It has been said that there are few souls with passion that burns as hot as Johnny Steele.
His mother was a northerner, wild, fearsome, and beautiful. She grew up sparring with her six brothers far in the north. She was pale as snow, with long blonde hair that flew in every direction when she swung her mighty axe known by the locals as "Mancleaver". She was the belle of the village. Every man who saw her would have fought a thousand wars to claim her as his prize. Unfortunately for many who tried, she was often too caught up in her own world to notice their attempts. Her intense blue eyes were often the last thing that those who dared face her in combat saw. She was one of a kind. Her name, was Aleya Felthar.
His father was born and raised in the heated south. From his youth, to his old age, the dark and lanky fellow could be consistently found exploring the pages of a book. He was captivated by books, knowledge was his sun, wisdom his moon, and secrets his stars. It would take a man years to find a tome he had not read. All of his time was spent reading, or searching for new words to devour. As such, he was no man of combat. His name, was Verigan Steele.
It was grey the day they met, grey and full of storms. Verigan had traveled to what he referred to as "The frozen waste" of the north in search of ancient tomes documenting the history of the world. He found himself in the very town that Aleya was raised. Though it couldn't be said that she lived there, as Aleya was always on the move, she happened to be visiting at the time. Verigan was sitting in the darkest, and wamrest, corner of the local inn, pouring over some ancient scrolls he had found when Aleya sauntered in (And she did saunter). The beautiful maiden had something of a tradition that she had created on her many travels, every time she entered a place to drink or eat, she would search the room for the most interesting looking individual, and sit with them, stranger or not. Her steady gaze fell on Verigan. The first impression she had was of the man twisted into what seemed to be a ball of arms and legs sticking out of a pile of furs which had a head popping out of the top that peered intensely at a rather large pile of papers on the table before him. She found mirth in this sight, and after ordering a large mead, came over to greet him. Verigan was so consumed in reading that he didn't notice her until she spoke. "Are you a man, or a beast the likes of which I have never seen?" she said loudly. Verigan jumped, almost falling off his chair. Once he regained his composure enough to look at what monstrosity had roused him from his studies, his jaw swung loose on it's hinge. Never before had he seen a woman such as Aleya, her beauty was simply captivating. He felt as if those firey blue eyes were pierced his very being. As lost as he was, he managed to reply, "If I am a man, you are a goddess." As much as it may have seemed, Verigan was not a charmer, in fact it was quite the opposite, whenever he found himself in a social situation, he had a bad habit of saying the exact words that popped to mind the moment they appeared. He often got himself in trouble that way. His hands flew to his mouth as soon as he realized what he had done, for he feared that he would scare her. Aleya raised an eyebrow slowly and said "And are you a man?" "Y-y-y-es, yes I am."
Aleya and Verigan found love that day. From their love came three children, two boys and a girl. The eldest, Gamolile, was much like his father, dark skinned with brown curly hair. The middle, named Johnny, was a mix of his parents, Not quite as pale as his mother, with hair that was blonde, but lacked the brightness that his mother's was known for. The youngest was a girl who they named Aleya, after her mother, as she resembled her in most every way.
Johnny grew up happily with his family. They lived in a large wooden house in the middle of a glade in the north. The walls of the second level were lined with Verigans books, the walls of the first, with Aleyas weapons. The days were spent exploring the land around the house, tumbling with his siblings, and of course, doing the chores. Every morning his mother would gather the children for their daily lesson on what she called "Necessary Skills for Living" this involved everything from firemaking and hunting, to fighting and warfare. Each evening they would once again gather as his father read the family something from of his books in front of their blazing hearth. A child could not have asked for a happier youth.
Johnny's perfect childhood was changed forever on the day of his twelfth birthday, when Johnny's parents got him a dog. He loved that dog, and it lived happily with them until the day he left.
On the dawn of the day he turned eighteen he left home. While he was happy there, something inside him had tugged at him all his life, some kindling wanderlust that urged him to go and explore the world. He had changed much since a child, he was tall, Six feet and two inches, with long dark blonde hair that fell about his broad shoulders. While muscular, he was still very lean. His eyes were a dim shade of blue, the color of the calm before a storm, and on his scruffy face he wore strong, sharp features. He was ready to challenge the world, clever enough to overcome any obstacle, and foolish enough to fear very little. Johnny was never one to be a champion of good, nor a advocate of evil. He believed in freedom, the right of an individual to pursue a life that satisfied them, and if he found someone who lacked this basic right, he fought to give it to them. He had a youthful personality, full of mirth, and he loved to share this joy with others.
Johnny is now twenty-six, a seasoned fighter, and considerably less foolish. He wouldn't move an inch without his Keris, and his bootblade. His lucky stompers have carried him far and wide, and he has been made tough by many an adventure. Johnny still submits completely to the wanderlust within him, never knowing where the wind will take him next.
Mon Jun 22, 2015 6:49 pm by skylordconner
