[centre][h3]Incipit Prologus[/h3]
[img] https://i.imgur.com/iuvStr9.jpeg[/img]

[i]“And the people raised their hands up and called with a single voice on the One Who Frowns to avenge them, and when he descended from the mountain, to grant them their harvest, how odious was the morn of those who had sown wickedness.”[/i][/centre]
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[sub][i]15-22 AA | Age 0-7[/i][/sub]

  Sugaera [i]shib[/i] Ravuk was born in the village of Rehna at a relatively peaceful interval during Dehrthaa’s long, drawn-out civil war. He did not remember all too well his early years; Shammur, his mother, often told him that they were good times. His father, Ravuk, was an impenetrable, brooding man. While never unkind, he seemed fixated on ensuring that Sugae was ready, though the young boy never understood for what. He encouraged the energetic child in his son, let him wrestle with the smaller goats and with the slightly older Shidhig, as well as the other village boys. He often took both Sugae and Shidhig to swim in the lake nestled between Rehna’s hills. On some occasions he even took the two with him when he ventured out to hunt, beyond the hills and onto the great plains of the Khadaar. Beyond that, Sugae’s memories of him were of an unsmiling visage and short, terse commands.

  “Get those goats.”

    “Yes papa.”

  “Give this to the baker.”

    “Yes papa.”

  “Take that goat to the butcher.”

    “Yes papa.”

  “Tell your mam I’ll be late tonight.”

  Sugae was perhaps seven years old, and they were the last words he heard from his father.


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[centre][h3]Since by Fortune the strong, brave man is brought down, all join with me in weeping![/h3]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/rB55fgL.jpeg[/img][/centre]
[sub][i]22-28 AA | Years 7-13[/i][/sub]

  After his father’s mysterious disappearance, it fell to Sugae — often accompanied by his friend Shidhig — to care for the goats, helping his mother to shear the mohair, clean it, card it, and spin it into yarn. It was arduous and time-consuming, and the weaving process afterwards was equally so. The young boy and his mother worked the loom year-round, weaving yarn into fabric. Perhaps it would have taken even longer if it was merely mother and son at work, but their little village of Rehna was a tight-knit community, and near everyone was tied by blood one way or another. Such was often the case with small villages. So the biannual shearing season saw many of Rehna’s youths help with the shearing, and the women helped with cleaning, carding, and spinning the raw mohair into yarn in preparation for weaving.

  For these very reasons, however, mohair did not sell well in Rehna. Indeed, Sugae’s mother often gifted much of the produced fabrics to those families that helped. And so several times a year the boy made the trip, with other Rehnites, to the fortified market-town of Zira to sell the fabric. Alongside the fabric, Shammur and some of the other women worked together to weave intricately designed rugs, scarves, and cloaks, which Sugae likewise took along and sold. It was not rare for one local [i]shid[/i] or another, or even passing merchants, to inquire after the women of Rehna, and Shammur in particular, and make specific requests for rugs or clothing items. Shammur often said that her secret was in the plant dyes she used, which gave all the mohair she spun an exceptionally rich colour.

  When first Shidhig and Sugae accompanied Bori the butcher into Zira, they were both struck by its size and the great number of people streaming in. It seemed to them that all of mankind were gathered there, though Bori assured them that there were places far grander than this. “Psht, this is just some backwater, pup. Pray that the One Who Frowns never causes you to suffer the sight of anything bigger.”

  Despite Bori’s words, Shidhig and Sugae took in the novel wonders of the town with relish. The great town square, the grand mansion of the [i]shid[/i], the armed and armoured guards stood like so many fierce lions with their great black hair, the endlessly colourful clothes of the people, the aromatic (and not so aromatic) smells, and the awing presence of the priests who could sometimes be seen marching in stern, solemn processions through the town. While Rehna had Ahnu the priest, such a display was on an altogether different level of splendour and gravity to the rituals priest Ahnu often conducted back home, and Sugae was in any case more used to the mendicant-ascetics who sometimes passed through Rehna and were much honoured and esteemed by its populace. 

  As it were, selling mohair here to passing merchants and local [i]shids[/i] provided Sugae and his mother with a goodly income — enough to live a relatively good life so that they neither went hungry nor wanted for warmth and clothes in the wet season. Perhaps on two occasions, that the boy could remember, a particularly important-seeming person passed by his stall with all his regalia and, disdainfully flipping the fabric that so many had laboured to produce now this way and now that, would pay an exorbitant amount for it as though coins were of little consequence. It amazed Shidhig and Sugae that anybody could afford to be so flippant with money, but such occasions meant that Sugae’s mother could afford to be generous to some of the village’s more impoverished families, which earned her both great love and considerable envy.

  And envy was a potent thing, for it brought about the eye of evil, and so there were also times — and those were far more frequent — when particularly capricious militias would find in Sugae a good target for their sport. Unfortunately for him their sport meant that he and his mother would have to scrape by on the goodness of neighbours and near of kin for a good half-year until the goats grew another coat. Bori would thwack the boy on those occasions and throw an assortment of things-within-reach at him. “Why’d you go off on your own you muttonhead! What am I gonna tell yer mam now eh? How’s she going to care for your [abbr=paternal grandparents][i]baabis[/i][/abbr] and your sorry arse?” And if not the militias, then some other lowlifes — bandits and tribal hillmen stalked the hills of the southern Khadaar, and sometimes incursions by raiders from beyond the great river Muhaddir succeeded in plundering those carrying goods to Zira.

  As Sugae grew, Zira did not quite lose its splendour, and both he and Shidhig looked forward to the times they could go. For his part, Shidhig also looked forward to shirking his duties to his mother or Palwijtha the smith, accompanying Sugae into the hills surrounding Rehna to herd the goats instead. The bigger lad claimed he was not shirking his duties at all. “I’m working ain’t I? This goat-herding and shearing business ain’t easy.” 

  “Your mam works her back off in the fields to earn her part of the harvest, wouldn’t hurt you to help her now and again.” Sugae told him, lying on his back and soaking in the sunlight through closed eyelids as he chewed at a twig. The other boy huffed in annoyance and poked Sugae in the side with his herding stick, causing him to yelp and rollover.

  “She knows I hate working in the fields.” Shidhig insisted. “And I don’t trust those elephants they have wondering around there.” Gathering his own stick into his hands, Sugae rose to his knees and thrust it in response.

  “Doubt she loves it either.” Sugae released a huff as the other lad thwacked the stick away and began to circle around. “And those elephants are harmless, they help with the ploughing.”

  “Yeah, but if I go work in the fields, who will look after the goats? You know I do most of the legwork for your lazy arse.” While it was true that Shidhig did work well, to claim most of the legwork was slightly unfair, and Sugae let him know with a swift sweeping strike that would have taken out his legs had he not leapt back at the last second. The bigger boy was quick on the riposte, bringing a powerful overhead strike down at the kneeling Sugae. But the spry boy ducked and rolled to the side with natural deftness and kicked Shidhig’s leg, causing him to grunt and back away. With some breathing room garnered, Sugae leapt up again and put some distance between them. He eyed Shidhig with his unusual amber, almost yellow, eyes from beneath a canopy of night-time locks and Shidhig eyed him with coal-black eyes of obsidian... and then both dashed in once more.

  The sound of sticks striking against each other could be heard for a good while in the solitary hills, until Sugae stopped abruptly and glanced around himself. “The goats!” He cried in a slight panic, and after a few moments of looking about in bewilderment both bolted to find where the animals had wandered to.

  “Told you to get a damn herding dog,” Sugae could hear Shidhig muttering and groaning behind him.

  “I would, but don’t want to enable your chronic laziness.” He yelled over his shoulder, night-black hair blowing in the breeze, and was rewarded with a small stone to the back of the head.

  When one of the goats became too old Sugae would march it off to the village butcher, the cantankerous old Bori, who would talk his ear off about how these goats produced meat that was of [i]abominable[/i] quality, how they were not even worth butchering, and that he was in all truth doing Sugae a tremendous favour by slaughtering such horrific goats in the first place.

  “Psht, I could slaughter the goats myself! I’m doing you a favour by keeping you in business old man — and because I know my late-pa always liked you and considered you a friend.” Sugae once responded, and found to his surprise that the old man shut up and went about his work without complaint.

  “You? Keeping [i]me[/i] in business? Pah. Yer a snotty little no-good pup is all you are.” He said, and then muttered something about [i]paying an arm and bloody leg[/i] as he counted out a few coppers for the boy. “Hushik, Olkiq, come hang this rotting piece of deadmeat you lazy shits!” He barked. Placing the coins carefully into his pouch, Sugae watched with a wide smile plastered across his face as Bori continued shouting profanities at his sons. When the butcher finally noticed the grinning amber-eyed lad, he began cursing the day he peeped out of his mother’s gaping cavity, and Sugae just about evaded a hoof as he ducked out of the slaughterhouse.

  But those days of relative peace, for all the corrupt militias, petty bandits, odd raids, and assortment of projectiles hurled at him, belied the fact that the realm was still at war. And Sugae’s little old village of Rehna would soon feel that once more.

[list][*][hider=Summary]Introducing Sugaera [i]shib[/i] Ravuk and his village of Rehna, located in the southern Khadaar. The region is experiencing a lull in outright warfare (that last spike having been about 14 AA). He is a goatherd, and his mother and other villagers produce mohair and mohair-derived goods. He often goes down to the market-town of Zira to sell these with other Rehnites. Sometimes he gets robbed or cheated, other times he hits the motherload. His friend Shidhig, who appears to be the smith's apprentice, often shirks his duties to accompany Sugae into the hills and herd goats instead. When a goat gets old, Sugae goes down to Bori, the grumpy butcher, to slaughter it and sell the meat.[/hider]
[*][hider=Might][centre]| 3MP and 3DP | +2 Puppetry | +3 Acting | +3 Music | +3 Dance | +1 Architecture | +2 Sculpting |[/centre]
Consecrate Sugaera [i]shib[/i] Ravuk
[indent][i]“With Something of Mojthaic Light” I[/i] - This person wields a subtle yet unearthly charisma - or what seems to others to be charisma - that galvanises people and fills them with conviction and fervour towards shared goals. (Free Title)[/indent][/hider]
[*][hider=Prestige]+5 Prestige to Sugae.[/hider][/list]