Born and raised in Rhy'din to James and Ellen Helcroft, I was given the name Dolph by my father, whom I think had high hopes for me. My mother of course went along, never being one to argue. I'll admit even now that she was the most kind-hearted woman I've ever met. As I got a bit older, my father was a bit of a loner, tending to keep to himself. There were the times when he'd be confrontational with both my mother and myself, but he never hit us. At least, he never hit me. I don't know what went on behind closed doors.

I was still young, just nearing my teens, when my mother was diagnosed with cancer. It happened so quickly, and by the time it was caught, there was nothing any of the doctor's she went to see could do for her. For some reason, my father found it to be more my fault than a simple curse of genetics. I spent most of my time by her bedside, making sure she was comfortable and had everything she needed as the disease ravaged her body. My father, however, only peeked in occasionally - probably just checking to see if she had passed away yet. Either way, he got his wish mere weeks after the initial diagnosis. My mother, the only one of my birthparents who truly loved me, was dead.. and I was left in my father's care.

The abuse started quickly, and the first time I can remember him hitting me was an hour or so after we had left the cemetary where my mother was laid to rest. My suit jacket had a bit of dirt on it, and I didn't quite get it clean. He punched me in my forearm so hard I actually saw stars. From there it progressively got worse. I was never good enough.. I was what sent my mother to an early grave.. I was the reason my father could never remarry, because who wants a man with a halfway grown kid. He tended to keep the marks in places that were hidden by my clothing, so no one in public saw them. It was the day I stood up to him, when I told him I was running away, that he hit me in the face. He cracked my jaw and busted my lip, and I think he actually managed to knock me out for a few brief seconds. Needless to say, I did leave.. and a neighbor saw what he'd done. We went to the police, and from there, he was charged - and eventually convicted - of child abuse.

I was still a teenager, and I went to live with a few relatives, though I kept to myself most of the time. Eventually, as most people lucky enough to stay alive do, I turned 18 and set out on my own. The years passed with little or no big events.. I had girlfriends, various jobs, and even spent some time in the Republic of the Last Twilight, a guild where I've to date held a Colonel position twice. I'm jumping ahead of myself though, as I need to go back to my father one more time. He somehow got paroll after several years in prison, but no one told me that little fact. I actually found out on my own when he tracked me down. Seems 'dad' was still upset that I went to the cops about the child abuse. This time, he was out to do serious damage.

He snuck up on me when I wasn't expecting it, just coming out of a bar that I'd had a few drinks with a friend at. He jumped me from behind with a pair of brass knuckles, beating me in the head and neck with them. Even as I fell to the ground, he kept beating.. the pain was immense. If my buddy hadn't come out of the bar with a few other people and got him off of me, I am sure he would have killed me. I was laid up in the hospital for a few weeks with a severe concussion, two fractured vertebrae, and some contusions on my collarbone and spine. Apparently, the authorities saw it the same way I did, and he was arrested once more - this time for attempted murder. So all's well that ends well, right? Not exactly. I heard he's out now.

And I heard he's pretty pissed off too.

So my story continues, while I try to make a name for myself. I'll try to find my way in this world, and leave the past behind. Perhaps this time if good ol' pops comes around, I'll be ready for him. There isn't any way I'm letting him get the best of me again. Not this time.