Minion 1 -- Wanderer -- WIP

Minion 1 -- Wanderer -- WIP Dec 25, 2010 1:58:55 GMT -5

Post by ᕙʕ•ᴥ•ʔᕗ on Dec 25, 2010 1:58:55 GMT -5

[[You might want to go away...]]

[[Before the knives bite you...]]

[[Because they will hurt...]]

Born Eric Aaron Bridges, Bridges did not have a pleasant
childhood. His mother was an angry woman, a force no one
tried to reckon with. Unfortunately for young Eric, his mother
also had a passion for a young man who went by the name
of Gordon Nyler. His mother went to great lengths to get
what she wanted and in the end she did; she was pregnant
with Gordon’s child. Never mind the fact that Gordon did not
stick around to help the woman he impregnated with her
newborn child. Eric’s mother was just pleased that she was
going to have a child and that the child’s father would be
Gordon. But after Eric was born, his mother neglected him
for he was too much like her and not enough like his father.

As a result, Eric spent most of his childhood in his home
which was not a very cheery one, mind you. His affection for
knives grew solely due to the surplus of knives around.
As a toddler who was still learning skills, he would pick up
the blade and cut his palm frequently, not learning till about
the seventy-eighth time that the sharp silvery part of the
toy was actually very painful. Because no one was there to
tend his cuts and the knives were horribly unclean, infections
were frequent and it wasn’t until the area started flaming
up that they were cared for.

The tradition was for the child to go through training at a
very young age, but Eric started training late at the age of
ten. By then, he knew how to use knives but he could not
handle them well. His trainer would yell at him for being
so sloppy with his handiwork but his aim was precise so
the trainer stuck with Eric. It took a few months before he
and his trainer realised that he did better in training with
two knives instead of one. After that, Eric trained using
offensive and defensive moves, his strength in his right arm.
However, because imbalance was frowned upon in the
training center, Eric had to learn how to use both knives
equally, building up the strength. In addition to the frequent
training with knives, he was also trained in hand-to-hand
combat, making him well-rounded when it came to close range
attacks. However, long range is his weakness as he never
had any experience in handling long-range weapons.

In school, he never paid much attention in class. It was not
to say that he was unintelligent; in fact, being able to strategise
in his fights required much intelligence. However, he had no
motivation so he often slacked off to school, barely passing
the class with abysmal grades. His teachers often said that
he could be a “star student” if he would “put in more effort.”
But due to family circumstances, he never could bring it upon
himself to pick up the extra work instead of spending the day
doodling on his papers. Plus, there was never anything
interesting about luxury items to begin with.

While a teen, Eric got into many fights, most designed to
help with his training but there were various that were
personal. Most of the kids would tease him because of how
he looked, his mother, the house he lived in, anything they
could think up they would use. For the personal fights, he
would use his fists. Unfortunately for him, most of the other
kids had trained for more years than he had so he would be
the one who ended up with bruises and broken noses. As
the fights he had in the training center were okay-ed, Eric
used what he was skilled at in order to fight back. Every cut
he made was for a certain purpose, most of them pertaining
to revenge.

When he reached the age where he could no longer become
a tribute, his rage was pent up in a different way. His fury
in no longer being able to go into the Hunger Games had
nothing to do with honor for his district or pride for himself;
it was about his chance to leave the house. His mother didn’t
care whether he was at home or not; she barely knew he
existed. He spent his time cutting up the furniture, no longer
given access to the training center. He refused to become
a docile worker, so he cut up his house instead.

It was no longer safe for him to exclude himself from the
rest of society so he did the only thing he knew what to do
aside from handling knives…he ran away. It was the dead
of night and Eric attacked the fence again and again and
again until finally it broke for him. He didn’t have much time
as he heard the shouts, but he knew that he could beat
them; he had his knives with him. So he kept on running
until he could no longer hear them. Since that night, he
was no longer referred to as Eric. In fact, no one had called
him Eric for a very long time as he was always insisting
that he be called by his last name or no name at all.