Long before Ringo became the Starspirit, the living star, he was plain simple Ringo McConnell. Born into privilege, he was his mother’s baby boy and his father’s last chance for an heir. As such he was spoiled as a child with his every whim paid for by his parents. As such he took on many hobbies ranging from learning Karate to mastering the violin. But through it all he had only one true passion, the one thing he took pleasure in and the one thing he was naturally good at was painting. From black and white etchings to full on color paintings his talent grew with each endeavor, and in just a few years he had created quite a collection. His favorite drawings were either those of the ones he loved or his personal interpretation of his second favorite pass time, the world of D&D. For in that world he was a 19th level thief, a task that took him just as long to achieve as his painting collection. Everyday he would spend an hour or two drawing in seclusion, drawing away in privacy as his father James McConnell was not a fan of the arts. For in his world it was not as profitable as would being a Lawyer or Doctor, but as Ringo was still a young man, he would let it slide. Although Ringo’s artistic talents were known throughout the Manor, it was still kept as a secret, as James always believed his son would grow out of it and move on to some other, more appropriate interest.
But unfortunately, over the years, things did not go the James McConnell way and against his best efforts, his family was falling apart. His oldest son Peter left to become a boxer and his oldest daughter Blake joined the military. Both of which were an unforgivable sin in his eyes. It was at this point he swore that he would not let his son Ringo go down the same path and by all the power he possess he would mold his son in his image. Shortly after Blake had moved out of the house, James began having one on one sessions with his son, where the two of them discussed his future, but despite his best efforts, everything James said, Ringo would describe it in terms of the world of D&D! Still his father had high hopes and their sessions grew longer and more often. Still every day Ringo would take an hour or two to draw. Then on one cruel night, after learning that both Peter and Blake were succeeding in their careers, he hit the bottle and he hit it hard. Finishing off half a bottle of aged Scotch, he grew angrier and more violent with every sip and soon went into a rampage. With the bottle in hand he stormed into Ringo’s bedroom, cursing and swearing as he grabbed his son from his bed and dragged him downstairs to his reading room, where all of Ringo’s paintings were stacked up next to a roaring fire in his fathers favorite fireplace.
With pure spite he grabs Ringo’s painting of a Snow Dragon and heaves it into the fire and while it cracks and burns says “You see son, you see what all your hard work brings?!” Again he grabs another painting, this time a rendition of his Mother as an Elf, and at the moment it hits the fire, he yells again. “Is this what you want? Do you see what you are making me do?!!?” One by one he throws in the rest of Ringo’s paintings, until he comes across a family portrait that Ringo worked hard on, resembling each member of the family in the near future, where Ringo imagined they would be, all successful in their fields. For a few brief seconds James looks deep into it, almost at the verge of having tears, when suddenly he violently breaks it across his knee and thrusts it into the fire. But this time as he turns back to Ringo he raises his hand in the air, ready to strike and yells, “NO SON OF MINE WILL BE A FILTHY STRUGGLING ARTIST!” then instead of striking his child he hurls the last of his Scotch into the fire creating one huge ball of fire to engulf the last of Ringo’s paintings. Not done yet, in a cold hearted manner, he looks down upon his son, and with only the desire to make Ringo the man he wanted him to be, says these last few words before he leaves, “I want you to sit here and wait, until every last one of your paintings are gone, then I want you to go to bed and remember this!” But just before the door closes behind him, in one cruel choice of words he whispers “And I want you to know son, I love you and I did this all for you!”
Still emotionally numb from the whole experience, Ringo finally breaks down into an emotional wreck. Falling to his knees he begins to cry, weeping into his hands as the fire burns before him. Unable to do anything else he sits and watches as his entire portfolio became cinders then ashes and as he can’t blame his father for this, over some blind obedience, he blames his older sister Blake for everything. For she was the one that made his father so angry, and as far as he knows, led his father to drink. Finally he sucks it up and rises to his feet, swearing out of anger as he stares deep into the fire. By chance he notices a corner piece from one of his earlier work, a black and white sketching of his twin sister Julie, from one of his earliest memories of her. In an act of baptism through fire, he bravely reaches into it and grabs hold of it as a huge spark of fire shot up his sleeve and burned him deeply just as he pulls his hand out. “ARGGH!” again he curses as he pats out the flame, just as his father’s personal man servant enters the room. “Young Master Ringo” he declares as he begins treating Ringo’s wound, “Everything is going to be just fine!” In the next few minutes he not only dries the tears from Ringo’s eyes but also bandages the wound, then in the saddest of voices says, “I’m sorry Young Master Ringo, but I’m afraid this is going to leave a scar!”
He then calmly sits down next to him in an attempt to bond with Ringo on an emotional level, only to say, “Now I know this is going to be hard for you to understand, but I feel it would be best for the family if you say nothing of what happened here tonight. Tomorrow morning we will tell everybody that you burned yourself making bacon and eggs for the family!” He then tousles Ringo’s hair as he pats him on the shoulder, “You are such a big boy now and I am so proud of you!” The next morning Ringo plays along with the story, labeling himself a clumsy fool rather than the cruel victim of his father’s rage, and for the next few weeks he and his father kept a wide birth. Still in the back of his mind he blamed Blake, for no other reason than he could not blame his father and to be honest she could take it. For the next few months he never picked up a brush, chalk or even crayon, but instead he looked upon the corner fragment he saved from the fire. Upon it was the face of his twin sister Julie, from her earlier years and to him it was one of his fondest possessions. In time he settled back into his painting, always under his Father’s radar. Unfortunately he had lost some of his passion, for now every time he starts on a new canvas, he would be reminded of that night, that scarred him so deeply!
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