Profile
(only by iwi'va)
"W.I.P"
Never know what to say here ngl.
He talks rarely but when he does, it is really quietly to the point where it could be ignored if it didn't hold the promise of a certain threat. He doesn't have much of an accent when speaking his dialect but when speaking others it's quite heavy. While his voice is deep and rough, his laugh is surprisingly pleasing to listen to.
His handwritting is cursive, seeming messy from afar but actually quite neat if looking closely. The letters and symbols are always small and he writes in perfect lines. Has the habit of putting everything he writes in corners as if to hide it or as if he was preparing to write a lot more.
Appearance stuff about your character.
Ag'kamuah's fashion sense isn't particularly developped. He is alright at choosing for others but he never put that much of an effort for himself. As Zandalar is really hot and like most zandalaris, he never wears a shirt. A loincloth sitting on his hips is more than enough. When he needs to hide, however, he wears a long cape with a wide hood that covers largely his body. His tusks are then also covered with some bandages as to not let anyone see hints of his identity.
Ag'kamuah doesn't have a lot of accessories— or what's more correct would be to say that he doesn't have any. He has nothing on himself except for his clothes. He actually finds really uncomfortable having to carry anything or to wear jewelries.
Like all zandalaris, Ag'kamuah has a really impressive regeneration which means he has no scars. He never got hurt to the point of not being able to regenerate (obviously, since he's still alive) and always wished to get rid of it so he eventually did, everytime. He does have his left tusk broken from when he was a child as they don't regenerate like the rest of his body can. Aside from that, he has several tattoos; webs spreading on his neck, legs and arms and a large spider on his back. He'd often thought of getting piercings but he didn't care enough to do it. Another body modification would be the scales on his left pectoral that form a spider seen from above.
- His left tusk is very thin and fragile, a bit broken.
- His tusks in general are long, very pointy and of a very dark purple.
- The scales patterns aren't symmetrical but are placed more or less in the same locations in both sides.
He doesn't have any particular goal– aside from keeping the fragile balance of his life from collapsing. Stop time a moment, maybe. Or forever, who knows.
Close to his goal, he just hopes to continue to stay like he is now. Or that's what he tells himself. Maybe he hopes for something so impossible that he can't even utter it. Maybe– just maybe, because maybe shouldn't hurt, maybe the love of his life could remember him for good.
It would be quicker to say the things other know than to say his secrets. If there's a thing he's never told anyone, not even his love, it would be that he killed her family not long after they both became young adults. It was closer to torture, if we were to be honest.
He's not much of a dreamer, he can only wish for some good to happen. He used to dream of marrying his childhood love, then he dreamt of raising their children– one became true, at least.
Personality stuff about your character.
- His baby brother Vik'th and his mate Iwi'va.
- Spiders and Shadra, whom took him in when he needed it.
- Poisons, using them as well as his high tolerance of them.
- Tattoos, especially if they have meaning.
- The Zandalari Empire, of whom he's always been proud of.
- His physique now, as it is something he's had a lot of trouble with before.
- His left tusk, too frail and broken.
- His original hair color, which is the same as his eyes.
- The color red, as it was the symbol of his family; doesn't like being associated with them.
- Receiving orders, feeling forced to do anything.
- Cowards, that beat children or go ten against one.
- Loud and clingy people, his personal space being invaded.
Ag'kamuah is odd, lurking like a shadow wherever he is. He is very easy to forget despite the strong impression he often makes and his tall build. Always staring without saying a word, the rare words he utters are usually replaced by occasional vague gestures. While his postures seems relaxed, he's very attentive and ready to react at any moment. He can often surprise by moving too quickly to catch something or by going from a peaceful moment to his dagger in someone's throat and glacial eyes glancing around the room.
Ag'kamuah's philosophy couldn't be more simple; anyone that threatens him dies, or gets injured enough to not dare do it again. He's had a long life filled with attempts to kill him so he never really had the luxury of hesitating or being merciful. That makes him really dangerous but also completely harmless to those who are innocent. Normally, only the ones who personnally wants to kill him gets him as their enemy but he has a surprisingly high sense of justice so he often takes part in fights that doesn't concern him.
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- He only ever uses his left hand in public, unless he's in hiding when he uses only his right.
- When it's possible he always stays against a wall to prevent having someone coming behind him.
- He sometimes forgets to let himself smile because it's natural for him to suppress it.
- The most expressive part of his body is often his biceps, as they may tense when he is angry.
- He tends to move to wherever a shadow is during the conversation. It's very subtle and it helps people forget him.
- Stealth
- Patience
- Toxin resistance
- Diplomacy
- Raw strength
- Raw resistance
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- While he never tried to be good at magic he is capable of using several spells to enhance his physical abilities for a bit.
- Oddly enough he has a very artistic eye and is good at picking colors and shapes that go well together.
- He is very good at learning and knows many different languages as well as masters every troll one. He only needs to listen to said language a few times to pick up the basics.
sometime not important,
The silence was heavy, his heart playing the same monotone song since that day, many and many years in the past. Sometimes he felt like he still lived in that instant and other times it was like nothing had ever happened. He was just himself, the same being with the same empty personality. In some aspects he could objectively thank the loas; didn't we say something about being better alone than in bad company? He couldn't remember if that was even the right expression. It had been so long since he had a conversation with someone —or maybe he never really did. Even before, he had to learn everything by just watching and listening. No one would directly show him anything or tell him a story. The only joke he knew was one he heard other kids his age tell before laughing uncontrollably, one night near the east docks. He didn't really find it funny but he knew it, at least. He was sitting on the highest sturdy branch of a tree that had always been exactly there for as long as anyone could remember. The lights under him were dancing joyously and he could vaguely make out a song if he paid attention. Even the structures of the lower town seemed more full of life than his living, breathing self. It was all as it always was; the world was distracted and happy while he was focused and lonely. Focused on getting enough food to last one more second, focused on being as quiet as he possibly could, focused on stopping himself from wishing for anything more than just existing for another instant. He was so dearly lonely even if he never really understood which feeling this word was linked to.
the market day,
“Hi”, a kind voice calls. He had to stop himself from flinching and he wasn't sure if she noticed how his hand instinctively went to his dagger but if she did, she didn't show any sign of it. She had a smile that seemed so genuine that a shiver ran down his spine and he became defensive, terrified of the menace she could be. He didn't answer but she didn't seem to mind and simply stopped looking into his careful eyes to examine the cuts on his lips and the bruises on his face –he noticed she only quickly looked at the ones on the rest of his skin as if she feared to make him uncomfortable. There was something in her eyes that he took for a sentiment of pity first and his jaw clenched in an anger he had trouble containing. But then their eyes met again and he understood it wasn't much pity and more something else. A sort of understanding? He wasn't sure why she looked like she had been the one hurt and almost took a step back– but he stood his ground. He's been alive and in these streets long enough to know that taking a step back wasn't an option; he had to look strong, and he was sure he was more than her. “Here,” she extanded a hand to him where a strangely shaped sweets was. He opened his mouth to tell her that he didn't eat food from others or maybe to tell her he simply didn't like sweets but he just stared at her for a few moments before taking it in his free hand, surprising himself. It didn't hurt to take it, at least. He could still throw it after she turns around. Except she smiled like this was the happiest moment of her life and he almost considered tasting it. Just a bit. That was certainly new, she was either very good at manipulation or he was just very stupid today. He wasn't sure which answer he preferred after she disappeared in the crowd as quickly as she came. He hoped he would never meet her again yet he came to the same place the next day, and the next after it, and next after next until he heard the sweetest “Hi” a second time.
the last silence,
“Please”, she whispered. Or it was supposed to be a whisper, it hardly could be anything else if we judged by the strength poured into it. The sound, however, a painful hiss like it had hurt her to speak, was telling another story. It was supposed to be a soft request but it was nothing else than a death wish. At least it felt like that to him and the most expression she's seen on his face in almost two decades twisted his features. He wanted to beg her to not say another word, for the first time of his life he didn't want to listen to her voice, even after a year of not speaking. His wish of her talking again crushed him and he certainly didn't miss the irony of the situation. Yet he didn't move a muscle and he simply listened. After what seemed to be an eternity —maybe it was— she murmured. In the vacarm of the jungle, above his heart beating out of his chest he still heard her; he was always so focused on her, it was like a second nature. This time he wished he wasn't because he didn't miss a word. “Take me to the Valley of Sorrows.” Realization hit him quickly, almost immediatly. His heart breaks some more and even if she knows she is hurting him, she doesn't see another way. “Please.” It takes him a few seconds of battling with his emotions to nod solemnly. Of course. He never said no to her, he wasn't going to start now that she was finally voicing anything after so long of being too broken to even look at him. It was an opportunity to let her laugh again, he couldn't miss that, yet he immediatly dreaded the sun for ever letting them see another day again. At dawn, he would take her on their last journey together. That idea almost made him cry but the look of relief that she had after his answer made him swallow whatever was trying —and succeeding— in showing on his face. Immediatly after the short relief she visibly felt, a terrifying emptiness took the reins and her features hardened again in an expression so void of anything that always made him sick to his stomach. Soon, he managed to squeeze in the middle of the mess that were his thoughts. Soon she'd be happy— soon she'd forget all about her pains and with them, about him.
the second dawn,
“Will you stay with me?” The words were more easily carried out by her eyes than her voice as she was looking at him with a fear that he could feel in his own bones. His heart stopped as it always did whenever their eyes met but this time he thought that it might never start again. “I will”, his own voice sounded foreign just like him taking her hand felt like it was someone else doing it. He recognized it was his old way of dealing with life but he hadn't felt like this in so long that it terrified him. He wanted to beg her to not leave him alone, to not go there. That he could keep her safe, make her smile again but after a year he never succeeded. The only time in all that time where she seemed alive was when she asked him to take her there so he didn't say anything and accompanied her to meet the loa of new beginnings, praying that she'd have one that was worth it all. Even when it was time to begin the ritual he never left her side and he could barely accept to stay without a word. He wished a thousand times for her to go back on her word, to relish in his presence like they used to but as she was watching the specks of magic form elaborate lines her body could only express immediate relief and he felt like his presence was unnatural. He felt out of place. He always was out of place but he's rarely felt like this with her. In this moment, however, him clinging to their love felt egoistical. And it was but he couldn't not grief what was to come. She eventually had to go forward and he had to let go. His instinct almost went after her but he remained motionless. The rest of the ritual was silent. Only the crackling magic that was slowly taking away every memory that he cherished. Then something shifted and he steps back until he's close to the wall. Even when the rest of the temple is illuminated he manages to find —by habit or coincidence?— one of the only dark corners and there's an eternity during which he has to watch as someone he's not sure he knows wakes up in his love's body. Before the someone can look around and find him he goes out of this horrible place. He earns many looks on his way and he wonders how pathetic he looks. He knows what she'd say to him but he does his best to ignore everything— she's not that person anymore, she's different. He could feel it even in the way she stood. It's terrifying yet no matter how much he wants to go back to Zuldazar and act like nothing ever happened he can't seem to get far from the temple. Hours of walking later and he can still see it everytime he accepts to turn his head. There's arguably only one thing worse that could have happened and yet he knows it's a happy event. Yet he knows he'll stay in this horrible place, too far from the familiar jungle where he spent all these decades, caring from a distance for someone that he barely knows anything about. Would she even be similar? Even if it's only her smile, would it be the same without any memory of herself?
the first beginning,
“Hi”, her kind voice calls. He doesn't flinch nor does his hand go to his dagger— he isn't suspicious but she still has the most geniune smile he's ever seen and it all feels like he had gone back in time. Since it feels like he did, he thinks he can indulge himself a little. He can do something a little different. He doesn't have cuts on his lips and bruises on his face that she can examine worriedly and she doesn't have scars that she sees on himself so he's not sure why she went to him but he allows a fond expression to show on his features while he answers in a voice that hasn't spoken in weeks, “Hi”. She seems surprised by his answer and then all the gold of Atal'dazar couldn't bring as much light as she does in this moment, with pure joy overflowing from her smile. He can't help but think that maybe —just maybe— she isn't that different. Maybe she's the same with just a few less worries.
- Ag'kamuah's entire family were more of a dark red and the fact that he was purple is responsible for a lot of rumors as well as the fact that he's been rejected by his parents since the beginning.
- No one will probably ever know it but his purple genes come from their ancestor that is responsible for starting the longtime family vow to serve the kings and queens of Zandalar no matter what– Ag'kamuah is his spitting image.
- Until he was 15, he was skinny and significantly smaller than others his age. In the span of six months he gained 130 cm and a good muscle mass. This was a pretty big complex for him and he's more than glad to have grown.
- He still thinks to this day that Vik'th died when he was a baby when he actually died only 5 years ago at 27 years old.
- He never tasted it but he'd be the type to be addicted to pure black coffee. He would drink it all day– instead, for the past 15 years, he's been drinking an odd mix of various poisons and concentrated alcohol that he makes himself.
- As odd as it may seem, an AU where Ag'kamuah saves Vik'th is tragic. They would have gotten each other killed by always taking the other lower, Ag'kamuah and Iwi'va would have never met because he wouldn't have allowed himself to look at her twice and she would have died at her father's hands. None of them would have lived to be 20 except A'kina.
- Making new poisons, testing them.
- Taking care of his daggers, sharpen and clean them.
- Resting in the highest trees, watching the city.
- To not hurt anyone innocent.
- To never let himself be caught.
- To not ignore the acts of the ones without honor.
- His favorite color is light green– go figure why.
- His daggers are by far his favorite thing, gifted by Iwi'va when they were 15.
- His favorite tattoo is the one on his neck that he purely got to mock himself.
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- His principal physical weapons are enchanted daggers, engraved with spiders and of the color of ebony.
Observes them. Doesn't acknowledge their presence as if he didn't care but watches very closely their gestures, listen to their words and determines who they are, what is their personality, if they can and will be a danger.
Friends of his are rare, not to say that there isn't really any. He's always on guard, even with those he appreciates –which is basically no one.
Shy and unsure of himself, he struggles with the amount of feelings that comes with being in love. Oddly clumsy and with a lot more difficulties to stop his feelings from showing, he'd probably not realize it immediatly. He's the type to fall in love at first sight.
He used to listen closely to them and do almost everything they'd say but if they were still alive it would have greatly changed. He's never loved them very much and they were scared of him so he was content with being alone.
He doesn't have any cousins but he wouldn't care for them.
Rivals don't make much sense to him and he never considered someone to be his rival. He wouldn't care enough about potential rivals and they would hold no importance in his life so he'd be the type to ignore them.
Not really different from strangers except he already knows who they are and what danger they might represent. Ignores but keeps his eyes on them.
His closest friend is his mate but he has one or two he'd consider as such. He is more relaxed, laughing and joking around with them easily, maybe even sleeping close to them– but he's still always on guard, just in case.
A lot more certain of himself and composed, he could only be someone's lover after going through litteral years –decades?– of thinking. Calm but clingy, not necesarily touching his lover but often being close enough to feel them. Still not talking much but always listening intently.
He only has had one sibling that “died” young but he was incredibly careful and considerate with him. He was more of a parent than their actual parents were and would have grown to be an excellent older brother.
Once again, he barely cares for close family so extended family means nothing to him. He'd not even acknowledge them.
He'd try to kill them. The only ones he'd consider enemies are ones threatening either his life, his mate's or people deserving way more than some time in a cell.
She's the love of my life. Not that it really matters anymore, she just used to be the one I'd whisper these stupid words to. I'm not angry, not even annoyed; it's just hard to be that stranger forever.
My only brother. He was nothing but a baby when he died and while I'm not sure how, it probably was horrible since these people don't do pity. It's ridiculous that he's still on my mind 30 years later.
- Ag'kamuah was an asshole. I mean, he still is I guess, but now I'm in love with him. He was supposed to just be a background character in Vik'th's family. His older brother who I definitely was glad to keep away.
- And then I decided to have a romance with perpetual memory loss,
- And I gave him the sweetest love interest ever,
- And I fell in love with both too much and now I almost regret giving them such a tragic story. (Almost because I like angst too much.)
- So yeah I'm too attached to him now. He deserves all the art pieces in the world.
- He also deserves a slap on the back of the head sometimes.
- (Something fun which originally was a coincidence is that Ag'kamuah and Iwi'va have color palettes that are directly inverted. I just twisted lightly Iwi'va's because I wanted lighter colors but it's still very close.)
