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POC WOL WEEK DAY 2: HOME
Though Jace has reclaimed the home he grew up in, even the smallest of spaces feel large when you are all alone.
Jaxon has ever yearned to finally return to his true homeland, Ala Mhigo. Yet even as he searches for his place among Her, he is still but a lost soul.
So close to his home, yet still so far. What separates Kamasis from a return to his home and his people is a bleak and bloodied battlefield.
POC WOL WEEK DAY 4: DRESS TO IMPRESS
For Jaxon, assimilation meant everything to his parents. The need to fit in. To blend in. Dress the part. Even if he had to watch his back while he did so. Whether within the walls of the capital, or working as a spy for those who held power over him, he knew exactly how to dress the part and often used some designs woven by his mother to do just that.
Kamasis has inherited a singular philosophy: Dress for Battle. His impression was to intimidate and to show strength over his enemy. If he could avoid fighting, he would. But, then again something within him yearned for the clash of blades.
For Ka’mika, ever beholden to tradition, his inheritance of garb warn by the elders was a show of both force and humility. That these garments would only ever be adorned in moments of fierce battle or self-sacrifice. That one could be both a leader and yet follow in the footsteps of those who came before.
#1: Crux - Sharlayan
It took me such a long time to not think of my would be saviors, as merely my captors by another name.
I hardly remember the Bozja Citadel now. I was a child when it all happened. I have a vague memory of being carried around the city that day. I was so small. My father held me as we dodged Garleans and ducked between alleyways. We had hoped to make it back to the Queen in time. Luckily, we did, but not before we were ordered to flee again.
Looking back, of course it was better that we did. I would not be alive, had we stayed. I remember watching as our city burned. As the Citadel burned. As our towns crumbled. I remember crying.
And, I remember him, too. An elder Elezen who seemed to know it all, as if he had peered into past and future while staring boldly at the reality of the present before him. I remember hating him, and all those who called themselves Sharlayan.
We were on the road for so long, I think even the Queen was happy to see any friendly face. We welcomed them, and they too us. I could not help my feelings. They pitied us, and I hated it.
They offered the few of us left refuge. A place to regroup. I did not trust them, but then, I was a child. A lost Coeurl with only his father’s guidance. It was not long before we were counted among them.
Sharlayans.
Stewards of knowledge. Scholars and students whose nation was built upon the hard cover of tomes. They did not seem keen on spilling blood. They did not seek land or political favor. Merely knowledge. Which is likely why we were there. If there was anything to be known about Bozja, we would know it. We survived, after all.
For many years, I grew up as a Sharlayan. I learned among them, I learned to fight alongside them, and even further, developing a love of learning, to an extent. Engineering, metalwork, and martial arts were my focus. I was bested by few in that regard.
Sharlayans.
The very word still gives me a strange feeling. Like in my heart of hearts I wish not to be called such. As though it chains me to a world that does not quite feel my own. Yet, bound to this world I was by favor. By savior.
I have 5 characters and I must write about them all. Please look forward to it.
#8 - Clamor - Moshan
“My name is Moshan,” The voice didn’t speak much. Or often. But when it did, it was loud.
Kamasis grabbed at his neck, trying with all the might he could muster to pull the necklace from his body. But it was to no avail. Whatever it was the kept the piece of Allagan jewelry bound to him, it was not coming off any time soon. To think he would be shackled by a lost civilization. Or at least, one of the many who lived among them.
“My name is Moshan,” The voice spoke again. “What a pity that this is the body that was delivered unto me. So savage, so uncouth.”
“Why do you speak to Kamasis, and from where do you speak?” The Hrothgar roared, loud enough for only the sleeping machines and captured scalekin to hear.
“I am in your mind. No--our very souls are now dancing. I am weak, but I will take this body for my own. Some day, you will not have a chance.”
“Release me! Immediately!” Kamasis roared yet again, angrily shouting toward the ceiling of the research facility.
“No, I do not think I will. At this very moment, you need me. You are, somehow, within Azys Lla. And you have little hope to escape. No--I take that back. We, have little hope to escape. Your mind is aflutter with thoughts of your airship, but that will not be enough. You need me.”
Kamasis did not roar again. Instead, his thoughts and Moshan’s words swirled in his mind. His mind was loud enough.
“What should Kamasis do?” He asked, speaking softly.
“We will take your airship as far as we can, but it will begin to fail. When it does, you shall leave the rest to me.”
Kamasis grit his teeth, his fangs dug into his lower lip.
He began listening to the loud, demanding voice in his head, following his direction. The man called Moshan. The spirit. Just who was he?
“Probably another researcher extraordinaire, just like the rest of them,” Kamasis said aloud answering his own question.
“I heard that.” Moshan replied.
Kamasis fired up the airship and took off immediately.
It was likely some time before time passed and he awoke in the Dravanian Hinterlands.
“You’re welcome.”
#4 - Clinch - Training
Who would have thought that this place would teach him to fight?
Kamasis has long been a student of martial arts. Even back in the homeland, he’d love to watch sparring matches and battles and watch as guards and soldiers would gear up to repel Garleans. Their defeat only furthered that interest.
Day in and day out, when he was not doing some for of academic study--which he found to be boring and laborious--he would practice martial arts with an expert.
He would spend a week with an axe, another with the sword. His teacher even taught him some Doman sword arts.
“Sam-oo-rai?” He always struggled with language.
His teacher was a gentle man. A Hyur who seemed to know much about different fighting styles. A traveled, older man who seemed to simply wish to impart the knowledge onto someone else. He had many students before he’d taken on Kamasis, but none were perhaps as quick to pick up the basics. Likewise, none were as eager to make the style their own.
However, there is one form of fighting, that while Kamasis has an understanding of, he struggles grasp.
On a hot summer evening, as the sun was just setting, dyeing everything in its path a deep orange, Kamasis and his teacher were found trading punches and kicks in a training hall. Kamasis, still rather slow with his movements, found it difficult to keep up with his teacher. He spent most of his time on his heels, attempting to keep his teacher’s hands from reaching his face.
It was only when his teacher paused that Kamasis felt he could retaliate. Go on the offensive. However, just before he could make a move, he felt his teacher grab a fistful of his clothing and tug. His leg pivoted, and swept knocking Kamasis off balance. His other hand supported the cloth-filled-fist and near-effortlessly, lifted Kamasis off the ground and overhead. For the final, swift movement, he brought Kamasis down--rather hard--onto his back.
Kamasis gasped as air left his body, as if he was trying to quickly reclaim it. He stared up at the ceiling, wide-eyed--but happy, and smiling.
His teacher chuckled and appeared inverted in Kamasis’ field of vision.
“I learned that in Ala Mhigo.”
Kamasis Azor
From a young age, Kamasis has known war.
While just a young boy, his tribe was attacked by Garlemald. Unwilling to suffer and serve at the hands of Garlemald, they rebelled at every turn. But even the might of their clan could not hope to best the Garleans.
He and his father, along with the Queen of the Azor tribe, were among the few survivors. But they would not give in. Only a year into their would be captivity and servitude to Garlemald, did a small group of Azor escape, sailing west at their first attempt. His father would not join them.
The Queen among them decided that wherever they should land, the group would assimilate immediately. Luckily, they landed in Sharlayan.
Many Azor protested, but eventually found some work and otherwise way to survive among the Sharlayans. Kamasis would be no different.
Though he was not the best student, Kamasis would go on to learn much about aetherology, technology, and practice swordplay while with the Sharlayans. Additionally, he found time to practice forging weapons. While he has a unique love for weapons and the metals they are made from, he seldom ever wished to fight. Even sparring was lost on the would-be swordsman. Yet still, the sharpest blades and the loudest firearms were ever by his side.
While entering his teen years, he would learn about the Allagans, and attempt to understand more of their technological advancements. His studies, would eventually lead him to join a small expeditionary group bound for Azys Lla.
That group would only attempt their mission some time after the Calamity. After watching the havoc caused by the Elder Primal and the technological advances of the Lesser Moon, Dalamud, the group would finally take off for the fabled floating continent.
Successful as they were in reaching Azys Lla, the expedition was quick to take a turn for the worse, as automatons and abominations sprung into action while the group wandered into one of the research facilities.
The mission to learn anything more about Azys Lla ended in failure. And once again, Kamasis was surrounded by the loss of loved ones and dear friends.
Lost and alone, Kamasis wandered into yet another facility, where lying in wait was what seemed to be a choker. For reasons even he hardly understands, he reached out to grab the neck piece, only to find it quickly attached to himself.
He says that much after that is but a blur, and that he later found himself surrounded by Goblins in the Dravanian Hinterlands.
For the past five or so years, Kamasis has lived among the Goblins and treasure hunters of the Hinterlands, offering some of his own engineering expertise while looking for a means of removing the Allagan device from his neck.
He has traveled often to the city-states of Eorzea, particularly to Ul’dah, often gathering toys, trinkets, and even gil to donate to orphaned children. Likely due to being somewhat of an orphan himself. Kamasis has not yet added “-sch” to his surname, as he holds fast to the idea that his Queen yet lives.
Despite his looks, Kamasis can be described as a gentle giant. He is almost always seen eating something, if he isn’t gazing deeply at some weapon of some kind.
Though, there is the matter of his choker. While few have ever witnessed it, and Kamasis has only vague memories of it ever happening, it does seem as though Kamasis become a completely different person when it glows.
BLOG NAME CHANGE
This blog was formerly “jace-hunter”.
I’m changing it because, for the first time ever, I have an alt I truly want to play. Still a cat boy, but he’s large.
His name is Kamasis Azor. LOTS OF INFO COMING SOON.
