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Conn Kuvyx

"I don't even know why I'm here right now, so speak quickly or don't speak at all."

0 · 113 views · located in Paetax

a character in “Calisma”, as played by lom.conor


Full Name: Conn Kuvyx

Nick Name: Kuvyx. Just Kuvyx. Nobody calls him by his first name. Members of his clan call him “Chief Kuvyx” or “the High Kuvyx.” But so few remain, it’s almost unspoken.

Gender: Man.

Age: 30

Sexual Orientation: Homosexual.

Height: 6’1”

Race: Human.

Class Sudaje


Ghostwading - Conn Kuvyx has the ability to make his body and being immaterial in the corporeal world. Like a ghost, he can pass through walls and various surfaces, without being seen by the naked eye. The application of this has helped him in various ways, especially in the hungry days of youth. He cannot, however, extend himself beyond walking – no portals, no flying, nothing besides walking. When ghostwading, he can sense the existence of all living beings in a few miles radius, but cannot communicate with anyone other than himself, the Oracle or the other sudajes. He has been able to experiment with fighting while ghostwading, using his sword to pierce the being of his enemies. When he erupts from ghost form, his sword is deep in the heart of his enemy. It has yet to be proven consistent.

Kuvyx is an intelligent person to certain extent. He knows what time it is based on the position of the Sun, he senses when others are in serious pain (physical or otherwise) and he has a natural knack for surviving. But all of this has come with a price (or rather a cause.) Kuvyx is entirely illiterate, a product of his poverty and tribal upbringing, and lacks any cognitive abilities that require advanced math, reading or political comprehension. He trusts, he loves and he gets broken. And while he can easily find himself loving others, his gullibility has proven to be a point of contention. These, however, are only immediately apparent.

Kuvyx's true Achilles' heel, however, is his crippling self-doubt. Between struggling to maintain a hold on an already dead tribe, and having to deal with the vocations of the Oracle, Kuvyx is a split man. His lack of intellect, his thirst for more, and his wish to live up to his mother and father amount to hours of disdainful self-hate. Indeed, he finds himself calling his very own identity into question, spending hours in the blustering winds of the tundra-like Frosts, pondering over existence. Perhaps the lack of his parents are to blame; perhaps its the awareness of the great beyond, or the indomitable call of the Oracle. Kuvyx isn't sure either way, but if caught at a crossroads, he may very well find himself in severe peril.

Kuvyx’s equipment includes two rusted swords, one from his father, and one from his mother. His father’s is an iron blade etched with the words “Ever Waiting” – the Motto of his father’s clan. His mother’s is a bronze blade etched with symbols of wild wolves – the iconography of her clan. Although he is no learned soldier, warrior blood does flow through his veins. He will often only wield one sword at a time, but sometimes may wield them simultaneously.

For purposes of survival, his crude leather vest covers a dark green tunic. His boots and gloves are both seriously worn over. Along with these, he carries a dried goat’s stomach – a water carrier- and a shoulder bag to carry his personal trinkets. He has a fur cowl and cape for the icier frosts of his snowy homeland.

Personal Quote: “We haven’t got much time; the Moon will be up soon and we’ll have to lay down to fight the cold biting… and yes. Yes, I will hold you.”



Kuvyx is a built man – not freakishly so, but the tough winds of the Frosts and hard work necessary in the mountains in has shaped him likewise. His gruff exterior and perpetual scowl cast a shadow upon any of those that look upon him. He’s not a purposefully dark person, however. Behind his soft eyes lies a large amount of warmth. The way he carries himself has often been described as lone candle to the frosts. Others have said it’s a fallacious aura of mischief. Kuvyx doesn’t care either way. He keeps his hair long and his beard thick so as to fight the cold, and never quite seen without his thick vestments.


Kuvyx is not a dark person. He’s not even a sad person. But he saves his energy – no use in smiling if there’s no one there to smile back. That being said, he never refuses a salutation, warm hug or gentle greeting. He fancies himself fearless, but he is fearful of things beyond the Frost or the Soch. He pretends to be strong, but he knows he’s weak without numbers. Numbers he no longer has, nor wishes to have. He’s a bit of an emotional recluse. He trusts others, of course, but distrusts himself. He’d much rather catch a stranger from the snow, fill him full of food – and love, if the stranger is handsome- and move the stranger on his way. But his enigmatic ability to foresee the paths of fate, however, has rallied his tribe behind him.

His illiteracy and classical ignorance of the world contributes much to his shame. Wanting and wishing for more, Kuvyx is known for a temper as deep as the sea and as ravaging as a blizzard. Lucky enough, the Oracle’s vibrations often lead Kuvyx to serenity just as quickly as he went to rage.


Conn Kuvyx was born to a pair of warriors – Chief Kuvyx and Chiefess Enana. His birth signaled an alliance between the Kuvyx and Enana clans. These clans ruled the farthest edges Perpetual Frosts, where ice meets the Soch Mountains. They named their son “Conn” – named after a mutual legendary folkhero. Together, the long-beaten and war-weary clans totaled fewer than 50 – hardly enough to combat outsiders. Hardly enough to survive.

When Dazus Errion marched to unite Calisma, the Kuvyx clan was not of those that fell to his seduction. Fearing control and loss of their sacred rights over magic, the remaining, icy tribes of the Perpetual Frosts refused to see the force of change ahead of them. Errion's unification of Calisma was near cemented, but the Frosts proved to be a most abominable prick in the First King's side. Their resistance was futile. Perhaps from their own stubbornness, or perhaps from Errion’s ambition, they were all but slaughtered. Many of those that remained fled to the far southwest – the city of Orranli – or the far east- the city of Vaekor.

Conn Kuvyx, son of warriors, however, stayed behind with this grandmother and a few too weak to move. It was here, in the lonesome frosts and snow-beaten mountains, he grew to learn the ways of the ice and iron. Against battering rams of hail, and the loss of a steady food source, the tribals fought tooth and nail to survive. Only 8 remained in the tribe that once had many – three old women, two young men, 2 boys and 1 girl.

When Conn Kuvyx turned 13, the traditional day that a Kuvyx boy would take his mantle of manhood, his grandmother initiated him into full membership of their sacral bloodline. Using the sword of his father, she cut his hand and bled it into a small, fledging fire. Then, she bled it into a small bowl of icy water.

“Conn Kuvyx,” she said to him, almost whispering, “gaze into this water. Our blood consumed in fire, and is frozen forever in water. As such, our kind is meant to roam the ice and iron, for if we leave these sleepy safety, we shall perish. But if we stay true to the ice and to the iron, we shall be cast forever into the hands of the Firmament.”

As the highest-ranking man of the line, he was simultaneously bestowed the chieftaincy of the clan, an honor that so few his age had ever been given - an honor that was now a burden. As the traditional fur hood draped over his youthful, blond head, he felt an icy shock crawl up his spine. Brushing off the sensation as merely an effect of the ceremony, Conn Kuvyx laid his mind to rest. Night fell over the young chief’s lard-layered, caribou-hide yurt. Enjoying the traditional gifts of the chief’s first night – a choice of any bed-partner(this prospect no longer as prestigious), and the rarest of caribou meat- Kuvyx ignored the omens around him. Flanking wind formations, the cry of a Frost Eagle, and the howl of a wolf all culminated into certain sure devastation.

Kunipos, one of the surviving men of the clan, envied the boy’s position, and stole away into his yurt. Seeking to murder the boy and claim what little wealth there was to be had, he grabbed him and choked him against the floor. Only moments, and Kunipos was close to raping Kuvyx. In desperation, Kuvyx found himself ‘falling’ from Kunipos grasp, up through the man’s flesh and over him. The invader fell to the floor on his own blade, dying thereafter in slow agony.

The shock at first of this was unbearable to Kuvyx, who ran out into the blizzard night, only to be near-frozen-to-death. In the stormy flurry of ice, Kuvyx cried – for his tribe, for his parents, and to understand what just happened. His passionate pleas erupted into his ‘falling’ sensation, again, and the cold that once froze his tears seemed to vanish. In this new state, a gentle, warming vibration overtook him. Just a vibration, and yet it seemed to speak to him. Comforting words. He felt connected. It told him its name – ‘the Oracle.’ It also spoke of two others similar to him, all three meant to serve the ‘purpose of fate.’

Going home, Kuvyx lead his fledging tribe with a new vision. Believing the ‘Oracle’ to be what his ancestors had worshiped as the ‘Firmament’ – the deified glacier that would cover the world in icy love- Kuvyx reformed his eyes to see what Fate would allow him to see. The Oracle, over the next decade and a half, would teach him the ways of magic, leadership and the paths that Fate had in store.

Kuvyx is now 30 years old – his tribe is now 13 members strong, a product of his constant attention. His mind is distinctly related on two things: 1) revealing a deeper relationship with the Oracle, and 2) surmounting the challenges his tribe faces. He has been presented with several options by his wife – 1) He may dissolve the tribe and let her members go on to lives somewhere else. 2) He may move his tribe to greener pastures. 3) Stop caring, and let the bygone era finally die. He has left him with many hours of personal frustration from the constant pull between his duties as ‘chief’ and his increasingly stronger commitment as a sudaje.

Among the sudaje, whom he only knows as beings somewhere beyond, he is the middle one. In their communications, he also knows he is the one least understanding of the gravity of their positions. But he is also the one with the most physical prowess, an unnecessary gift for the other two. His relationship with the outside world, also, has proven to be quite useless to the other sudajes. He often wonders if they’d rather just cut him and wait for a new birth. Sometimes he wonders the same – the Oracle fails to acknowledge his self-doubt and seemingly uselessness.

So begins...

Conn Kuvyx's Story