Post by darkfoxprime on Jan 23, 2008 5:11:56 GMT 9.5
Name: Jakim
Nickname: Toto.neban (Curious boy)
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Race: Keid
Class/Rank: Keid
Abilities:
Beyond the Keid racial skills, Jakim is a "natural" at tracking, able to find traces of the passage of beasts or beings without really knowing how he does it.
Personality:
Solitary by nature, after having lived on his own for two years following the destruction of his village (see history). He generally stays away from other Keid; his memories of being bullied growing up and the destruction of his village have fused into a distrust of groups of people. A bit above average intelligence, but a determined study if there's something he wants to learn.
Extremely strong curiousity, which becomes a liability rather than an asset in a lot of cases.
He hates to kill. He's never killed anyone else, Fanoran or otherwise, and only kills animals when he has no other way of getting food.
Appearance:
On the short side for a Keid, at just under 5', he's whipcord-lean from his spare diet for the last two years. He wears his hair in two long braids, each looped under his arms and held there by cords tied around his shoulders.
Almost everything he wears is made as simply as possible from hides and bone. The exceptions are a blackened stone pendant worn on a leather thong around his neck, and his bow; both are carved with the symbols for Buroba, and the bow has numerous other symbols covering its short body.
Weapon/Magic:
His "kid-sized" bow, headless arrows (just a sharpened shaft with fletching), and a small knife made from the horn of a hill goat, mainly used for wood carving and sharpening his arrows.
His natural wind ability is mostly latent - he can't control the wind consciously, but his arrows tend to go where he wants them to end up, if he really concentrates on "wanting" them to, and his sense of smell is greatly enhanced from his subconscious "enticing" of the winds to bring scents to him - which is also what gives him his tracking senses.
History:
"I'm sorry, Toto.neban, but if Kabotan said you weren't old enough, you'll have to live with that. Now, you take a couple of the other children and fetch some water for the cisterns. And Jakim, hurry back; the trees are unfriendly today."
Jakim sighed and scuffed away to the nursery. "Niiya, Trebik, get up. Time to go do toban.ke work, like always. Maia, keep watch while I'm gone."
The two chosen eight year olds cheered as they got to their feet and ran past him. "Yay, c'mon Jakim! What're we doing? Let's goooo!"
Jakim herded the twin sibs to the river, making two stops along the way; the first, to get the water buckets from the cookhouse, and the second to duck into his little shelter and get his bow. In between calling Niiya and Trebik back from running too far ahead, he muttered to himself. "They're never going to think I'm old enough to go hunt with them. I'm only two years away from my third 5-year, and I'm already better than Koriko, even with my `toban.ke bow'! At least I never miss the target like he does."
After filling his buckets, and making sure the twins' smaller buckets were balanced across their shoulders, he sighed, then looked across the river. "Niiya, Trebik, I need to check something out. You two go straight back to Huri, and don't spill a drop, you hear?" They both gave him the same knowing grin, then started back up the path, already running. "Don't spill!" he yelled after them, then set his water buckets down, readied his bow, and skipped rapidly across the shallow river ford.
Some time passing by found Jakim leaning silently against a tree, sighting one of his sharpened, headless arrows at one of the little waist-high grazers that sometimes wandered out of the grasslands. He held absolutely still for several minutes, watching the delicate creature trimming the broad edges of a blanket plant's leaves. Then, finally, he loosened his grip and sighed. The elfin deer popped alert at the sound, and a moment later disappeared with a bound into the undergrowth. "You were probably too scrawny to bother with anyway," he mumbled, then added, "Just like me."
As he headed back towards the river, he suddenly caught a hint of something every forest dweller fears - the smell of smoke in the air. Abandoning all stealth and grace, he ran full-speed through the jungle, his face and chest getting marked with whip-like lines from the stems of the plants he rushed through. He ignored the stings, just as he ignored the water buckets he'd left by the river; he had to get back to the village to warn them of the fire.
Halfway back to the village, Jakim realized the smell was getting stronger. With growing dread, he pushed himself even faster, not even hearing himself scream as he ran. Then he burst into the open area surrounding the village, skidding to a sudden stop as he took in the sight. Fully half the village was engulfed in flames; the buildings just barely visible as skeletons within the flames, while the trees supporting the walls looked like huge torches as the fire climbed to the canopy.
Finding his voice once more, he started shouting names out as he darted close to the buildings that were not yet burning. "Niiiiiya! Huri! Trebik! Anyone?!?!?!" After frantically searching and finding no one, Jakim was finally forced back out of the village. Knowing the fire would spread, and quickly, he turned and raced back to the river.
For a week, he huddled on the other side of the river. He spent the first two nights watching the fire burn right to the edge of the water, and praying to Buroba that the winds would not bring the fire across. Hunger finally forced him to move after that. A bit of searching let him calm the pangs with a tree squirrel's hidden cache; he had no stomach to hunt, and even if he did, he feared that a cooking fire would invite its larger cousin to join him on this as-yet untouched side of the river.
At last, with the smoke clearing from the air, he made his way back to the village. He watched the ground as he stepped gingerly along the path, resolutely not looking up at the blackened and skeletal trees above him. He told himself it was because of the dangers left by the fire, which was at least partially true; the jungle floor was littered with flame-sharpened branches and brittle seed husks, either of which would be enough to leave him with a bloody foot if he misstepped.
It was eerily quiet as he neared the village. No birds were left anywhere near; the burrowing insects would have been burned out, and any beast that wasn't long gone would be dead from the fire or the heat. Not even a breeze stirred the black blanket of leaves - it seemed an alien world to the jungle boy who'd never been without the sounds of nature around him.
Jakim's inspection of the ground in front of him almost let him miss when he passed into the defensive clearing which had been meant to protect the village. It was noticing the lack of branches which made him look up suddenly; it was the black and gray sight of the ash-covered remains of the village which made him feel like his heart had stopped.
"Gone. They're all gone," he murmured, ignoring the new trails of tears tracing their way down his cheeks. Unable to look away now, he continued his way into the village, step by slow step. His eyes roamed over each of the gutted shelters; most had nothing left beyond the tree trunks and thick branches that had formed the supports for the walls.
Then his gaze stopped at a single, smaller, tree with branches criss-crossed in front of it. Jakim stared at the place where he had lived for a moment, then approached it numbly. Everything he'd owned had been there, except the clothes he was wearing and the bow he carried. The decorated leather headband he'd been given in advance of gaining his fourth 5-year feather. The bag of bully-bird tail feathers he'd been using to fletch his arrows. And...
"No!" he cried out, falling to his knees and pushing his hands into the mess of ash and char. "It has to be here!" Heedless of the scrapes and cuts he was getting, he rooted through the remains of his shelter until, with a sharp intake of breath, he gripped his fingers around his find and jerked his hand free. Then he settled back on his heels, slowly turned his hand fingers-up, and began opening them. He almost didn't dare to look, until he saw the tip of stone.
He let out a huge sigh of relief, and opened his hand fully, looking at the once-white carved stone nestled in his palm. A finger of his other hand traced the carved characters in it, working clockwise around the stone as he mouthed the name of Buroba.
He'd been nine the last time he saw the windtalker. The old woman had been the one he'd run to whenever the older boys and girls would tease him about not being able to use the wind, and she'd been the one to give him his nickname, Toto.neban, because he was always asking her questions. When he'd stood with Huri and some of the younger village kids, watching her hug and kiss the other village elders, he'd wanted to hate her for leaving him. Then, she'd turned away from the elders and walked over to stand before him. His younger self had looked defiantly up at her for as long as he could, then broke down; he'd hurled himself at her and wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her as tightly as he could manage. "Why do you have to go?"
"I have to visit Buroba, Toto.neban, before I pass on. I've been putting off leaving for a very long time, since before you were born, and he's calling me now." She'd reached into one of the numerous pouches she always carried and pulled out a leaf-wrapped bundle. "This is for you. Remember, Jakim, no matter what the others say, you have your own magic, as strong as any." Then she'd gently separated his arms away from herself, stepped back, and rejoined her escort for the journey.
Jakim shook the memory away, realizing he was squeezing the stone pendant hard enough to imprint the characters on his fingers. With a swallow, he dropped the bit of cord that still trailed through its hanging hole, and dropped the pendant into his pouch. As he stood and turned to head back to the still-living jungle across the river, he asked himself his years-old question. "What good is magic that I can't use?" Looking around, he closed his eyes for a moment and whispered a prayer asking Buroba to grant the villagers his speed on their way to Adumbra.
--
(Edited to correct the number of feathers - I missed the part about getting a feather at birth)
Nickname: Toto.neban (Curious boy)
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Race: Keid
Class/Rank: Keid
Abilities:
Beyond the Keid racial skills, Jakim is a "natural" at tracking, able to find traces of the passage of beasts or beings without really knowing how he does it.
Personality:
Solitary by nature, after having lived on his own for two years following the destruction of his village (see history). He generally stays away from other Keid; his memories of being bullied growing up and the destruction of his village have fused into a distrust of groups of people. A bit above average intelligence, but a determined study if there's something he wants to learn.
Extremely strong curiousity, which becomes a liability rather than an asset in a lot of cases.
He hates to kill. He's never killed anyone else, Fanoran or otherwise, and only kills animals when he has no other way of getting food.
Appearance:
On the short side for a Keid, at just under 5', he's whipcord-lean from his spare diet for the last two years. He wears his hair in two long braids, each looped under his arms and held there by cords tied around his shoulders.
Almost everything he wears is made as simply as possible from hides and bone. The exceptions are a blackened stone pendant worn on a leather thong around his neck, and his bow; both are carved with the symbols for Buroba, and the bow has numerous other symbols covering its short body.
Weapon/Magic:
His "kid-sized" bow, headless arrows (just a sharpened shaft with fletching), and a small knife made from the horn of a hill goat, mainly used for wood carving and sharpening his arrows.
His natural wind ability is mostly latent - he can't control the wind consciously, but his arrows tend to go where he wants them to end up, if he really concentrates on "wanting" them to, and his sense of smell is greatly enhanced from his subconscious "enticing" of the winds to bring scents to him - which is also what gives him his tracking senses.
History:
"I'm sorry, Toto.neban, but if Kabotan said you weren't old enough, you'll have to live with that. Now, you take a couple of the other children and fetch some water for the cisterns. And Jakim, hurry back; the trees are unfriendly today."
Jakim sighed and scuffed away to the nursery. "Niiya, Trebik, get up. Time to go do toban.ke work, like always. Maia, keep watch while I'm gone."
The two chosen eight year olds cheered as they got to their feet and ran past him. "Yay, c'mon Jakim! What're we doing? Let's goooo!"
Jakim herded the twin sibs to the river, making two stops along the way; the first, to get the water buckets from the cookhouse, and the second to duck into his little shelter and get his bow. In between calling Niiya and Trebik back from running too far ahead, he muttered to himself. "They're never going to think I'm old enough to go hunt with them. I'm only two years away from my third 5-year, and I'm already better than Koriko, even with my `toban.ke bow'! At least I never miss the target like he does."
After filling his buckets, and making sure the twins' smaller buckets were balanced across their shoulders, he sighed, then looked across the river. "Niiya, Trebik, I need to check something out. You two go straight back to Huri, and don't spill a drop, you hear?" They both gave him the same knowing grin, then started back up the path, already running. "Don't spill!" he yelled after them, then set his water buckets down, readied his bow, and skipped rapidly across the shallow river ford.
Some time passing by found Jakim leaning silently against a tree, sighting one of his sharpened, headless arrows at one of the little waist-high grazers that sometimes wandered out of the grasslands. He held absolutely still for several minutes, watching the delicate creature trimming the broad edges of a blanket plant's leaves. Then, finally, he loosened his grip and sighed. The elfin deer popped alert at the sound, and a moment later disappeared with a bound into the undergrowth. "You were probably too scrawny to bother with anyway," he mumbled, then added, "Just like me."
As he headed back towards the river, he suddenly caught a hint of something every forest dweller fears - the smell of smoke in the air. Abandoning all stealth and grace, he ran full-speed through the jungle, his face and chest getting marked with whip-like lines from the stems of the plants he rushed through. He ignored the stings, just as he ignored the water buckets he'd left by the river; he had to get back to the village to warn them of the fire.
Halfway back to the village, Jakim realized the smell was getting stronger. With growing dread, he pushed himself even faster, not even hearing himself scream as he ran. Then he burst into the open area surrounding the village, skidding to a sudden stop as he took in the sight. Fully half the village was engulfed in flames; the buildings just barely visible as skeletons within the flames, while the trees supporting the walls looked like huge torches as the fire climbed to the canopy.
Finding his voice once more, he started shouting names out as he darted close to the buildings that were not yet burning. "Niiiiiya! Huri! Trebik! Anyone?!?!?!" After frantically searching and finding no one, Jakim was finally forced back out of the village. Knowing the fire would spread, and quickly, he turned and raced back to the river.
For a week, he huddled on the other side of the river. He spent the first two nights watching the fire burn right to the edge of the water, and praying to Buroba that the winds would not bring the fire across. Hunger finally forced him to move after that. A bit of searching let him calm the pangs with a tree squirrel's hidden cache; he had no stomach to hunt, and even if he did, he feared that a cooking fire would invite its larger cousin to join him on this as-yet untouched side of the river.
At last, with the smoke clearing from the air, he made his way back to the village. He watched the ground as he stepped gingerly along the path, resolutely not looking up at the blackened and skeletal trees above him. He told himself it was because of the dangers left by the fire, which was at least partially true; the jungle floor was littered with flame-sharpened branches and brittle seed husks, either of which would be enough to leave him with a bloody foot if he misstepped.
It was eerily quiet as he neared the village. No birds were left anywhere near; the burrowing insects would have been burned out, and any beast that wasn't long gone would be dead from the fire or the heat. Not even a breeze stirred the black blanket of leaves - it seemed an alien world to the jungle boy who'd never been without the sounds of nature around him.
Jakim's inspection of the ground in front of him almost let him miss when he passed into the defensive clearing which had been meant to protect the village. It was noticing the lack of branches which made him look up suddenly; it was the black and gray sight of the ash-covered remains of the village which made him feel like his heart had stopped.
"Gone. They're all gone," he murmured, ignoring the new trails of tears tracing their way down his cheeks. Unable to look away now, he continued his way into the village, step by slow step. His eyes roamed over each of the gutted shelters; most had nothing left beyond the tree trunks and thick branches that had formed the supports for the walls.
Then his gaze stopped at a single, smaller, tree with branches criss-crossed in front of it. Jakim stared at the place where he had lived for a moment, then approached it numbly. Everything he'd owned had been there, except the clothes he was wearing and the bow he carried. The decorated leather headband he'd been given in advance of gaining his fourth 5-year feather. The bag of bully-bird tail feathers he'd been using to fletch his arrows. And...
"No!" he cried out, falling to his knees and pushing his hands into the mess of ash and char. "It has to be here!" Heedless of the scrapes and cuts he was getting, he rooted through the remains of his shelter until, with a sharp intake of breath, he gripped his fingers around his find and jerked his hand free. Then he settled back on his heels, slowly turned his hand fingers-up, and began opening them. He almost didn't dare to look, until he saw the tip of stone.
He let out a huge sigh of relief, and opened his hand fully, looking at the once-white carved stone nestled in his palm. A finger of his other hand traced the carved characters in it, working clockwise around the stone as he mouthed the name of Buroba.
He'd been nine the last time he saw the windtalker. The old woman had been the one he'd run to whenever the older boys and girls would tease him about not being able to use the wind, and she'd been the one to give him his nickname, Toto.neban, because he was always asking her questions. When he'd stood with Huri and some of the younger village kids, watching her hug and kiss the other village elders, he'd wanted to hate her for leaving him. Then, she'd turned away from the elders and walked over to stand before him. His younger self had looked defiantly up at her for as long as he could, then broke down; he'd hurled himself at her and wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her as tightly as he could manage. "Why do you have to go?"
"I have to visit Buroba, Toto.neban, before I pass on. I've been putting off leaving for a very long time, since before you were born, and he's calling me now." She'd reached into one of the numerous pouches she always carried and pulled out a leaf-wrapped bundle. "This is for you. Remember, Jakim, no matter what the others say, you have your own magic, as strong as any." Then she'd gently separated his arms away from herself, stepped back, and rejoined her escort for the journey.
Jakim shook the memory away, realizing he was squeezing the stone pendant hard enough to imprint the characters on his fingers. With a swallow, he dropped the bit of cord that still trailed through its hanging hole, and dropped the pendant into his pouch. As he stood and turned to head back to the still-living jungle across the river, he asked himself his years-old question. "What good is magic that I can't use?" Looking around, he closed his eyes for a moment and whispered a prayer asking Buroba to grant the villagers his speed on their way to Adumbra.
--
(Edited to correct the number of feathers - I missed the part about getting a feather at birth)
