And now, proof that not all of my characters live on an airship. This one actually hails from London, at the time of World War II. Meet George.
George's deal is this: As a kid, he was always kind of sickly, and eventually got stricken with something (it may have been polio) that messed up his left leg for good. He could still walk, and after a while gets around pretty well - if a bit slowly - but it was more than serious enough to keep him out of the army when war came around. At that point, George had been working for some time as a journalist at a local newspaper. Eager to do his part, and with many of the other writers away and fighting, George got an assignment covering the occupation of France.
When he got there, things were even worse than he'd heard. Paris was a wreck, the occupation agreement was doing no good for anyone but the Germans; George was siding with the Resistance before he even knew they were there. In his spare time, he started putting his creative skills to work, making pro-resistance posters and covertly putting them up in hopes of inspiring the citizens. It was a stroke of luck that the person who eventually caught him was one of their own; had he been a Nazi soldier, George's story would have ended right there.
Instead, George gets taken under the protective wing of Warren Bancroft, a veteran and local resistance leader, who shelters him in his hidden basement and gets him doing some work for the resistance. They end up developing sort of a brotherly relationship, with Warren constantly trying to protect George from his own naivete and George doing the very best he can for the cause.
My word, I didn't mean to write that much.
Anyway. I drew this while it was very, very cold here.
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