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| Saekki : Male : Bone Exile; Bedlam : Female : Chaos | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 12 2013, 11:24 AM (467 Views) | |
| CloakAndDagger | Jan 12 2013, 11:24 AM Post #1 |
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THE DUNGEON MASTER
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Character Number- 12 Name- Nameless, but is called Saekki [Korean for cub or young animal], the name all youths of his clan are called before they are admitted to adulthood. Age- 17 [updated Jul2015] Gender- Male Sex- Male Sexuality- Heterofluid Appearance- Even for a boy at 13 years old, he is a small one. Not even breaking five feet, he stands at 4’11’’ with a scowl hidden beneith his carved mask. After watching others start to shoot up in height, he became one of the shortest and was often teased because of it. His day will come, though, when he finally hits his growth spurt and then he’ll probably feel much better about it. Aside from his height, he is also thin and un-muscular for someone who climbs practically anything he can get his hands on. Still, his hands are surprisingly strong and he can sprint like a bird on the wing, but his endurance is low and, despite all his energy otherwise, he tires easily. He’s yet to come into himself, either mentally or physically, and is frustrated by his lack of change. Like the others, though, he is dark of skin, like the color of red-washed earth after a long rain, and his hair is coal colored in the darkness of brown and grey. Like all children his age, before their rite of passage and their adulthood, he wears a white mask that covers his entire face. Each mask is hand-carved to look vaguely like a lion cub and has been passed down from generation to generation. It’s a sign of youth and immaturity, but also of infinite potential. His dark hair pushes out over the top of the sheath, but, his eyes are the ones that brilliantly shine through it. More than just brown, his eyes seem to be inlaid with gold. In the light, red sun seems to shine from them. Though, instead of open with hope and curiosity, they are more often set below furrowed brows or tinted with displeasure. He also has a tendency to roll them constantly. The face beneath the mask is no less imbued with sass. His dark lips easily purse themselves and his cheeks are rarely touched with laughter unless it’s more than slightly mocking. His is still very much the face of a child, and a rather loud one. During his childhood, with their features masked and no emphasis placed on gender roles, the sound of voices became the major distinguishing factor among his peers. Intonation, tenor, and emphasis replaced the language of the face outside of interacting with adults, who were allowed to go unmasked. Though, the child who started out quiet and calm grew loud and boisterous as he was slowly pushed away from the major group of children. Yelling, his voice became far carrying and powerful for someone so young. And he used it to it’s potency more often than he should. He has no hesitance to use it to point out what he thinks, though, situations following that generally have him running in terror. The weakest dogs bark the loudest. Much like his mask, his clothing is simple. It is similar, if not identical, to what all the other children his age wear. These clothes were designed to be suitable for a hot environment on the plains, but also baggy enough to de-emphasize gender. Despite the lack of indivituality, he doesn’t mind it. It’s functional and comfortable and no one can tease him about it because they all wear the same thing. It also covers the scar on his belly, which he’s not sure if he should be annoyed or proud of. When he was 10, he helped wrestle a young scutra off another kid, but, the reason the other kid had been attacked was that they’d been out playing after dark, which they’d been told not to do. He also has no jewelry or wears anything lavish. He has no earned or been given anything like that and his culture prevents him from buying it, even if he could. Saekki with his mask Saekki as a whole Saekki, after he loses his mask. He is uncomfortable showing his face without earning it, but, he also cannot just carve himself another mask because it was passed down to him. Therefore, he paints himself as a compromise and as a sign of self-imposed exile. -Now has scarring from a stab wound in his chest and a bite mark from Bedlam across his belly. Personality- Loud, stubborn, foolish and willful, this Saekki shows his youth in his immaturity and selfishness. Though coming from a childhood surrounded by family, he is hard pressed to think of much else besides himself and his own needs in the moment. Often, he will act on his wishes without thinking of the long term repercussions, nor of how what he does affects others. He leaps, rather than looks, and this causes rifts between him and his peers. Inwardly, however, he’s frustrated by the distance and is often unsatisfied in himself. He wishes happiness for himself and others, but, he’s unsure how to achieve both without sacrificing one for the other, so, he keeps more to the one that seems easier. Even then he finds himself hard to please. Something close to his heart, though, are the smiles of his sisters and brothers at their rites of passage ceremony as the other adults welcomed the growing youths into their group. Maybe he wasn’t directly a part of it, but his cheers were not quiet for them. He was warmed by watching their joy, even if he had just watched someone receive something he was envious of. They had names then, and faces. And that was a sign of the respect they’d earned for themselves. Respect and admiration, for him, are hard for others to be worthy of. Taught to be inventive and adaptive, the young boy can tackle many different sorts of situations and was educated in how to thrive, but, alone in an unfamiliar world, fear trumps all other aspects of himself. He is scared of starving, scared of falling, scared of being washed away in a flood or caught in a fire. And, with hungry maws all around him, he is especially scared of being eaten. From when he was young, he’s seen dragons from afar, but, their size alone is daunting for him to comprehend, and their mouths are far too prickled with teeth for him to be comfortable. Though, while he wouldn’t consider himself brave, his stubborn will forces him through the gauntlet and onward. Fear and weakness gnaw at him, but, his need for acceptance and respect fuel everything he does. In the end, though he is afraid, reaching his goal will give him anything he’s ever wanted. He would sacrifice most anything for honor and a true name, or so he thinks. Fear is one thing to drag him down, but, within that, his deep insecurity and young age give him doubts. What if he can’t? What if he’s not worth it? Or what if they think he’s not worth it, no matter what he does? He doesn’t understand his place in the world. He doesn’t understand himself. He doesn’t understand other people, and he tries to cover that with an iron will to force him onward, even if he doesn’t inwardly believe himself up to the task. The true motive behind his journey is the mistaken belief that, somehow, being accepted as a well respected adult will grant him love and friendship and joy. He wants to be happy. He wants to discover something truly meaningful to the point that he can feel proud just knowing it or speaking it in whispers instead of proclaiming it or showing it off loudly. Above all, he just wants a name and an identity, but he doesn’t realize those are things that he has to find for himself instead of being presented with. Rank- Bone rank in exile, having escaped from the tainted forces History- In the summer heat of the Zavian plains, it was as if he had been born to a pride of lions. Days old and his family already encircled him like swaddling cloth. Not one mother’s hands, but many. Not one fathers voice, but a chorus. Not one sibling, but all siblings. His world was all the people of his clan, joined hand in hand, to love him, even if they were not truly related. There were many hands to grasp and hold and hug him, and many eyes to watch over him, for he was the child of all. And, like the other children, he was given no name, but called cub, Saekki, for names were earned. When a year passed, he was given his first mask, a bare construct of wood and dark lacquer, to bear until he was old enough to earn his place among the adults. For faces were not always the truth of a man. Deeds to others and oneself, he was taught, showed his soul better than the shape of his eyes or lips. So, this saekki lived and played with other painted, masked children, waiting for the day when he could prove himself to be worthy of being born again. Time and growth allowed this Saekki to fill mask after mask, but, they were all the same. All the children’s masks were the same. There were no girls or boys, nor beautiful or ugly. There were only children filling into themselves and their souls, but, each year, a few of them had grown well enough to rise up for their rite of passage. The first day was always a great gathering, a ceremony to determine the base nature or element of their new mask, should they succeed. However, the true test came the morning after, when the elder children would leave the clan and travel out into the unknown with only their clothes and their cub mask. To become an adult and be able to bare their faces and speak their own names, the children were tasked with doing something for the world. The deed could be anything small or large, magnanimous or cruel, but, tales of their adventure would come to the clan elders and it was they who decided the name and adult mask of the growing saekki. The night after the return, the ceremony would conclude and the child would be handed a ceremonial mask and a name befitting what they had done. Then, the admitted would show show themselves to the family and be allowed to merely keep his or her mask hanging on their backs instead of their faces. Through the years this Saekki watched with bright eyes, he saw sibling after sibling smile their own smiles. Some masks were grand and extravagant. Others were subtle. Some frown, some laughed, some were not even the faces of people. There were animals, trees, rocks, wind, sky, and sun; and they were all beautiful in their own way. However, only the greatest of deeds, and only the most epic of stories earned a maned mask. Forever, they would be known as great people who had done great things for the world. They were looked up to and respected, no matter the age or external shape of the person who bore them. The most treacherous of children lied and misled the others in order to vie for the mask, but, the elders always knew, and the guilty were cast out for baring their hurtful souls. More than anything, he wanted that honor. Though clothes and masks kept some things hidden, some of the other children mocked this Saekki’s small size and chased him around until he would hide in the granary where they could not follow. They were too big, but, he was just the right size, and he would stay there, sleeping on wheat and corn while the sun rose and asked him to return to the mortal realm. Soon he found, though, while his body was small, his voice was loud! When the bullies, though infrequent, came to call, he would yell and kick them and call them names until they were the ones to back away, for fear of someone hearing. Though they would pick on him less and less, many would still not call him friend for they found him too loud now. And so he sat alone and played his own games and pretended that was satisfying. The older and older he got, the more he envied those who had proven themselves, the more he wanted to wear the mane to show everyone that he was strong enough, smart enough, and good enough to be among them. Those true enough friends, though, told him he didn’t need such things. No one had earned a mask in as long as they could remember. Maybe even longer! And he joked with them, but, they always seemed to want little things. They were satisfied when he wasn’t. And, so, he kept his wish close to his heart anyway. On the eve of his journey, this Saekki joined his fellows to pick some detail of their masks. Six children gathered around a circle of many closed, mysterious baskets. They held their breath, kicked the earth like a pent up bull. They coiled like springs asking to be released and, even before they were let loose to open their choices, the saekki knew which ones they wanted. So, when they did go, each ran out in a different direction. Among the choices were precious stones, woods, horns, and animal or elemental symbols to be incorporated into their final masks. Though, just as one adult realized there was one basket too many, this Saekki pulled off the top of his chosen vessel to see a crudely carved rune, a monster with a man’s face and a lion’s teeth. The manticore was the symbol of cruelty and death to his clan, for it was a creature with the face of a human, but a beast’s hungry intent. It was a lie personified. He was horrified. Immediately recoiling, the boy sent the basket and the cruel joke flying with a hard kick while one of his peers snickered. The prankster, who hadn’t actually thought his basket would be chosen out of so many, was quickly caught, however, and severely reprimanded. This saekki was encouraged to pick again and the adults gave him view of all the closed baskets he could have, but, the boy refused and he stomped his feet and he ran back to the grainery where only he could fit and he cried himself to sleep. Fear and anger and anxiety woke the young boy up before the dawn. Out of the grainery, he wiped his eyes, but clenched his teeth and stood with his eyes to the edge of the grassland. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. Instead, he pulled out the wish that he’d kept close to his heart and gathered his things. Masked and alone, he left the only home he’d known without saying goodbye to a single soul. And he stormed out into the wilderness without thinking of what could be beyond. As the first storm hit, the boy immediately regretted what he’d done. He’d taken little food and had no idea where he was going or what he was doing. All he wanted was a warm place to sleep and a comforting voice to guide him, but, what he found was hard earth and hungry eyes and a growing sense of inferiority against the grand scale of the world he’d thrown himself into. Everything seemed to want to eat him and, what didn’t want to eat him probably wanted him dead anyway. His mistrust and insecurities bound him tight, but, he could not let go of what he wanted, nor what it represented to him. Nothing in him would allow him to lie, not to himself or anyone else. The only way he would go back would be with a tale of such heroics that his new name would be known forever. And, as the storm passed, he came upon the only idea that was able to stand up to his scrutiny. What more honorable or worthy thing could one do, but turn an evil dragon good? And, he promised himself, if he did bond and the dragon even had a hope of becoming good, he’d never lie again. Ever. The masked boy traveled across plains and deserts and his travels brought him into the folds of an odd family. After breaking into their home to feed himself, Hungry, wolf-like twins and a bear of a man adopted him along with one other. Together, he was forced to see the other side of humanity and, though he yelled and fussed and put on airs of suspicion, he grew to love them. Along his way towards the bad-lands, though, he met a spiteful woman and she broke his mask to a dozen pieces with a violence and hate that brought him low. He knew there was no escape back home then, as he buried the remains that he could find. The mask had been his face, his identity for so long that he’d nearly thought himself only that white wooden shape. He’d been striving so hard to earn his face for himself, but, he’d relied in the security of the cub’s features. And he wept as if he’d lost a dear friend. He made no new mask for himself. Instead, he painted his face and body to hide himself, for he still had not earned anything and he was still a boy at heart, but his chest grew tight and he knew that he’d get there. He would grow up. He would get his dragon and, even if it was completely in exile now, he would do something to earn his face. And so it was that he would never willingly lie again, for his partner hatched from a shadowed egg and brought him the sea instead of death. Though she was dark of body, her eyes were two bright points of strange wisdom and the boy found himself partnered with a creature the likes of which he’d never imagined or seen before. The others had bonded to horrible, frightening things (or, at least prickly things), but this creature grew next to him more like a sturdy sapling than a cruel serpent. He forced his suspicions to be heavy, but, as he went through tainted lessons with her, he grew toward her instead of away. It was after their fourth lesson that, unable to bear it anymore, he had to flee from the tainted legion. It was time to escape back to the mainland, toward his tribe. And his partner, knowing this was to be, went with him. The little cub, with his painted face and trailing shadow, left the family he’d been accepted into. WIth an ache in his heart, he and his other half ran toward freedom. With the help of a sly gravity that thought herself keen on soothsaying as well and a man with a black hat but a generous smile, the pair continued to grow. But the time apart from everything he’d known made the little boy grow conflicted in his heart and, even after graduating, the path he was once so sure of seemed a ghost at his feet. Extra Information on his Clan: His clan, native to the lower Zavian Plains, is generally called The Masked Clan by outsiders, but they call themselves Jeongjighan Salamdeul, the honest people. They ‘worship’ or invoke a three-faced god. One face is an old man, one a young woman, and one a child. This symbolizes the interconnectedness of a family as well as the idea that men can be women, and women men, but, beneath all still lies a child. The inner child is something to acknowledge and balance with maturity. The three faces also symbolize the sequence of life from youth, to middle age, to old age. This god is not a totally benevolent diety, but, it is wise and just. The three-faced god’s messenger is a dream eater that looks suspiciously like a Qih-nzak. This messenger takes many forms, but it’s name and it’s body pattern are always the same (like the clan’s names and faces as adults). This people harbor a great resentment against the manticore, though. For, though they strive to hide their human faces to discover their inner human worth and understanding, a manticore wears the face of a man, but only harbors cruelty and animal hunger. A manticore is the embodiment of a lie. Ownership is also an interesting concept with them. While there’s more wiggle room as an adult, children cannot exclusively own anything. All that they have belongs to them as a group or a clan and anything that is theirs must be shared among the others. They must take turns with ownership. Only if an adult has specifically given them anything, may they keep it as their own, but, that is revoked if they are seen flaunting it in front of others. Aswell, as a whole, members of the clan cannot just buy things. As an adult, you may wear what you wish and have a good deal of claim over some things, but, you do not pay for your things with coin. They either make things themselves or they are given things. Trading fairly frequent, so long as both parties are satisfied with the exchange. Among them, artisans and craftsman are highly respected, but as are those who work the earth and those who hunt, for they all play an important role within the people. As an adult, it is assumed that you have the maturity to not let objects of physical items so affect your sense of Self. One can adorn themselves how they wish, so long as they realize that none of this can be taken with them when they die. Appreciate the moment, but understand the future. Social and gender roles are another aspect of their community that sets them apart from much of the other peoples. Among them, the highest and most well respected are the elders, who have proven themselves wise and experienced. The elders are made up of men and women, though, generally, there are more women because men typically don’t live as long. In the rest of the society, they continue to channel the order of a pride of lions. The women are usually the hunters and watchers. The men are usually the warriors and gatherers. However, though one adult may start with one side or the other, there is no shame or distaste in switching areas. Part of knowing yourself is understanding what you are good at and what you enjoy, so, frequently, young adults will try their hand at going back and forth between the flexible gender roles. Aswell, men and women do not typically dress differently, but, they can if they so choose. Most of their society is based not on physical appearance or gender, but on if you have earned the right to do what you want. If someone has proven themselves up to the task and knowing of themselves, there is nothing that is closed to that individual (within reason). In curious comparison to Non-sekkai societies, they are some mixture of Buhddist, Native American, and Amish peoples. Hard working but with an emphasis placed on learning, self-knowledge, and community (which includes both them as a people and the world that they live in). Pet(s)- none The Dragon Name-Bedlam Age- 4 Gender- Female Element- Chaos [align=center] [/align]Appearance- At night, there is naught but magic. And, as a pitch semblance of a moonless midnight, Bedlam is just so. As an unhatched babe at her mother’s nest, her secretive egg gave light to the darkness at night, but shaded the same area during the day. Now, as a growing creature outside that prison, the substance of her power grows with her. Bedlam, much like her other chaos kin, is thick of body and limb. Her ebony scales run sleekly across her body like ink and comfort her feminine curves. This backdrop of deep black is so deep, even noon shadows seem pale. With a stretching neck and a thick, but wagging tail, she looks like a lion stretched out and given sun-gone armor instead of fur. The rest of her shape, though, borrows much from her air mother and puts her aside of most other chaos. The end of her tail is plumed with black scale-like protofeathers tipped in hot white and her head is crowned with a bounty of similar ornaments that form the semblance of a proud headdress. The thin horns about the back of her skull run over these thick feather-scales and, like her tail, are tipped in white. Starting nearly as eye-ridges, twin ram horns twist in black to contour her face and swing back to close about the end of her crest. Tiny bristle-like horns run from between these dark sweeps. Similar bristle-like quills dapple her back beginning over her hips and form pinfeather juts to the first quarter of her tail. Over her shoulders, more borrowed feather-scales flare in raven beauty and travel as pinprcks on her arm to long sheets over her shoulder and then shrink to soft-looking triangles near her quills. With her long wings folded, these proto-feathers puff and flatten to her emotions. All this, though, is just a canvas for that which all dragons share -- magic. Painted in glorious, glowing white the shape of her magic is scrawled across her body like ancient words lost to time. The runes start over her pale crystal in the middle of her forehead. The opal, flashing with bright color flames, is outlined in concentric circles. Along her neck and across her sides, ancient words speak and pen in untranslatable washes. They spiral like stars and run in hypnotic swirls from her tip to her tail, and they glow about her wrists, above her fine claws. Her short, broad muzzle and face seems to be constantly aglow with the reflections of her own light. And her eyes, a thin ring of white encircling a bright, haunting pupil, speak of both light and dark -- and eclipse. Her hypnotic stare is wise beyond her years. Even as a child there was something, some fundamental understanding not found elsewhere, that lit her gaze. Starting with the easy swing of her head, Bedlam moves gently and carries her weight effortlessly. There is a calm kindness in her face and a natural ease to existing in how she stands and walks. With her, the runes that roll along her sides glitter and pulse. They nearly speak, and have a mesmerizing way of drawing people in. It seems most days that this is her only scheme of magic -- the bright runes that fade in and out as she wills, but, her power is not so clear. It is subtle. Unlike her partner, who will boast and brag and swell his chest to look more powerful, the young chaos has no desire to billow out and show her power. Instead, there is a slight subtlety of strangeness around her constantly. When her feathers hit eachother, it is the sound of bells. When she stands still, there is a fragrance of flower fields. Her claws leave behind tracks far too small for her body. And there is always a sense of salt. The tide of her runes brings in the ocean for the little boy that loves it. It calms him, as she is calm. -Now has scarring written into the flesh of her (right) arm in the shape of a word (Bburi) meaning Root in Saekki's language (korean) Personality- Patient, Unconventional, Hypnotic, Cogitative The thing that Bedlam is and the thing that she will be are very hard to explain. She is mysterious, but warm. She is forceful, but kind. She is here and there. She speaks to things that both are and are not. And she asks questions to that which have no answers. She also seems to have answers for questions that will never be asked, or perhaps have not yet been asked. Now, as a young creature, she is both the roots of a growing tree and the ground that nourishes the root of others. She is part of the circle and her life exists in a delicate balance of substance and ether. What she will become, however, is none of these things entirely. Bedlam is an instrument of change. As she is now, the young chaos is a silent listener and a quiet speaker. Her patience for all things mundane to deathly threatening is beyond the conceivable and she endures life’s challenges with such serene composure, it may be that she is living stone and unable to be moved by mere mortal hands. Not even the sheer volume of her partner’s whining, and fearful complaining from end to end of the day pushes her toward the deep end of insanity. She is bedrock and starlight. And all the time that the little cub is puffing up his chest and yelling, she is listening… but generally not to him. ...Sometimes to him. Bedlam, perhaps due in part to her breed’s nature, appears to have the uncanny ability to discern the indiscernible. She has a talent of pulling strangely correct, if sometimes outwardly irrelevant information, out of thin air. If she says anything at all about it, it’s usually to attribute it to the rocks, the stars, or some other outward presence. Other times, she seems keen on watching how tossed pebbles land. Sometimes, she watches the fall of bones (if available), and peers at them as if reading. Bedlam says she has conversations in complete silence. She is as a soothsayer, but would likely tell you otherwise. Then she would later agree. Often, her words are mesmerizing enough for you not to care one way or the other. For many, it seems not so odd to believe her unbelieveable things. Contrary to most of her tainted brethren, Bedlam’s character and nature are outwardly slow, but precise, and kind. Her inward self, however, is unclear and hard to predict. All the time in silence is often taken in introspection and thought more than merely listening, but, her eclipse eyes are hard to read. Her wanderings mentally and physically constantly take her on untraveled paths and her methods are often unconventional. For instance, much to the chagrin of her partner, she always seems to answer his pangs of hunger with a strangely similar looking root each and every time. He is predictably not interested and predictably vocalizes this loudly. No matter how she is pushed away, she comes right back to her cub.
User Information Username- Kessian/CloakAndDagger Contact- email or PM or Messenger! Ask me :D! Yourself- ...masks and fluuuuuff How did you find Sekkai? Senaru, a long time ago |
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| SemperMemor | Jan 12 2013, 11:40 AM Post #2 |
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Majestic Space Duck
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[align=center]Accepted![/align] |
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7:49 AM Jul 11