[hider Kagan Galegar]
Kagan Galegar
[img]https://68.media.tumblr.com/31576a2b1e4e131c4e16fc8ed19e3138/tumblr_o4krcxgorX1tftu5vo1_1280.jpg[/img]
[b]Race:[/b] Drakken
[b]Age:[/b] 145
[b]Element(s):[/b] Air and Water
[b]Height:[/b] 7’8 

[b]Bio:[/b]
Kagan was raised in the monastery Krenta’s Crest, deep in the heart of the Salshee salt flat near the center Drakka. A massive structure of hewn stone and sunbleached glass, jutting defiantely through the salt and scrapping the sky high above, it is considered a marvel for Drakken of a religious nature, though few have braved journey for purpose of pilgrimage. No, Krenta’s Crest is where young Drakken boy of brighter minds go to be carved into the noble servants of the death god. 

Kagan speaks rarely of the 50 years he spent as a neophyte, in part because it bores him to tears. But on the occasions he does, he opts to be deeply sardonic, indulging in extravagant aesopic tales of torture and theological meditation. Days spent chained to a stone, screaming the writings of Hiolic the sage as the sun burned lay lines of pain across him. In reality, the worst he can remember was being forced to recite scripture while a saw was dragged across his horns should he slow or quote a passage incorrectly, feeling the reverberations deep in the quick of his horn and skull.

While it is an endless joy to horrify young secular Drakken (and Gems of all ages) with horror stories of self-flagellation, Kagan would be the first to admit that his upbringing was almost...painfully tranquil. Neophyte's more likely to self-flagellate for want of something to do beyond learning yet another one of several dozen funerary rites they were expected to know. 

At 112 Kagan was deemed theologically competent enough to granted the rank of acolyte and, by extension, the right to leave Krenta's Crest and go wherever he wish in Drakka. After a year of homelessness, he managed to become an apprentice Kinner in the city of Jerun, a small satellite city of the capitol. 

When a child of the Drakken is found to be unfit for survival or a Drakken becomes feeble of mind or body due to age or illness, a Kinner may be asked to kill them in ritual combat in exchange in steep tithes to the church. If the target dies at the hands of the Kinner the victim is buried with the full honor as a member of the Drakken, regardless of what sort of shame they brought upon themselves in life. If the target lives, the Kinner is left for the birds to consume, shamed beyond the point of deserving even the most basic funerary rights and the tithe returned. 

Of course, with the Drakken being a waring peoples, the position required he learn to fight, at least on the level of most common warriors. Kagan took the training well, the nuances of a blade coming far more naturally to the young man than theology ever had. And, if nothing else, there was an indescribable joy to be found in the eyes of a man or child as they fell into Krenta's embrace.

His apprenticeship came to a sudden end with the arrival of local warlord, Krisov Harin, an elderly Drakken pushing far into his 650th year. The man was a prodigious warrior, having killed Warlord Kalix during the Fourth War of Succession and claiming his position as warlord some 400 years prior.   However, shortly after the war, his mind began to slip slowly into dementia, and the once fine example of Drakken kind was little than a quietly ignored (often confused) voice in the court. And while his mind had dulled, the mans fighting edge was a sharp as ever, a considerable pain for his sons who were eagerly awaiting end to claim his estate for themselves. To that end, they promised a tithe of a gem bride in the coming to Kagan and his master, should they succeed in ending Krisov with the dignity they felt he deserved. 

Krisov, for his part, ardently objected to the ceremony. Or, at least, thats what Kagan guessed as he watched his master be decapitated with a swiftness that seemed almost unnatural coming from such an elderly source. Kagan almost doubted the state of the mans mind, for he'd never seen a Drakken who commanded death with such fluid ease.

He remembers feeling his knees quiver beneath him, over joyed that (despite the forth coming shame) he would be killed...no. SLUAGHTERED by such a heavenly example of his own kind. He eased forward, blade almost shaking and his mouth twisted into a manic smile before Krisov eased as his mind once again betrayed him, asking the young priest where he was. 

Kagan could only feel cheated as he drove the blade into the elders throat, who stood staring with honest confusion as to what was going on while his life dripped slowly onto the floor. They stayed that was for a few moments, Kagan's aborted high evaporating into the aether as Krisov breathed his last. He was tempted to leave the bastard to the birds, the fury of being robbed of such a challenge burning in his chest like nothing before. He swallowed bitterly as the sons of Harin pushed a letter into his hands. The Choosing was in but a few days, and he'd have to be quick if he was to collect his tithe.
[b]Adult content preference:[/b] Move to PM. 
[/hider]
It seems that the idea of a priest is a popular one. Hopefully we get more gems so we can engage in MANLY THEOLOGICAL DEBATE like true warriors.