TheBane
New member
It was 1988, I was still in my mothers womb while and unexpected turn of events happened east of Turkey, in a small town named Faith. My father and mother was enjoying the short quality time they had together, as my father worked days and almost through the nights to provide the money needed to pay rent for a small worn apartment they shared, and that i would share... well, that was their intentions. While enjoying their short quality time a band of 3 burst into the apartment. flailing their Makarov pistols and baseball bats, screaming in Russian. The band of thugs tore through the apartment taking anything of value which wasn't pinned down. One man gripped my mother, attempting to steal her wedding ring, and this angered my father. My father did the best he could to fend for my mother, but was shot dead in the process and the thugs left the apartment leaving nothing but their horrific memories for my mother.
2 months later my mother decided to move, she wanted to be somewhere cheap in which she could raise me to be healthy and free from the worries she left behind in Turkey. On the travels across the Aegean Sea to Greece, my mother began to give birth to me, after hours of agonizing pain, she died from loss of blood. So there i was, a helpless child on a boat ride to a ruthless country. I had nothing, no family, no country... I belonged no where. After finally porting at Kavala the great capital of the so called "Great" Altis in Greece a stranger took me into their care, a woman from the vague description from what I could remember, and she took a lot of orphans into her care. Her teachings were strange, as we were home taught. She'd teach us to use weaponry but i didn't know any different as i and a lot of others started at a young age it just seemed normal to us, like and English child being taught to read and write. I had a friend, Pablo... he called me Bane due to my lack of hair and he was beaten a lot by our carer because he believed our teachings were wrong. He stopped protesting after the last beatings.... and so did his heart, he was only 15 just 2 years younger than me. After Pablo was murdered i suddenly realized that this wasn't normal, but abnormal and so did a lot of thee other kids. We would talk in the bunk house at nights, and how we believed we were being bought up as criminals. And for a rebel organisation, of which i couldn't confirm. 17 of us attempted to escape, only 6 made it out, including me... i was so distraught about Pablo, i believed me and him would raise to great power together, helping the victims of suffering, and well.. to be honest i thought we'd be rich too, Greed's an ugly thing. I lived on the streets of Kavala for 2-3 years and when i could get work on the fish docks i'd be able to eat, but i still starved a lot of nights. I finally saved enough to purchase a donkey and cart, so i then moved onto peach and apple picking, and continued into this line or work till now, but i still saw so much suffering and poverty on the streets from rebels who cared for nothing but their own pockets, and now i'm here. If only i could be proud to say that...
2 months later my mother decided to move, she wanted to be somewhere cheap in which she could raise me to be healthy and free from the worries she left behind in Turkey. On the travels across the Aegean Sea to Greece, my mother began to give birth to me, after hours of agonizing pain, she died from loss of blood. So there i was, a helpless child on a boat ride to a ruthless country. I had nothing, no family, no country... I belonged no where. After finally porting at Kavala the great capital of the so called "Great" Altis in Greece a stranger took me into their care, a woman from the vague description from what I could remember, and she took a lot of orphans into her care. Her teachings were strange, as we were home taught. She'd teach us to use weaponry but i didn't know any different as i and a lot of others started at a young age it just seemed normal to us, like and English child being taught to read and write. I had a friend, Pablo... he called me Bane due to my lack of hair and he was beaten a lot by our carer because he believed our teachings were wrong. He stopped protesting after the last beatings.... and so did his heart, he was only 15 just 2 years younger than me. After Pablo was murdered i suddenly realized that this wasn't normal, but abnormal and so did a lot of thee other kids. We would talk in the bunk house at nights, and how we believed we were being bought up as criminals. And for a rebel organisation, of which i couldn't confirm. 17 of us attempted to escape, only 6 made it out, including me... i was so distraught about Pablo, i believed me and him would raise to great power together, helping the victims of suffering, and well.. to be honest i thought we'd be rich too, Greed's an ugly thing. I lived on the streets of Kavala for 2-3 years and when i could get work on the fish docks i'd be able to eat, but i still starved a lot of nights. I finally saved enough to purchase a donkey and cart, so i then moved onto peach and apple picking, and continued into this line or work till now, but i still saw so much suffering and poverty on the streets from rebels who cared for nothing but their own pockets, and now i'm here. If only i could be proud to say that...
