GOSSK, feeling mildly amused by Lynn's comment over Licks, was content to let the merlady speak uninterrupted. He remained in a kneeling position, his cowl drooping slightly as the wind rustled it. The Dracodile took a moment to process his words--a reoccurring lapse in conversing in which Lynn might notice a pattern whenever Gossk engaged in communicating. He was almost more excited to take in her Common than to actually reply; It was an overload that showered his draconic brain with grammar and tenses, not to mention tones and enunciation. Language was a beautiful thing, Gossk knew, and it would be something, much like the terrain, flora, and fauna, that he would have to master in time.
He finally stood, rising slowly to his full height as he watched Lynn's reaction, not wishing to inadvertently intimidate her. Such was the contrast in their size that Lynn's line-of-sight was now level with his loincloth, which, though it flapped with the occasional breeze, revealed nothing risque; Rather, its red markings depicted a curious scene of a small reptile surrounded by larger ones.
As her cohort conversed peacefully with the fish lady, LICKS found it prudent to explore the scents and peculiarities belonging to the thing called Lynn. The reed cat meandered over to her confidently, stopping to sniff her little webbed toes, and then her ankles and thighs. She smelled good. Rubbing up against Lynn's legs, Licks almost wished that they could eat her--the taste of fish was a treat the feline could hardly ignore. Licks would have to make do with sharing her cohort's company. She kept moving and rubbing, her tail slightly elevated to show friendliness.
The Dracodile turned to the northeast with half a pace, his large spiky tail brushing the sand as it balanced him and flicked harmlessly towards the merlady. Lynn could actually now see that some kind of wooden shield and crude blunt weapon were hooked into the spikes on his side, as though he was using the spikes to holster his weapons. With an outstretched hand, Gossk murmured and croaked, "Not a sea, Lynn. The, ah... narshland, it is close to the large dark thorest... and on the, uh, east shore on this sea here..."
He turned towards Lynn, lowering his arm as he gestured with the other. "Ny quest is to ex'lore an', ah... conquer the thears--to acquaint nu teotle an' gain disscern'nent on the, uh... 'oorld," he added, then glancing at the Crystal Sea from which they had both emerged. "Ny journey led to a thork here, on this sea an' the desert o'er there." Gossk's eyes then turned to the Killamin Desert, its distant dunes dancing with a dastardly wind and dizzying heat.
"I chose the sea," Gossk continued, a hint of regret in his growling voice, "an' it is too dangerous, as a... ah, shark, yes, it tried to eat nee, an' thanks to you, I suther only a little soreness."
He took two steps then, his large stride bringing him completely past Lynn as he assumed a stooped posture behind her. Gossk was careful to not brush up against the merlady, nor prick her with his tail. Facing the desert region, he knelt once again, looking down at the ground as Licks sauntered into his view, looking up at him curiously.
"As to ny, uh... dett, you had said your heart's intentions--to do right. So nou ny reason is stronger, so it is that ny heart shall get the sane thing--to do right dy you," Gossk insisted, hoping Lynn would relent her modesty and take what was rightfully hers.
Gossk would then inquire where she's from, and where she was going. He'd let her speak, waiting patiently and nodding on occasion. He'd make comments here and there, hinting that he would like to join her on her quest, if only because he would learn so much--in fact, at one point, he would compliment her intelligence. Gossk would also explain that his cat's name is Licks, and if Lynn were to ask why, Gossk and Licks would look at each other, and then he'd say, because she licks.
Okay thank you. I'll redesign the Marauder then later tonight and set it up according to your wishes. No worries either way. :) Thank you for the help guys.
I definitely want Julian to have to rely on his teammates, and his Marauder having glaring weaknesses will force him to accept that fact. The Marauder's role as Forward Assault, I'm imagining, will mean he's part of the tip of the spear that breaks into an enemy's formation/base, and paving the way for the rest of his group to come up behind him and lay down the law. Base Breaker just means the Marauder should be able to break down walls and armored fortresses. Then, Zone Control, he should be able to help prevent enemies from getting through an area (say a choke point).
So if you guys have ideas on how to tweak the Marauder, let me know. I'm probably the least experienced one here in mech lore and mechanics.
EDIT: @Senhara Hey lol. Okay so I can make him a siege unit with long range capabilities, but he can go closer if needed? I want to keep the pistons and grapple hooks if possible. Hmm, and yeah I'll remove the waist rotation.
So I thought about the Marauder, and what I was thinking last night as I chose each armament. I had intended for it to be able to counter smaller faster Frames with its Advanced Rotation System and Shield Focus Array. It can focus all of its shield power into one direction and lock it onto an enemy, say that it is circling the Marauder. Its rotation system helps it keep track of a target moving around him. This keeps its Grappling Claws, Autocannon, and pistons lined up with the target, in theory? Coming in close to bash on his enhanced Shield opens them up for a flurry of attacks from his Claws, Cannons, and Pistons, I would think.
I could rewrite his Flash Skates to allow him to make evasive maneuvers for situations like that as well. So he can still be fast, just not as fast as a Frame with less mass.
Also, melee-orientated Frames might have to deal with the back spikes if they're not careful--they're not small 'bumps' that you brush up against and shear metal. We're talking multiple impalements in different parts of the body if Julian times it just right. And then they get electrocuted....
Granted, if he's ever in a situation where he's dealing multiple smaller faster Frames at one time, he's just as screwed as anyone else might be. And that's a matter resolved by proper tactics and team strategies, right?
@Senhara@Cleverbird I understand. I knew that in making the Marauder. I'll see if I can't tweak it a little bit. Cleverbird is actually thinking what I'm thinking regarding teammates and covering each other. But I'll tweak it a little bit so that the Marauder can have something against medium builds, even if it doesn't let him win every time.
Just so I understand, what is an 'extremely fast CBQ build?'
THE INCREDIBLY PRIVILEGED reed cat, Licks, had just returned to her cohort's approximate location, a pair of large hares dangling from her mouth and dragging along the ground. She knew her cohort would be hungry after a nap, so she had spent some extra time hunting for a suitable portion. Licks immediately crouched behind some tall grass, dropping her prey as her eyes spied the strange water creature emerging from the ocean and wading to the beach towards the satchel. Glancing at her catch one last time, Licks crawled a little closer towards Gossk, her superb stealth keeping her hidden. Her paws flexed slightly, her claws kissing the soft ground. She wanted to be within leaping distance if the creature decided to attack her utterly defenseless cohort.
Gossk heard Lynn's surfacing long before he opened an eye to observe her approach. In fact, he knew that Licks had returned from her hunt, due to how she liked to chase down really large prey and drag it along like some joyful little child. However, the reed cat's exact location remained unknown to him, which did prompt him to open his eyes and scan the grass--he didn't see her. 'Good,' he thought, feeling proud of his pet's training and obedience. The Dracodile turned his massive head ever so slightly towards Lynn, his discerning eyes eating up the full image of her body, particular features, gait, and even the small micro-expressions betraying her nervousness and fear. 'What... is this? What thing have you sent to test me now, Illorassk?' Gossk pondered, not even sure if he should think that the shark had been some kind of aquatic beastman and this thing was his minion sneaking up to finish the job. In fact, it had already stolen his satchel, so it was obviously seeking to rob whatever leftovers it believed him to possess.
Gossk remained perfectly still as Lynn watched her step and, with each closer step, peered down at him with growing intensity. The behavior confused the Dracodile a little bit, making him rethink her aquatic-beastman-minion status. Maybe it was just a curious thing? He had encountered many of those, ate most of them. Except his pet. His labored breathing suddenly interrupted his thoughts and shook him violently. He blinked a few times, openly staring at her now and letting her know that he was aware of her encroaching presence. Her sudden haste made him squirm even more, but the debilitating pain stopped him and ushered from him a small, pained growl. He couldn't even shift his legs into a coiled position, and it frustrated him. 'Fear, I see, but what is that look?' he questioned, his eyes squinting as she dared to kneel next to him, even with his satchel placed next to him, instead of her.
That action alone shifted Gossk's perspective of Lynn immediately.
'What...?' he thought, using his arms to lift his upper body a little as he eyed his satchel, and then at her as she spoke to him in Common; 'twas an odd, but useful language that he was still mastering. Moreover, he was always eager to hear people speak it whenever he could afford the opportunity. The mere fact that Lynn was using the power of word to relate to him, instead of claw, tooth, or even a big stick, calmed the Dracodile immensely, almost to the point of shock. No creature of the Wilds would do such a thing. And so, Gossk submitted to Lynn, grunting in affirmation as he looked away, which was one of a few signs of trust in the Wilds. You don't just casually turn your back on a predator, nor do you keep your eyes trained on an ally.
Lynn's process of removing water surprised Gossk and as he coughed and hacked, he took note of her gentleness. It was not something that he was used to, albeit Licks was the closest thing that provided him a semblance of infrequent, but genuine intimacy. His eye followed the water, fascinated by the thing's skill in magic--in this case, a kind that he had never seen before. Her incantation amused him as well, and he even found it inspiring. Again, another feeling that he hadn't felt in such a long time. In the back of his mind, Gossk wondered if this thing was a divine creature, spawned by Illorassk himself. His pain relief was wonderfully quick and as he assumed a better position to stand up, which was sort of a half crouch, the watery creature proved skittish and moved away. That was fine. 'This thing is... respectful,' he concluded.
Her glances at him and his satchel were effective in getting him to check himself and get his bearings. Gossk noticed the seaweed and peeled it off. He also realized that his various skull trophies have disappeared, probably due to that damned shark; in fact, he noted the absence of each one and recalled the fond memories. 'This saddens me, but it cannot be changed. I will simply make more some day,' he told himself, seeing that his savior had decided to brandish a large, metal beam that contained water. The Dracodile couldn't tell if it was a weapon of war or a tool for discipline. Perhaps it was both, only Illorassk knew.
At her inquiry to his well-being, Gossk resumed rising slowly, but didn't stand completely. As he knelt before her, he still had to look down at her, given her 5' 4" height. He simply said, with a deep, half-growling voice, "Yess, thanks to yoou."
Each word that he spoke in Common contained an odd twist attached to each syllable, as though the Dracodile was substituting different sounds for others that he wouldn't pronounce. The reason why he might do this would probably not be apparent to Lynn, but Gossk was used to quizzical leers when he spoke Common. At least his fluency in it wasn't anything like his native tongue, which he seldom spoke and for good reason. The posture-dependent, gesture-laden, and complex language of Rasskarr was more like watching a pair of reptiles hiss and growl at each other, with taunts and feints, than an actual civil conversation between two life-long friends. In other words, Gossk didn't speak much.
Licks, sensing that everything was alright, returned to retrieve her catch. She carefully trotted towards Gossk and Lynn, giving the latter a wide berth and a sustained side glance. Just as her cohort picked up her sleeping bag and assumed a kneeling position, as he is wont to do when showing respect to non-prey, the reed cat placed the two hares a few feet away from Gossk, then sat promptly next to him to receive her reward. Petting her head and then scratching her chin with a claw, Gossk spoke once again, looking down at the notorious hunter, "Good, Licks, good..."
After storing the hares into his satchel, Gossk returned his attention to Lynn, adjusting his cowl so it wasn't covering his brilliant purple eyes that much. Though he looked at her, she might notice that he avoided direct eye-contact with her. He chose his words carefully before speaking. "Strange one, you restored ny, ah, lisse, err, ny tine here... yes, so... I shaall serde you until it is, uh... 'aid too tines o'er. Do not norry, Illorassk secures it so nine... integrity grants nee strength to do this to you."
His oath was not as eloquently stated as Gossk thought it was, but his determination was evident in his eyes, if Lynn could see. But even Licks had to stop staring at Lynn and glance up at her cohort because he sounded like he was gargling vomit and hairballs. She wondered if she should be concerned. She decided to wait anyway.
Regardless, a life debt was not something that Gossk would shy from, for he had saved his own kind before and had it repaid. He knew now that the shark attack was a means to an end, to bring him here so that Illorassk might bless him with an ally--a gentle one at that. 'Illorassk is good,' Gossk thought, with a nod before suddenly remembering that he'd forgotten something.
"Ny nane iss <Gossk Quor-dek>," he stated to Lynn, placing his hand on his chest and speaking his own name in Rasskarr. He didn't feel it prudent to spend time translating his own name's meaning.
He gestured towards her then, asking erroneously, "Hoo are you, uh, called?"
As though to emphasize his question, Licks meowed inquisitively at Lynn, but remained at Gossk's side as she cease sitting and flexed her paws again.
Elsewhere... NORTHEAST of Portea, along the windy shore of the Crystal Sea.
A frantic FELINE with reddish brown fur paced back and forth, her little paws leaving tiny tracks in the wet sand. Under the overcast weather, the reed cat's sharp greenish eyes tracked something adrift in the water and no matter how violently the waves ebbed and flowed, she dared not turn her gaze away, at least not for too long. The raw threat of predators captivated her attention, especially given what had just happened to her and her cohort. Regardless, she occasionally yowled out to him in hopes of rousing his ire. It had always worked before, but she couldn't understand why he wasn't responding. A few times she bravely attempted to traverse the salty water, but it was far too cold for her liking, and being out of her element went against every survival instinct in her bones.
Snap. The reed cat froze in mid stride, her black-tipped ears arching up as she stared a few yards to her right at the source of the unnerving noise, some dark foliage further inland. A minute passed before she felt free to glance around, but then she turned once again towards the Crystal Sea. Fortunately, her cohort continued bobbing up and down in her sight, drifting ever closer to the shore. The reed cat followed along as the wind ushered him gently, the sand and dust also rising up and around her long legs. He gradually reached the entrance of a shallow pond that connected the mainland to the sea. As he came to a stop upon the sand, she knew that this was her chance.
With a running leap that was all too natural for her kind, the reed cat landed upon her cohort's hulking mass, being careful not to touch the multitude of spikes on his backside. He was covered in seaweed, which she sniffed curiously as she made her way towards the back of his large, bulging neck. Her moist nose poked his eye gently as she let out a soft mew, as though pleading. She had succeeded in her mission: She had reconnected with her Dracodile and booped him to let him know that she was there and that everything would be alright.
Black and white images flashed through Gossk Quor-dek's mind: He'd captured a large fish. He groaned as something rubbed up against his left eyelid. He tore into it hungrily as he floated in the Crystal Sea. Softly growling with a wince, he opened his eyes, the world of color raking over his irises. Blood surrounded him in the water, and a shadow grew towards him. He blinked, feeling an odd weight on his neck. Jaws... that was all he saw before something took hold of him, shaking him like a rag doll. A pair of green eyes loomed into view, causing him to focus on it.
'Licks...?' Gossk thought, realizing that he and his pet were alive. He fought for his life, clawing, biting, cursing Illorask.... Suddenly, everything that had happened replayed in his mind in a rapid, accurate sequence. He had heard tales of monsters that his Rasskarr elders called 'razor mouth', but humans called them sharks. At the very thought of it, fear startled Gossk and he mustered every bit of strength he had left and looked behind him, at the Crystal Sea. He croaked a defiant growl, though it was more like a shudder, as he crawled away as fast as he could. The pond was only a yard away, yet it seemed like miles to the Dracodile.
Upon touching the pond's surface with an outstretched claw, Licks immediately found it necessary to leap off of him and sniff his hand. He watched her, somewhat annoyed. He didn't have food for her, not yet. The mission had been a failure and he made a mental note to never enter the Crystal Sea again, at least not without learning how to utterly destroy any and all sharks.
As he tried to relax, the adrenaline began to wear off and the pain that he wasn't feeling before overwhelmed his senses, causing him to squirm and choke in between panted breaths. He wasn't sure where he was hurting, but it felt like everything was intact. His large satchel, unbeknownst to him, had washed up about 10 yards away, and it had been the first clue that Licks found to know that her cohort was nearby.
Licks watched him expectantly. "Go...hunt," Gossk rasped to her, his weakened voice sounding watery. The reed cat folded her ears, feeling somewhat disappointed. If she knew that she was going to have to hunt for her dinner that day, she would have already done so before saving him. But she butted her head on her cohort's jaw anyway. She then jumped over a bush, leaving him to the safety of the shallow pond.
Relieved that she had obeyed, Gossk knew that he just wanted to rest. He was certainly hurting, but his belly was full. As long as Licks got her fill, he knew everything would turn out alright. He wasn't about to give up just because a shark almost ate him. Who does that?
Name: Gossk Quor-dek. Close friends address him as 'Godek' at their own peril. Age: 47 Race: Full-blooded Beastman (Dracodile)
[::PERSONALITY::]
Gossk Quor-dek is a fairly intricate but conflicted Dracodile. Throughout his youth, he was taught extensively to embrace his aggressive emotions (such as ambition and avarice). Unfortunately, he would always watch quietly as his older siblings expressed them freely with wanton abandonment, and that was a mistake; Savage discipline was doled out to quash anyone's heretical actions. Even when he tried to fall in line, it never felt right to him, nor would he be lauded for his progress. On top of this conundrum were the appointed times that the Dracodiles would be permitted to display scale-friendly emotions (such as love and sadness) towards one another, their chosen friends, and family ties. Those time frames eluded Gossk's understanding too, and, despite the seeming simplicity of the tribal order, he found it all to be very irrational and inefficient. Truly, this repressive paradigm on emotions was not a lesson that seasoned well in Gossk.
But that tumultuous upbringing still changed him, and brewed in his psyche the rawest onion of entrapped feelings.
Like most Dracodiles, Gossk considers his word his bond, and very rarely does his kind renege on promises and oaths. They are still coldly pragmatic and ruthless, though Gossk manages to be very eerie about it, at least in the eyes of his own kind, even those closest to him. The reason why is that he remains staunchly unaffected by the same emotional and irrational impulses of his tribesmen, or even other races for that matter. In the chaos of a battle or the haste of a hunt, a deadly calm and patience saturates his demeanor and guides his every action; He is all but immune to panic even when severely wounded. This kind of temperament is rarely seen among the Dracodiles, and it is often treated with superstitious jeers and wary stares.
In practical applications, Gossk has always felt that he was a little different; Always having to attack the problem in a different way. Although he is incredibly strong and robust compared to other races, he was born smaller and scrawnier than his more gifted peers. He envied the ease in which they exercised normal Dracodile prowess. So, he decided instead to learn how to observe; Not merely look, but absorbed wholeheartedly. He'd watch his prey for hours, and never eat them. He'd study other predators' ways, and never interrupt them. He'd guess what they'd do each and every time. After he'd gathered enough information, he would attempt to develop similar methods that would bring him success. In only a few months, Gossk tasted a victory unlike anything he had felt before. And although he doesn't know the words themselves, he had in fact begun to resort to more than just stealth and ambush to take his prey, but also smooth deception, psychological trickery, and outside-the-box tactics.
Without a doubt, Gossk is a thinker, and a deep thinker at that. He even realized how far he had fallen from his god, Illorassk the Devourer, by using such shameful, perverted ways. These smarter strategies made life a lot easier and consumed less energy, but still would feel unnatural to him, at least at first. Those who had chastised him said he would never grow up big and strong if he continued like this. He had spitefully disagreed of course, and continued to feel more and more like a rebel. He decided that if he must become a heretical criminal hellbent on committing every sin in order to live and thrive, then so shall it be.
Gossk is not the only thinker of his tribe, there are many others who feel the same as he does. But with the majority favoring bulking brawn, unfettered ferocity, and public declarations, the smart game would be to keep one's head down and think about it. The status quo is certainly a powerful state for the Dracodile tribe in the Wilds, but a few shamans who had ventured out and experienced other kingdoms know that their kind (that is, Beastman) are discriminated against, and that if they merely chose to, human foreigners alone could wipe out their tribe's way of life. They learned well the heavy feeling of despair, for they might have to lament the destruction of their race, all for a lack of wisdom and diligence.
Upon learning this fact from those shamans, and soaking in the deep meaning of it all, Gossk began to, for the first time, experience what he would later learn were vivid dreams, of the horrendous prophetic variety. He didn't understand the images, the sounds, or the message, it almost drove him mad--whereas very little, if anything, actually gets his scales sliding. He did understand one thing though: He needed to leave and he required power. He must grow in all ways and a conquest was on his horizon. It was certainly not here in the familiar swamps and marshes that he would gain such power. He would no longer merely survive as a skulking exile on the outskirts of all he's ever known.
No. It was time to move on and embrace the great unknown, with tooth, claw, and all, as they say.
Mental Abilities
These mental abilities are derived primarily from Gossk Quor-dek's personality and way of thinking, but are possibly boosted by the draconic heritage of which he is ignorant. While these abilities are few, they grow stronger every month as he continues to experience life and overcome obstacles and challenges that are unsolvable by physical means. All abilities listed below are capable of growth and should be considered roots that encourage eventual creation of new mental abilities.
-STEEL TRAP- "Careful, Gus... Look a'eet! ...Not scared at all, that one. Watchin' us all cautious like. Them eyes... ye can tell he's figurin' us out."
Like his great maw that rends flesh, seldom does anything escape Gossk Quor-dek's vigilance; If he experiences it, he can recall the memory at will, and quite vividly. However, it does not mean he will always understand what he remembers; It takes time to digest the truth. Whether this ability is due to his own personality or draconic heritage, he doesn't know, but he does thoroughly enjoy having such an empowering and sober grasp on his mind.
The next stage in this mental advancement began to quicken his thinking. For if you are unchained by the weight of recalling convoluted memories or sifting the accuracy of minor details, there is no need to dwell on the past all the time, lest you forget it. Thus, Gossk can almost always rapidly analyze his present situation with the speed of a diving falcon and decide his next seven moves ahead of time. This ties in well with his Adaptive Fighter ability described below, as it helps him offset his relative lack of agility and land speed.
Another stage developed recently, and is one that Gossk is keen to hone; His spatial discernment is slowly expanding his awareness of his surroundings by sharpening his hearing and smell. In fact, those senses have already started to compensate for his eyes in identifying threats and objects outside his line of sight; Thus, he's becoming acquainted with a 360-degree arc of perception that, even if he's blinded, can still feed him details so long as he can smell or hear his enemies and the environment. Practical examples include recognizing a sneaking person's telltale scent and marking their exact distance by the sound of their passing; Scanning a small area and marking in his mind exactly where every tree and shrub is rooted, the location of rocks, and angles of the ground. Having done so, he could navigate through it, eyes closed, and never bump into anything or anyone.
-Mimetic Vogue- "Oi, Beastman! What're you doing, poachin' mah dead buddy's buttons? Git outta 'ere now!"
Despite his strong and ever-growing mental aptitudes, Gossk Quor-dek is not immune to being snared up by absurd ideas and beliefs. His tribesmen firmly believe in bedecking themselves with grisly trophies taken from their slain foes, or fashioning repulsive fetishes to ward off evil presences or weak usurpers, and he is no different. It is unclear if these methods actually work, but the psychological terror that it has on other sapient beings is quite evident.
In his youth, Gossk has always been subtly fascinated by the various baubles, instruments, and adornments worn by other races. Weapons and armors were daily projects that he knew very well, but those things, what manner of dead creatures did those people craft them from? Now well into his exile, Gossk has examined those puzzling things up close (on dead bodies, no doubt) and has become rapturously prone to seizing them whenever he can. He believes that by mere possession and donning of these accessories, he's acquired a variety of supernatural charms that enable him to steal small portions of his enemies' power, which would weaken them.
Mimetic Vogue is more a knack than a true ability. For better or worse, Gossk is empowered by, and vulnerable to, whatever social impacts that his polarizing presence might make on other people, whether it be glorifying awe or stark ridicule, or something in between. Few people would dismiss the arrival of a giant, bipedal dragon wearing a crude vest garnished with decayed skulls, but they'd likely wonder why is he also holding a pocket watch, wearing a couple shiny bracelets, and sporting a top hat and a monocle?
[::APPEARANCE::]
This IMAGE expresses the general look of Gossk Quor-dek, but requires further embellishment to create a suitable impression.
Standing proudly at a towering 9-foot height, Gossk's massive frame weighs 877 pounds and is flanked by a 6-foot long tail. This makes him fairly hard to miss and there's no mistaking that his is an intense presence that demands attention and respect. Small things tremor and topple as he passes by; His gait resembles that of a proud nobleman, upright and tall, each step carefully placed. His scaly hide, which paints him a muddy brown with black stripes and verdant spots, barely hides the rippling muscles underneath. Small, menacing spikes adorn his head and backside, the largest of which was forcefully broken off of his head a long time ago. The rest of them stretch out from the back of his neck and travel down to the base of his tail and begin to thin out towards its tip; They match the color of his claws, which are blacker than coal. They abide on his feet in threes as well as his one thumb and three fingered hands. His large, pearl-white teeth jut up and down outside the line of his protruding jaw. More intriguing than all these features is the color of his eyes, a deep purple likened to amethyst, and is thought to be a foreboding omen, the likes of which had only been witnessed and recorded one time before in his tribes' oral history.
Dracodiles don't wear clothing to cover their shame or to keep warm. Nudity, while acceptable, is considered a young one's prerogative and even the weakest of Dracodiles can peacefully sleep naked while exposed to a raging storm and harsh waters. However, apparel, along with armor and weapons, does have its place in their society by serving as a canvass for one's status, ambitions, positions, achievements, and history. Young Dracodiles must study, and eventually master, a shaman's fastidious methods to weave plant matter and interlock them with bones and animal skins. Once they have mastered this art, they are considered on their way to adolescent responsibilities.
For Gossk, he wears a belt, loincloth, vest, and cowl, all of which are made from plants and animal skins and secured with tiny bones and rope. Coated with the stains of ochre, there are various red markings all across them, some large and others small; A single solitary black mark dominates the back of his vest. These symbols have meanings only known to Gossk and those who made them. A grisly collection of fully decayed human and animal skulls hang from his vest and belt. Per his mental ability Mimetic Power explained above, Gossk wears an additional collection of odd curios that are not of his tribe's workmanship. A long, woolly sock covers his left arm (its toe suffers from a hole) while a couple of ornamental copper bracelets cover the wrist of the same arm. Two silent pocket watches with chains dangle together around his neck. An assortment of buttons, of many colors and designs, have been crudely sown into his vest and do not serve their intended function whatsoever.
Physical Abilities
Gossk Quor-dek is primarily a physical combatant. Decades of hunting, rivalries, and fighting off predator packs will do that to you. The first eight abilities listed below are derived from his nature and prowess as a Dracodile. They develop with age and become deadlier as he hones his skill. As a sapient being however, his last ninth ability, Adaptive Fighter, was created solely through his commitment to better defend himself in a world that he has never known. While all of Gossk's abilities are capable of growth, as his most developed group of abilities, there is not much else that can be added here, but life is full of surprises.
-Caloric Longevity- "No, man, I'm tellin' ya. That's the same beastie that killed me gramps. See his purple eyes?"
Like an army that marches on its stomach, Dracodiles grow and age on theirs. As long as they suffer no debilitating injuries that prevent frequent consumption of prey, there is no hard limit to how large and strong a Dracodile can become. However, this means that with increased size comes a greater appetite. In Gossk's tribe, they believe anyone who reaches such gargantuan proportions will prompt Illorassk to descend upon that individual and simply take him away, presumably to the Great Feast beyond the stars. Whether this is true or not, a simple fact remains: once a Dracodile reaches beyond 50% of their adult size, the required caloric intake per day becomes impossible to satisfy. Therefore, a Dracodile will lose body mass at some point, for no hunter is that successful.
-Great Physique- "What the hell is that thing? Ye, o'er there, climbing that oak tree. Come, let's go see..."
The physique of a hunter is the foundation of his greater assets. Naturally, Dracodiles will always enjoy great strength and toughness, but to ensure that he stays lean and flexible, Gossk has pushed himself far more than the average Dracodile. By seeking out new physical challenges on a weekly basis and conducting high intensity burst training daily, he's come to understand the limits of his strength and endurance, and how to break out of any plateaus that halt his progress. At the moment, with only a half-hearted effort, Gossk can flip over a wooden cart loaded with goods so hard that it maintains its momentum for a few yards, all while fighting off a swarm of angry town guards. Additionally, his endurance and pain threshold are quite high, thanks to his Flesh of Steel ability, but he's also periodically subjected his body to pain in a controlled fashion in order to suss out any weaknesses that escaped his notice.
Speaking of which, he's keenly aware of his inherent lack of agility and land speed, a vulnerability that begs caution in battle. However, he is by no means sluggish and cumbersome, for he has an acute sense of proprioception and his 4 foot stride can close the distance like a stick of dynamite. On flat land, his top speed of 30 mph is reached in 6 seconds, albeit he can only sustain this velocity for a matter of seconds, and a few vigorous sprints will wind him for the hour. In the water though, stamina isn't a real issue and his tail can double his speed and triple his acceleration.
Dracodiles are actually warm-blooded, unlike their lesser animal counterparts known as crocodiles. Therefore, while Gossk can withstand extreme temperatures for a few hours, he will start to suffer health issues if he doesn't somehow bolster his tolerance.
-Gnawing Hunger- "See my cow bits there, Steve? Best bait ever, I reckon. No lizzies can resist 'em, you'll see."
Dracodiles are rapacious eaters and seldom practice restraint when it comes to food and any opportunity that comes their way. Their hunger bites at them harder than any rival, so they must feed on some manner of flesh every 4 waking hours. If they don't, their bodies will begin to suffer increasingly detrimental effects on their willpower and clear thinking. Once a full 24 hours have passed, a Dracodile will become fully bestial and utterly frenzied, and will attack anyone and anything if they think it is food. Gnawing Hunger isn't regarded as a weakness by Dracodiles, but rather a fact of life that strengthens their drive and connects them to Illorassk. There is one minor positive perk to be gleaned: A Dracodile's body will gradually unleash hormones and stored energy during their decline, effectively increasing their speed, strength, and stamina to a maximum of 10% until they are satiated.
-Natural Weaponry- "Just surround him already, we got more weapons, and better. He's only got a stupid club!"
Dracodiles choose to wield weapons and armor, and can master them like other races; While this gives their natural weapons a backseat, it would be foolish to consider them inferior. Gossk's claws are smaller than average, but are still powerful enough to scratch into solid stone about 1/4 inch deep. Without magical assistance, this is the limit, but not everyone is walking around in stone armor.
Next is his most iconic weapon, a 1-foot long jaw. It may seem small but its 66 conical, peg-like teeth grants Gossk the power to rend flesh with impunity. Additionally, a secondary jaw joint is responsible for making his bite absolutely bone-shattering. When his teeth snap shut, the joint spreads the full force of his bite across everything, so that nothing can twist or lose a grip; Simply put, limbs will be torn right off. Fortunately, the powerful muscles generating this downward force come at the cost of weaker muscles which open his mouth, an exploit that keen-eyed opponents might dare to take.
The last weapon is an unsuspecting one, especially to the uninitiated. Dracodiles rarely use their tail offensively, and may do so in a pinch. They just don't see their most powerful swimming instrument as a weapon. But Gossk has long viewed his tail as a reliable, long-reaching tool in his arsenal. Like a quarterstaff in the hands of a disciplined monk, it can keep advancing enemies at bay and, if timed carefully, easily sweep multiple foes off their feet. Cloth and exposed flesh are likely to be slashed by the various spikes on the tail. Now, as versatile and powerful as his tail may be, should it be thoroughly damaged, it will put Gossk in a bad way. He loses a valuable weapon, cannot reach his top swim speed, and loses a great amount of balance in his locomotion and posture on land.
-Flesh of Steel- "Shoot him! SHOOOOT HIIIM!! ...Oh confound it all! You, give me that crossbow!"
Metaphorically speaking, a Dracodile's hide is dense and extremely tough. It might as well be steel to the basic scratches and bumps of ordinary animals and feeble creatures. Of course, full steel plate does not find its equal in a Dracodile's scales, albeit it could be argued that the Dracodile can take more punishment anyway. Due to the oblique angles of the scales, arrows rarely find purchase, making the penetrating power of crossbow bolts a far more attractive choice. The blades and points of swords, daggers, spears, and halberds are effectively reduced by 20%. They'll still work, and are obviously better than nothing, but it will take time to whittle down that rough, squamous armor. It's best concentrate on one spot and dial the damage in repetitively, if you can. Lastly, the scales themselves are sharp, and if rubbed carelessly, blood will be shed. But that's okay, Gossk doesn't like to hug people.
-Darkvision- "Yes, I know, ...just keep the light on 'em. I'mma sneak around, kay? It'll work."
Although they are not nocturnal creatures, Dracodiles still prefer to hunt at night. When the night life surges, the world surrenders its colors and their vision adopts the spookiness of black, white, and shades of grey. A Dracodile actually matches the eyesight of the average human during daylight, but at night, chances are that potential prey will find it harder to spot him lurking about. Unlike their lesser counterparts, the crocodiles, their eyes do not see all around, nor can they track different targets, or be retracted for safety. Adaptation has granted Dracodiles a superior depth perception by bringing their eyes closer together and pointing forward, ideally at their intended prey. Lastly, using a bright, intense light in an attempt to blind a Dracodile or negate his Darkvision will only earn you one thing: a chuckle.
-Water Breathing- "C'mon, Jim, it's been over an hour. He's long gone by now, so let's get to fishin'."
It is not a very well known fact that Dracodiles breathe underwater, and that they navigate any body of water regardless of salinity levels. People of other races tend to view them as giant versions of crocodiles, who can hold their breath for up to 15, sometimes 20 minutes. On the contrary, since Dracodiles enjoy the benefits of having both powerful lungs and efficient gills, they may remain submerged for as long as they see fit. Most Dracodiles have three pairs of gills, starting on their lower neck, then over their lungs, and finally on their sides. They are hard to spot among their dark scales and in fact, a sheathing organ armored with scales will cover their gills after they've been on land for a few minutes.
It is worth noting that the secret of these gills, and that they are vital weak-points, are ferociously guarded by the Dracodiles. In the distant past, entire settlements of other races were wiped out because their hunters displayed their glorious catches and bragged about their story. Dracodile shamans would quietly investigate this using their secret ways and depending on how their slain kin were killed, their report could mean an all-out war. Put another way, it would be unwise to assault a Dracodile's gills unless you intend to kill him and burn his body to ash.
-Acid Breath- "What the—MY HOUSE! What're these holes—oh dammit, it burns?!"
Even more secret than their gills is the draconic evidence that all Dracodiles can spew a stream of lethal corrosive acid, just like fire dragons that breathe immolating flames upon its enemies. In fact, it's so reclusive an ability that most Dracodiles are uneducated about its existence, believing only certain shamans and champions have the power to use it. In Gossk's case, he was taught how to utilize it shortly after his exile by one of his friends, a shaman named Jikaa-Jigar. It was a trade in exchange for her life debt, for Gossk had saved her a long time ago from ravenous wolves. She taught him the truth, and that not only were they immune to acid and corrosion, one can learn different projectile techniques or even combine the acid with ingredients for potion-making. Gossk thanked her for the crash course and quickly bid her farewell, lest she be caught associating with him and sully her reputation.
Acid Breath actually has a slightly magical nature due to its draconic origin; Therefore, it owns a few enhanced properties that are beyond that of natural acids and bases. This grants the ability extreme versatility and potency, but also makes it complicated and hard to master. An untrained (or unfocused) Dracodile can take a moment before generating a narrow, cone-shaped stream (2-foot max radius, 16-foot range) that can potentially affect many targets in a clumsy hit-or-miss fashion. Metals and stones take time to dissolve, but flesh will have issues right away, especially the softer tissues and organs.
With diligent practice and commitment, a Dracodile can use his breath more often and spontaneously, but also exercise better control over many other factors such as: projectile type (stream, spray, orb, spit), size (radius, range), projectile speed, solubility (controls its lethality), viscosity (controls its sliminess), and even its color. At the moment, Gossk is untrained and can only use his breath 3 times a day, but is on the cusp of controlling his projectile type. It has been a love-hate relationship with his breath, as he loves how effective it is, but hates how it turns his meals into soup. Gossk dislikes soup.
-Adaptive Fighter- "No, wait, wait. S-Stop, Jane. ...I—I've nevah seen a lizzie do that before. We should leave."
The crowning achievement of his arsenal and a skill developed all on his own. As a fruit grown from Gossk's own worldview and philosophy, this fledgling ability has transformed his battle capabilities and retains the potential to grant him a level of dominance that he's never known before. The seed was planted with the realization that he could not always defeat sapient beings using his tried and true hunting method (wait, ambush, drown). Some prey are actually better hunters themselves, better than he can imagine. And as he ventured farther out into the world, he knew that, when he least expects it, he could be cornered, outnumbered, and overwhelmed by superior weapons. His environment could bode ill for him and a boon to his enemies! He would have to stand his ground and defend himself. For certain he could fight valiantly with great strength and ferocity, in typical Dracodile fashion. But that is what they would expect, and that gives them power over him. So therein lies the blooming beauty of his epiphany: Just as all hunting is based on deception, so it is with both dueling and warfare.
Having no formal training in martial arts or dueling, Gossk has long been reliant on the familiar rough-and-tumble world of grappling, biting, and slashing that permeates the Wilds. He's pushed himself beyond this primitive state with constant reminders that he mustn't act like a base animal and never follow the expectations of his enemies. At its core, Adaptive Fighter discourages all-out onslaughts and constant evasive maneuvers, both of which would fatigue him quickly. Instead the ability stresses having patience to wait and carefully watch for the most opportune moment to counterattack. Simply put, endure their attacks, evade when possible, and then decisively strike at them with such precise force that they are rendered helpless, if not outright destroyed. In this way, Gossk would be able to reserve his stamina and kill his foes as efficiently as possible.
A long term aspect of this ability is understanding that his enemies are also his teachers; Hence, keen observations of their tactics and strategies are crucial to expanding his own repertoire. It is no different than when he learned how to enhance his hunting strategies in his youth. So, without question, Gossk loves this style of fighting as not only does it feel so natural and proper, it has wonderful synergy with his Steel Trap mental ability. Overall, this physical ability has garnered Gossk more confidence to step into the civilized world. Given enough time, he might even adapt socially on a scale greater than he ever had back at home in the Wilds.
Magical Incantations
Gossk's spells are few and supplementary, only unleashed when required. He is not magically inclined, so being winded by copious use of mana goes against his battle philosophy. However, these three spells were sparked by necessity due to problematic situations during his travels. Powered by arcane incantations of varying length, these spells (and about magic in general) were taught to Gossk during the early years of his exile by certain shamans, some who had taken pity on him and others he'd bribed with prime choices of food. As the least developed arsenal at his command, he can certainly learn new incantations and, with rigorous training and proper study, his current spells can become more effective, flexible, and less costly. However, that kind of growth is unlikely to happen unless he is motivated by some pressing need. Lastly, all of his incantations have a brief delay before they cast their spells, and if a magical incantation creates an upkeep spell, it simply means that casting the spell initially will cost more mana than it does to maintain its duration.
-Swamp Pit- "Once we get there, I'll—hey... this place wasn't here before... Charles? Where'd you go?!"
A Dracodile's greatest advantage is not his strength, endurance, or speed, but his ability to launch a surprise attack when you're least expecting it. Such is the profound wisdom of the eccentric shaman, Kijj-tissk, who instructed Gossk how to enjoy a home away from home. An upkeep spell with 2 incantations and a medium mana cost, it temporarily changes terrain and can be placed up to 30 feet away from Gossk. Once the incantation's last syllable is uttered, the center of a 45-foot area of effect (AOE) is instantly conjured within his line of sight. Night time is unnaturally simulated around and in the AOE, which is made up of three zones: a 30-foot diameter swamp pit in the center, which is surrounded by a 10-foot wide bog, which is bordered by a 5-foot thick fog.
The fog isn't dispersed by wind and prevents the magical scrying or detection of anyone's location within the AOE. It is also magically dense and prevents line of sight, as well as hindering the accuracy of range attacks passing through it. Next, the bog is incredibly mucky, which will slow people down and possibly cause them to sink; However, the bog does contain various forms of concealment and cover, such as dead trees, broken logs, and large bushes. Finally, the swamp pit is extremely murky and odiously sickening, as though miasma was present. Its slimy slopes descend gradually to a 30-foot depth at its dead center. Two other points of interest exist in the swamp: four large columns of dense rock that stretch up to just under the surface, and four large tunnels that lead out of the swamp pit and exit somewhere into the bog.
Swamp Pit has a few details worth mentioning: * With magical aid, the AOE's presence can be sensed or detected before running into it. * The AOE can be dispelled rather easily, but just prior to removal, Gossk will be alerted immediately to the image and location of the person responsible for doing this. * Supernatural manipulations of the elements (water, earth, etc.) within the AOE is more difficult and costly than usual for the caster because Swamp Pit is an upkeep spell, meaning Gossk's mana is being drawn slowly but continuously to maintain his complete control over its design and current structures. * If Gossk exits the AOE and leaves it alone, the AOE will gradually disappear over 5 minutes and leave no trace; However, if Gossk is killed, knocked out, or wills its removal, the AOE will vanish instantly. * When the AOE disappears, any sunken objects or people in the bog's muck will be pushed up gently to the level of original surface; However, in the swamp pit, the same will instead be quickly rushed up to the level of the original surface. The greater the depth, the greater the velocity that things will be flung. Fall damage may become a sudden issue.
-Far Stride- "Alright, we're ready now, Mister Gossk sir. Lead the way, we're right behind ya..."
The world is large and full of interesting locales, evident by its history, flora, and fauna, all of which enriches a hunter's journey, for he could spend a lifetime mastering them all. This spell was taught to Gossk by his friend, the shaman Jikaa-Jigar, who encouraged him to conquer the unknown world and embrace his destiny. A simple 24-hour spell with 2 incantations and a large mana cost, it lessens the detrimental effects of extensive, fast-paced travels. For an example, a power walk is no more taxing than a slow, cumbersome walk, and your running stamina will be doubled. In fact, your stride even seems a few feet longer, cutting the trek's distance down by a respectable fraction. You are not as bothered by extreme temperatures as you normally would be, though lethal temperatures are still dangerous. Next, the climate and environment will not deteriorate your clothes, nor will your shoes wear out. Although Dracodiles don't wear shoes, their feet will not become sore. These same effects will assist beasts of burden and mounts, including their gear. Lastly, the decay of food and drink is greatly lessened, though food already on its way out will probably rot, and extreme temperatures will neither freeze nor evaporate food and supplies. Far Stride continues even when taking a break or camping for the night, so it's advisable to travel for as long as the spell will last.
-Sunder Clout- "Haha, we got him now, boys! Oi, get the wagon over here an' we'll---WHOA!! What was that!?"
Few things are more terrifying to a young hunter than the epiphany that he has suddenly become the hunted. Having once barely escaped a vicious ambush by a pack of half-beastman snakes, Gossk was guided by tales of his youth to seek out the elusive shaman Tassaar, whose powerful mysticism raised the bar for all Dracodiles pursuing shamanship. He found him on his death bed and after humbling himself, he convinced the shaman to pass on what knowledge he would. Inked claw at the ready, Gossk eagerly recorded Tassaar's diction and gave him a proper burial shortly afterwards.
A tricky spell with 4 incantations, a medium mana cost and two phases that Gossk must go through as he speaks their one-word incantations. The first phase is a kinetic energy (KE) gathering phase, which can last up to 6 seconds, and the second phase is a KE releasing phase, where Gossk can unleash sweeping shock waves and energy blasts that take the form and velocity of the body part that he releases it through.
During the first phase, his own body will begin to shimmer as he becomes a receptor and storage for internal and external sources of KE. Gossk will charge up by using his own bodily movements (internal) and absorb most enemy attacks and environmental hazards (external). While there's no maximum to KE gathering, hoarding his own KE doesn't slow his movements, nor does absorbing attacks reduce the damage done to him.
Once the second stage is triggered, Gossk must unleash all of the hoarded KE as rapidly as possible; Failure to do so will cause internal injuries while repeated failures eventually causes a mana backlash that temporarily renders Sunder Clout unusable. His KE blasts take on the properties of the body part. Energy claws and tail swipes are sharp and cut things as though he had cut them himself. Blunter parts of his body (feet, elbow, knees, head, etc.) will cause concussive damage instead. Another use are shock waves, which don't travel as far or as fast as his energy blasts, but they can knock down multiple enemies at once. These are unleashed by stomping, slamming his tail down, or body-slamming the ground. Lastly, Sunder Clout can boost Gossk's leaping distance, which is achieved by timing his jump as the KE exits his feet.
[::EQUIPMENT::]
* Primitive Club: Crafted from bone and hardened wood, and bound by strong plant bindings, this brutish weapon can inflict massive blunt trauma, especially in Gossk's hand. The club is clearly well used and is larger than the human-sized version. A critical hit can easily knock out a target for several minutes. However, against weapons and armor made of finely forged metal, this club will not last very long.
* Wooden Shield: Made of hard, chiseled wood encrusted with with rib bones, this shield is more of a buckler and has three jagged bones sticking out on the end that could penetrate flesh. It is braced via straps to Gossk's right arm. One might wonder why a naturally armored Dracodile would bother carrying such a weak shield, but then they might see that the rib bones have been worked on so as to try to catch melee weapons that strike against the shield. The shield is replaceable but making an opportunity like that in battle is priceless.
* Two 3-dose Potions: A pair of strange, filthy looking concoctions brewed by Dracodile shamans. Made of thick glass, the potions are large in the hand of a human and hang by tough straps attached to Gossk's belt. One potion, called Lurker's Patience, is a deep green color and one dose will greatly suppress Gossk's hunger and thirst for a 24 hour period. However, one side effect is that when Gossk breaks his unnatural fast, his first meal's nutrients won't be absorbed very well. The second potion, called Venomward, resembles actual blood and is an antidote that helps cleanse the body of normal toxins. It is normally imbibed but can also be used to clean a poisoned wound. For an hour after drinking, Gossk would be highly resistant to toxins in whatever form they might come.
* Large Satchel: A simple but sturdy bag made from the stomachs and hides of various swamp creatures. Inside are the following items:
* Shaman's Tome: A large collection of treated bamboo bark with weird scratches and marks on them. The bark slide smoothly into each other, making them compact. The tome primarily depict the words and images of Gossk's incantations that he is learning to master. The tome also teaches about magic in general but also knowledge of their people.
* Herbalism Kit: Gossk has rudimentary knowledge in herbalism and can reliably (given time) brew the two potions described above. This kit contains a rugged mortar and pestle, bone saws, knives, files, twine, needles, hooks, skinning tools, and myriad sacks and oiled pouches for storing organs and flesh. There's also a bag of various herbs and roots and woven plant bindings.
* Spyglass: A 18-inch long hollow metal tube containing two glass lenses that when viewed through makes objects appear three times as large. It can also collapse and telescope down to 10 inches if needed. Picked off of a foolish explorer, it took Gossk a month to figure out the true purpose of this tool. He often uses it to spy on a town's inhabitants a day or two before he ventures inside.
* Bag of Game Call Whistles: Gossk wasn't the only one around waiting for prey to come by. Driven hunters, desperate to attract game, would often use whistles to call their game, which often prompted Gossk's curiosity to seek the hunters out. He is utterly fascinated by the whistles' ability to deceive simple animals. He's still figuring out which whistle's intended game.
[::BACKSTORY::]
Gossk's background is long and complex, as it takes place over several decades. Dracodiles have extensive life spans, full of hardships, and therefore write their history in chunks that are most significant to them. These are often depicted on their clothing and in their homes. Gossk's story is one of rebellion and isolation, of ridicule and exile, of prophetic dreams and a quest for power as he meets his destiny. His experiences has led him to one conclusion, an inversion of truth that defiles everything: Something is not right, in fact, something is horribly wrong. Why is the world like this? How can it be fixed? Or are we all better off being... devoured?
Upon hatching and taking his first and only innocent breath, Gossk, like many Dracodile younglings, had to endure an elimination process upon hatching. Entire clusters of eggs would be put in special pens and left to their own devices; Only the few strongest Dracodile babies would remain after a few days and would be pulled out to be cared for by selected brood mothers. Gossk was a runt, in fact, he had accidentally been buried in the struggle and only found two days later by a egg-less mother who took him in.
The first year was horrible. Gossk struggled to keep up with his older siblings and peers, and never received praise for his efforts. The stark difference between him and the other younglings was strong enough to earn him a nickname 'Plum Rat,' for his eyes were a strange purple and indeed, was no bigger than a wild rat. No amount of discipline could straighten him out, leaving most of the caretakers at their wits end. The shamans got involved and took him aside, as theirs was a gentler claw, albeit not by much
To the age of ten, Gossk learned all the basics of his tribe's religion, customs, and primal ways. He excelled in simpler things, such as crafting, brewing, and magical incantations. But he had to endure ridicule from afar, as his peers soared past him in physical attributes and sport. His first hunt was coming up soon and, as a rite of passage, he would not be accepted if he didn't return home with food. Three years later, not only did Gossk return from his first hunt alive, he had captured a breeding pair of wild boars in a cage and explained to the chieftain and his council that they could raise the pigs as a backup food source when hunts proved scarce. Only a few Dracodiles at the time silently respected his ingenuity, but the beating that Gossk received for his impudence and outside-the-box thinking left him in his bed for a month. Still, he was allowed to pass his rite of passage.
From that point on, all the way to the age of twenty, Gossk kept to himself and the few shamans who befriended him. He put in minimal effort to contribute to his tribe and seldom did he partake in any festivities or social gatherings. The majority of his years then were spent in the Wilds, mostly lurking in the rivers and lakes. It is here that his thinking prowess developed greatly, as his power of observations led him into insights that, while inspiring and useful, would lead him to get into trouble once again.
It was on his 25th year that, as a mature young adult Dracodile, Gossk and all of his peers were allowed to express their scale-friendly (as in, non aggressive) emotions, mainly in the form of praise and recognition of their chieftain and his shamans, as thanks for all the things they had done. It is also a time for grievances and concerns, but nobody did that. Except Gossk the Plum Rat; Of course Gossk the Weakscale had something to say. In fact, the ceremony had purposely been scheduled when Gossk was not around, so as to exclude him. Fortunately, his closest friend, a shaman named Jikaa-Jigar, was able to inform him in time. As per ceremony rules, the chieftain could not retaliate while anyone spoke before him and everyone had to remain seated and attentive. Gossk proceeded to go on for 6 full hours, talking gently and respectfully, about all of his concerns about how the tribe was run by the chieftain; He listed all of their major events, showing his comprehension of their tribal history, and demonstrated with facts and numbers that all the failures and causalities that had happened was due solely to the chieftain's lack of understanding logistics and his thirst for war, that his council (most of whom were old shamans) were nothing more than yes-men. Gossk explained that their words were paved with good intentions but seldom rendered any advice that led to good decision making. Gossk concluded his speech, by simply stating that he does not hate them or think they are worthless, nor that he should be the chieftain. It was merely an observation.
The silence, a rare phenomenon in Dracodile society, lasted for five full minutes before the chieftain rose from his seat and towered over Gossk by a solid 5 feet. The chieftain stared Gossk down, the latter not daring to make eye contact, at least until the chieftain bid him to do so. Gossk's purple eyes took in the full image of the chieftain's face, and suddenly felt his first horn grabbed, pushing his head back down. Gossk understood this gesture, it was the precursor to an execution!
The chieftain then said that Gossk is to be killed, that he is a bad omen that should have been done away with years ago. In that moment, by the power of those words alone, Gossk experienced a rage unlike anything he had ever felt—he broke free and roared at the chieftain. This immediately caught him off guard as Gossk reached up as high as he could and blinded him in the left eye. Unfortunately, the chieftain still had his wits and instantly counterattacked by clobbering Gossk, resulting in his horn being broken after all.
A few shamans and several members of Gossk's family had to pull him away and shield him as the rampaging chieftain attempted to cleave him in twain with his massive jaws. They pleaded with the chieftain, 'Exile! Exile!' before he relented and ordered his head shaman to mark Gossk with the black claw. Confusion and disbelief consumed Gossk's mind as he endured this fate and no sooner had his vest been marked, he was escorted to the outskirts of their village and beaten to an inch of his life.
The next morning, once again, his friends—his few friends—tended to him and nursed him back to help, albeit they had to do so in a cave with an underwater entrance. For if they were caught associating with him, let alone helping him, they would be put to the fire.
For the next 16 years Gossk would experience the pain of solitude, for as a social creature, he was not content with simply feeding, hunting, and resting for days on end. For certain he would meet with his family and his shaman friends, and learn new things, current events, and be given supplies in exchange for freshly caught game. But as weeks turned to months, and then months to years, the visits began to cease, prompting Gossk to risk venturing closer to his old home in hopes of seeing them. He had been caught a few times, having barely escaped each time, but the consequence rendered him a wanted fugitive to be killed on sight. This forced Gossk to move farther and farther out until it would take a few days to reach home—it was at this point that he began to notice people of other races, which he'd had seen before when they came to trade with his tribe or desire safe passage through their territory.
Then, at age 41, Gossk happened to catch a group of shamans, some being his old friends although he almost didn't recognize them due to their scars and disfigurements. He had no idea what they were doing this far out, and moving with such a disciplined pace. He was excited, but afraid, afraid that interrupting them would end his life. Instead he followed them, and eavesdropped on their conversations. Apparently they had been doing this—whatever 'this' was—for the last two years, but they must do something about it. It was at this point Gossk took a chance and revealed himself, because Jikaa-Jigar mentioned him by name, saying that Gossk would know how to fix this. The strength of their welcome overwhelmed Gossk and put a flaming hope deep in his heart, assuring him that everything would be okay.
But everything was not okay. These shamans had been inspired and encouraged by Gossk's actions years ago and over the course of spying on neighboring kingdoms, towns, and even bandit lairs, they had discovered a plot to enslave the Dracodiles through seemingly peaceful trade negotiations. They still didn't know who was behind it all, but they asked for Gossk to give them his thoughts. They knew that he would have much to say. But they were wrong.
Gossk had long ago given up on his tribe and cared very little about what would happened to them. He did not care to explain himself, why should he? But their gaze made Gossk feel as though he was broken and useless, but he was surprised when they ignored his quip—they instead explained to him an ancient story about one other Dracodile who had purple eyes, very much like his own; He was a powerful warrior whose very word inspired countless Dracodiles (and other creatures) to his cause, his power was so great that Illorassk himself was said to dwell in his scales. They believed that Gossk was, in fact, a reincarnated form of the legendary hero.
Gossk, needless to say, didn't quite believe them, but again to his surprise, they suddenly left, each one going a different route. Frustrated by this turn of events, he yelled after them, claiming that he was his own person and not some expendable pawn to be used in some cosmic game of fate. He scolded himself for being weak, for talking to them and thinking things would turn out better. They were all fools doomed to die, just like him, and so would his entire kind someday, he thought. He knew the world was changing, but he had become complacent in his exile, just waiting to be killed and devoured.
Later that very same night, Gossk experienced a most vivid dream, in which the whole world was small and laid flat before him, so that he could see everything and everyone. Yet at the same time, his understanding was dulled, for the experience was painful and his vision blurred red as he tried to perceive what little he could. Then he would wake, each time crying out like a sick youngling. These dreams haunted him for months, making him utterly restless and anxious to the point of being unable to hold a rock in his hand. He could not stop thinking about the dreams, even as he went about his daily routines.
Each subsequent dream would reveal a little more, and a knowing voice would become clear enough for him to hear. It was speaking in a strange language that on one hand, Gossk couldn't repeat its words and on the other, he could feel the meaning of the words. At some point, perhaps as he turned 42, Gossk's dreams began to talk about him instead, laying bare everything he had done and failed at, just as he had did to the chieftain long ago.
Now, five years later, Gossk has steeled his nerves and prepared to venture out into the great unknown. His quest is simply to conquer anything, everything, and all things; He will suss out and usher all power unto him, devouring every foe. He doesn't know if he's now on a fool's errand, but his resolve has never been stronger—and that can't be wrong, can it? He knows that he has to save his brethren, somehow, before they become extinct. He could no longer afford to be lax and weak, nor could he ignore those damned dreams. So, with all the help that his true few friends could muster for him, Gossk will face his destiny and discover the truth.
But will he embrace the truth when he finds it?
[::EXTRA NOTES::]
- Gossk has a pet reed cat named Licks. Raised from infancy, Licks follows Gossk rather loyally for a wild animal. But truth be told, theirs is a symbiotic relationship, where Gossk feeds her reliably (and lets her clean his teeth for even more meat scraps) and she serves as an extra pair of eyes and ears, not to mention her silent companionship and commentary on his actions provides the driest humor Gossk has ever known. Licks got her name from her habit of not only licking herself and making that annoying klech sound, but also invading his nostrils when he's asleep.
- Dracodiles are draconic Beastmen, having some kind of lineage from ancient dragons. However, Dracodiles don't even call themselves 'dracodiles', and ignorantly view themselves as completely unrelated to dragons or crocodiles for that matter; Instead, they believe they are the divine spawn of Illorassk the Devourer, who is often depicted as a giant crocodile-like creature. Among themselves, they are known as Rasskarr, 'Sons of the Mouth.'
- Gossk's homeland, Rasskadia, is located on the northwestern coast of the Crystal Sea, bordering the Lost Woods' eastern treeline. It is a vast swampland, full of bogs and trees, with very few creeks. A few small islands hug their coastline, but they seldom venture out farther than that. Being quite distant from civilized folks, even that of other Beastmen, the Dracodile tribe known as the Rasskarr has very little experience and contact with foreigners outside of trade and other services, and has effectively remain unchanged by the times. They are highly religious and worship the beast known as Illorassk the Devourer, who is viewed as a deity of war, strength, dominance, order, and hunger. Thus, the Rasskarr are known for their anger, ambition, hunger, avarice, and aggression. Very seldom are they allowed to exhibit emotional displays of affection, love, mourning, sadness, depression, and submission. They are also purists and don't tolerate 'mutt' versions of their kind to exist within their villages.
- Gossk is considered small for a Dracodile, as his race commonly reach 10 to 12 feet in height and exceed 1000 pounds.
- Since Dracodiles do not have lips, they cannot pronounce certain sounds that are used in the common tongue, such as b, f, m, p, v, or w. They tend to substitute different letters that sound close enough when they speak a word. This actually makes their common speech sound very weird to those who speak it naturally.
- All of the quotes that are listed in the abilities section are actually famous last words.
