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Life is wrought with woven strand,
From spindle spun by angels' hand:
Infant born to waste and solitude,
Child cast to hopeless destitute.

The promise of space was great. Brand-new worlds with boundless possibilities called to those on the dying planet of Earth. Pollution (most of it caused by the ceaseless experiments conducted in the name of scientific advancement) ate away at the Earth's ecological system until forests were few and far in between. The new worlds offered clean living, opportunities for those willing to grasp them, and fame and fortune for those strong enough to capture them.
With so many benefits to be gained from fleeing the failing planet, the majority of Earth's population eagerly embraced the promises of the different spacial alliances. A few however, decided to cling to their planet, electing to forsake not their mother, their true home.
Strive as they might, though, Earth was truly a failing world. Crops refused to sprout in soil corrupted by chemical poisoning, livestock cost too much to keep healthy, and the mortality rate for newborns steadily climbed. The very air choked the lungs until hard labor became very nearly impossible, requiring processed oxygen dispersed through expensive equipment -- equipment which few families could afford.
Born into this dark time, Dameon Harperand was one of the few children lucky enough to escape the cold embrace of death in the womb. The only child of a single mother (his father having surrendered to the endless sleep), Dameon was raised on meager provisions, clothed in rags, and taught by the cruelty of his environment.

On barren field with droid and drone,
His mighty hammer carves through dirt and stone,
Earning the wage of life with strength and sweat,
Till time is gone and fate is met.

At the age of six, Dameon was sold to a group of black-market slavers on route to Miriani. His price, a sack of grain and a haunch of beef, allowed his mother to survive for a few more months before grief and depression ushered her into Death's silent halls.
Dameon was taken to Miriani, where he was housed for about three months. At the end of that duration, a buyer purchased him, and promptly sent Dameon to a mining settlement there.
Dameon's chores began fairly lightly, given his age. As he grew older, however, Dameon was sent to the quarries to perform manual labor.

Freedom, do you call my name?
Do you whisper in the dark my secret desire?
And freedom, if I invoke your name,
Will you be the spark that rekindles my dying fire?

At the age of sixteen, Dameon plotted his escape. With the help of a merchant's son (befriended during his time on the settlement), Dameon was stowed away aboard one of the merchants ships, bound for Keyton. Once there, he changed his name to Corwin Muranheim, seeking to permanently elude his master's hounds.
He managed to seek passage aboard a transport to Acrylon, and there, he enrolled himself into the AIE Flight Academy. It is his ever-pursuing fear that his pass should catch up with him again, and in that way might he be recaptured and sent back to slavery. In an effort to evade that horror, he has embraced the depths of space, willingly setting forth to explore the expanse of space -- for in space is solitude, and in solitude is freedom from childhood's manacles.

My heart is lost beyond the stars,
Beyond you Earth, beyond you Mars.
In places far and regions lost,
To distant corners my spirit tossed.



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