THE AMERIAD - Book I, pg. 02: The Devotion •
late mother. I stand stoically at five feet and seven inches. The skin over my body resembles a Spanish tint due to my long laborious, months at sea. Furthermore, I believe that the strict regiments of exercise and clean living have extended my spirit; father always persisted on the longevity of the body through sound devotion to these tenets. Upon my chest you will notice a diagonal scar that travels from my left breast to right hip; which I acquired from an unruly boar during the terrible troubles several years back when I was forced to hunt in the icy, frigid depths of the Bostonian swamps. On cold afternoons, I can still feel that piercing tusk split my chest wide open like a piece of cod in a butchers shop. I am of a slender muscular build, although my father calls it frailty, I choose to believe that I more or less resemble the great Greek Athenian runners who challenged the Gods for sport or prizes during the ancient Olympiads. Unlike my brother, Achilles, who father often referred to as ‘The American Hercules,’ I have suffered greatly in life due to his coarse tongue; however, that relationship will be discussed in full at a later date.
Although my clothes are badly damaged, I still manage to look impressive in this dire state of filth and lacerations. What is left on my person is a semi-white tailored under-shirt from Manchester England with significant wear; a black perforated riding-coat with a dagger in one pocket and rations in the other; my father’s purple waistcoat from the war, which always seemed to protect him like the lions cloak that belonged to Heracles; Swiss skin-tight buckskin breeches forged from gray material and a set of black, corroded top-boots with stripped non-existent stockings.
I grew up near the banks of Boston Massachusetts, where my clan has been for several generations. The Crompton’s were part of the original one-hundred families who settled in this region under the English Crown, thus several acres of land have been allotted to my father through the hard labor of his ancestors. Unfortunately, my family’s opulence... - a.j.g
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