Ainok do not traditionally use last names, as by and large they stay within small familial groups, and even during interactions between groups, misunderstandings are easily avoided. 'Freepaw' is a rough translation of the Ainok term for a wanderer who has willingly left their family, distinguishing Malleck from a banished and disgraced Ainok.

Knossos is a man who was born to a small village family in the humble farming village of Aktí within the Kingdom of Ordos, a coastal nation with a large eastern coastline and access to the sea since seemingly time immemorial. A kingdom that had little access to the outside by land, save for a pair of crucial northern and western mountain passes respectively dubbed the "Chióni" (Greek for "ice", aka the 'northern pass' out from the nation's northern border) and the "Fiume" (Italian for "river", named such due to the great river flowing alongside the pass down a steep cliff as one passes through it), it had been in the middle of various issues or conflicts over the years as well as notably involved at sea. Yet even with having the sea so accessible, the growing of crops and rearing of livestock was still very much important. Indeed, this would be the task the family of young Knossos had taken up for many generations within the inner land region of the kingdom proper.

At birth Knossos's surname, as was his family's already, continued on in the same old local tradition of one's surname being taken from the work and job they had. However, this surname was not without nuance either. Farmers would add differentiating spellings or emphasis in their surname to separate themselves, or even use different words related to their occupation that by tradition made their heritage clear. Likewise, this made record keeping in the kingdom easier and more accessible, though it also brought about legal cases of 'who claimed what surname idea first' at times as well (inevitably). Yet with this all in mind it would make the 'easier' or more straightforward surnames that much harder to get ahold of...usually only held by nobility or very old family lines indeed. In the case of Knossos' family of birth, Faermer (a corruption of "farmer") was their particular surname and made them one of the oldest families to live in their area. A family that, indeed, had stuck about stubbornly as mules and long tilled the land and lived in the same spot in the central region of the kingdom since before the kingdom itself had even been born into existence.

So long had they been around they were among those in the kingdom's population who still possessed what is called an "Ancestor Stone", a practice from even pre-kingdom times that saw family members were buried around or underneath a great stone or boulder rolled down from the mountains to one's home. Such a stone marked one's place of settlement and the center of their property, and the effort of getting one was seen as a labor that showed respect to one's ancestors and the land itself. The larger it was, the more awe-inspiring and respectable it was seen to be. In that vein the Faermer Family was known more notably...having the largest one in their region of the kingdom, rumored to have been brought down by an ancestor granted strength by a spirit living within the boulder to help him on his way. From this, it is said the family was ever bound to this spirit that watched over the bodies of their dead and the land of their descendants. Further, upon Ancestor stones the names of the dead ancestors would be etched, and burials would continue to radiate out from the stone at the 'center' of this impromptu graveyard but would always remain pointed back at it...to point the dead back to those who came before so their spirits may join them in the afterlife.

Meanwhile, Knossos' first name was selected for the constellation he was born under. Whilst the first names of children would originate from anything ranging from figures in legend, to places they were born, to those who the family or parents wished to honor in their lives or pay respects to, and so forth, trends in this naming structure trended toward certain lines of things depending on one's place and status of birth. Farmers and Woodcutters and such would usually use more land and terrain-focused names, whilst those such as scholars and magic users might get names based on famous authors or constellations or other phenomena that sounded fancy and sophisticated to use as a name, etc. So in this vein Knossos' own name was something of an oddity, only chosen when a passing magic scholar was hosted by the family on a journey to the north and assisted in his birth when one of the local midwives or the village doctor would not be able to make it in time. So grateful were Knossos' parents that the traveling magic scholar was given the chance to name him out of respect. No small honor to be sure, no matter one's class! Thus the newborn was named for the constellation locals called 'Knossos', which looked like a king sitting on a throne, named for a great and wise king who once ruled the region in legend and solved a series of 'unsolvable riddles'. Indeed a great warlord of the Minotaur species, an army in tow, had arrived from across the sea and balked at the strength of the inhabitants of the region. The future king of the region then approached him boldly, despite others holding back in fear as the enemy raided the coast, said that, "what we have not in arms, we have yet in wisdom". Amused at this, the monster challenged this young man to a game. Three divine riddles, handed down by the gods of the warlord's homeland, would be given to the young man. None had ever solved them, but any who did would be granted great fortune and blessing on their bloodline forever for their wit and wisdom.

...Safe to say, the future king would win this contest and a divine revelation would come down upon the assembled group present at the contest. It was such that the warlord would withdraw from the region to attack another place out of respect for the gods of his own people. This future king would then become a greater leader, possessing almost supernatural wisdom and gifts in whatever he put his mind to. He would thus be named the "many-gifted", or "Knossos", and eventually gain enough influence and power to found a capital in the same place on the coast he'd won the contest with the warlord. It would be in this same place the very throne of his future palace, and the throne of all future kings that would rise even when the Kingdom of Ordos formed, would be reverently placed...and where the constellation of Knossos, said to be the king's immortalized spirit in the stars, watches over and grants wisdom to rulers of the land on the same day each year that the contest was won by the original Knossos. Even with the fact the Kingdom of Ordos' line was once invaders who blended in with locals, they would outright forcibly marry into them the last of the old king's bloodline and keep the tradition in order to assert authority as well as gain the seemingly palpable supernatural benefits gained from it (which is actually real tbh).

With all of this in mind, Knossos seemed poised merely to inherit the family farm and land in life. He had nothing going for him otherwise, and he felt a restlessness within him from a young age. Indeed his young mind would wander to things greater than himself and the old stories, and his parents were often sore with him or given myriad headaches simply trying to deal with him. In the end they would not need to worry, however, as the new village doctor to arrive at the village when Knossos was just five would begin to influence the boy in a different direction. Secretly a member of a cult dedicated to an alien being from a far-flung dimension/plane dubbed "iL'Thris the Deep Lord", whose home was a warped and corrupted ocean that spanned seemingly across infinity and whose true form was imperceptible to mortals and caused them to descend into madness. This cult's founder was the one mortal the Deep Lord had shown its true and aberrant form to, being curious about mortals after a one in a billion chance it would ever take notice of another dimension/plane at all, but the chain reaction resulting from this had led the maddened cult leader to form and cult and begin spreading it in secret...with maddened plans to one day overthrow the kingdom and summon a great monster to ravage the land. Said cult would influence Knossos until he was ten, after which he was taken away and assumed dead in the woods by his home as the cult prepared him more rigorously for adulthood in their ranks after faking his death. By the time he turned twenty one, he had learned all the magic of the cult that he could absorb (acquired from iL'Thris) and reached the upper ranks of the cult and then been infused with part of iL'Thris as other upper-ranks had (iL'Thris taking pity on their 'fragile mortal lives', thinking this was their request for help in that sense and it seeking to be merciful to help the seemingly 'good friends' of the one it had made contact with). All went according to plan, though, at least until the time when the long-foretold "Day of Summoning" came along.

The ritual kicked off, and disaster came, but a brave band of heroes that had formed and begun to rise amidst the pre-ritual period would take the fight to the cult before destroying them in a climactic final battle. Neighbors of the Kingdom of Ordos had even sent in reinforcements to help in order to avoid the spread of chaos deeper into their lands. Such was how terrifying and drastic the effect and impact of this all was. What would follow is the lead hero of the group of heroes marrying the kingdom's princess, who was about his age, and the Kingdom of Ordos rebuilding as it bloodily purged out the remnants of the cult. Among the scant few people, able to be counted on one hand at the very most, Knossos managed to survive and flee by land to a land far away. Somehow. Even he questioned harshly how many died and how his escape happened to work out despite the odds...yet in the end the reasons did not matter. He had lived and survived another day, but the cult had not.

But what of the enlightenment the cult had promised? What of the power, the truth, everything? Something like the cult, yes, it had to be true. But if this route to truth did not manifest for them, perhaps the next would? Yes! Another had to work! It had to. There was no other way, it was all he'd ever known. So he would have to find another route! Yes! Truth lied beyond the veil of any of this, it had to, and he would find it for the benefit of all this time!

Thus Knossos would desperately claw his way to a land far away from his own, that being of the desert Kingdom of Khamsin in the vast and expensive Khamsin Desert. An ancient land that had begun as a cradle of civilization on the far northwestern coast of its continent, placed right on the equator, it had been inhabited at first only by the ancient Iwiw (a jackal-like canine beastman race) who had built up the origina Kingdom of Uat there between the fertile Nilei and Ma'at rivers coming in from the northwestern coast to build up a civilization of their own. The Uat civilization lasted over three and a half thousand years before it would be broken and put under the yoke, though some such foreign-conquering rulers would maintain some of the land's practices and such to help maintain power, and the land saw civilization there going from fledgling kingdom in super ancient times to ancient empire, to being subjugated by others and breaking free each a few times over, to ultimately lingering as a modest but notable kingdom by current times. A kingdom known for its mix of ancient ways and modern innovations and so forth, a melting pot of trade and harsh landscape and so forth, it was a pale call of the original Kingdom of Uat in ways to be sure. Even so, it was more stable, advanced, and enduring than it had ever been before as a 'breadbasket' of past nations.

Yet it was within this new Kingdom of Khamsin proved to be where a new cult was found by Knossos, a group dedicating themselves to an Ancient Great Demon Lord named Ashtara who sought to take the region and transform it into a microcosm of where she had come from: A ravaged, demonic plane that to her and her followers would be transformed into a paradise. Or at least such a 'paradise' is what she promised. A paradise free of struggle, war, and turmoil. Nothing but the best pleasures of life and beyond, and for all eternity. Despite his former affiliation, he did join the cult and manage to rise the ranks to an extent once more as he pursued things with a new zeal. From Ashtara, he as well as other mid-rank and higher-up members would be granted to drink of some of her blood (and the higher-ups took in some of her essence to boot). Yet for how Knossos was concerned, only partaking of her blood infused him and others with a demonic dark magical power that allowed them to partake of certain magics. Conjuring/summoning demons, making use of curses, casting red energy attacks of tainted demonic magical energy, and conducting blood rituals would become the things he could do using this 'gift'. Yet it would be when this cult tried to rise up and cast their big 'summoning ritual' to bring forth their patron that things would eventually turn as they locals and a plucky band of mercenaries-turned-heroes would rise up and smite them back. Barely manifesting an arm of their patron to try to crush the heroes, Ashtara could see the writing on the wall and merely withdrew after it was clear the cult could not keep it up. The higher-ups who had absorbed her essence binding them to her in a way drinking her blood did not, would be sucked up by her alongside the dead bodies of deceased cult members as 'reparations' for her plan not succeeding. Those living members left behind, Knossos included, were pursued and killed and slain and put to the sword. Knossos was only thirty three years old at the time, and barely scraped through the desert with his life before collapsing at an oasis.

His strength in convictions was beginning to waver, but despite it all his desperation to find what he sought pushed him to travel far away once more as he sought another group. One more shot. Another route to truth, before he got old enough and died where he stood. He had to. By all the powers that were, he...he...if he didn't, then what would all of this be worth? The deaths, all in vain? Sacrifices, all falling on empty ears? No. No, he could not let it be. And thus he traveled to find the final group he'd end up joining.

In a land far in the northern hemisphere, farther north than he'd ever been in his life before, he came across a group seeking the power of an ancient civilization called the Vilkyn. Once a people who in rather ancient times owned the territory the group has set up in, in fact having originated from there in days long gone, the Vilkyn race and civilization had collapsed over a series of centuries and disasters and such that had brought them down into extinction. Yet according to some of their old records, something of great value lied where their capital had once been. Formulae to create unique crystalized mana gems, a unique creation differing from 'crytalized mana' or the like, and devices as well as magically-wrought constructs which were made to be powered and even partly shaped by these magical power sources...among which was one meant to revive the race from the dead that hadn't been able to be activated in time during the capital's fall over two thousand years ago. The group having been funded by a wealthy noble of a nearby kingdom, one who sought this power to use it for himself, they plucked away at things as Knossos joined on at first as a simple 'expert in obscure magical arts'. Then as the group became more obsessed and cultic, driven by a desire for power and made promises by the noble of becoming immortal, Knossos would see himself more and more involved as he sought to study the Vilkyn magical arts and records. He would gain the magical knowledge the group sought, at least, before eventually the group was caught by the kingdom the noble came from as the noble himself was outed by some means. The group lost all funding, an attempted half-activation of the great Vilkyn device saw a botched raising of undead that now inhabit the Vilkyn ruins and surrounding wastes there, those who were in the same kingdom as the noble were killed, and Knossos barely escaped with his life by braving the undead and making his way out in a different direction than most took.

...Even so, he could collapse on the ground of a vast northern forest to the southwest of where the group had been set up at the old Vilkyn capital's ruins. An old path merchants on rare occasion took was right before him, and yet his strength gave out seeking to make it onto the road itself. Collapsed in a bush next to it, his vision blurred, his wounds continued to worsen, and he would pass out expecting to finally die. His resolve to find 'truth' in the only way he'd known how, so indoctrinated into it he had become blind, would too finally break as his body did. Truth? He sought truth, but this path was not it. This way was not the one. And what had he done? Run about seeking all of this like a fool for decades of life? He, a fifty-four year old, was going to die here. He would not see the power of the Deep Lord transform the world into a utopia as the first cult had promised. He would not see a glorious paradise form as the second cult had promised. He would not see power and riches and glory in mortality as promised by the third and final cult he'd joined. Nothing. And so as he felt himself drift, the aging man would scoff at himself and allow himself to drift away.

But this was not to be his fate, it seemed.

Waking up in a shrine to the god Drothur (God of Travelers, Merchants, Wanderers, Transients, Homeless, and Foreigners), Knossos found himself cheating death once more. At least, this time it was so without his own choice in the matter. A passing cleric of Drothur had found him, the clothes on his back, and his magical satchel containing all his things, and brought them to the shrine to heal. Telling the confused and utterly depressed man they had been guided by a dream to take that road, in particular even seeing the location they had found Knossos in, the cleric said that the had felt the hand of their patron deity upon him. But why? Knossos would wonder this and ask as he was forced to heal up for some time, talking about everything to the cleric as they tended to him personally, but wasn't handed over to anyone else in the meantime as Drothur's will was seemingly to help him recover. The same cleric who had helped him would leave, returning to travel as was their calling, but would leave him with a parting message when he asked one last time the question that burned so brightly in his mind: "Why?" "Why save me? Why care for me despite all the things I've done?". The cleric merely responded, with a smile, that:



And so the cleric left.

Once a year had passed since Knossos having been brought to recover at the shrine, he would remove himself from the shrine and local area. Indeed, he would find himself joining the Pilgrim's Caravan as it was preparing to leave the location around where he'd been cared for throughout the prior year. Claiming to be a magical scholar of sorts, he would take his occult expertise and magic and skills and set about to make the world a better place in any way he could. He would also seek to gather knowledge along the way to this end. Ultimately on the road, and for the next fifteen years, Knossos would peddle his knowledge to assist others as an 'occult expert'. He would care for those dealing with haunted places or cursed items. He would be hired by nobles to investigate ruins, examine eclectic and rather niche 'magic items' for them, or try to assist with afflictions and issues caused by non-standard magical sources or origins. Such was his purpose. He would even buy up cursed items or such to 'contain' them safely, and for that he gained some reputation of a good but also wary sort. He even assisted areas with more 'zealous' beliefs investigate certain matters relating to his expertise and skills, if only to work with the law and try to form an amicable relationship with such groups to avoid trouble on his part. At the same time, however, it isn't as if he is without potential to get into trouble due to what he is skilled in dealing with. His skills have been of use to the Pilgrim's Caravan itself at times as well, making him a staple of the last decade and a half in regards to certain matters if nothing else, and yet to date he knows the danger never goes away. The next plot, the next oddity, the next obscure magical issue, the next place that could potentially be where he runs into his past again, whatever it may be...

...but he will see his new chosen path to the end, no matter what!