Bizi-Gan, The Betrayer
The monkey's paw was always both of my hands.
P R O F I L E
I N V E N T O R Y
-Coiling Dragon Staff
-Large jade pot secured on back
E Q U I P M E N T
- Coiling Dragon Staff
- Jade Pot
- Jade and leather belt, with a leather and jade wrist guard on his left forearm.
A T T R I B U T E S
Might: 16 (+3)
Dexterity: 16 (+3)
Wisdom: 12 (+2)
Constitution: 14 (+4)
Aged. The most apt way to describe the elder Mokeu. It’s not that the Mokeu didn’t age gracefully, it was just that Bizi-Gan did not. Life on the road and seated with a thousand emotions had casually stripped away the grace and longevity from his skin. Instead of regaling himself in armors and cloths of the finest that the kingdom had to offer, he instead wore tattered tunics and ripped scraps of leather bound by non-uniform-colored straps. The hodge-podge outfit really pulled together his ancient look. The hair on his face has gone decades without being shaven or seen sufficient upkeep. Instead, it runs wildly, unable to pinpoint where it starts and when it ends. It lines the outer rim of his jaw before seamlessly connecting to the sideburns of his head and joining the mess of hair, somewhat stabilized, held by a single jade cuff. There’s three things distinct and unique to Bizi-Gan compared to the rest of his clan. The menacing cumulonimbus clouds that swirled around his eyes to shape his eyebrows. A singular canine that hooked upwards on his left side, meaning his right had been taken. And the adornments of jade that littered his body and weapons. Perhaps it was a memento from a clan once known.
Bizi-Gan wasn’t always the bitter old man that had little in the way of pleasantries and time. Growing up in the Jade Plains saw freedom and a life left of wanting for naught. Cool air grazing over high fields of grass and the smell of spring always induced a natural curiosity and comfort in Bizi. The Jade Plains Tribe was a small one, but that made his time with them all the more intimate. Most of the tribe worried about politics, but Bizi never really had an eye nor an ear out for those state of affairs. And why should an adolescent need to do so anyways? Instead, he found his calling in being a warrior. It wasn’t anything revolutionary as you were either a farmer a warrior or a politician. The feeling only solidified when his paw touched the smooth but hardened texture of a practice staff.
From there on, Bizi would do everything to become an accomplished warrior, distinguished between the rest. However, there was one in the tribe that always kept him on his toes and made a pass for excellence as well. Zhao-Fu, a Mokeu with an inviting, gentle face, but with the down stroke of a falling tree. The two started off as enemies but that rivalry that simmered quickly turned to companionship as no one else was obsessed with mastery quite like them. The jealousy became admiration and then the rest was history. The two were nearly inseparable, comparting meals together, bathing together, and training together obviously. Yet as they aged, the fire within Zhao-Fu began to grow pale. It seemed liked he was torn between martial arts and doing what was best for the village.
Bizi-Gan was unable to see what the world politics had to offer that martial arts couldn’t. Being the strongest under heaven meant that their power could bring anyone to their knees. Something even the most eloquent Mokeu could not accomplish with just words. The more Zhao-Fu matured with age, the opposite held true for Bizi. Like an unripe fruit, Bizi was sour, sour at the thought that their traditions of honoring their ancestors and nature was stupid. The clan leaders approach to the clans future with peace and acceptance of others was simply going to get them killed. Bizi-Gan wouldn’t lay down and die, he would live on and become the strongest of the two kingdoms.
One final fight between the two old friends had served as the schism that pushed, or rather forced, the two to travel on their own paths. There was a slightly reluctance for Bizi to leave as he wanted his friend to fight for him to stay more, but he knew being exiled was the best for both students. So he left and disappeared into the clouds and the mountains. In the beginning of his youth he traveled, fighting his way through villages and kingdoms to gain money and fame. He found his way being a hired hand and knew opulence for a while. You can only sharpen a weapon to a point and soon the fire in him was beginning to burn out as well. Power meant nothing if he could not do anything with it, specifically to help his tribe.
Instead he decided to rescind his power and return to the Jade Plains tribe in hopes of amnesty with his former friend and tribesman. Except what he found was destruction and death in wake of his return. His knees trembled and for the first time in a while he felt weak and gaunt. The smell of rotting flesh and blood curdled in his nose and sucked the life from his bones. Bizi-Gan rampaged through the village looking for his friend, but to no avail. He had either survived or had been taken. Either way, Bizi-Gan would have his revenge. That’s when he saw his reflection in a pool of water, he was mortified by his own image. Hatred is all he saw, and he knew that his intentions of finding peace were fleeting ambitions.
Disgusted by his narrowness, he summited the tallest mountain in their valley and locked himself away from humanity to begin his journey to salvation. When it was time, he would come down and reintroduce himself to the world.
Weathered. Bizi-Gan has seen a lot and done even more within the allotted amount of years provided to his species. Life has casually eroded at him like stone facing the brunt of constant onslaught of rapid waves. This has allowed him to become rounded, smooth at the edges, and overall more refined. It wasn’t always like this. In his younger days he was more of the wave than the stone, he was a constant force of nature with only one track to follow. Sure there were ebbs and flows and even natural borders that diverted his path, but like water he was able to change shape to get through and meet up again and continue on.
Having spent a lot of time in isolation gave way to learning how to slow down and take the world in for what it was. What he discarded as a teen he regained in his old age. He was now attuned with the spirituality that held a grip on the politics of the Mokeu people. His rage had been reigned in and instead he acted with nature in mind.
While he has done a complete paradigm shift, the isolation took a toll on his social skills. He is still very plain and dry, curt in his offerings, and seemingly always judging with a grimace on his face. However, he’s never of ill intent and is looking for the most direct point and advice he can give.
MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK
Bizi-Gan has a few motivations and outlooks now that he’s entered the realm of living once more. Although almost impossible, he looks to revive the Jade Plains Tribe, how he will, no one knows? He’s also looking to take on a pupil. What he wasn’t able to teach himself or correct he can find in a student as if looking in a mirror. He’s looking to continue his cheery outlook by learning more about cultures and knowledge afforded to him on his journey. Lastly he hopes to find his lost friend and make amends for the damage he imparted upon his exile.
The jade capsule attached to his back is an excellent source of stamina training and weight training. Taking it off makes him light on his feet, much faster than he already is. Secondly, he stores powders on him that he pours into the capsule and then ignites. The smoke that emits from the capsule can have several varying properties. The most common, a smoke screen, that aids in his martial arts and staff combat.