[center][h1][color=9e0b0f]Naaro[/color][/h1][/center] Three months. Naaro had been alone for three months. And only after three months of wandering through the desert was the exhausted Alminaki desperate enough to return to this place. Jagho had made the terms of his exile very clear, and the memory still rang whenever he dreamed. His tribespeople were gathered around him, faces grim and unmoving. Two torchbearers illuminated the trial while the rest brandished spears. [color=aba000]“The gods say that your leadership has brought a curse upon this land, Naaro”[/color] Jagho’s words were muffled by the witch doctor’s mask he wore, a hideous and ill-fitting piece of bone haphazardly strapped onto his face. He claimed to wear it as a conduit to the many gods he spoke with: vague, ill defined creatures of ever-changing power and personality whose only defining link was that their desires, more often than not, were also Jagho’s desires. But he was a persuasive one, and as his following grew, Naaro’s grasp on his tribe became more tenuous. Both of them knew this day would come. And both knew that in this moment, Jagho’s mask served only to hide his smile. [color=aba000]“The berries have not sprouted during your tenure, the insects have grown scarce, and the hunts have come up short. It can be no coincidence”[/color] The people that he had once thought of as friends and family murmured in agreement. The famine that had stricken the tribe in the past months had come to be informally known as Naaro’s blight. Around a fifth of the population had perished since its beginning. [color=aba000]"The gods say that execution for this man would be justified. And they are not wrong, for he is the wellspring of our pain. Every week, another of us falls. What we are experiencing is not the cycle of life. It is a curse, unnatural and unholy. It is death."[/color] Jagho turned from his audience to point at the bound Naaro, torchlight dancing across the mask as his speech crescendoed. [color=aba000]"He is death" "But we do not have to be. For the gods say mercy is a virtue, and his blight will follow him to the wasteland above, where there is nothing for death to take. Chief Naaro, I sentence you to wander the wastes for the remainder of your days. Return and be killed." "But first, you must be marked, as a warning to any of those who may cross your path. Do not struggle"[/color] Jagho’s pocket knife found scalp and dug in, forming a bloody X on Naaro’s forehead. It went deep enough to ensure that it never fully healed. It burned like nothing else. As if by afterthought, Jagho yanked the ruby pendant off of Naaro’s neck, wasting no time in donning it himself. He raised the gem to Naaro’s forehead, letting the blood drip in as Naaro slipped out of consciousness. [color=aba000]"This will not nearly repay all you have taken from us. But it is something"[/color] When Naaro woke up, he was in the desert. Three months later, he was here. The dual beasts of hunger and thirst had clawed away at him, together with the pendant’s magic turning him to a shadow of himself. He knew he would be killed if he returned. But if he did not, then he would simply die. Better at least have a chance. Sneak into the cave by cover of night. Get water. Get food. Get out. His plan was hazy and hinged mainly on improvisation, but he had no knowledge of how the tribe had changed in his absence. This was the best he could do. He creeped through the cave mouth. The water pool was near the back, past the inhabited parts of the cavern. As he inched through the bedroom filled with his snoozing brethren, he let his gaze linger on familiar faces. A former friend. An ex lover. Most of his family, huddled up in the same corner. His little sister was noticeably absent, and the entire tribe looked emaciated. The famine had not stopped. Silently, he cursed Jagho’s name. Naaro neared the water room. It took all of his will not to sprint. So thirsty. Finally he entered the large chamber. It was as he remembered. Luminescent flora made the entire room glow, their colors shimmering on the clean blue pool in the center, the sound of the stream that fed it providing pleasant background noise to the spectacle. He walked, spellbound, to the pond, before snapping back around. Footsteps. Voices. [color=aba000]“Yes, from right here. I know what I have heard”[/color] Jagho. Naaro quickly hid himself in a crack in the limestone as Jagho walked in, trailed by two warriors whom he vaguely recognized. In sharp contrast to the rest of the tribe, Jagho looked strong as ever. Whether this was due to Naaro’s stolen life force, smuggling food while the tribe starved, or both, Naaro did not care. All he knew was his anger. Jagho’s masked visage scanned the wall opposite Naaro’s hiding place. He could escape right now, if he was quick enough. Sharp left. Right back through the bedrooms. Try again another time. But this train of thought was interrupted by a tapping sensation on his bare feet. As he looked to the ground, the limestone moved on it’s own, etching a trail with perfect silence. [img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/267356548450222081/691035867908800552/unknown.png[/img] Naaro felt something placed in his palm, stress causing him to clutch it with a strangling grip. An arrow, tip made of hardened glass. Sharper than any obsidian he had ever seen. There would be no further hesitation. Bursting into vision, Naaro lept at Jagho, his rage manifesting in an animalistic screech. One hand tore the divine pendant from Jagho’s collar, reclaiming the life that had been stolen from him. The other drove the mystery arrow deep into his jugular, silencing a terrified yelp within a split second of its beginning. Though Jagho’s face was hidden by his mask, Naaro knew his fear, and it provided a catharsis that knew no equal. The moment was a single fluid motion, nothing short of explosive. When it ended, Naaro was gone. Both the arrow and Jahgo’s corpse disintegrated into a fine stone dust, scattered along the cave floor. It was as if reality itself had cleaned up the mess, leaving behind nothing but two very shaken Alminaki. Naaro found himself deposited in a small and tranquil log cabin. He had not really planned to live through his stunt, but his heavy, gasping breaths seemed to indicate that he had anyway. Panicked eyes darted across the room. No danger presented itself. It was disconcerting, being in a place so cozy and relaxing while adrenaline still flowed through his veins. As Naaro’s breathing slowed, His suffocating grip on Tekret’s jewel began to loosen, and his eyes were drawn to the worn wooden wall across the room. In the same manner as the cave floor, it slowly tore away at itself, revealing five scratched letters. [color=a36209]Hello.[/color] Whatever force this was, it seemed helpful. It most likely Saved Naaro’s life. His patience was the least he could offer in return. [color=9e0b0f]“Hello"[/color] Naaro was about to speak further when he was interrupted by another noiseless scratch. [color=a36209]Questions?[/color] Why yes, Naaro actually had quite a few of those. [color=9e0b0f]“What are you?”[/color] [color=a36209]A god.[/color] A slight pause before the next word, spelled out slowly and deliberately, special care given to each individual letter. [color=a36209]Azaris.[/color] Naaro walked towards the wall, transfixed by the motions of the writing. A strong sudden jolt pushed his arm aside as if a colossal spring had been unleashed on his wrist. It was the lack of visual or auditory accompaniment, sights or sounds to associate with the feeling, that made it all the more shocking. He let out a startled yelp a second before more letters appeared, hastily scratched on the opposite wall with a pressure that deeply scarred the wood. [color=a36209]DO NOT TOUCH ME. Next question.[/color] [color=9e0b0f]“Why did you help me?”[/color] [color=a36209]Had been watching you. Impressed. Masked one peddled fake gods, and was annoying. Now close your eyes, and hold still. [/color] Naaro did as he was told, and within a second he felt a peculiar sensation, like pins and needles over an entire body. He did not know why he was not scared. When he opened his eyes, an ornate bow and quiver was laid out on the floor, the glass tipped arrow from earlier sitting in the dark leather pouch. A gift. [color=9e0b0f]“What did you do to me?”[/color] [color=a36209]Figure it out yourself. It will be fun.[/color] Even without voice, Naaro could notice the irritation, that of a parent telling a child to go outside and leave them alone. He decided to restrain his further questions for now. Best just ask the big one. [color=9e0b0f]“What now?”[/color] The text moved to the other wall to avoid running out of space, and Naaro intently watched it form, finding a certain beauty in motions. [color=a36209]For you to decide. I have given you my tools for you to use as you please, because I rather like you. Plenty of game in the forest, if you desire to stay here until ready. Will contact you again if needed, but your life remains yours. Likewise, you may contact me in emergencies.[/color] A brief pause in the scratches. [color=a36209]Being bored is not an emergency.[/color] A curt nod was all Naaro would give to that sentiment. [color=a36209]If there is nothing else?[/color] Whatever final thoughts Naaro had on this encounter could not collect themselves in time; And when it came time to speak the words still had yet to arrive, leaving his jaw hanging open without purpose, content to simply mix his breath with the outside air. [color=a36209]Goodbye.[/color] After four very long seconds, he had found two words. [color=9e0b0f]“Thank you.”[/color] There was no response. [hider=Summary]An Almaniki chief named Naaro finds himself overthrown and exiled by Jhago, who’s effectively a hacky witch doctor. Jhago also steals some life from Naaro on his way out using one of Tekret’s ruby pendants. After wandering the desert for a few months, He sneaks back into his tribe’s cave in to get some water. OH NO IT’S JHAGO. After seeing a mysterious writing on the wall telling him to do it (oh boy wonder who that is), he proceeds to stab the shit out of jhago, steal his pendant back, and get teleported to a cabin in the woods. He then proceeds to have a chill conversation with Azaris, she gives him blessings and says you do you man, I might keep in touch. She then fucks right off, leaving her hero idle in the woods with two artifacts and a lot of powers.[/hider] [hider=MP/DP]Start:5 MP, 4 DP (turns out that cat shoulda costed me 1 dp whoops) Created Naaro, a hero with: Silence II (free title): anything and anyone in a 5 foot bubble around this hero cannot produce sound. This ability can be turned off for ease of talking. And Agility 2 (2 MP): This hero is the Lightning Mcqueen of Toraan, and this title increases his speed both on flat ground (can go up to 40 miles per hour at a full sprint) and when nimbly moving through obstacles. (2 points towards agility? portfolio) And Alertness I (1 MP): This hero definitely knows what’s up. With honed hearing, smell, and sight, He always knows where the danger is. He gets 5 prestige too. Created Bow of Azaris (creative name I know): An artifact bow and arrow with: Cleanup II (2 DP): When using the accompanying glass tipped arrows, any being this bow kills will turn to dust along with the arrow. Effectively makes the death untraceable. (2 points towards archery port) And Longshot II (2 MP): The divinely enhanced drawstring allows arrows to travel about 4 times as fast and far as a comparable bow, with a comparable increase in accuracy. 2 points towards archery) 4/5 towards archery port 2/5 toward agility port? I'm indecisive as all hell also 1/5 toward shroud port bc my cat earlier End: (0 MP, 2 DP) [/hider]