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Aki Sifa


0 · 182 views · located in Nazria

a character in “The Age of Change - Year of the black march”, as played by Lyx


Name: Aki Sifa

Race: Jekki
The Jekki are a humanoid race. They average at around five and a half feet in height and have dense, muscled builds. They have two pairs of arms, an outer pair and an inner pair. The outer pair is larger and stronger and used more for physical tasks while the inner pair has more dexterity and is used for finer tasks. Their skin can be a variety of colors, from charcoal black to sky blue to milky white. Their coarse, stiff hair can be a wide range of colors as well and tends to stick out from their heads pointing backwards. Eye color in the Jekki is usually an earthy color, including brown, gray, green, and rarely gold. Their ears are large and pointed, and Jekki are able to swivel them to catch sounds. Jekki have thumbed feet that are not as dexterous as their hands but are still useful for gripping. The Jekki are at home in giant forests where they live in the trees. Jekki are strong, agile creatures, able to sling themselves from branch to branch between trees. They do not have long lives compared to some other races as they typically live to about one hundred and ten years old.

Age: 30

Gender: Male

Class: Bonded | Simply put, a Bonded is one who has been linked to an animal via magic. When the link between the person and animal is established, the pair gets access to each other's thoughts and senses. The animal gains sentience and changes in appearance in response to the magic of the bond. The person gains some of the animal's traits, be them physical, abilities, or mindset. The pair also gains a magic or ability they can use, often related in some way to the natural abilities of the animal in the Bond, as well as a longer lifespan. This class is more commonly found among tribal, less civilized peoples who are more in tune with nature.

Appearance: Aki is short for a Jekki, standing at just an inch over five feet. His skin is coal black, camouflaging him in the night. His vermilion hair is stiff and sticks up behind his head with more rigidity than normal for a Jekki. Golden in color, his eyes have slit pupils, a result from his Bonding. Due to his Bonding he has unusually long, taloned toes capable of gripping and exerting more force than usual. Like all Jekki he has four arms, but his hands differ in that they are larger than normal and webbed, again because of his Bonding. Aki has a variety of scars, most small but a few large.

Equipment: A light traveler, most of Aki's possessions can be found kept in his leather pack. In this pack he keeps essentials such as food, water, and flint and steel. His clothing is loose and informal. In fact, when he can go without, he doesn't wear a shirt. For a ranged weapon he has a blowgun that can shoot darts. While the blowgun isn't nearly as long ranged as a bow Aki does have quite the variety of poisons for his darts. Some effects are obvious, such as extreme pain and death. Other poisons he uses are more unusual, such as causing sleep, dizziness, or hallucinations. His other weapons include clawed gloves that he can fit on his hands and two daggers.

History: The life Aki was born into was a simple one. His tribe lived secluded from the rest of the world for the most part in an enormous forest. He learned to climb and leap across branches before he ever touched the earth. As he grew he learned how to survive in the wilderness like gods knew how many generations before him. His short stature, admittedly, did get him ridiculed at times, and perhaps it was the way he laughed along with his tormentors that caught the attention of the elders. That was possible, but what more intrigued them was his way of knowing things. He knew which birds would nest in the same place again after a winter, where a poisonous tree viper hid between vines, waiting for a meal, if a lamed deer was nearby and would be an easy kill, and various other things. When questioned about this he couldn't pinpoint how he knew these things. It was something like a strong hunch, but unlike a hunch it was never wrong.

This was a strong sign that Aki was capable of being Bonded to an animal. The tribe's shaman brought the idea up to him and Aki was excited at the idea. He would lose his preternatural sense of knowing things about the forest and animals around him, but he would be able to speak to an animal. The shaman taught Aki the ritual for Bonding, warning him that it wouldn't work with every animal. Certain people had more of an affinity for some animals than others. Aki soon found out he didn't have an affinity for many animals. He tried to Bond with hawks and songbirds, wolves and wild cats, badgers and bears, but none of them were compatible with him. The shaman tried to consoled Aki, saying that those with unusually strong sense of knowing the forest often had a smaller range of animals they could Bond with, ironically. If nothing else, Aki would live his life with the useful talent of sensing the natural world.

This was not what he wanted, however. He started ranging farther and farther from the rest of the tribe, looking for an animal he could Bond with. On one journey for the first time he felt a pull of some sort. There was a creature that was hurt, and unlike other times he had experienced this sense, he felt drawn to the creature, whatever it was. Wondering if this would finally be something he could Bond to, Aki headed in the direction of the hurt animal. He found it nested in a fork in a tree's branches. It was a lesser wyvern of some sort, and when it saw him coming towards it the wounded creature hissed and snapped, not wanting to be made a meal of. Keeping a wary distance, Aki held some dried meat to the predator, trying to tempt it to come closer. Eventually hunger won over caution and the wyvern darted forward and wolfed down the food. He held out his fingers to the wyvern, who started chewing on them. Aki didn't jolt away from the pain, for physical contact made the Bonding ritual much easier, he had heard. He reached out with his mind in a way he never had been able to do with another creature and created the Bond.

Immediately the wyvern stopped nipping his fingers and looked at him with a new intelligence in its eyes. Aki was bombarded with the wyvern's thoughts and memories. She was young and had foolishly tried to steal chicks from a hawk's nest, hoping for easy food, but had gotten into a fight with the enraged mother. The encounter had gone bad for the wyvern, and it had stayed alone and hungry on the branch, unable to hunt or drink anything more than the dew and rain that misted the tree. Now that Aki had Bonded to her he had her complete trust.

Thus Aki took care of the wyvern, giving her wing a splint and carrying her home to his tribe. His family was excited that he had finally found a Bondmate, and a rare animal for one at that. The wyvern accepted the name of Ryfe and soon the two were inseparable. To the dismay of his tribe, however, Aki had not only changed physically because of his Bonding, but mentally as well. He gained the same wanderlust that a wyvern had, for wyverns, especially young ones, travel far and wide to seek their own territories and mates.

This started a long, still incomplete period of roaming which took Aki and Ryfe further and further from home. They traveled outside of the forest for the first time, learning the language and ways of the outside world. Since then they have been traveling all over without any real plan.

Bondmate: Ryfe

Bondmate Species: Lesser ridgeback wyvern. The "lesser" part of the name is to differentiate from the "greater" wyverns, which are significantly larger in size. Lesser wyvern species tend to stand at one and a half feet in height at maturity, while greater wyvern species range from four to ten feet in height. While all wyvern species grow poison barbs on their tails upon reaching maturity, the poison of lesser wyverns tends to be more potent.

Bondmate Appearance: Ryfe stands at one foot three inches in height. Like other ridgeback wyverns, she has a row of spines that protrude from her back that give the name ridgeback. Her sharp sighted golden eyes have slit pupils. Her leathery hide is a dark grey with flecks of white and black with the only deviation from that pattern being that she has a cloud white belly and underwings. A tad longer than those of other lesser ridgeback wyverns, her tail is prehensile and tipped with a deadly barb. The more a wyvern uses its poison, the less potent it becomes, and only when it hasn't been used for a while does it replenish its stock. Thus Ryfe uses her poison sparingly and mostly in defense. Like Aki, Ryfe has undergone physical changes when she Bonded. For starters, her wingspan expanded beyond the norm for a lesser ridgeback wyvern of her age. Her poison started to remain at higher potency for longer. Lastly, the thumbs on her wings became more dexterous, allowing her to grab things and manipulate them to a greater extent.

Ability of the Bonded pair: Enhanced Vision | Due to the inherent magic of their Bonding, Aki and Ryfe have vision that is far greater than the average person's. They can see clearly for far longer than the average person. Their eyes can also zoom in to far distances, giving them telescopic vision. They can see in complete darkness, though at a certain amount of darkness they see in black and white like any other person. In addition to this they can detect tiny movements and track things that move very fast.

So begins...

Aki Sifa's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Crowen Antillia Character Portrait: Atma Gatae Character Portrait: Jolai Revthi Character Portrait: Garem Nocht Character Portrait: Aki Sifa Character Portrait:
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The evening drags on in this isolated section of the world, people are returning from their days in the fields while others still are fast asleep in bed. The land of Nazria is still in its throws of daily movement and none are stopping to pay heed to the changing winds or the the cooling air of the night. For those that stand watch however, it is just the beginning of their duties. The small city of Kontr sits idle, holding its position as it always has as one of the most diverse trading locations in all of Nazria. Behind its sandstone walls, beaten by the arid winds rushing in from the western planes. Sits a city filled to the brim with people of all cultures and walks of life.

But be it a butcher or a tanner, the hunters to the clergy.
Our story starts were many stories do.
In a well known tavern sitting in the center of the city known as the Purple Wurm, patrons talk and drink themselves into a stupor to forget the troubles of life and celebrate another day of harsh living survived.

The air of the tavern is filled with spiced meats and the aromas of sullen drink. Buxom woman pass with the slightest winks, carrying their load of drinks from table to table, only stopping to swat the idle hand and blow and pressing kiss. This place is a testament to the mix of the lives within the city, with the visions of so many races within the multitude of faces in this crowd. One must concentrate to catch a glimpse of the passing elf, or the towering warrior that ponders by. However all of these faces and all of these lives are the usual in this town, always here in this tavern at this time and only a few are here by chance, or providence if that is more accurate.

The entertainer sitting idle at his table however, was pulling attention his way.

Because in the back of the tavern, there sits a table that is nearly devoid of patrons scrambling around it. All that sits there is a man no one knows and more interestingly, no one had seen arrive. He sits in his seat, with a large mug in front of him and several silver pieces scattered beside it. He plays a guitar and keeps his head held low, drumming out low notes and humming to himself as if the whole world did not matter. His visage however was what drew the most attention from those around his table, eyes locked on his tattered clothes and the look of his skin stretched thin on his boney hands.

His voice on the other hand was clear and smooth, every sound his voice made seemed clear and precise. Those that plied their attention were caught in his story and listened with great care.

"The winds of change are blowing my friends.. and soon all with cease to be as you know it." He strums several small times before tuning his guitar for the third time that night. Each pluck of the strings, letting a fine trail of dust free from the instruments frame. "But do not fear, for all this change is exactly what has been seen before and will always come to pass."

"The real question is, where will you be when the march comes through?" He says with a draw in his breath, laughing at the blank stares from a number of onlookers.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Crowen Antillia Character Portrait: Atma Gatae Character Portrait: Jolai Revthi Character Portrait: Garem Nocht Character Portrait: Aki Sifa Character Portrait:
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#, as written by Alligot

The Purple Wurm. The Prancing Stallion. The Red Lion.

The Vibrant Lotus. The Timid Mouse. The Opulent Guardsman.
The Hopping Stag. The Gilded Dragon. The Three Points.

Which was it, again?

The names of all these inns and taverns often blended together for Atma. Memories that were never hers often collided, fighting like wildcats for her attention, her notice. Though these places never truly seemed to change regardless of distance or even time. There was always the smell of spiced ale and sizzling, fatty meat. It was always incredibly dim - almost too dim for her poor eyesight. They were all even named in similar ways.

The same people. Different faces. Different names.

Always the weary drunks, the frilly serving girls.
Always the tired farmers, the cautious traveler, the boisterous entertainer.

Atma personally knew nobody here. Once in a while, she'd see a face, and hear a whispered name, recall the memory of another. In the dim light, it was too difficult for this. Yet it wasn't too difficult to quickly and efficiently stereotype everyone currently inside. After all, taverns were always the same.

Like all taverns, there was always someone playing music. Here, she could hardly hear it over the noise and bustle. The gentle, precise touch on a guitar, the owner of which seemed impossibly old - even to Atma. She had not paid him much mind. She'd heard worse. She'd heard better. The man was quiet in both tone and play.

Then he spoke about the march.

The March of Darkness.
The Black March.
An omen brought on by fog.
It never hurts.
It's what - - -

Atma shut her mind - closed the gate. It could never truly drown out their gossips, forever lingering in the back of her mind, but at least she could ignore it. It was strange, though. Most, from what she had heard, had started to flee the fog - the death that reportedly came alongside. She seemed to be the only one heading straight for it.

She again glanced around at the patrons, taking a sip of cider.

How many of them are fleeing? And how many of them are as foolish as I?


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Crowen Antillia Character Portrait: Atma Gatae Character Portrait: Jolai Revthi Character Portrait: Veran Del'Lok Character Portrait: Garem Nocht Character Portrait: Aki Sifa
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#, as written by piearty
Sitting in the back corner of bars, head low, hood up, hiding in the shadows, was never Jolai’s favorite thing; it made him feel like a common criminal. But when sitting out in the open, even with his wings curled under his cloak, he tended to get, to put it mildly, rather unwanted attention, and he assumed the patrons at The Purple Wurm would think just as well of heidroxes as the next bar over and the next—that is, not well.

He had been wandering around aimlessly again for a few weeks, sometimes with people, sometimes not. When he was with people during that time, a topic became more and more apparent on travelers’ lips: a march. A fog. Something on the horizon, and, from the fearful way that people often spoke of it, something bad. They wouldn’t speak very much of it, if he asked—only that they needed to get away. It made him curious. He wanted to know more. And, since that was a purpose as much as any, and he had been purposeless for far too long, he meandered over to the nearest city to try to find out about it.

First a rest and a drink, he had thought, and this was how he ended up in the Purple Wurm. He figured after that he’d speak to whomever seemed friendly or knowledgeable (preferably both) around town.

He hadn’t expected to find someone of that description so soon.

For here in the bar was a man strumming a guitar and singing—singing of the march! Though Jolai was quite a ways away from the singer, he heard the words quite clearly, and when he heard mention of the march, he pricked up his ears and listened harder.

The man’s words were quite vague, and he chuckled as if he enjoyed this fact. Jolai supposed if he wanted to know more, he’d have to get up and ask him. The thought did not make him happy. Drawing attention to himself in a tiny, enclosed space with a lot of people? He drew back into the shadows at the thought of it. Not that he didn’t like people, of course. He just liked the ability to run away quickly when it turned out they didn’t like him.