Praise Forever Belongs To Faint. Please Return Him If He Strays.

Poppeted Into An Obsideon On November 1st 2015 At 8:51 AM

Physical Description:

Loren is an average size man standing at a full height of 5'6. He’s around 130 pounds, mostly arm and leg muscle. He has hair slicked back around the left side of his head, with a few spare strands here and there. He has sharp angular shoulders and very tiny feet for a man his size. His hair is a light brown color, with a few gray streaks that began to appear alongside his depressive period. His eyes have since then glassed over, but used to be a vibrant goldish-green tint. A small scar can be seen under his right eye, a former wound given to him in a tussle from his youth.

Attire:

He wears heavy shoulder pads on his arms and armored leg warmers on his legs. Large black boots adorn his feet. He wears small black-gray gloves on his hands to keep them from getting chapped. A large grey jacket with long coat tails adorns his back, as a thick short sleeved t-shirt is worn underneath. He carries a rapier sword with him at all times, his means of dealing with wrong doers.

Personality:

As a person he was jovial in his youth, loving to make the best out of any situation. He would take whatever he could get and savor it as if it was made of gold. He was and still is a huge dreamer, even beneath his depression. However, his depression has clouded his judgement and now has become rather stoic and robotic. Little jokes or smiles leaves his lips and he prefers to be alone. He longs for someone to set him free of his broken state, someone to restore his faith in the kindness of humanity.

Story


Why don’t you just praise me? It’s the question I often ask myself. When you put your life on the line for others you’re expected to do so without a pat on the back on someone to smile back at you.

You’re a tool for protection, nothing more than the sword and shield you hold. You phase into nothing at that point, you’re nothing more than figurehead.

Who do you become along the long list of names who fight to protect the innocent and helpless? What happens when you’re just a number in the crowd?

I go by Loren, but that’s rarely discussed. Never did I know my mother and father so when I was ready to enlist in the military I went ahead and did so.

After not knowing my family growing up, I thought the best thing would be to protect those who felt alone and scared. I knew exactly what that was like, the crippling loneliness.

But to know someone cared made all the difference, at least I thought.

When I was a young boy, I was scavenging for food outside a meat cutter’s shop. I was weak tired and hungry. I was cold and each time I went to steal some lunch from the garbage I’d be chased off by the store owner.

A strong soldier came over to me when I had admitted defeat and handed me a piece of bread. He smiled warmly at me as I ate the bread and thanked him.

I knew then what I had to do, I wanted to restore joy in others the way that man had for me.

But life is rarely that simple, for me or anyone. After I had enlisted when I was eighteen, I learned the harsh truth.

The training was harsh, the people were cold and the officers were even more heartless. Where was that joy that the soldier had showed me? It was almost non-existent in this wasteland of a camp.

I was strong and agile so the trials were easy to pass, but I did so with little enthusiasm. Depression had swept over me like a cloud as I trudged through each day.

Every morning was torture as I knew I’d face a cold lifeless world that had no intention of being anything other than robots. I longed for compassion and love, but instead I got the brisk chill of a hardened soldier.

I graduated years later, skillful and able to perform my duties. I knew the rules, the protocols for any situation, apprehending criminals, burning buildings you name it. But that didn’t mean I took joy in doing it.

I lived in agony, feeling my time was wasted due to not making a single friend who shared in my desire to aid and spread the idea of love to people around me. This was simply because those around me were obsessed with power.

I had no desire for glory or fame, I just wanted to protect and serve. How can the children know I’m keeping them safe if all they see is the cold dead frowns of my comrades?

Among the falling snow, I watched as small children looked terrified as they passed my platoon. I went to wave at them. As I swiftly moved, the child in front of me looked wide eyes and opened his mouth.

A tiny scream was heard; it shattered my heart as well as my eardrums. He ran from me and hid behind a garbage can.

My smile faded as I went back into line. I felt myself turn icy cold as my heart collapsed in my chest. The world froze over and I was now a statue, lost in a thick blanket of depression. I could no longer see or hear I was just simply there, ready to do my duty to the town.