Yankee

Current Mood in One Gif

Fate/Lost Epoch

_{Battleground of Hope and Ruin}
Homurahara Academy
^{_________________________________}

It would be a lie to say Jigen wasn't a little shaken by the true, raw power of servants on full display - well, maybe a lot shaken, but he did his very best not to show it too much. At Saber's suggestion Jigen firmly nodded, intending to follow his lead, although... there was something... a little different about the Greek hero, wasn't there? He didn't look any different on the outside, but Jigen sensed a subtle change somehow. Now might have been the time to wonder about it, but there was a lot going on all at once - the Caster, Theseus' friend, putting up the projection and the false Herakles riling up his servant. Then, the biggest surprise for the student -

"Then, I'll leave the kid to you while I do so."

...huh? Wait, wasn't a master supposed to stick by their servant? Didn't Saber just suggest they go together?

"Saber, wait, I - " the boy was cut off by Saber's apology and the assertion that the enemy on the big screen that had attack was too powerful, too dangerous to leave alone - and apparently, too dangerous to have to worry about protecting a master as he went into battle against her. Jigen supposed he understood, but... well, it stung, just a bit. Nothing he wasn't used to though, he'd get over it and become a partner that Saber wouldn't have to worry about bringing along with him during a fight. If he survived the night, that is.

As Jigen stood beside the Rider and the master smushed close to his chest, the boy's fists tightly clenched as he watched Saber leap away in pursuit of the enemy, the other banquet-goers moved into action. A few new faces appeared, one making a bold claim, and finally - a fierce torrent of attacks from close-by. A battle, something expected, but Jigen was still an inexperienced master. He had to trust Saber's judgement, trust this other servant and his master to protect him, trust -

Wait wait wait, was he really content to be some bystander after all? Though they'd only met earlier that morning, Jigen did trust in Saber - and he trusted Saber's friend the musician as the magical barrier raised up, so the young master broke away from the man he'd been entrusted to and made his way behind it before the situation got any worse. Agh! Should I wait for Saber to get back or should I go support him? I should go, right? Surely the answer is 'go!' Jigen thought to himself, completely unaware that the enemy Saber had left to pursue was already far out of his reach. Still, he waited for an opening to escape and reunite with his servant.

^{[@Wine & Dine]@Breo}

---

_{<villainous heroes and heroic villains>}
Homurahara Academy
^{_________________________________}

Patiently, Berserker listened to the information his master fed him about the other servants. Patiently, he listened to Faker and the others trade jests, insults, and even honest words. Patiently, the boy king watched some servants depart and others arrive - and patiently, he mulled over the masked servant's words. His eyes flickered over to the servant beside him, curious to see the man's response. To the pharaoh's momentary surprise, he found a serene smile.

Berserker smiled too, then - not a peaceful one like Faker, but a small grin baring his teeth. Begrudging, amused. Even now he didn't know Faker's true name, but the man had been right when they first met - they were alike after all.

"So that is your true nature?" A rhetorical question, but one the pharaoh voiced all the same. "Interesting." His tone was light, near boyish with genuine intrigue. The man under the guise of Hercules who laid low people and empires alike - despite everything, he still desperately clung to the idea of heroism. More than the brutes who fled and the brute still remaining, Faker strived to be a hero, to change himself. It was touching, almost, and even separated Berserker could tell through his bond with his master that Faker's words had seeped deep into the man's core, his words were unneeded. Berserker agreed.

Understood.

He felt his master's magic in Faker, heard the musician's notes mingle with the shouts of the banquet's host signal the start of a battle. Three on three, was it? In that case...

Berserker's gaze fell upon the long haired Rider protecting two masters. Though much shorter than the other man, Berserker was distinctly 'looking down' on him. The demonic servant he would leave to Faker - that man wouldn't be felled by such an assault, as brutal as it was. Cold and swift the small pharaoh approached the Rider. In one hand a dagger of dark design manifested, in the other a slim, ornate horn of bronze. For a servant with his master so close, a mind would be a terrible thing to lose - and so, a tune of madness to accompany Caster's triumphant song. Berserker brings the horn to his mouth and blows it in the Rider's direction, it's sound both charming and discordant at once, confusing and enraging.

^{[@Wine & Dine]@SSW@Aoko Aozaki}

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Operation: Ground the Harpy

The large man didn't take issue with the agent, Lilliane's, reply. He met her gaze cooly and like before, thought her harsh attitude was a bit refreshing considering the situation they were all in. He'd been hoping that the woman would relieve him of the burden, but then again he supposed he was a big guy and his fellows were small women. Emphasis on small, though Chloe was on the taller side she was still a fair bit thinner than he was. Without another word Taras followed the girls' lead, humming in amusement when the British agent mentioned her "power."

Ideally, an agent wouldn't let on that they were gifted at all, but he couldn't say he was surprised to hear her flaunt it. The power she held must be something to do with earlier in the plane, the music. Again he found himself curious to know more about it and how it could possibly be helpful as more than a distraction, but even if they were free of prying ears and Taras was the type to ask, he didn't get the chance.

The tell-tale whistle of a mortar made it's way over to the group, with the shell itself sure to follow soon. Not bothering with a warning, the Russian didn't hesitate at all, breaking away from the group to find shelter immediately. He ended up on the other side of a shallow ditch, hoping what shrubbery was around would help conceal him. From his spot he couldn't clearly make out the area though, he'd have to find a better vantage point to retaliate. The man turned and peeked out underneath the sparse foliage, seeing where the other agents had gone while wondering how many hostiles were around... and who, exactly, had let the information that they'd be there leak?

<Incompetence>, he muttered as the shell exploded, throwing dirt up in the space they'd just been.

Forsaken

As more and more people filed into the modest room, Flick narrowed his eyes and the (some would say rarely used) gears started turning his brain. Eight of them - or maybe nine? Maybe the man with the hulking skeleton would try and claim his giant "friend" as needing of an equal share? Even if he didn't, eight ways to split a reward was a lot... but five hundred upfront was still mighty tempting. Actually, what would stop him from taking the five hundred and running? What was stopping any of them? With any luck some might drop out of this unfortunate quest, and if things went South then he'd just bail himself.

Flick was in the middle of peering up at the recently arrived Warforged, lightly but brazenly knocking on their metallic carapace, when two of the ladies in the room made a bit of a spectacle that masked "A.G.'s" arrival.

Abraham Garrick, Flcik let the name roll around in his head for a bit as he explained the situation. As the Genasi had thought, a fruitless endeavor. The chances of finding someone that had disappeared around here were slim. As for the man's name, he couldn't say if he was familiar - maybe heard in passing, but Flick had been trying to stay away from the lawless side of Forsaken for a while.

Now, Flicker had a few words for the man, and he'd crossed his arms and listened while some of the others questioned Mr. Garrick. The poor man seemed genuine - a man with money to spare but no one to share it with since the alleged disappearance of his wife. Real pity, especially since no on seemed to bring up the obvious... so Flick chimed in.

"You do know we won't find your wife, right?" He shrugged his shoulders a bit, his gaze sliding from the man's face off to the floor around him. "I mean, not to be the bearer of bad news but - if it's been weeks, we might be able to find her remains for you, but the chances of her still bein' alive are... uh, poor."

Miracles did happen, or so they say, but Flick found it really, really unlikely.

"I'm sure these folks are just as happy to take your money as I am, but I've been out there a few times - outlook is not good, Sir. If you're still willin' to bet on us though, then by all means."

The older man sighed. He seemed to be a little agitated at the question, but Flick didn't know if it was from the question itself or the reminder that his wife probably wasn't alive. Naturally, he assumed the later.

"Yes, I'm aware she's probably no longer with us. However I did specify that I wanted y'all to stop the people doing this as well. Yes, I do want you to find my wife, but I also want these crimes to stop. Period. Regardless of whether she's found or not," Abraham reminded them.

"Fair enough," Flick finished. So an old-timer with a lot of money and a want for justice. A spark returned to the male Genasi's eyes after the man's reply and he turned to the group at large.

"By the way, anyone else here know each other? We got those star-crossed lovers over there," he gestured to the Elf and other Genasi, his tone sarcastic but he did assume they were exes of some sort. One happy to be around the other, while said other looked like she was going to explode? Either one of the gals was an accomplished actor or they had some sort of messy break-up, and the female Genasi was taking it much harder than the Elf. "A bad prior relationship miiiight get in the way of things, don't you think?"

Fate/Lost Epoch

_{Banquet of Kings}
Homurahara Academy
^{_________________________________}

The heroes attending the makeshift banquet in the courtyard were inspiring indeed. Though Jigen stuck close to his servant, he kept his head up and continued studying the others. To him they all seemed like decent people, which was good news as far as he was concerned. Earlier when Saber had explained just what kind of "war" he was no involved in, Jigen took his warnings to heart. Now, though, he thought it was only right that a noble warrior like Saber would clash with others of the same mind. Yes, all the heroes he could see didn't seem overly hostile or particularly menacing... save for one. The man sat upon his bladed throne. When he stood and spoke Jigen felt nervousness wash over him, but the student forced himself to stay put right where he was, upright. After all, what kind of partner to an epic hero would he be if he got scared off just from the sight of an enemy?

The others' replies, including Saber's own, to the man eased the situation just a little. Then, of course, another guest appeared. Jigen looked between the man claiming to be Hercules and Zoe and her servant. She'd told him he was a fake, but even if she hadn't he might have been able to figure it out based on his actions alone. That was no lion, it was a man!

"Hey! You can't just - " Jigen started to say, looking at the poor unconscious man on the ground. He had wanted to somehow defend that man from this indignity, but suddenly the part goers started to move and shout. Javelins rained around them and the heroes gathered fired back until the assault was over. Jigen didn't possess any form of magecraft to speak of, let alone defensive, so he'd thrown his arms around his head but once the rain of attacks ceased he peeked out from between his elbows and cautiously lowered his arms. Another servant protectively holding his master had wandered closer to them, and though Jigen didn't sense any ill intent from the man he stayed vigilant just in case. An attack could come from anywhere at anytime - wasn't that just proven?

Saber, that was... Jigen's thoughts drifted through his telekinetic link with Theseus. It was amazing, terrifying, awesome, and horrible. The power of a servant was hard to wrap his head around, but even seeing some of the other masters move to defend he felt conflicted. Being a part of the conflict made him feel larger than life, like he was part of something important, but he might as well be a bystander. What should - how can I help out?

^{[@Wine & Dine]@Breo@Aoko Aozaki}

---

_{<our goal is>}
Fruz Estate, Western Farms
^{_________________________________}

The Pharaoh considered his current companion's reply. Before the man answered his question, he spoke on the nature of love and hate, and Berserker respectfully let him without interrupting. He made some fine points. Berserker wasn't entirely sure he agreed, but it was an interesting perspective nonetheless. Men and gods alike were made immortal by love, that much Berserker thought to be true, but he knew from experience that hatred could take hold in a person's spirit so firmly that they could pass it on to others. That hatred, though it may take a different shape, could live on in multiple people, in multiple forms, a cursed line that connected all those who shared it. The priests, artisans and spirits that resented his father also resented Berserker, despite his attempts to right Akhenaten's wrongs. The gods his father rejected haunted his family even after his death. The other servant considered the lingering of the feeling, but the ghosts of hatred had been lingering on for a long, long time.

At some point during his thoughts, Berserker's eyes had drifted closed. When he sensed the other man shift, his eyes opened once again and he lay his cool gaze on 'Hercules' - or, as it was divulged, not Hercules. At least, not always. The boy king searched the man's face for the full truth. He wasn't sure if he found it, but he came to understand either way. A man desperate to be anyone else, embracing an identity that was thrust upon him.

"...wonder if you could trying breaking your curse not as Hercules, but as your true self?" Berserker guessed, taking advantage of the man's pause. He shrugged a shoulder, absently gesturing with a hand as a bitter smirk formed on his face. "A curse is a hard thing to break, though you know this if you had to don the mantle of such a mighty hero to do it. Whether you lived with regrets about your identity then, and still harbor them now... There is no use thinking about it unless you can claim the Grail."

Of course, if only one master and servant could claim it, Berserker had no intentions of letting his ally do so. Though he wouldn't admit it aloud, the Pharaoh was quite content to discuss these things with the man who had become Hercules. When he wasn't speaking in the hero's persona, he had a solemn dignity about him that intrigued Berserker. He thought that perhaps the man really would have been better off fighting his fate as a man and not a legend, but then again, what was the point of thinking about "what if's?"

_{<Banquet of Losers>}
Homurahara Academy
^{_________________________________}

Wow, what a greeting. The fireworks were a little unnecessary though. Compared to the large figure of "Hercules," the small servant draped in gold and lapis wasn't very imposing at all. The boy and his master followed behind their boisterous ally as the shower of javelins were dispatched by the combined forces of the kings and their minstrel. Some, Berserker recognized from earlier at the bank, others he didn't, but they were all the same: lowly beings before a Pharaoh. Even as a weak servant, he was still ruler of Egypt.

Berserker had the feeling the mysterious Lancer would back off after their failed assault, so while "Hercules" played himself up Berserker's eyes flitted among the crowd. With Markansas at his back, Berserker reached out to him through their bond.

Master, recall what I told you earlier - your servant is a physically weak one. However, should the need arise... he began. The show of power just a moment ago gave him some idea as to the strength of the others, but if anymore of a scuffle broke out it would be useful to know which he may even have a chance contending with, if any, especially the showboating persona of the other servant next to them would serve as a big enough distraction. Tell me what you can about them.

^{[@Wine & Dine]@ReallyDumb@Over Illusion@SSW}

Yankee's Characters: Past & Present

Reorganizing. . .

World of Light

Word Count: 448 (+1 exp)
Level: 4 - Total EXP: 3/40
Location: Devil's Casino, Land of Adventure?

Given how the Cadet had been recently enlightened as to exactly the kind of situation the multiple worlds were in, it really shouldn't have been that surprising to him when the Guildmaster pulled off his cloak and opened up a portal beneath the crew gathered in the guild hall. Then again, it was only yesterday - so, understandably, Ace Cadet was a little taken aback by the sudden developments and plummeted down into the newly opened hole in the floor. Thankfully, falling was something the young man was very familiar with. After the blur of colors passed by and the ground came up, Cadet rolled his landing and popped back onto his feet. A semi-soft surface, that was nice!

The view? Not quite as nice. Some kind of gambling den, with giant skeletons and over-sized, well, everything.

"Whoa, spooky!" the Cadet said, "Everybody okay?"

It didn't appear that anyone was injured, so the hunter turned his attention to the gigantic dice-faced man. Apparently, 'Gneidxick' was the Guildmaster's true form somehow. How did he fit underneath that cloak?? Dude was huge! Before Cadet could confront him, the Courier and Bowser had some offers to make him. Offers that he didn't end up taking, although the relatively light mood had the hunter chuckling at the proposed counter-deals. As the Courier was swept off and his robot and Geralt followed him, Cadet scratched the back of his head.

"So basically, we just have to battle some guys? No problem, right?" a small grin spread on his face as he reasoned that jumping right into a portal was probably the right thing to do. He was preparing to do just that when the Koopa prince joined them, looking different but also pretty familiar. Was he sporting a Brachy horn? He was distracted watching the father and son get a grip on Jr.'s new slime-based powers. So that was the result of fusing with a spirit? They could be crushed into weapons, kept as partners, or absorbed - Cadet filed in the info away, but all that really came to his mind was, "Radalos! You're like a mini-monster! You gotta let me get a closer look when we're outta this place!"

He watched the Koopa group go off into a portal and lined himself up with one at the same time. He'd seen first hand how competent the others were, and as long as whatever was waiting on the other side wasn't some huge impossible fight, it should be okay to split up. As Tora and Poppi went off, Cadet looked over his shoulder at Peach and Hat Kid and give the ladies a two-finger salute and a smile before he jumped into a portal.

Cardinal Rift

Rhy̢thmia L̛ap̢şe҉u͘s

In what remains of the Grand Hall

---

She'd managed to get Pachel's attention and relieve some of the pressure from her fellow Technologist. That was good. When the woman's body hit the ground, Rhythmia didn't bat an eye - she kept focus on the two men. It was only natural that there would be people falling from above after all, though most appeared to have already fellow given the state of the Hall. However, Pachel didn't seem to think the same. The woman was dressed in dark clothes, red-headed - Ah, it's her. Rhythmia held no sympathy for the women, but her identity explained Pachel's intense reaction. With the force of his gate letting up, Rhythmia swiftly stood and began to make her way over to separate the two men, but force if necessary, but...

She didn't make it. Before her eyes Kothlin rose up and killed the Mageborn Lord. What was he thinking? Was he so full of adrenaline he was running on base animalistic instinct like the Beastmen he appeared to loathe, or was he... did he really want to sacrifice everything the North had strove for over the years, and just this morning, on a chance at war?

She clutched her weapon, then a surge of mana took her consciousness again.

She awoke much more quickly this time.

She stalked over to the scene where Pachel and his mistress lay dead, surrounded by dozens of other corpses as the tower crashed back into existence.

Well, she supposed in the back of her mind it wasn't "a chance" at war now, especially when he made his declaration. When he met her eyes and claimed that her house would be part of his war, her eyes blazed with anger while her heart froze over.

"What are you doing?" the Lapsean woman hissed, grabbing the front of Kothlin's power suit with such force that it dented it's metal frame before she bodily dragged the taller man's face down to her level. "Lapseus wants no part in this... We do not want a war."

"Mmh. The South doesn't care. Pachel is dead, and a Northerner did it. You'll be accused regardless of what you do. I promised your sister a quarter of my land if she helped," the man rushed to explain, struggling in her grip.

"You..." Rhythmia couldn't argue, because he was right of course. The deed was done and over with. Even the bomb would probably be blamed on the North, especially now. She didn't like it, she felt hot emotion course through her veins, ones she hadn't felt in years but made the experience all the more painful. With disgust, Rhythmia rattled Kothlin around in his broken cage of a suit and shoved him away from her. Her eyes bore into the man before her as though he were the most grotesque of shit-eating insects, then she took a breath and her gaze flitted over to Reina and her daughter. Her eyes landed on Tina, whom Melodia had told her was promised to their house in just such a scenario. The short haired woman beckoned her over. The girl approached, curious.

"Lady Rhythmia," she says deferentially, "How are your limbs treating you? If you wouldn't mind, I have some ideas for..." she stopped as soon as she saw the look on Rhythmia's face. In turn, upon Tina's reaction Rhythmia let her expression soften just a little, laying her hand on the girl's head and guiding her away from the scene. The Lord spared Reina a stern gaze, and one last time she faced Kothlin with a withering look.

"...do not regret this." Her words were hard, a threat even. She turned away, leading the Lapseus' new 'acquisition' back toward the tower's interior. She still had to find Melodia, and now explain the situation to her. Despite the surge of energy and the collapsing of the stone, she still felt that her sister was alive. Although, no longer in the 'mana bubble,' she'd definitely be needing some help. Vati appeared to be alright - the bodyguard was helping that other redhead up when he caught sight of Rhythmia's return and made his way back to her side. He looked at Tina curiously but didn't dare question the Lord when she was still so tense and ill at ease. The group was silent as they focused on finding and collecting Melodia before leaving Harrow's behind.

Project Zasshu

♦ Wèi Lái ~ Project Attacus ♦

---

The promise of hot food and warm beds was very nice, especially after the ride in. The aircraft wasn't entirely awful, but it wasn't what any could consider "comfortable" either. At the Major's words, Wèi Lái turned to look outside of the craft, peeking out into the heavy rain. Her shoulders dropped.

"Aw, I hate getting rained on..." That was the truth of course, rain made it harder to fly and with all her hairs and furs, when she got dry again she puffed up even more. She stood at the exit for a few seconds before she whirled around again, flitting over to her fellow Zasshu. "You were gonna introduce yourselves, right~? Don't let me stop you! I wanna know your names too!"

Wèi Lái gave both the Ravager and Medusa Projects a little nudge from behind, prompting them to start moving out into the rain. She seemed to be taller than the both of them even if just a bit. Maybe older too, but it was hard to tell. She hoped by huddling closer to them, it might help with getting rained on. "There's a Zasshu waiting for us here too, isn't there~?"

Cardinal Rift

Dimutic Hound

ℂ͖a̪̜̻̣̣r̝̟͢ḓ̨͖̗̘͙̺in̪̮̥͢a̪̰̣͍͘l̠̟ ̲͙ℝ̷͉̞͉̠̙̦̞ị̝̤̪f̣̫̝t̼̥̯͡

---

---

ℙe͍̻̞̫͠r͝s͓͓ó̗̪n̲͔̠a̞̲l͓̬̺̰ ҉͙̪𝕀n̷f̲̖̦o͞ŕ̥̫̗͇͎͎̟m̛̱a͘t͕͕͖͈͚̝̫͞i̡͓̹͈o̗͖̞n̪̜͕̞̤̟

Name: Sarnic of Clan D'mol, of Tribe Dimutic
Age: 26
Race: Akeshan of the Wilderness
Gender: Male
Appearance: Sarnic's slightly below average height but toned, athletic build wouldn't normally inspire fear in strangers - but his sharp fangs, wild eyes, and aggressive attitude that easily shows through his body language might do it. He has light skin subtly tanned by the sun, and various battle scars all over. His hair is a shaggy light brown - the same goes for the wolfish ears and tail that sprout from his body. His fingers end in pointed claws perfect for tearing things apart. In the dark, his red eyes can seem to glow with excitement. He usually dresses in capes and furs decorated with trinkets, charms and jewelry of all kinds.

---

𝕊o̤̩̟̼ ̯𝕆n̪͓̝̙̲̣ ̱̲͠&̫͇̰̖̰ ̩͈̝𝕊o͏ ̡̣͚̭̙𝔽ọ̳͔r̸͉͉th̗

Reputation: Those that don't know Sarnic would say that he's a ruffian - he puts the beast in beastman and is an unrepentant, uncooperative, unpleasant person. Those that DO know him would say... all of the same, and add that he's a ferocious, uncontrollable young man with a lust for battle that rivaled only his personal pride. Though hard to imagine, he does have his good qualities in that he's loyal and will protect what he views as his, whether it be people or territory - and though isn't a strategist by any means, preferring to rely on his raw power, in battle he thinks quickly on his feet. He is in peak physical form and is equally admired, feared, and hated by many.

Skills:

• Physical Combatant
• Natural Weapons
• Simple Weapon Proficiency
• Iron Stomach
• Poison & Disease Resistant
• Brutal Charisma/Pack Alpha
• Animalistic Strength
• Animalistic Senses

Backstory:

The Dimutic Tribe

Where some Akeshan tribes try to be as civilized as possible in the face of the Court, the Dimutic Tribe that Sarnic belongs to chooses instead to revel in their natural states. They are similar in many ways to the other tribes of the Wilderness, but differ in two major ways: they tend to be more aggressive than your average tribe, and they are at times nomadic.

The Dimutic have no gender or sexual biases, nor are they divided by class. They place one thing above all else when it comes to battle, negotiations and conflict: power. When it's time for a Chieftain to step down, their chosen child challenges all adults in the village to single combat. If this chosen child loses even once, the one that defeated them may become Chieftain. The Chieftain has no advisers or council and decides all aspects of the tribe's life, though they are free to listen to any tribe member's advice. When the area the Dimutic live in no longer pleases the Chieftain, they may choose to move the entire tribe - in that case they crash through other tribal territories and violently take any land they want.

The tribe members may seen violent (and definitely are), but from an outsider's perspective what may seem like a community of in-fighting and theft is actually a tightly knit group of like-minded Akeshan. The Dimutic do not steal from each other, because all property is meant to be taken. They do not assault each other because battle is how the Dimutic become stronger and forge bonds. The rare Dimutic that is born weak or shy won't be discarded, but instead become healers for the group's many warriors. First born children are named with an "-ic" ending, paying nod to their tribal founder, Dimutic. Only the first borns are named this way, all other children are not named with an "-ic" ending. There are times when a family's children may be named entirely similarly, for example "Dundic" and "Dund," both of Clan "X."

There is only one law among the Dimutic, and every one follows it devoutly: if you have taken all of their possessions, then take only their life. Another person's freedom and agency is never to be infringed upon, so despite their nature the Dimutic do not rape or take slaves. To be taken advantage of in such away is the most shameful, criminal thing the tribe can imagine.

The current Chieftain is Timilic of Clan Astepeol, the first male Chieftain in generations. Both Timilic's son (Stevic) and daughter (Obel) are preparing to take over the tribe, and it's thought that one of the siblings will kill the other before Timilic steps down. Despite being firstborn, Stevic has proven weaker than Obel many times, but both have supporters among the tribe. Timilic's second wife Sumil of Clan H'sta, mother of neither of his children, is a dark horse contender for the position as well. Besides Timilic's immediate family, a favorite to take over as Chieftain is a certain Akeshan know as Sarnic...

The D'mol Clan has been part of the Dimutic Tribe for nearly as long as the tribe has been around. The D'mol have produced many fierce sons and daughters over the years, but none so much as Sarnic. He came out of his mother's womb kicking and screaming - he even bit the deliverer. His parents couldn't have been more proud.

Sarnic didn't have any special upbringing, he was raised in the same way the other children of the tribe were: thrown outdoors during the day to do whatever he liked, then collected at night to be fed dinner and instructed in the brief tribe laws and history. It was a childhood full of scrapes, scraps, bruises and battling - just the way the Dimutic like it. Soon enough it was apparent that Sarnic wasn't just unruly - he was tougher and stronger than most if not all of his age group. He could spar with older members of the tribe easily, and soon enough his parents decided it was time for the adult bridging ceremony. This ceremony could be taken at any age and was a test to determine if members of the Dimutic would go on to become full fledged adult warriors, or remain children for a little longer and move on to become healers and shaman. The test involved hunting, fishing, and surviving in the wild alone. Needless to say, Sarnic passed handily.

Now deemed an adult at a relatively young age, Sarnic trained as a warrior tasked both with protecting the village and hunting game to feed it. He was a skilled combatant, and though he didn't always win in those early days he proved a force to be reckoned with. The Dimutic moved their tribe early in Sarnic's life, and there was something that made a lasting impression on the young Akeshan: of the people whose land they moved into, the only ones that refused to give up and leave and were able to put up a fight were the ones that wielded magic. The Dimutic did not normally get involved with the magical beings of the land nor thier contracts that granted magical gifts, but those few that did were not shunned by the tribe. It was always in the back of his mind as a way to get even stronger than he was now.

After a few years more, Sarnic was well known as one of the most powerful members of the tribe. His strength and skill in battle, coupled with his health and ability to eat nearly anything and not get sick, made him both envied and admired by others. Sarnic himself was well aware of his own abilities and would fight everyone to make sure they knew he was stronger than them. He took over as head of his own clan when he killed his father in a power struggle, leaving his mother, younger sister and handful of cousins to acknowledge his new family position. Though they all mourned the former D'mol patriarch's death, Sarnic included, such was the way of the Dimutic - and if one didn't back down it wasn't unlikely for them to die. Sarnic took his father's fangs, wore one as a charm and gave the rest to his family and moved on. Many in the tribe found themselves victims to sudden attacks from Sarnic when they questioned or insulted him. Indeed, Sarnic was powerful - but he knew he could get even more so, especially since he seemed to be evenly matched with the tribal Chieftain's family and was striving to overcome them.

Sarnic's sister, Juvela, was shaping up to be quite the warrior herself and the D'mol siblings enjoyed fighting with each other and giving each other new scars. One day, on a hunting party led by Sarnic which Juvela was part of, the small group of Dimutic was ambushed by remnants of the tribe whose territory they now occupied. A fight ensued and some of the proud, powerful Dimutic were killed by these magic-wielding Akeshan. Worse: some of them were also captured. Predictably, Juvela was one of those stolen. It was a blow to the entire tribe, and a rescue group was put together immediately. After all, these Akeshan had broken the one cardinal law of the Dimutic: of a person, take nothing but their life. Kidnapping was an unforgivable crime.

When the rescue party got to the scene, it was hard to believe what they saw. A large magic beast, more like a monster than anything else, slaughtering the rogue Akeshan and their Dimutic hostages alike. Magic beasts in general were uncommon nowadays, but once this size and strength was especially rare, but here it was. Juvela had broken free and was fighting the creature, one of her large ears torn off and blood streaking down her face. With a battle cry, Sarnic and the rest of his group leapt into battle against the beast. It was bloody, many didn't survive and for the first time in decades members of the Dimutic tribe retreated. Even the D'mol siblings, as strong and brash as they were, turned to run when it became clear the monster was many times more powerful than the lot of them.

It's body, though seemingly flesh, was dense and hard. It resembled two headless men joined at the waist, though many times larger. Their arms ending in bloody claws and where their legs would be ending in yet another pair or arms. Twisting skin formed molted, pulsating ridges on the beast and it's color would constantly change to make for a confusing appearance. Save for the blood coating it's body, it was able to nearly perfectly blend into the surroundings. It crushed the Akeshan bodies into dust and absorbed energy from them through it's skin and the ugly holes where it's heads would have been. The creature was horrible and awesome.

And it chased them.

The D'mol siblings brought up the rear of the escaping Dimutic, and when Sarnic head the beast crashing through the trees after them he growled and turned to stand against it. He was a proud young man, he was strong and determined. He faced down the creature and was prepared to fight and win, or fight and die.

But instead it spoke to him.

When finally Sarnic returned to the village, the entire tribe surrounded him with shouts and tears. Even those that loathed him moved to embrace the hostile man. His mother and sister held onto him and kissed his face in relief. The entire tribe moved the next day, far away from the area, traveling for days. When asked what happened Sarnic would say that he distracting the monster then escaped.

He didn't tell them that more than seeing his sister's bleeding body holding her own against the creature, more than fighting for his own life against it, more than the dark folk tales the elders would scare him with when he was a child, that what it said to him was the most frightened he'd ever been in his entire life.

After moving, the Dimutic tribe put the experience behind them. Sarnic did too. Life went on as normal, but for some reason Sarnic was stronger than ever.

Miscellaneous: Sarnic isn't the head of his tribe, but he certainly acts like it - and more often that not everyone lets him. He's butt heads with the Chieftain many times and has even threatened to kill the tribal leader and take over - so far he hasn't made good on this threat though, instead eagerly awaiting the time he can ascend to Chieftain in the proper way.

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𝕄agic

Contract Gift: Fog. Sarnic can generate fog as dense or light as he wishes from his nose and mouth. The fog cover hangs heavy on the ground around him and can get quite large.
Contract Sacrifice: He is bound to follow the orders of the creature who gave him the contract.
Contract Restrictions: If Sarnic is unable to breathe, he can't produce the fog.
Field: The area the fog can cover can extend up to two miles, with the densest part being the center where Sarnic generates it from. The fog can be generated quickly but obviously the large cover the more time it takes.