Me, Trying To Figure Out How To Say My Name, But It's Late So: Tommorrow Problem.

I thought this was about worms for a second

Imagine you're just some funky little dude living in your society deep underground, perhaps the place of your birth (from dust we come and to dust we shall return, right?), perhaps just a last refuge from the invaders above that come into your domain and slaughter your people and take your resources. Although, as you get older, you begin to realize that your people do an awful lot to encourage it and very little to actually stop it, and regardless of who started it--a childish line of reasoning given that the answer is lost to time--the fact of the matter is that they are scared of us, and we are scared of them. They can survive conditions we can't, and so can we. They are monsters to us, and we are monsters to them.

So your people creep out of what shadowy hiding places they have left and slaughter the Others from above and are slaughtered, and you....you are left curious...? You aren't a warrior, like so many of your people. You don't want to fight the Others. You don't really mind them, at all. You think they could be interesting, if they weren't so scary and/or scared of you. You are both the monsters under one another's beds. You don't get into magic either. Fighting the Other by those means appeals to you just as much as by brute strength. No, you get into collecting, and selling, and trading. Money has its uses, be it money from the Others, or money from your people. And maybe you're a bit more curious then you expected, because one day....oh, one day you don't just creep out of the shadowy hiding places like the rest of your people. One day, you leave the ground. It's rainy, or dark, or snowy, maybe. Humid enough for you to be comfortable, and in conditions that the Others don't seem to like at all.

You collect more of their things. A magnifying glass, maybe, or some of their money. You are religious, and maybe this came from the Others as much as it did your people, though your devotion is from yourself. You go out more and more often, braving the Others' domain just as they brave yours, sneaking around where they drive through throngs of your people in a violent effort to claim/conquer/escape. You never could tell. You still can't.

And one day you find a nice place very similar to where your people live, all humid air and dark corners, but lonely, deserted of both your people and the Others. You set up your shop here, amongst these abandoned tunnels. Sometimes your people come. Sometimes those that are neither your people nor the Others come. The world is full of mysteries and magic, and many of them visit you, and you are well on your way to becoming another spectacle too. It's lonely. Maybe. You never fit in with your people, though, and you'd much rather have this ease of exploring the Others' world at night without a brash of warriors yelling slurs at you as you go up, so you shoulder it when you can't relish in it.

And explore you do.

Up you go at night. In winter. During the rain. Anytime the Others have deserted their town, you'll be there, collecting, exploring, buying and selling.

Until one day, one of the Others finds you.

They startle you.

They take your magnifying glass.

It's your fault. You dropped it. But not just that! They take your privacy, as it turns out, because they find a way into your tunnels not long after they start peering into them and rattling the chains, and what's more, they want to do business with you as much as any of the other curiosities that frequent your shop. They're one too, you begin to realize. A curiosity.

They begin giving you gifts. They come to talk sometimes. Not to look at your wares. To talk. In a way, this is even more befuddling than the gifts. And oh, what gifts they are! They honor you. Pamper you, if you're allowed to say it, and you hope that you are. This Other is kind to you and swiftly becomes your friend. They protect you as a secret, hide you from their people.

And you know....

....you know somewhere, in the back of your soul, or more blatantly when it comes up in conversation, that this is an Other that goes Down and battles your people. Not just that. They slaughter your people. Hunt them for sport. Eradicate them for the safety and sake of their people.

But maybe you love them, in as much as you love anything, and in as much as your people love, which seems, from what you have seen on your hauntings, a very different thing than how Others love. But even so, you start to love them, and your Other starts to love you too, finds it in them to show it to you as you would one of your people, even if this is not what they feel or how they feel.

And one day they do you the greatest honor of all. It took them toiling. It took them time. It took them travels. It took them blood--theirs and that of your people. But they bring you this gift, a very precious gift, and ask you to live with them, up out of the tunnels you've dwelt in, ask you to live with them as a secret. One they want to keep as close as possible.

You have heard the Others chatter the word marriage to one another through the open windows of their shops and tavern at night, and you don't know what it means, or what your Other has to do with it--though when their name comes up in This Sort of Gossip you do not like it--but you think that maybe it means something like this. And you hope that your Other treats it as such. You will leave if they do this thing, this marrying, to someone else, and it might not break your heart because you are not an Other and you do not experience that way, but O, you would live with them no more.

But that hasn't come to pass yet, if it ever will. So you go to their lands. You build yourself a home. You see them work. They see you work.

And sometimes they gather food and potions and weapons and go down to your old home, to the mines, and you know they are slaughtering your people, and you know they must pass through where all the other Others live to get there, and you know your existence is their precious secret that guarantees your safety only so long as they keep it faithfully, and you stay. You stay there. Because this Other knows you better than your people and better than solitude, and because you want them there. And your Other stays with you, even as they face, each time, a cousin of yours, or an old neighbor, or a sibling, or a mentor, or a peer, or a stranger, and are attacked, each and every time, and see it in you that you could attack, could creep into their house easily at night and lay waste to them while they rest as Others must. And your Other stays.

Anyways, I think Krobus is a fuckin crazy character.

He's on fire! Metaphorically and literally

And don't forget little black cats that may just be sentient

girls love runes and sigils and rituals and knives and skulls and blood

I admire the dedication to keep track of 8 different royal lineages for a single city.

I really hope Akard isn't destroyed by his own paranoia.

OC Intro: Akard

Note: (Left) Akard as the Pabaket, (Right) King Akard

As promised, the last poll was a tie between Dati and Akard, I already did the intro for Dati, so now it's Akard's turn! As with other characters I'm going to try to avoid most spoilers, I don't think its too big of a surpirse to say that Hutbari is killed since that's what the entire story revolves around, so the events described in this intro will end there.

The new poll will be up soon!

Name: Akard (Written below in Kishite and its Apunian equivalent)

As a noble Karush is named in the traditional style of a Kishite noble (Click here to see more). He is named for his ancestor, King Akard "The Sailor". Akard was born into the line of Asher (Asherdul), however upon taking the throne of Labisa, he declares the start of a new line, The Line of Akard, Akarddul. He marks the 53rd monarch of Labisa and the beginning of the 8th royal line.

See the timeline of the rulers of Labisa below the cut!

Family

Father: The Deposed King Kurush (Dead)

Mother: Unnamed Apunian Servant Girl (Sanapi) (Alive)

Brother: Prince Hiru (Dead)

Uncle: King Hutbari (Dead)

Aunt/Ex-Stepmother: Unma (Dead)

Aunt: Tamyras (Dead)

Aunt: Saaket (Dead)

Aunt: Ladara (Dead)

Aunt: Duccarin (Dead)

Aunt: Zibatha (Dead)

Cousin: Bazus (Dead)

Cousin: Kota (Alive, Married in Apuna)

Cousin: Hiru (Dead)

Cousin: Unma (Alive, Married in Ikopesh)

Cousin: Ladaru (Dead)

Cousin: Asher (Dead)

Cousin: Sema (Alive, Married in Shabala)

Cousin: Fifina (Alive, Married in Apuna)

Cousin: Uridush (Dead)

Cousin: Ninma (Alive)

Homeland/Place of Origin

Born in the City of Nashawey, Apuna

Ethncity

Eastern Kishite (Labisian) and Apunian

History

Akard was born 27 years before the events of the story. His father, Kurush, was unseated from his throne through the machinations of his brother, Hutbari. Though Kurush was the elder brother, Hutbari's strength and charisma allowed him to forge strong alliances within the Labisan court, including with Kurush's own wife, Unma. These alliances enabled Hutbari to successfully seize the city, with his followers killing or capturing any nobles loyal to the old king.

When Hutbari, accompanied by the lords Farut and Haman and their soldiers, entered the royal chambers, they found Kurush’s son, Hiru, instead of Kurush. Despite being only eight years old and barely able to lift the ancient sword he held, Hiru fought with the bravery of a lion, reportedly even cutting down one soldier before his sword was taken from him. Though Unma begged for her son's life, Hutbari killed him. Hiru’s sacrifice was a distraction, allowing Kurush to be secretly carried away from the city. The shame of this decision haunted Kurush for the rest of his life.

Kurush was hidden in the cargo of a slave ship headed from Labisa to the coast and then transported to the Apunian city of Nashawey. Kurush hoped to gain the support of the Fapacha in reclaiming his throne, but the ruler of Apuna was not interested. However, out of a sense of hospitality, he allowed Kurush to stay in his palace and sent notice to Hutbari claiming that Kurush’s body had been presented to him, thus ending the search for the fugitive king.

Living as a permanent guest of the Apunian court, Kurush was showered with luxury and opulence but suffered greatly. His illness, Asherdul's Bane, worsened, disfiguring him. He refused to learn the Apunian language and was hostile to the servants. In an attempt to lift his spirits, the Fapacha sent him many beautiful men and women, hoping he would take one to wed. However, Kurush showed interest in none except Sanapi, a peasant girl fluent in the Kishite tongue. Akard was the result of a single drunken night between Kurush and Sanapi. Afterward, Kurush disregarded her and ordered her removal from his chambers.

Kurush never saw Sanapi again and didn't think of her until a servant brought a young child before him. The child, named Rebru by Sanapi, was two years old when he was found half-drowned in a decorative fish pond. Wearing rags, the boy began to babble his father’s name, Kurush, which Sanapi had taught him. At the Fapacha's urging, the child was brought before Kurush. Initially, Kurush shunned the child and attacked the slave who brought him. For his safety, the child was taken away from his maddened father.

That night, after many bowls of Apunian beer, Kurush had a dream. He saw a great king, dressed in lion’s skin, standing tall as a cedar tree before the walls of Labisa, driving darkness away with bow and spear. Beside this great king stood another, burning with a wrathful fire. Kurush believed this vision, sent by the sun god Re, showed him retaking Labisa with his son by his side.

Upon waking, Kurush called for his son and declared that the savior of the Kishites would not bear an Apunian name. He renamed the boy Akard, after Akard "The Sailor," the Drowned King. Kurush ensured Akard was well-educated. By four, Akard was bilingual in Apunian and Kishite. By five, he was learning to use a bow; by six, to ride a chariot. Kurush also taught his son about the great kings of old, Tamel the Mighty and Nasib the Lion, instilling a deep hatred for Hutbari.

At 14, with Kurush’s eager approval, Akard traveled with the Fapacha's soldiers to the deserts of Pyria, driving the chariot of Apunian general Batkhet. Over the next decade, Akard, known as Akarat to the Apunians, earned renown fighting the tribes of Pyria and the kingdoms of Namut. His charisma and bravery won him much love from the troops, though it also earned him the ire of old-blood Apunian commanders who saw their men fawn over the young upstart.

Kurush maintained contact with informants in Kishetal, hearing of Hutbari's failings. He formulated a plot to retake his kingdom, supported by Barunaki, ruler of the city of Bur, a vassal of Labisa. However, Kurush's failing health made this plan seem increasingly unlikely. At 23, Akard led his first battalion against the Namutian prince Qirush, capturing him despite being outnumbered. For this victory, Akard was given the noble title Pabaket, a Mouth of the Fapacha.

Around this time, Akard began showing symptoms of Asherdul's Bane. His father, now almost entirely bedridden, was mentally and physically deteriorating. Kurush had neglected to tell Akard the nature of their family curse, until then. Knowledge of his terrible affliction, and the thought of sharing his father’s fate, lit the fires of ambition and intensified the feeling of righteous fury within him. Shortly after Akard’s 25th birthday, Akard, in an act of mercy, killed his father by strangling him, disguising the evidence among the sores on Kurush’s throat.

Akard reached out to his father's contacts in Kishetal, winning their favor with his fire and fervor. He swore to avenge his father and wipe Hutbari's line from Labisa, promising to bring a new, greater line to Labisa. He even sent messengers to the roving tribes of Makur and the Sea Lords of Ikopesh.

With the Fapacha's blessing, Akard boarded a ship to Kishetal, carrying his father's ashes in a satchel of lion skin. Hutbari welcomed the venerable Pabaket into the throne room, unaware that the handsome young Apunian diplomat before him was not only his nephew but also his doom.

Appearance

Akard is a man of average height with a broad chest, narrow waist, and a fit physique. His arms and chest are marked with the scars of battle. When he first arrived in Labisa, he concealed the sores on his skin with makeup to prevent Hutbari and his family from discovering his true nature. His features and hair resemble those of his Kishite father, but he has the terra cotta-colored skin of his Apunian mother. His hazel eyes are framed by long eyelashes. While living among the Apunians, he adorned himself with their decorations, painting his eyes and face gold and blue, and combing sweet-smelling oils through his beard and hair.

His handsome features will one day be marred by the ravenous spread of Asherdul's Bane.

Personality

Akard is charismatic and passionate. His actions and thoughts are driven by his ambitions. He has a strong sense of justice and of honor and will pursue these alongside his ambitions, his dreams of creating a better Kishetal, to terrifying lengths. When he wishes to, he carries an aura and power which draws people to him.

He can be kind and empathetic, a gentle and good ruler, however ultimately history will remember him as a conqueror.

Though usually reasonable, he is driven the fear that his escaped cousin, Ninma, may one day act against him, taking revenge against him as he did against Hutbari. For this reason, he obsesses over the fugitive princess.

Gender/Pronouns

Cis-man He/Him

Sexual Orientation

Straight

Relationships

Akard is close with his men. He acts as a sort of father figure to the warrior, Zatar (though whether Zatar also views their relationship like this is uncertain). He falls in love and in time is married to the seer, Zenit, once a slave of his uncle Hutbari.

His relationship with his family is absolutely terrible, after all he is responsable for the deaths of all but the runaway Ninma and those whose marriage had taken them out of the circle of Kishite influence

Favorite Color

Cyan

Favorite Food

Menam-hewud, a traditional Apunian stew made primarily of beef and onion

Biggest Fear

That the progress and prosperity he has brought to the people of Labisa will be destroyed, either by inner turmoil or Ninma's revenge.

Sage?

No

Literate?

Yes

Excerpt

Context: Akard confronts the oligarchic rulers (The Bidani) of the city of Chibal

" I did not come to this city to hear a greasy merchant babble about why they thought it appropriate to waste my time." Akard barked.

Wadikir dropped to his knees to grovel.

" I didn't mean to offend, Great King. Please forgive me." He leaned forward to kiss Akard's feet.

" Don't touch me, rat."Akard snarled, kicking at the merchant's face. "It seems obvious that incompetents rule this city. As recompense for your wasting my time, I will be taking this city and your heads." He announced coldly. 

This caused the other Bidani to protest loudly.

" You can't do that! There is an agreement that the heads of the cities may not kill each other. You know as well we do. You would be breaking a trust between the city states."

Akard shook his head." That applies to kings, my friend. You are not kings. And besides, who would enforce that agreement? What Kishite king cares so much for your lives that they would rush to condemn me, and who would have the might to do so?"

" We'll have you killed before you even reach the docks! Guard!”

One of Bidani’s guards stepped forward, brandishing his spear threateningly. There was a flash, a spray of red, and yelp of terror from the watching Bidani. The guard collapsed as Zatar pulled the spear from the man’s gullet with a soft squelch. Most hadn’t even seen the spearmaster strike The other guards who had started to move to stand next to their companion tripped over one another in their effort to distance themselves from the spearman. 

Akard chuckled dryly. " A valiant effort, but fruitless. If you did by some twist of fate manage to kill me and my friends here, my men waiting outside the walls would still take this city and slaughter each of you. Whereas if I lead the attack perhaps, just perhaps I'll have a change of heart and decide to spare you, perhaps."

" And if we surrender now?"

" I'll have you all executed, as is deserving of those who would abandon their posts so readily. Good day, see you all again soon."

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TFW you want to make a recipe but the universe says no:(

I hate being busy and tired

The lone survivor of the robot apocalypse

Brave new world, Huleeb

@dunmertitty transgender GAY sex

Your 20s are for looking back to your childhood and thinking "huh, that sure was fucked up, they shouldn't have done that to me."

Your 30s are for looking back to your 20s and thinking "huh, that sure was fucked up, I shouldn't have done that to myself."

I've been enlightened. The mice went to Venus to escape the rats, and to stay warm

Personally, i believe that not caring what other people think about your appearance also means being perfectly comfortable being overdressed for the situation

LOVE being overdressed. Obsessed with it, actually. “Who you all dressed up for?” You, bitch, are we going to Cane’s or not? “Do you have an event today?” Yes, it’s called going to the grocery store.

Mmm WaTEr

Photo by Conrad Ziebland