Chatzkel D2 {done}

[Knuckles]

Chatzkel
"Chaz"
District 2
18
Male

Everyone has a story to tell, and Chatzkel is just the same. Born into a wealthy family in district two. Had a nice life up until the age of two. Then his world turned upside down.

Mother and father decided he was too much of an effort to keep. The cost was too expensive. Temper tantrums became too much. The toddler was cutting in on their funds for a disgusting drinking habit. A drunken mother grabbed his tiny arm dragging him from the house leading him towards the community home in district two. (It's a shame if someone were to ask him now. A mother and father were to love their children, not abandon them.) Kicking and screaming, Chaz begged for them to stop. He would become the child they wanted him to be. No more crying. No more tantrums. No more buying expensive clothing. Chatzkel would've worn rags if it meant staying at his parents place.

But they didn't want him.

Years and years went bad. Sad eyes reflected from the windows. A trail of tears etched into his cheeks until the broken boy couldn't cry anymore.

At the young age of six, he went into the training center for the very first time. Walking around and looking at the different weapons, watching the older children fight with swords, hand to hand combat. Brutal man slaughtering anyone who got in their way. It was all fun in games for them. And for a while the idea of holding a sword terrified him, yet he learned over time what he needs to do.

Sneaking away from the home at night when nobody was watching became one of his favorite things to do. Turning from one corner to the next. Learning to live on his own. Many times Chaz crossed the line, but each time it was something worse. Yet before the sun rose into the sky, he climbed back into the window of the home, and crawled into bed. Nobody would know he was gone. None of the children dared to tell because he threatened to hurt them if they did. Bullying his way into a society where he finally reached the top. Chaz wanted them to fear him.

When he was eight, he tried to find his family again, yet he had no luck.

That was when he stopped caring for them.

A piece of his heart was torn away, and trampled on, but every day he found a purpose to live. Worthlessness wasn't what he sought for anymore because he was better than them, and he would do whatever it took in order to prove it, and to show them they were wrong.

Always putting himself higher than others, Chaz would flip his lid if anyone beat him because he just knew he was the best of all times. Fighting hand to hand, he blamed it on something if he lost, and in the back of his mind, he figured out a way to make himself superior to anyone who gathered around. Training and fighting, and learning the ways of how to live in the career district. Once believe Ripred had created him in his own image, Chaz tried to make him happy, but that slowly went away. Chatzkel believes he's a god, and that everyone should bow down and worship him.

Lying was the only way of life. Every time Chaz opened his mouth, another lie slithered off his tongue and into the air. Telling people what they wanted to hear, and leading them with false prophecies in order to give them ear candy. His words became a light in the darkness for those gathered around. Offering off words of hope and wisdom. Collecting things without wanting anything in return. Chaz quickly gained a name for himself. Waltzing through the district with his arms folded across his chest on a sunny summer day, he looked around and found people lying on the ground.

"What should we do for them?" He asked himself out loud. His voice quiet. Gawking eyes sent bullets through his fragile body.

"Pray for them, of course."

It's just a simple word, a simple phrase in order to give him a light unto the world. Only those who left everything and followed him would become a stronger person.

But every day when the sun went down, he returned to the crappy home he was forced to grow up in.

"How can we provide for them if we can't provide what we need?"

Cocking his head, and shrugging his shoulders, Chaz moved on -

"We need a place in order for them to find faith."

And then a home was found for him when Father Hammerfell walked into the home one day. A being far greater than any Chaz had ever seen before, and he wasn't worthy of standing in his presence. Life was given to him the moment he took him away. A small grin twisted across his tiny face, but it wasn't greeted with another smile in return. Leaving the home, all the followers fell apart. His lies became more and more common.

Most of his time was spent getting into trouble until his new family taught him a lesson.

Fighting didn't solve anything, yet every day he was forced into the training center, and he was forced to fight until the ways of his past life fled his mind.

But that was only a story now.

A chapter with a new beginning.

******

I am a king.

Seated upon his throne with his long legs dangling down, dark eyes bounce from one corner of the room to the other taking in the peasants walking before him, clinging to a hope that doesn't exist, and a fire lingering in his eyes. A leaf scurries through his dark, shaggy hair as the wind gently blows around. One frail hand reaches up knocking it off before a violent string of curse words fly freely from his lips. "What are you bastards looking at?" Gawking bystanders turn towards him, their mouths agape, chin to the ground, Chaz turns towards them. Narrow beady eyes lock on those gathered around daring them to say a word. "What should we do today?" He asks himself quietly, pale lip barely moving as he reaches forward slightly.

"Kill them all!"

He cackles as people run away, eyes darting from him before he gets a chance to look inside them. His arms relax at his side as the noise goes away. The peasants aren't allowed to stand before him. Nobody in district two compares to him. Lowlife scumbags try to prove their better every single chance they get, and Chaz is one to prove someone wrong over and over again. Anything someone does, he can do better. Lifting a heavy weight, he'll double the amount using only his pinky. Exaggerating the truth to fulfill his needs of praise is only a start of his problems.

Staring in a puddle, his reflection flickers back. Dark bags hide beneath his eyes, the whites are stained red from lack of sleep, his nose is flattened and crooked from the many fights he's been in - it's only the start of a perfect world for the perfect person to wear a crown upon his tiny head. A sly, dark grin spreads from ear to ear as he glides through the district taking long strides. A slight limp catches him off guard. Light reflects from his pale skin, and it's only a matter of time before someone is blinded by it. If he lived in a perfect world, Chaz would love himself for who he is, yet it's turned away as he's reminded every single day of the many failures and flaws resting heavily in his life.

I am no king.

I am a god.

********

The Hammerfell man took Chaz away from the home and nasty conditions he lived in. It wasn't like he was well taken care of or anything. A roof over his head, a nice comfy bed to sleep in, more food offered than he ever imagined. But it wasn't home. Nothing was home because he didn't have a place to call his own.

Quick relationships were made.

Broken promises turned into reality.

A shelter to call his own.

Chaz was a hostage in his own world. A servant of those superior to him. It was nothing he had imagined. Giving food to a rich man. Making sure his needs were taken care of, but in return everything was paid back in full. Training lessons were given until the unwanted boy became a lean mean killing machine. Weights were lifted until he he couldn't lift them anymore. His frail, broken body slowly became formed. Muscles covered his arms tearing through the old shirts he had owned. Dark hair kept growing longer until he was ordered to cut it off. The man who took him in quickly became his best friend.

Rollo became a father figure in his eyes because he never had a father of his own - his sons and daughters became brothers and sisters, and it was all Chaz could ask for.

Family wasn't always about blood.

It has a bond that ran much deeper.

Lines were formed, yet lies still slithered off his lips. He kept pushing himself up higher than all those gathered around. All the attention had to be on him.

"But he doesn't look like a Hammerfell." A child once said. "He's just a bastard I bet."

But even that wasn't true.

Hammerfell blood didn't run through his veins. The only relation he had with them was the moment Father Hammerfell took him in.

Yet Chaz wanted more. He wasn't famous in his new family's eyes. Everyone paid attention to the ones who always did well. Mason. Orion, and now Torka.

He didn't have their features. He didn't have their ability to lose themselves inside the spirit of an animal. All Chaz had was himself, and until someone honored him as a god, the tiny male wouldn't give in.

"I'll make a Hammerfell out of you, boy."

********

His height was nothing to brag about. Standing only five foot five inches tall, yet his weight was something that he loved. The muscles made him stronger, and heavier, and it gave him enough momentum to carry on. Jet black shaggy hair plastered against the side of his face. Sweat left streaks through the dirt. Showering wasn't something he wanted. Something he didn't care for, yet when the smell became too much, Chaz gave in. His arms were short in comparison to the rest of his body. His trunk was tiny, and his legs long. Dark eyes glare through the mud caked against his cheeks hiding the bags beneath them. A large nose set awkwardly in the middle of his face - "Oh look at that pretty button nose."

"Shut up."

Pale lips rarely formed a smile unless he was getting his way. One thing he always took care of was his teeth. Pearly whites glisten behind the smile of his pale lips. A deep manly voice echoes through his lips, but sometimes it cracked making people stare at him. His clothes were clean and nicely pressed until he stopped having time. Dirty clothes and rags cover his body. A limp from a terrible error in training. Pale skin that turned blood red the moment he stepped into the sun on a hot day without anything to hide him. Six pack abs hide beneath a baggy shirt - "But why hide something you like?"

"Who said that I liked it?"

Bowing down and worshiping many idols. Bending a knee when he had nothing left to give. Turning his life around when it was lost, Chaz wasn't the tiny boy anymore.

No more tears leave his eyes. Perhaps he had cried to much growing up. An annoying laugh. Headaches that come and go. Blurry vision. Those were things he hated.

But in his own eyes, everything was perfect despite the things he hated because gods were perfect, and Chatzkel was a god.

2001 words

[Knuckles]

finished, i hope

[sbeeg]

Accepted!