"Ozay"

Playful • Musical • Strange

It was the cycle.

It was a rough journey, and yet a journey so important that not one of them gave it up. They scrambled over the sand of the beaches, soared over the clouds. They ran from shelter to shelter from the rain and crested white-peaked mountains. They passed the ruins of a civilization so long gone that its great temples were no more than a feature of the landscape; they waded through the dark pollution that poisoned their strength and evaded the attacks of sinister dragons.

Such was the journey.

Countless lights traveled across the landscape, mindlessly converging on the Eye, the storm at the peak of the tallest mountain in the world, like an army of ants carrying the light into the dark places.

The destination was evil.

The Eye was great and strong, its gaze reached even the most distant of shores; the Eye was voracious, like moths to the flame, the travelers offered it the light they had so carefully sought out and protected—and the Eye took it all and more. The Eye killed the hands that fed it.

Freed from the storm, the lights ascended to the sky and became as luminous as the stars, and then, in time, they would descend once again, and begin the journey from the beginning.

It was a cycle that repeated end to end, over and over, death and rebirth, for all eternity. Its obscured purpose would forever be a grand and unknowable cosmic secret.

Now imagine: one of those humanoid lights turns. The journey could wait, it would continue for time immemorial. A few minutes was nothing in the face of infinity.

Imagine: the light, turned from its path, to express wordless curiousity over a portal like the light has never seen before.

Imagine: the light is a little clumsy. It reaches out and trips, almost in slow motion, towards the strange portal.

Imagine: one of those humanoid lights vanishes from the world. No one notices.

What's one light in the face of an infinity?

Carefree and playful, time seems not to exist to this small-statured but hardy spirit. With the absence of their eternal cycle, "Ozay" spends their days and nights doing whatever they please, in a somewhat slapstick fashion. It would appear that they cannot speak, or simply that they prefer not to, but they make up for this with an impressive range of gestures. Though they are a cryptic creature, their body language always indicates goodwill; they appear eager to help and earnestly try to understand what is being said to them.

"Ozay" is not built for combat: if attacked they will likely run and/or hide. Their body is rather sturdy, but their energy is weak to rain, water, and blunt damage and they cannot regenerate energy without access to open flame or someone they consider a friend.

Their abilities include limited flight and the ability to include those who hold their hand in this flight; the ability to pull an assortment of instruments from the depths of their cloak; and the ability to produce a lit candle at a moment's notice. They also glow softly in the dark, which may be both an asset and a curse, as they cannot suppress this glow without injuring themself.

"Ozay" appears to adore music and musical instruments, and plays often, practicing new songs frequently. They also seem to highly value candles and assign meaning to the exchange of them, and appear to consume light in place of food.