Character Name: Kichiro (Li honorific)
Race: Ca’liar
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Character Description: A small build Ca’liar standing at 4’7 feet, or an even 140 cm. His coat is a dark and muted one, bordering grey, with rusty markings. But his dull coat is off-set by a pair of strong and vibrant spring-green eyes. They shift between a soft pine-green to almost yellow depending on the shade and light. Though a better description of them might be: Jade
He always wears relatively cheap and or practical clothing which can tolerate all kinds of weather, dirt, and wear. Often a scarf, a tight shirt with a loose shirt over it, loose pants, and boots. He has a little nick in his left ear, a scar of the past.
Character occupation: Forager, hunter.
Character personality/traits: Kichiro has learnt to live on his own and by his own means from a relatively young age, which is something that shows. He knows when to avoid a fight, when to bow his head. He is familiar with Saphriel culture yet still lives mostly by Einar culture.
He has as much respect for the world and nature as he would his ancestors.
He is a young individual with a relatively positive outlook. His ambitions are few and often humble, he fears reaching beyond himself. But he does have an absolute fascination with how the world rolls- the hierarchy of society as well as the laws of the jungle. He likes to study this.
Additionally, Kichiro is extremely superstitious. His few goals lie in language, and learning the written language more closely, since he believes it is what truly sets aside people from animals.
Character Biography: To his parents, Kichiro’s birth was considered nothing short of a miracle. They had a long standing relationship and had wished secretly for a child for many years. On New year’s eve, a little Ca’liar was born. In his early years, Kichiro’s coat was far more red looking, and he was quite the beautiful baby.
In a land where every pregnancy usually led to numerous babies, Kichiro was the only one of his ‘litter’. A single baby, a son at that. Unfortunately, he would never inherit, and his existence was largely hidden due to the nature of his birth: Although his father was a wealthy merchant who cared greatly for Kiricho’s mother, they were not married.
But his father did have a wife, and a number of children with her. Even so, Kiricho and his mother were cared for. They lived in a nice abode, provided by his father. There, Kiricho lived most of his life.
The happy couple lived a relatively peaceful life, even if the father could only visit for a few days, for short moments. His marriage was strained, and though he did not flaunt his affair, it was not a well kept secret either. One of those things many new, but did not speak of. You best not speak of it, lest the madame catch word and have you punished. Rather than care for the husband’s fidelity, the wife was focused on maintaining their appearance and keeping face. She did not care for this affair. After all, she was the mistress of the house and the mother of his heirs.
And so Kiricho never met her, and got to enjoy a relatively ‘normal’ upbringing. Because of his father’s affections, he was given a tutor for at least the basic topics, and learnt to write and speak well as he grew. Though a strict person, Kichiro came to greatly treasure the moments with his Tutor. He sought praise, and studied religiously to impress his father and excel. The only lessons he’d ever slack on, were that with a sword.
He learnt among other things that it was shameful to be the product of an affair, and a small build child of a medium mother and large build father. He learnt many great things in his early teen years. It was this knowledge, and a land of turmoil, which would push him to often make more and more trips outside of the home. His mother, a dancer and singer, was content to live her life there, never showing her face in public. And he would learn that what he had thought of as safe and cozy, was in fact a home meant to hide the two of them. He seldom questioned why they never left, why all their groceries were delivered, why his mother never worked.
It would be a shock to him, the first time he went to a market in town. So many people, such a different world, though he’d learnt of it well enough, but he’d never truly interacted with others aside from his parents, tutor, and the housekeeper. But Kichiro had grown to have a gentle, curious, and polite nature, and faced this new experience rather than hide from it. A mistake, unfortunately.
As he grew older, and his mother lost her shine, his father’s visits became fewer. He remained affectionate and soft when he came around, but circumstances kept him away, and the power balance between him and his wife shifted once his sons came of age and started to truly pick up his trade. As a result, Kichiro was recognized by servants of the Madame in the market. Though he looked very little like his father, a strange well-dressed young Ca’liar who walked without hesitation would eventually garner interest, in a place where almost everyone knew everyone else, and one’s station was easily discerned by mannerism.
The servants reported to the maids of the household, and the maids onwards to the Madame. Though they worded it oh so carefully- some years back, servants had been severely punished for gossiping about the affairs of the house. But this time, Kichiro had crossed a line by appearing in public, speaking his name openly to those who inquired, and likewise where he lived, and of his mother. His tutor could not have managed to teach him to be careful yet- he’d not known of the young Ca’liars market ventures, it had not reached his ears. And Kichiro could not know that word travels far and fast.
The Madame gave the order, and Kichiro, along with his mother, were taught a valuable lesson. The young Ca’liar, wounded in both body and heart, stayed home since then with his frightened mother. He’d not soon forget the night his home became a prison, and the housekeeper the jailer. Even if he were to try and leave, it would not be easy. So he waited. And waited. For his father to appear, scold him but teach him, and soothe his mother. But he did not come. It would be more than a month before the Tutor reappeared, to give a few final lessons to the young Ca’liar. Some which would have been reserved for once he was of age, but were needed now.
Kichiro grew, and turned into a young man. He had left behind his naivety and childhood early. Circumstances demanded it. He obeyed his mother and the few people around him for a number of years, but it was only delaying the inevitable. He found it more and more torturous to stay. That spacious home had begun to feel so small. He maintained his studies, he bided his time. And he planned.
It took him many nights, and eventually, the teen Ca’liar made his way out of the home. He had set his mind to find his father. For all that had happened, he still thought of him as family, and bore no hate- he thought that surely, if the situation was explained, he would help. Perhaps they had fooled him, kept the truth for him. Such thoughts occupied him as he returned to the village, and prepared his travels. Grand they were. Grand indeed.
However, upon leaving the village, he was intercepted by an unknown group. Despite the years, despite his hope he’d been forgotten, he was not. Orders had been given, and he was dragged away. The order had been to kill the boy, but whether a trick of fate, softness from the attackers, or just pure outright luck, Kichiro survived. He isn’t quite sure how he got there, but when he next woke up, he was at home. He didn’t know how much time had passed or what else had transpired, but ultimately, he got his wish. He saw his father again, for the first time in years.
His mother pleaded with her lover of two decades- if he had any love for her, any love for his son. Or perhaps, any sense of duty at all, he’d send Kichiro away. At least for now, the Madame would believe him to be dead, and she swore to live just as if she was as well.
In the end, his father caved in to her. How could he not? Despite her beauty, her talents, his love for her had ultimately run deeper than that, otherwise he would not have treated them as he had. Perhaps in another life, they might have been an actual family. But such was wishful thinking. His father had tried, but he was also a contributor to what they had suffered. Still, neither of them would hate him.
When Kichiro woke up again, his father sat down and spoke with him proper, man to man, as he put it himself. He laid out the plans: The boy would leave. Leave the home, the city, and Einar. He would go far away, and would not see his mother or anyone else he ever knew. But he would also be safe, and they would be safe. How could the young boy refuse? He could not. Not in his heart, and not out of his own small duty. It was a short conversation, but it struck deep in Kichiro’s heart.
Once he was well enough, the boy was sent off. His Tutor was set as his escort, and remained perhaps the one person forever shining bright with no flaw to the boy. At least, none he was ever exposed to.
He was not set off on any grand ship and a glorious dock with a big farewell. Rather he was stowed away on a merchant ship docked unofficially. One of the rare smuggler ships his father had contact with, and had pulled strings to see his son safely shipped across the world. A small lifetime culminated in the months of travel where the boy practically lived in a slightly large bamboo basket. Even here, he was hidden away from the majority of the crew and the storms they encountered. A life of relative leisure and love, leading into hurt and solitude, and finally, poverty and complete isolation. His only respite during the dangerous trip, was when one of the sailors would teach him a little of the new place he was travelling to, and the language there. It was a difficult language for the boy, but with nothing else to distract from his isolation, he asked as many questions as he could, learnt as much as the sailor would offer.
Unlike his departure, when they finally landed safely at their destination, a bit of celebration broke out. They drank and cheered and the young boy was quietly released from his prison. He was a husk of his former self, and his past felt more like another life. But he felt a small spark of joy now, hope, for a better though unknown future.
The sailor led him to a humble warehouse, which would serve as a temporary home for him. And then.. Then he was more or less left on his own. The ship would stay for a while while they stocked up and enjoyed land. He was 18 then. 4 years would go by, where he was set to learn what he could of the land, and serve the crew of the ship. He’d gather various herbs, materials, and knowledge if he could, for whenever they came back. In exchange he’d get a little bit of news of how Einar fared, and his father’s business. Evidently, it was doing well for itself as the interest in - as he learnt, - Saphriel grew.
But one day, the ship never returned. What little he had clung to, the small thin thread connecting him, was severed. Whether by pirates, sea beasts or other he didn’t know.
All he had left was a little charm. Paid for by his father, picked by his tutor, and gifted by his mother for the trip. It was extremely worn and battered, perhaps it’d done its job, outlived its purpose. But it was all he had now.
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Special Player plus item:
Omamori
A small once-red and gold pouch, which fits in the hand of a child. A soft thing, the material might be silk, but it is worn beyond recognition and repair, and smells faintly of salt.
It is tied firmly shut with a string that used to be white. Faded letters are stitched on the pouch in the Einar script: Safe travels. The content of the pouch remains unknown.
(Additionally, I would like him to have a small dagger instead of a sword)
I enjoyed the dynamics between all of his familial ties, and the circumstances that resulted from it which ultimately found Kichiro in Saphriel. Hopefully he discovers a life and identity of his own in this still unfamiliar realm.