurle.
Issander~
When I first met Issander he seemed as though he was my savior , my guardian. Little did I know that he was a delapidated old coot that desevied his recourse. The first week in his shifty placid farm .... if you could call it that.... he put me to work, no metion of my mother or how I had come to be there. His whips and switches where as cold and swift as his dead blue eyes. He was a tall skinny man with farmers strength, and a hatred for Ork boys. Day in and day out he beat me and worked me, as though I was a ox with a yoke, had my mouth been bigger he would have fitted me one. He always yelled stern obsenities at me, no matter what I did, eat, sleep, wake up, work, a horried man. He had no family, no wife no children, and I was his ticket out of back breaking work. He was a selfish rotten soul ( that is until I cut it out of him) whose only pleasure was cracking open my skin like a dried up ol' leather satchel. His end was the smae as the life he gave me, brutal, painful, and bloody.
